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bg-brainrot · 10 months ago

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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach.

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments.

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body.

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare.

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it.

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away.

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress.

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle.

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears.

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for.

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks.

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered–

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent.

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours.

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose…

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you.

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

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anamericangirl · 1 year ago

Note

"Embracing anarchy does not require conservatives to embrace violent revolution, or even civil disobedience. But for their own sake, as well as the sake of the civilization which they love, conservatives can and should deny the state’s legitimacy, on the grounds that it is destructive of the true, the good, and the beautiful. Affirming sovereignty in the hopes it may someday fall within conservative hands is a siren song that must be resisted. Thankfully, in an age where our political institutions seem incapable of giving us more meaningful “choices” than Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump, delegitimizing the state, in the name of ordered liberty¸ is more feasible than ever."

Thoughts on whether or not this makes sense in regards to small "c" conservatives and anarchy? Most of what I think the problem is in dealing with the anarchists lately is that they seem not to differentiate between "conservatives" and Republicans. It makes for creating a divide when we seem to be united by opposition to certain cultural issues like abortion, gender ideology and marxism and it's branches and we both agree that our state has become in many ways, illegitimate.

I don't know. It seems like they're just looking for reasons to be mad at small "c" conservatives because we're not doing "anarchy" in the right way by not just destroying the state outright instead of looking for ways to reform what we can and should and throwing aside what we can't. I see no problem in lobbying for the government to restrict or outlaw abortion and stop genital mutilation of minors. Isn't that the best of the government's function? To protect life? And isn't there progress being made in those cases? And isn't it through using our power as citizens to vote that these policies are enacted? Like I get that "vooting" doesn't solve everything and is a bit dicey these days, but why not take advantage and try at least, and if it fails, still fighting on the cultural front?

You can't fight the state if you run away from it. That's what put us in this position in the first place.

What say you?

I mean, I get what they're saying but what exactly is the point of denying the "state's legitimacy" and "delegitimizing the state" if, at the very least, it doesn't require embracing civil disobedience? What does it look like? Continuing to live and comply in the system but just refrain from voting and complain online that the state is "illegitimate?" Another problem with anarchists is they never explain how the system needs to be dismantled and how anything they do goes towards achieving that goal. They toss out vague phrases like "delegitimate the state" without explaining what that looks like after saying we don't need to "embrace violent revolution" or "civil disobedience." Ok then what? Do we just think to ourselves the state is illegitimate and continue to submitting it?

Like most of what they say, it's a meaningless word salad. Using a lot of words to say nothing at all.

And you are right, anarchists cannot distinguish between any political groups it seems. To them, you're either an anarchist or a bootlicker and there's no in between. They couldn't tell you the difference between a republican or "small c" conservative if you put a gun to their head. Or they'll just be like "hurr durr there is no difference."

Conservatives and anarchists do agree on a lot, especially when it comes to social issues and could unite on some of them but anarchists like to pretend if you support even the smallest government that's no different than supporting the most tyrannical dictatorship which is just stupid, but, you know, they're anarchists.

And when you get down to it, voting really doesn't work the way it was intended to and there are lot of legitimate questions about whether it has any impact at all lately, but the fact is it's not wrong to lobby the government to do the jobs we think it's important for them to do. The government does have a role and it's not wrong to want them to do their role. We, voters, have made more of a difference in the culture than anarchists ever have or ever will.

A lot of them are against abortion and what do they about it? Nothing.

What did we do about it? Through our "meaningless vooting" we got Roe v Wade overturned. We got bills through in several states that severely limit abortion, which saves the lives of more children.

A lot of them are against the transing of children and what do they about it? Nothing.

What did we do about it? We lobby our government to prevent the medical transition of minors and several states have seen success with it, protecting more kids.

Sure, the way the system works can make it hard for citizens to really have an impact and it's built to work against us with how big it is but there has been progress made on those fronts and it's not thanks to anarchists.

Anarchists don't fight the state and they don't think they have to be an anarchist. They just have to make themselves self sufficient which is the most laughable definition of anarchy I've ever heard but that's what they seem to think. You're not unique or fighting the system by living in and complying with it but just growing your own food and building things because that's how a lot of conservatives live. So how much of anarchist can you really be if it doesn't require you to fight against or dismantle the system but just live peaceably within it and pretending you're somehow delegitimizing the state because you grow your own vegetables? (the gardening stuff is in reference to a post one of them recently made here claiming they're "doing" a lot for anarchy by gardening and helping their neighbor build a shed lol)

#anon #answered

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leonbloder · 21 days ago

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We All Have Work To Do

Sometimes, it takes a while for grief to set in properly after the initial shock of loss.

I know this all too well, and I also know that one of the stages of grief is anger, which is what I lived in for a long while after the loss of my mom seven years ago.

It was hard to understand why I felt angry, but the bitterness it brought seemed appropriate and much more accessible to embrace than resignation.

The problem with remaining in anger is that it affects every aspect of our lives, including those around us. When we don't know what to do with our anger, it can often spill out at the worst possible moments and be directed at the ones we love.

It took me a lot of therapy to understand more fully why I was angry and to realize that although it was a natural state of affairs for me to journey through it, I could not stay there and be a healthy and whole person.

I want to speak to those today who are feeling the shock and grief of Tuesday's election results.

If you were reading this and got the outcome you wanted from the election, please keep reading because you undoubtedly have people in your life who don't share your elation, and you need to hear this, too.

Many people today are beginning to get over the shock of what happened on Tuesday and are feeling the weight of their grief intensely. Before you dismiss this, think about your friends, family, and co-workers who may be feeling this way.

For some people, the election's outcome feels like a rejection of who they are.

I can tell you that many of the women in my life (friends, co-workers, and family) are shaken and afraid. They feel betrayed, dismissed, unheard, and uncertain about the future for themselves, their daughters, and their granddaughters.

I have dear friends and family members who are part of the LGBTQ+ community who feel the same. My cousin, who is gay, posted on his social media, "How can some people tell you that they love you and then vote as if they don't."

I've had several conversations with gay friends and church members who feel hollowed out inside, devastated that their own family members seemingly voted against them by affirming politicians who have vowed to take away their rights.

There are friends and family members of mine who are deathly afraid of what they perceive to be the triumph of fascism, racism, elitism, and sexism. They fear for their freedoms and the prospects of a dark future for themselves and the people they love.

Some of them shared with me the horrible, tasteless, and hateful social media posts they saw from their own family members and friends they once held dear, who were gloating about the outcome of the election, further deepening the fears they had.

If you are finding yourself in grief today, and it has turned to anger, I need you to know that it is appropriate and natural to feel this way. Let yourself be angry for a while, but do your best to not lash out at others in the midst of it.

Your anger can be productive and helpful, but not if you stay in it, no matter how good it feels to be angry.

I discovered this social media post yesterday, and I have already shared it with friends and family, but I would like to share it with you:

Grief requires tending, a form of labor, but the advantage of social/political grief is that we have many hands to make light work--there are millions of us on this planet to help hold it. Even when we feel so alone in the absurdity of loss, we can breathe and remember how many wanted the same world as we do. We can feel how that world is very much alive in our hearts and collective imagination.

And I would also address those who saw this election as an affirmation of their beliefs and are elated at how things turned out.

If you genuinely love and value those in your life who think differently than you do, express your joy gently, humbly, and graciously. Nearly half of the people in our country did not agree with you, so it stands to reason there are people in your own life who are hurt by how you voted.

Maybe you voted the way you did, not because it involved those you love, but because you felt you had to vote your conscience, which is between you and God.

Just be aware that you now have some work to do to regain the trust of those devastated by the election, who may hold some fear and animosity in their hearts because they wonder how you feel about them.

We all have a lot of work to do if we are going to find healing after yet another divisive season in our lives.

The keys for us all are compassion and hope. These two actions will help us all begin the good work of working through grief, overcoming anger, and reconciling with one another.

May it be so. May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.

#leonbloder #christian living #dailydevotional #leon bloder #faith #spiritualgrowth #dailydevo #presbymusings #spirituality #dailydevotion #Electiion

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best-reno-nv · 1 year ago

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A Short Walk from The Summit

The Summit is a well-known retail center that provides a unique shopping experience by combining luxury retailers, dining establishments, and entertainment options. It offers a wide selection of famous brands and specialty shops that include clothing stores, home decor shops, electronics stores, beauty salons, and fitness centers. Additionally, it features many culinary alternatives, including cafes and fast-casual eateries. The Summit also has a variety of entertainment and leisure choices. If you can't get enough of this popular outdoor shopping center, check out INOVA today. It boasts stylish apartments for rent in Reno, which is only a stone's throw away from The Summit. Visit their website to arrange a free tour of the complex.

INOVA's Support of a Greener Future

Using electric vehicles (EVs) as opposed to traditional gasoline or diesel-powered cars has a number of benefits. One significant advantage of driving an EV is that they have no tailpipe emissions, which reduces air pollution and the release of greenhouse gases. INOVA provides EV + Tesla Charging Stations directly outside its residents' one bedroom apartments in Reno NV, as a support to this effort, so they don't have to travel far in order to charge their cars. In addition to this, the complex offers easy valet trash pickup so that every unit's garbage will be brought right to the recycling facilities.

The Economy of Reno, NV

In Reno, Nevada, the unemployment rate is 4.6 percent, which is lower than the 6.0 percent national average. The city's job market increased by 4.6 percent in the previous year, and the future job growth is projected to be 51.1 percent during the next 10 years. This number is higher than the 33.5 percent national average. The metropolis's sales tax rate is higher at 8.3 percent than the 7.3 percent national average. The residents of the city are not required to pay an income tax. Reno residents earn an average of $46,489 a year as compared to the United States average of $28,555.

The Discovery in Reno, NV

The Terry Lee Wells Nevada Discovery Museum, often known as The Discovery, is a well-liked scientific and kids' museum situated in the heart of Reno. Through engaging exhibitions and educational programs, it seeks to stimulate curiosity, creativity, and a lifetime love of knowledge. Visitors can investigate immersive displays about physics, biology, geology, space exploration, engineering, and more. The museum promotes active participation and involves guests of all ages in hands-on learning experiences. Some of its standout collections are "Inside Out: An Anatomy Experience," which offers an interactive look at the human body, and the "Cloud Climber," an indoor climbing structure that illustrates the laws of physics and motion.

Desantis Family Dazzle Reno Rodeo Crowd

Today's candidates frequently involve their families in the campaign. They believe that having their loved ones with them while campaigning can help them establish a solid support system. Additionally, every family member contributes various talents, viewpoints, and skills to the effort. Because different family members can assist in different ways, such as by planning events, creating campaign materials, connecting with particular demographics, or offering emotional assistance, this variety may be advantageous. Another reason is that having a visible, encouraging family might allow candidates to become more relevant to those voting by humanizing them. It demonstrates the individual's interpersonal relationships and support network, which can help to build trust and connect with voters. Click here to read more.

Link to maps

The Discovery 490 S Center St, Reno, NV 89501, United States Get on I-580 S from Ryland St and Mill St 6 min (1.8 mi) Follow I-580 S to S Virginia St. Take exit 25B from I-580 S 8 min (8.7 mi) Continue on S Virginia St. Take NV-431 W to Summit Sierra Blvd 3 min (1.0 mi) Inova 14001 Summit Sierra Blvd, Reno, NV 89511, United States

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the2amrevolution · 2 years ago

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Whats also disturbing is how different my voting experience has been in my mainly conservative (+9% for Walker in the runoff), suburban, Georgia district.

I voted early for both the general and run-off at the same location as I've voted early the past several elections. Parking was free. There were no metal detectors or special security at the doors. Followed a sign that said to have your ID ready. I did have to wait in line for about 20 minutes for the run-off. When you got to the room with the voting machines, you went to a poll worker who had a tablet and scanner for your ID.

After your ID was scanned, you signed on the tablet, and got your green card for the machine. There were no big warnings on the screen when you went to vote, just instructions to insert the card, double check your selections, and ask for help if you needed to change a selection. When you were done, a paper with a code for your selection printed out, and you walked over to a large scanner that you fed your paper ballot into. Then you traded your green card for a sticker and left. For the general election, I was probably in and out in five minutes.

This is what we mean when we talk about how pervasive voter suppression is and how the elections are set up for conservatives to win. They make it super easy to vote in typically conservative districts, but they add layers of technically legal barriers in liberal and progressive districts. They can set up too few locations for the population to make long wait times knowing that people have to find time to vote around work schedules and childcare. They put locations away from public transit and with pay parking making it more difficult for lower income individuals to vote. They add security theater to intimidate people and to enable them to turn away those who may have just come from work and have multitool or box cutter on them with no where else to put it if they don't have a vehicle. They add extra fear mongering about fraud to make people worry its not worth it to vote because they can't afford to defend themselves regardless of innocence plus adding on to the amount of time the process takes.

Other than the machines themselves, there's really no standardization to what a polling place is like, and they take advantage of that.

I would love for there to be penalties to the secretary of states office for voter turnout under 75%, increasing over time to 90%. Theres currently no incentive to have a high enough voter turnout to accurately represent the population. Conservatives tend to be people with the resources to show up regardless of barriers, so they are over represented in lower turnout elections. They are over represented in unofficial polls as well for the same reasons. There needs to be incentive for officials to get as many eligible voters as possible to cast a ballot, which would mean making voting more accessible.

Ranked choice voting would also help reduce the "I dont like either" non-voters and improve turnout, but thats a different issue than voter supression.

[Image ID: A series of screenshots from a Twitter thread by Jason Coupet / professajay.

Text begins: Man voting in Georgia is so different than in Illinois. When I lived in chicago, during early voting, I went to the local elementary school, waited in line about ten minutes, and they gave me a sheet of paper. I checked people off then I put it in the machine and left.

Not Georgia. We drove downtown because *every* other polling place had a line >90 minutes. We paid ten bucks to park. We went in the building, then emptied out pockets to go through a metal detector. We then saw a sign about where to park to get our parking validated. Inside.

We then waited in line ~80 minutes. We got to the end and we were given a form to fill out (?). We were told *not* to sign it until told. Then we were moved into a waiting room where we were given a ticket number, like when you are at the dmv.

We were told to get our IDs out and wait. We waited here for 15-20 minutes. When your number is called they took your form, did some stuff on the computer, then told you to sign the form. Then you get a little green card. You insert it into the machine.

Then you go through three or four prompts, including a very serious™️ warning about perjury, a totally necessary warning given how huge a problem stolen identity is for the purposes of voting on behalf of someone else.

You then finally vote, and after an “are you sure” prompt you get a sheet. You then have to walk the sheet over to feed it into a machine. About half of these were working.

The bottleneck was clearly the weird application and waiting room thing. There are two dozen people at a time sitting to have their stuffed checked. Think of it as regular voting except when you got there they had to run a credit check for *each person* like you need financing.

It was easier finishing my PhD paperwork. Thankful for the kind people (nearly all black women) the shepherded the processes. But man if you are poor or disabled or whatever, good luck yo. That should have been easier. We finished tho. Text ends.

Image ID: Two Black people are standing beside a city street and smiling at the camera, a man and a woman. The man has close-cropped hair and a beard. He is wearing a black hoodie that says Southside and has a sticker on his chest with a peach on it. The woman has large tortoiseshell browline glasses and long twist locs. She has a light brown leather crossbody bag, and is wearing a salmon-colored windbreaker. She also has a peach sticker on her chest, which she is pointing to. Her hand has a wedding ring. End ID]

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tombeane-blog · 2 years ago

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THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES IS OVER!

(March 2023)

Men Won!

That's right, males of my specimen have won the battle of the sexes. It's over. Put a pin in it. We guys won, you gals lost.

(Full Disclosure: Although I was born biologically male at a very early age, it is only recently that I made it legally binding in the United States by openly declaring that from this place and time I hereby identify exclusively as male. You may continue to call me - he/him, Mr. Majestic, that hunk over there, frijoles, sir, seer or sensei - just as you always have.)

For untold millennia, possibly even billennia, nature has endowed us guys with more power and strength than you gals, which allowed us to rule unchallenged throughout the natural world. Well, all except for being eaten by that evil female Praying Mantis.

Take the mighty male lion. Lord of the jungle and master of all he surveys. He sits back, concentrating on diddley squat while the gal lions do absolutely everything - hunting, having babies, nursing and raising more lions - the whole megillah. When a pack of female lions brings down a water buffalo, the male stretches, yawns, slowly saunters over, shakes his magnificent mane and roars, "Get The F Back Ladies!". Then proceeds to dine alone. Only after satisfying his hunger do the females get to eat the scraps. This natural and equitable distribution of effort and reward has always worked flawlessly.

There was only one small problem i.e., when the male lion lost his female pride to another male lion.

But forget that.

Over hundreds of thousands of years the lion learned to walk on his hind legs and slowly evolved into us guys. To this day we still retain our advantage in strength and power - guaranteeing that our well deserved lordly privileges stay in place.

In fact, there are only two significant differences between us modern guys and today's un-evolved lions.

One:

Today's King Of The Jungle never learned to ferment beer. A serious oversight on his part.

Two: *(This is Rated R. You must be 18 or older to read this next salacious bit of science. No cheating kids. Skip over it.)

Let's compare a male lion lounging on the Serengeti surveying the passing herds with today's male-male guy lounging on the beach with a beer in his hand. Although they both will have the same exact thought, i.e., "Wowza! look at the gorgeous haunch on that sweet looking young hottie over there. I'd love to take a bite of that!"...

...only the lion means this literally - I'm pretty sure.

(Rated R section ends. Under 18 can resume reading.)

All throughout hysterical time this precarious balance of nature has existed. Only in the last coupla' hundred years have you gals decided to upset all this. Your birthing and your rules about marriage before(you know) and your cooking all our food and washing our clothes and your bikinis and your common sense and all those other feminine supremacies just weren't good enough for you were they?

Nope. First it was voting, then owning things, wearing pants, driving cars and even forming a female rock band. Talk about a slippery slope...

And then in the 60's you must have thought you were all but victorious when you threw off the last of society's cultural mores and brazenly assumed histrionic male privileges.

You fell right into our trap.

We fought. We clawed. We scratched back. We reclaimed our territory inch by inch.

You want proof? Go to the the finest restaurants. All the great chefs are men. Who's designing all of Hillary's pantsuits and bikinis? Armeni, Klein, Lauren, Dior. What about shoes? Jimmy Choo. Who developed Mustang Sally's 1965 baby blue convertible you gals seduced us into buying for you? Lee Iacocca.

And now. The final hill has been conquered.

Men are better at literally, as well as figuratively, everything. Men are setting new records in women's swimming, women's running and women's weightlifting. How long do you think you can keep us out of female mud wrestling?

The writing is on the wall gals. Modern high school guys who can't get a partial baseball scholarship to the all male, College of Winnebago Repair in Bugscuffle, Tennessee will jigger their gender and become PAC 12 Player Of The Year on the Stanford softball team.

(OK Vern, I'll admit I have to give up watching women's gymnastics and figure skating but that is a small price to pay.)

You gals may fight back and enact legislation mandating some sort of Made In America type label. Like defining a maximum percentage of X and Y Chromosomals we are allowed to field in order to retain the designation of a 'Women's Team'.

But.... it is a losing battle and you know it.

Congress, the President and even the Supreme Court can no longer even define what a women is. (Unless it depends on what the meaning of the word is, is.)

According to our government, universities, schools, movies and mainstream news, males can now do everything a female can do - menstruate, give birth, nurse, have sympathy for others, ask for directions when lost, flirtatiously evade speeding tickets - you name it.

You want more proof that the XY chromosome now dominates what used to be for XXs only?

"Makeup companies, feminine hygiene companies, and clothing companies have all concluded that men are better than women at selling their products."

"Dylan Mulvaney, transgender influencer, is the big winner in all this, thanks in part to his being Joe Biden’s favorite girl."

Drew Barrymore kneels before the better woman.

The Battle Is Over.

Men are now better women than women.

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ms-demeanor · 5 years ago

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My friend says not to vote in the upcoming election because our liberal establishment is no different from fascism and because Trump's policies are merely an extension of existing policies (like the ICE concentration camps that were established under Obama). How would you, being a leftist like me and my friend, respond to this attitude?

When I was in high school there was one cataclysmic, catastrophic, Very Important school board meeting.

It was a perfect storm of religious freedom, LGBT Rights, and Holy Shit You’re Talking About Taking Daycare Away from Students Who Are Parents.

The first thing, religious freedom, was exceptionally stupid but I think it’s a great example of how shitty the suburb I lived in was and what we were dealing with. Basically the D&D club that I started was accused of being Satanists and the Campus Christian Club was trying to get us shut down for worshipping satan. (I live in the fucking WORST part of LA County, I swear). The defense for the D&D club was pretty simple: If we’re worshipping satan as an on-campus activity at lunchtime we have every right to do so just like the Campus Christian Club an in fact if the Campus Christian Club got us shut down for practicing a different religion they’d made a very effective argument for shutting down their Praising Christ on-campus lunchtime activity.

The second thing was ANOTHER conflict with the Campus Christian Club - this was more serious. This was “High schoolers shouldn’t be exposed to deviant lifestyles and therefore we need to shut down the Gay/Straight Alliance.” At that point the GSA was also very new and I was also the VP of it. Spoilers: we were allowed to continue existing and we had speakers come in from time to time - we had grownups who talked to us about dealing with homophobia and resources for what happened if your parents kicked you out; we had a trans woman in her 50s come and talk to us (in 2003!) about transphobia and dysphoria and how to cope. The adviser handed out a packet to all of us that had the suicide hotline number right at the top, I know at least three people used that number the first year. The defense for the GSA was actually another handy-dandy page out of the ACLU handbook: The Campus Christian Club’s definition of deviance is something they have a right to hold but not to impose on other people - if you ban the GSA based on being ‘deviants’ you are imposing someone else’s belief system on us so knock it off unless you want to be a fun LA Times story.

The third thing didn’t have ANYTHING to do with the Campus Christian Club and was much worse because it had to do with funding and teen moms. The third thing was “The district believes it’s a waste of money to continue to pay for childcare at the district continuation school; if you can’t afford childcare you should have thought of that before becoming a teen mom, good luck getting a babysitter while you’re trying to finish high school.” Four of the students from the continuation school had showed up with their children and their defense of the daycare program was basically (and understandably) “What the fuck you fucking ghouls we just want to finish school and it’s one fucking daycare provider on campus you already have to pay the insurance for childcare providers for other schools in the district what the fucking fuck.”

The D&D Club, GSA, and Childcare for Teen Parents Program were all allowed to continue existing.

By one vote.

By someone who had recently been elected to the school board.

By four votes.

Four people went out and voted that November. Four people filled in a bubble on a ballot.

The GSA did fundraisers to pay for STI testing and suicide prevention. My friend Michelle graduated on time with her daughter waiting in the crowd. Knowing that adult trans people could survive and exist and thrive and love themselves was lifesaving information for a few kids in the GSA.

Four votes. If four people stayed home that’s a hundred fewer STI tests, that’s wondering if Michelle would ever be able to get a job when she didn’t have a diploma and couldn’t hire a babysitter. That’s three dead queer kids and another two homeless.

And it didn’t happen. Because four people filled in a couple of bubbles one night in November.

Voting is not activism but it is by no means useless. If your friend is incapable of distinguishing fascism and liberalism that sounds like a them problem and it sucks to be them; that amount of nihilism is hard to carry around.

People who criticize leftists for “electoral apologism” or whatever for voting are the “yet you participate in society, curious. I am very intelligent” comic

Yeah, the system’s shitty. Yeah, it sucks and should be overthrown. But it’s not overthrown YET so we may as well take advantage of the few areas of harm reduction the system allows. Voting doesn’t mean you STOP doing direct action or that you stop pushing for change, it just means you’re doing the single easiest real-world thing to alleviate suffering. And if it doesn’t work who gives a fuck - you did the bare minimum and it cost you a small amount of time.

Vote and then go hand out food in the park or cut the valve stems off a cop car if you’re feeling angsty about conceding to the system.

(also FUCK, you have no idea how much I hate having to defend the Obama administration but please go talk to a trans person about whether it is easier or harder to get healthcare in their state under Trump or under Obama. I fucking hate liberals but I don’t think that they’re actively interested in overturning Roe V. Wade. Fuck this political purity culture and go learn about harm reduction.)

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p---ink · 4 years ago

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Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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okay-j-hannah · 4 years ago

Text

May The Best Man Win

The Marauders : Oneshot

James x Reader x Sirius

Word Count: 9358

Warnings: I’m not a big swearer, but I did add something in the end 😂 this turned way angsty, like A LOT, which is what I think the requester wanted

Request: “y/n can’t choose between James and Sirius. preferably tons and tons of angst” - Anon

A/N: A friendly competition turns sour as these best friends fight for your heart without any good intentions

“This is simple.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is!”

Sirius sunk further into his chair, covering his eyes with one hand and another holding an ice cold butterbeer.

James stood from the couch, fingers to his temples, glasses askew, “Listen, I saw her first, therefore I get dibs.”

“You shouldn’t call dibs on a girl,” Remus muttered, his quill whizzing across his essay, “That’s not fair for her or for any other potential suitors.”

Peter peered up at his scarred friend from his place on the rug, “Are you saying you fancy her too, Mooney?”

“You can’t claim the girl just because you saw her first,” Sirius reiterated, continuing to block the firelight as it burned his gaze. “Besides, I was the first one to actually speak to her.”

“Is that true, Prongs?” Peter asked, eyes flipping between all those that were talking.

James messed with his hair again, “Well… that’s only because you caught my snitch as it drifted towards her.”

“So you could say that you led me to her.”

The two friends shared a look, one smirking and one grimacing. James paced in front of the fireplace, loosening his tie as Peter followed him with his gaze. Sirius appeared amused that he not only got the first introduction with this girl, but also in flustering his friend.

“Can I ask – are you two interested in this girl because you actually fancy her, or because you want to beat one another?” Remus asked, taking a heavy sigh and corking his ink bottle.

James appeared affronted while Sirius simply looked tired, “I don’t know, I was rather enjoying seeing Potter break his neck while I wooed the lady.”

“Of course I like her, Mooney, why else does a chap make a fool of himself.”

“Oh, come on, Prongs. You only slipped in the corridor twice,” Sirius mused, taking a sip of his drink. “Forgive me, I didn’t count the time you fell through the Fat Friar – that would make it three times.”

Remus rolled up his parchment and added in a delighted voice, “For a gifted quidditch player you can really trip over nothing, can’t you James.”

Sirius chuckled, sneaking a glance at his pacing friend, “Seeking love is a fools errand.”

“If you really believe that then why are you fighting against me asking (Y/N) out?”

“Are you telling us that you’ve found love at first sight?”

James grimaced, leaning against the mantle, “Not… not necessarily.”

“You just think she’s very pretty?” Remus questioned, now settling into the conversation with his homework done.

“No!”

“Beautiful, then?” Peter suggested. And with a swift look from his peer, he shut his mouth.

“Look, I’ll admit that (Y/N) is very attractive, and she caught my eye…”

Sirius cleared his throat, looking off into the distance, “And every other bloke in the Great Hall.” He practically snickered at the sneer coming from James.

“But you need someone to distract you from Lily Evans consistently rejecting your advances,” Remus delivered mercilessly, “You needed a beautiful rebound to make her jealous.”

Sirius finally sat straight in his chair, eyes uncovered, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

James was overly flustered again, hair seeming to frazzle with static, “Well, it sounds a lot worse when you say it like that.”

“You mean the truth?” Remus muttered, folding his arms to warm his cool hands, “If no one’s going to take into consideration the feelings of this girl, I might as well.”

“Alright, I have a bet,” Sirius stated loudly over Remus. He took a mighty swig of his butterbeer, “We both want a girl for the wrong reasons.”

James frowned, wiping a hand over his face, and Peter interjected, “Prongs wants her for the rebound – what’s your wrong reason, Padfoot?”

“Haven’t you been listening to the conversation?” Sirius continued, “I just wanted to spite him, taking the girl right from under him.” His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together, “How about we make it a proper competition. You’ll be able to take your mind off Evans and I’ll have something to do other than pantsing Filch and backtalking Minnie.”

The disapproval was immediate on Remus’ face, but he let them finish their statements, knowing precisely when to intervene. James furrowed his brow, a finger between his lips as he contemplated.

“It definitely would make Lily notice.”

“Possibly jealous.”

“And you could build cred that you’re the romantic type.”

“And the ladies will be lining up at my door to get a piece of the action.”

Peter again seemed bewildered at the talk, “I’m sorry, what – what is this proper competition?”

Remus sighed, willing his patience to continue, “These two are disregarding the feelings of a fellow classmate in the hopes that she’ll better their love lives outside of their fake relationship.” When the poor blonde boy seemed even more confused, he added, “Essentially these two want to try and win over (Y/N)’s affection, seeing which one gets it first, and then drop her flat with no consequences.”

“Ah, but the reward will be great,” Sirius stated, grinning, “Breaking one girls heart is worth the dozens that will be willingly given to me afterwards.”

James appeared a bit more skeptical, much to Remus’ satisfaction, “And Lily will realize what she’s been missing out on.”

“You two are impossible,” Remus finally uttered, “I will not condone this; I think you sometimes forget that I am a Gryffindor Prefect.”

“No, I could’ve sworn it was Ravenclaw.”

“Smartass.”

“Besides the point,” Remus waved his hands, light igniting his gaze, “I will not have you play with this girls emotions and then drop her brokenhearted and despising you for the rest of our time at Hogwarts, if not the rest of our lives.”

Sirius let there be a pause after the statement before continuing with a kind of vigor, “Well, now that we’ve gotten the grouchy warning out of the way. I’d say we put it to a vote.”

James nodded, “All in favor of this proper competition for the affections of the one (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He raised his hand along with Sirius.

After another tense pause and a threatening glare from Sirius, an intimidated Peter reluctantly rose his hand. Remus gave a heavy sigh, crossing his arms tighter against his chest, “This happens every time – you can’t will Peter to your side in every argument.”

“Well, at least for this one, we have,” Sirius laughed, rising from his chair and waltzing over to his friend for a bone crushing handshake, “May the best man win.”

James returned the aggressive grip, staring into the mischievous glint in Sirius’ eyes, “And upon agreement, we do not let her know of this competition, this is (Y/N) falling for us naturally using our own wit and charm.”

“Therefore, I will be gaining the advantage because I am overflowing with both.”

Peter chimed in with a nervous smile, “And we can’t persuade her to go for one of you over the other?”

“No, we’ll use you as spies,” James continued, massaging his crushed hand, “If she decides to talk to you about one of us, you are legally bound to tell us everything she said.”

“And if we tell you to pass along particular information, you will please do exactly that.” Sirius returned to his chair but opted for leaning against the back of it. “And the competition will only end when she is given the ultimatum and has chosen one of us.”

James nodded, pulling his tie even looser, “And we have by the end of the school year – if she hasn’t chosen by then we’ll give her the final question before exams.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Remus huffed, “Don’t lay a question like that on the girl before exams; at least wait until after when she has nothing else to worry about.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ll have to think about that,” Sirius gloated, “Because I’ll make her fall months before final exams.”

~~~

(Y/N) wandered the corridor, a very peculiar incident waying on her mind. She just had the most bewildering interaction with James Potter right outside the Great Hall. The boy was all in a tither, apparently at the end of a rather exhausted sprint down the main staircase.

“Good – Good afternoon, (Y/N),” he had huffed. “How are you?”

She smiled, puzzled, “I’m fine, thank you. You don’t seem to be, though.” She gave him a hesitant look and watched as he awkwardly tried to gather himself.

“Right, yes – it’s hard to run down stone stairs without falling – takes all my concentration; especially when my focus is elsewhere.” He gazed at her behind his squared glasses, hoping he wasn’t being too subtle.

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, scrunching her face as she thought, “What’s on your mind?”

When he grinned at her reply, she couldn’t help but find him quite cute. His gleaming smile complimented his light eyes and dark hair well. Of course she had heard of Potter, him and all of his boisterous friends, but she’d never found herself caught up in a one-on-one conversation with him.

Just the other day she ran into his best mate, Sirius, in the Great Hall. And from that interaction it appeared he’d never laid eyes on her before. Perhaps he said something to James?

“I saw you crossing the corridor. I was trying to think of something clever to say.”

It was incredibly apparent that James was feigning a kind of bravado that his friend Sirius had once shown her. But all too noticeably she was able to pick out the hesitance and anxiety behind his words.

It made her smile even more as he peered down through his unbalanced glasses.

“And you came up with ‘good afternoon’?” she snickered, readjusting her heavy book bag. “You sure it took all of your concentration? Seems a bit obvious.”

This time he laughed along with her, finding his hands itching to fidget with his snitch. How was he supposed to focus on befriending (Y/N) when he had Sirius’ obnoxious face in the back of his mind? He could practically hear his friend mocking his conversational direction.

“Yeah, you got me,” he sighed, “I saw you and my mind went blank.”

She paused momentarily, letting that sentence tense the room. He appeared to sense the shift, messing with his hair even more, which she noticed with a skip in her heartbeat. What could she say? It was cute.

“Well – I’ve got to get studying.” She gestured her path set for the oak front doors, “I promised myself I would ace McGonagall’s exam.”

James saw his opportunity immediately and chose to seize it, “I’ve been meaning to study too! Do you want a study partner? I’m completely hopeless, but I have no doubt you could put me to good use.”

She couldn’t deny the plea in his gaze. Did he really want to? Why would he, all of the sudden? They were never great friends before. But when his tousled hair fell over the rim of his glasses, the skip in her chest wouldn’t allow her to refuse.

“Sure, if you don’t mind going outside. I like walking along the forbidden forest and sitting in the pumpkin patch.”

Her acceptance was enough to make James bounce on the balls of his feet, “Perfect.” He leaned towards the front doors and she took the hint to lead the way. In another stroke of genius he reached out a hand, “Let me carry your bag; you look about ready to collapse under the weight.”

“Are you calling me weak, Potter?”

He smirked at the use of his last name, “Absolutely not. It’s just, I told you I was hopeless with the studying. Maybe my uses will fall under ‘pack mule.’”

It made her laugh enough that she willingly shrug the bag off her shoulder and into his hands.

He liked the sound of her laugh. It was the kind of laugh that infected everything within its vicinity. It even made him want to join her, but he chose to offer a pleasant smile.

In that unsavory part in the back of his head, James could see Sirius unwillingly placing a point under ‘Potter.’ It looked like he was getting the head start.

Back in the Gryffindor dormitories, Sirius was brooding against his window, staring down at the grounds. He was witnessing the playful interactions between James and (Y/N) in the pumpkin patch.

They each sat on their own massive pumpkins, which were grown to colossal size for the Halloween festivities. They appeared to be laughing, James distracting her from whatever she was reading.

James quickly snatched the book from her hands, and she jokingly nudged his arm in protest. He held the book high and laughed at her pout.

It made Sirius clench his fists against the stone wall. If only he had gotten to her first. He would have to put some extra effort into getting on her good side after today. Just the way she sneaked glances at James when he wasn’t looking already put Sirius on edge.

There was no way James was more charming then him. Sure they were a pair, but James was the one good at sports, family dinners, and sneaking around the castle with his invisibility cloak. Sirius was the one good with wit, flirting, and sneaking them in and out of trouble.

He couldn’t help but think of how much more capable James was with relationships too. He was always a bit more open and willing to share then Sirius ever was.

“If you ground into that wall any harder, I fear the stone will start to turn to dust.” Remus laughed aloud, in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap with Peter.

Sirius had to will his hand out of its clenched fist. “Just look how far he’s gotten. She all over him!”

“Shoving him away is hardly the definition of ‘all over him.’” Remus corrected, placing another card on his tower, “They’re simply being friendly.”

“Your heart isn’t in the game, Mooney. I can’t trust your judgement.”

Sirius watched as the sun began to dip and James offered another stroll towards the Black Lake. How dare he! That was Sirius’ move.

“You spoke to her first, didn’t you?” His tone was flat, but Remus always had the need to cheer his friends. “I doubt she’s forgotten you so quickly.”

“You’re not seeing the way she looks at him.”

“It’s only been a few days, Padfoot,” Peter muttered, always afraid to be snapped at for his opinion. “(Y/N)’s sensible – she’ll weigh her options carefully. You’ve got plenty of time to show her what you have to offer.”

Surprisingly, Sirius didn’t feel the need to belittle Peter, “I’m just going to have to think of a more memorable event. Sure James could bump into her and do some homework outside. But that’s not so significant, students do homework every day.”

“What do you consider an insignificant event?” Peter paused his turn at the Exploding Snap tower, sensing the uneasiness in Remus’ brow.

“Please don’t tell me your intentions include the hospital wing?” Remus asked.

Sirius tried to watch the couple out the window with the darkness descending on them. “It won’t be needed if I can catch her in time.”

Remus widened his tired eyes, Peter attempting to match the mood. “What are you thinking, Sirius? Don’t be doing anything stupid. Getting expelled isn’t worth this bet.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous. It’s nothing to be worried about – not by you two.” He retreated to his bed, stretching out with a new air of confidence, “Damsels in distress can’t resist a prince charming.”

“I have to insist, Sirius.”

He rolled his eyes, “If I tell you, there’s a chance James will find out. I don’t need any interference.”

“So help me,” Remus glowered, “If I find out this girl is incapacitated because of your tomfoolery…”

“Relax, Mooney – all’s fair in love and war.”

~~~

The rain was falling into a lazy drizzle, calming the cold that had plagued them that morning. (Y/N) followed the stone steps outside and up towards the owlery, protecting her letters from the last remnants of rainfall.

She dwelled on her conversation with her good friend Mary MacDonald last night. It was a much needed vent about the last few weeks, and Mary was more than willing to listen. She was always a sweet friend.

“James Potter? Are you serious?”

“Yes!” (Y/N) had said, “And we walked along the forest and the lake well into the night. We just talked and talked, and it was actually… really nice.”

“I always thought Potter was a bit of a pompous prat.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Sometimes that does shine through, but I’m getting good at knocking him off his high horse when it does.”

Mary ran a hand through her hair, thinking, “Have you done anything since then?”

“To tell you the truth it’s like he can’t leave me alone. He keeps cropping up in all sorts of places – it’s like I can’t refuse him as a friend now. It’s usually when I’m studying in the Great Hall or the library; he shows up with treats or ideas about walking the quidditch pitch.”

There was a strange glint now entering Mary’s eyes. She let (Y/N) ramble on some more, waiting for some dire information.

“I’ll admit it’s been fun, it’s definitely confusing, but also fun. I’m starting to get used to having him around – he’s always cracking jokes. He knows how to make me laugh. And...”

“Oh, and his hair, right? How he’s always ruffling it around,” Mary put an edge of mockery in her tone, but she was thrilled with the wide eyed reaction from (Y/N). “And his glasses…”

(Y/N) stared at her friend for a moment too long before a blush betrayed her, “… they’re always crooked.”

Mary nodded to herself, a fist under her chin and a smug look on her face. “You like him, don’t you?”

She gave it a lot of thought, “I don’t know. He’s cute and I enjoy being around him. But it’s too soon to tell.”

“It seems pretty obvious to me,” Mary concluded, pointing at her friend accusingly, “You have feelings for James Potter.”

(Y/N) began to retort, “We’ve only been hanging out for a week!”

“And he’s obviously been doing something right because you are still thinking about that week.”

Now as (Y/N) climbed the staircase towards the owlery, she sighed. Maybe she did feel something for James. She couldn’t deny the skipping of her heart every time he brushed her shoulder with his.

After tying her letters to nearby barn and screech owls, (Y/N) went for her favorite spot just outside the tower. She sat on the railing and let her legs swing in the open air, taking a deep breath of the crisp wind.

The stone was still damp from the ceasing rain and it made her fingertips cold touching it. She had hoped the fresh air would clear her head of her recent puzzling thoughts and feelings. But the longer she sat there, the more she found her mind fogging up.

What was she doing sitting on the railing? How did she get up there?

Shaking her head a bit, (Y/N) tried to turn herself around but found another wave of confusion hit her.

Where was she, again?

And reflexively scooching to one side to peer at her surroundings, (Y/N) found herself unbalanced and sliding off whatever she was sitting upon. Was this a railing?

She began to slip off the damp stone, a sudden shriek on her lips. Her feet found no traction as they descended further, and her hands grappled for any kind of purchase. In just a few seconds she was dangling from the edge of the staircase, fingers cold and numb against the rough bricks.

She couldn’t find her voice as she struggled to wedge a foot along the side. Heavy breaths came from her lungs as whimpers escaped her.

But in another few seconds, she heard another’s voice.

“Woah! What are you doing?”

Frantically turning her gaze upward, (Y/N) saw a familiar face. Sirius Black?

“H-Help.”

He copied her panicked face, fumbling with stowing his wand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” His hands found hers and he began to hoist her up.

(Y/N) scrambled over the edge, feeling the numbness that started in her fingers trail through the rest of her body. She could hardly comprehend the way she fell into Sirius’ arms, clutching at his cloak out of sheer panic.

“Hey, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, (Y/N).”

He felt the shivers racking her body as he held her to him. An unexpected pang of guilt shot through him. She had fistfuls of his cloak, fear plain in her eyes as she stared at a fixed point ahead.

“Are you all right?” When she didn’t respond, Sirius tried cupping her face, turning her gaze to him. “Are you all right, (Y/N)?”

She looked at him hard, blinking furiously as warmth began to seep back into her bones. “I – um… I think so.”

“You’re not hurt at all?”

She stared at the way his face changed when he asked it. A crease formed between his eyebrows and his eyes were set upon hers. She started to feel his hands on her cheeks and a sudden rush of heat flooded them.

“No, no – I think I’m good.”

That warmth began to unfreeze her limbs, her mind no longer so foggy. She took a deliberate step away from Sirius, embarrassed by the momentary close contact.

He held his hands up, noticing the swift retreat, “Hey, I’m just checking. You look a little shaken.”

She looked around her, “I don’t understand,” she muttered.

“What were you doing sitting on the edge of the stairs? You do realize it was raining this morning.”

She looked harder but couldn’t find any reason. She must’ve just slipped, though she’d sat on that railing for years and never fallen. “I come up here to think. I’ve never fallen before.”

He nodded but kept a concerned look on his face, “You seem a little dazed. Maybe you should visit the hospital wing – Madam Pomfrey might have something to calm you down.”

“I told you I was all right.”

“I know, but it would make me feel better if you got checked out anyways.”

Was her mind still foggy or was Sirius Black showing genuine concern? She snapped her gaze back to his and realized that the arrogant flirt from that day in the Great Hall was completely gone. It was almost bewildering to see his face without the smugness or the classic smirk.

Her stomach churned, whether from leftover fear or freshly made nerves, she didn’t know. But she was compelled to return the compassion.

“Thank you,” she said, “For pulling me up.”

A smile returned to his features, “It’s no problem. Damsels are my specialty.”

So the arrogant flirt was still in there.

“It was lucky you came over here. I would’ve been a goner.”

She waited for him to say something obnoxious like ‘yeah, you are lucky, princess,’ or ‘just call me savior from now on.’ But he caught himself with his mouth agape, it was a calculated hesitance.

“I’m glad,” he said, more sincerity in his tone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Her stomach did another involuntary flip. Did Sirius always have such a nice smile? She never realized how kind it was, or how warm his eyes were.

“Can we stop by the hospital wing real quick?”

“We?” she murmured, still dazed by the sudden rush of epiphanies.

He chuckled, “I’d like to follow through, if you don’t mind. What if you slipped on your way down to the castle?”

(Y/N) recognized the chuckle as something to accompany a witty remark, but this time it was partnered with a warm gaze and a slanted brow.

“Sure,” she said, hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re acting strange.”

He laughed again, leading the way back down the stairs, respectfully keeping his distance from her now. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” (Y/N) hid her hands in her pockets, hoping the redness had dulled in her cheeks, “You haven’t said anything irritatingly pretentious yet.”

He let out a low whistle, “The damsel bites back.” She didn’t say anything more so he shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to assume I’m like that all the time.”

Had she made assumptions? She had only spoken to him that one other time in the Great Hall.

~~~

There was a very clear thwack as the portrait swung closed. Mumblings could be heard from the Fat Lady and a string of first and second years scrambled to move their things elsewhere and avoid the coming carnage.

James came tromping towards the corner of comfy couches the marauders normally occupied, finding the trio he was seeking.

“You have some explaining to do,” he pointed at Sirius, “And it better be lengthy and detailed.”

The venom was perfectly seen in his words, and it only made the victory that much sweeter in Sirius’ eyes. “Yes, Prongs?”

“How unrelentingly pig-headed are you? How much of a conniving, thieving git are you?” James began to rise his voice much to the growing grin on Sirius’ face.

Remus began to contort his brow, “What’s happened, James?”

“What’s happened is that Sirius has no regard for (Y/N)’s safety. Apparently it was thrown out the window when he decided to toy with her to get back at me.”

“Who said anything about getting back at you? I’m just playing the game.” Sirius was much too relaxed on the sofa for James’ liking.

Peter piped up, “What’s happened to (Y/N)?” He had grown quite fond of the girl whenever they met in the library. She was always kind to him when he struggled with assignments.

“Sirius landed her in the hospital wing!” James hissed, “She just told me downstairs.”

Remus rounded on their friend, “You said you wouldn’t let it get that far!”

“You knew about it!”

“Is (Y/N) all right?”

Sirius yelled the loudest, “Alright, you pansies, calm yourselves. (Y/N) is fine.”

“Not before she was almost thrown off the side of the owlery.”

Remus felt his jaw drop, “You shoved her off the stairs?”

Sirius jumped to his feet, “Now, now, Mooney – let’s not fall to any conclusions. (Y/N) was sitting on the railing and I simply nudged her into the perfect position for a rescue.”

James was fighting the urge to sock his friend in the face. “By having her fear for her life, dangling on the side of a mountain?”

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t meant to go that far.”

“Then how far, exactly?” Remus urged, “Be careful, Sirius – I might not hold James back from hitting you.”

“I just sent a little confundus charm her way while she was sitting there so she would forget why she was there in the first place. Then I thought I’d surprise her, she’d jump a bit, I’d steady her so she wouldn’t fall… easy.”

James had to cross his arms very tightly to keep them from swinging, “And you took the charm too far?”

Sirius felt a familiar pang of guilt, the look of terror on (Y/N)’s face as she clutched at him resurfacing in his memory. “Perhaps. But she’s all right, isn’t she? I took her to the hospital wing just to make sure, and Madam Pomfrey said after a nights rest she’d be fine!”

The silence was tense and anxious. Remus looked ready to attack Sirius just as much as James wanted to, but maybe not as ferociously. Peter cowered in the corner, wishing to run from the fight.

Sirius was the only one with a casual look on his face, “You two are overreacting.”

“I can’t believe you would put (Y/N) into such unnecessary danger,” Remus remarked.

“You’re overlooking the benefits, though,” Sirius continued, “Clearly (Y/N) has been talking about me. Clearly she has me on her mind, exactly where I want to be.” He stared smugly at James, relishing in his fuming state.

James couldn’t comprehend the fury he was feeling. How dare Sirius take such measures. How dare he hurt someone he cared about.

Wait.

Someone he cared about?

“This isn’t a game anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is (Y/N) we’re talking about,” James reiterated, “She isn’t a chess piece – she’s our friend. You clearly are taking it way too far. I thought charm and flirting would’ve sufficed, but you want to throw in some death defying stunts…”

Sirius held his hands up, his smugness melting away, “Easy – you don’t think I was worried about her too? I’m sensing a little more than anger here, Prongs.”

James swallowed hard, his face set, “That might be my restraint in killing you right now.”

“No, no – I think you’re hiding some other unresolved feelings.” Saying the words did uneasy things to his chest, much to his chagrin. “Perhaps you’ve been enjoying your time with (Y/N) more than you thought.” Just the idea made unwanted jealousy bubble in his stomach.

Why would he feel that?

James had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something rash. From giving himself away.

“Just stay away from her – for a little while. I think you’ve traumatized her; she won’t go across a bridge without someone with her.” He began to retreat, coolness to his tone, wishing to be alone now.

“And let you get ahead? I don’t think so.”

James stopped in his tracks for only a second before thinking better of the situation and leaving the common room.

The remaining three sat in silence for a few minutes, Sirius finally feeling able to let his guard down and appear sulky. Peter flickered his beady eyes between his companions as Remus attempted to study Sirius’ face.

“Are you all right?”

Sirius barely sneered, “What?”

“We were so busy worrying about (Y/N), we didn’t ask how you were.” Remus tilted his head in thought, “You did almost send the girl to her death.”

The unwanted heat in his chest made Sirius stir uncomfortably, “It was a surprise.”

Remus knew better and waited for his friend to build up the courage to continue.

“When she fell over… for a split second – I didn’t know what to do.” He paused and waited to see if someone would stop him. He tried with difficulty to gather his thoughts, “I was terrified. I was angry at myself.”

There was another bout of silence and it appeared that Remus was satisfied with the outcome of his questioning. Sirius was relieved, it was overwhelmingly hard for him to describe his feelings.

“James isn’t going to forgive so easily.”

“I know that.”

“And (Y/N) doesn’t know her fall wasn’t accidental?”

“If she did I doubt she would’ve let me walk her back to her dormitory.” There was a distant look in Sirius as he thought of the memory. He was finally able to get her to smile again right before saying goodnight.

~~~

Mary was more skeptical than ever as they trudged through the snow covered grounds. It seemed impossible.

How could both James Potter and Sirius Black be fawning over her best friend?

“And then what did he do?”

“He pointed out the mistletoe and looked at me expectantly. And what was I supposed to do?” (Y/N) mused, almost embarrassed by how much she liked the moment.

“So you kissed him?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed – I thought you were team James from the beginning.”

Mary didn’t respond right away, “How was it?”

(Y/N) appeared to like that question, “Merlin, I’ve never had so many butterflies. He kissed me once, real quick. And it looked like he was going to say something, so I just went for another one!” She kicked a pile of snow, entirely too happy to remark on the few flakes that fell on her face. “And before I knew it, we were on the couch.”

“You didn’t…?”

“No, we just kissed.” (Y/N) said quickly, “But it was the best kiss I think I’ve ever had.”

The retellings of the Christmas weekend were definitely something to behold. Both Black and Potter decided to try and one up the others time with (Y/N). It appeared that Mary was the only one to have noticed. Merlin only knows what Sirius will do once he figured out James had kissed (Y/N).

“Well, what about Sirius? Did you two do anything over the weekend?”

“We spent Sunday with Remus and got in a snowball fight. Sirius shoved snow down my cloak like the git he is. But when we walked back to the castle he asked if I was all right.”

“He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Seems to wait for when no one is around.”

(Y/N) felt defiant, “Sirius doesn’t like people to know he’s a good guy. He has to keep up appearances, you know.”

Mary found the sudden urge to list the pros and cons of the boys laid out before them. “But James has never struggled with showing you how he feels.”

“But have you seen him around the quidditch pitch? I could climb to the moon on the ego he has while on a broomstick.”

“But he also is a gentleman – he carries your books, takes you out to Hogsmeade, brings you treats…”

(Y/N) blew hot air between her numb hands, “Yeah, but no one asks me how I’m doing more than Sirius. And he is determined to make sure I’m not lying; he hates it when I say, ‘I’m fine.’” She fiddled with her pockets as a frown soured her face, “And I’m pretty sure I caught James pining over Lily Evans the other day.”

That startled Mary a bit, “Did they use to go out?”

“No, but James fancied her a lot! Peter told me. She rejected him something fierce.”

“And you think he’s still stuck on her?”

“Maybe.” The grimace didn’t suit (Y/N). “And then there’s Sirius – the perpetual bachelor.”

Mary snuck a smile, “Yeah, but Sirius always has a string of girls wanting to go out with him. He lets his good looks get to his head.”

“Sometimes I think he doesn’t believe he’ll ever find someone,” (Y/N) mumbled, “I know his arrogant, witty side is a front. He almost gets nervous whenever I try to make a move.”

“Really?” Mary dramatized, “I thought Sirius Black never got nervous.”

“That’s cause you haven’t taken the time to get to know him.”

Mary nudged her further, “And what about James? Does he have some secret?”

(Y/N) pondered thoughtfully, “I think he’s scared no one likes him compared to Sirius. He has a good heart and comes from a wealthy family. But he wants to make a name for himself, so he puts everything he has into his friends and quidditch. He gets jealous quite a lot.”

“Interesting.”

“And that’s not even mentioning Sirius and his family. Man, I thought I didn’t get along with my parents, you should look at his.” She found herself taken slower and slower steps, her voice now lowering, “You know his entire family is in Slytherin? And he’s a Gryffindor… that should be enough to speak for his character. He despises what his family represents.”

“I didn’t know that.” Mary was now beginning to understand the predicament that (Y/N) had found herself in.

Both of these boys were setting up a dangerous game. One that was going to end only in heartbreak and guilt. And Mary didn’t like that her best friend was tangled in the middle of it.

“What are you going to do?”

(Y/N) paused, halting her steps. “You mean – who am I going to choose?”

“I don’t think you should let it go on much farther. I think both of them are falling for you and eventually one of them is going to be let down, and you’re going to feel terrible for doing it.”

They stood there ankle deep in snow as the gears turned in (Y/N)’s head. Mary could’ve sworn steam was beginning to come out of her ears.

“I don’t know if I can choose.”

Mary frowned, “Well, you need to explore your options. You obviously care for both of them, now you just need to figure out which one you love.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard at the thought: love.

“I haven’t kissed Sirius yet.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mary continued, helping the thinking aloud process. “But just because you can kiss them doesn’t mean you love them.” She was painfully aware of the numbness creeping into her stone cold feet, but (Y/N) didn’t appear to be.

And another set of footprints was coming their way, crunching in the snow.

“Oh, I think that’s James now. Act as if we haven’t been talking about him this whole time.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh as they were joined, “Hello, James.”

“Hi, (Y/N) – Mary. How are you?” His cheeks were rosy with the cold, his pale complexion making his ruffled hair stand out. He was staring only at (Y/N) as he asked the question.

She felt her heart throb, “I think my fingers are frostbit, but other than that, perfectly fine.” She laughed his favorite laugh.

“Well, no wonder; you’re not wearing any gloves.” And there was no hesitation as he reached for her hands to warm them up between his. He blew hot air between her fingers and rubbed them together.

(Y/N) was mesmerized, her flushed cheeks growing to down her neck. Mary noticed but didn’t say anything, only smirked.

“Better?” He stared at her with eyes alight with something Mary could only describe as adoring.

(Y/N) smiled, “Much.” She intertwined their fingers, asking him to join them back towards the castle.

~~~

“I think we have a problem.” Remus saw first, peering down the table at where James and (Y/N) were eating together. “I think our friend is losing sight of the goal.”

Sirius sat begrudgingly beside him, “Doesn’t he realize that every time he looks at Lily, (Y/N) notices?”

Speaking of the redhead, Lily Evans made her way down the aisle of seats to take one beside some other Gryffindors. James flickered his eyes to her before returning them to a suddenly much more sullen (Y/N).

Sirius practically growled into his dinner, “If he actually cared about (Y/N), he’d spare her feelings and go for Evans.”

Remus didn’t dare remark how at the beginning of the school year the pair of them were both ignoring (Y/N)’s feelings for a petty competition.

“Don’t be mean, Padfoot,” Peter whispered across the platters, “Just because they’ve kissed…”

He didn’t want the reminder. His fist clenched involuntarily beneath the table. “I can’t believe I’m losing. There’s no way he wants her more than I do.”

Perhaps he meant to say it just to himself, but it was loud enough for Remus to hear. The scarred boy felt sympathetic, looking to Sirius with a wary glance.

“Do you mean that?” Maybe he could give Sirius a much needed epiphany. “You want her?”

There was a silence as Sirius pounded away at his feelings. He felt them creeping up on him – making his heart race, his lungs constrict, his palms sweaty. He never used to feel that way. He was afraid to feel that way.

But he had tried to deny them for months now. After the mistletoe incident during Christmas, he had seemed to lose much of his persistence. His resolve was that he wanted (Y/N). Wanted her badly. But James had gotten there first.

Stupid, wonderful James. Of course she’d go for him.

Sirius looked at his best friend and knew he couldn’t ruin it for him. James deserved to be happy. Sirius couldn’t be selfish. As much as it now pained Sirius to see them together, he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he stole (Y/N) right from under James.

But what if she came willingly?

Oh, shut up.

Sirius had simply given up trying to win (Y/N)’s affections. At this point, he was just waiting for the final verdict. He still spent as much time as he could with her without breaking his heart. He just knew that she preferred spending that time with James.

And he was okay with that…

He was learning to be okay with that.

Remus caught himself falling into a pained grimace as he watched the rainbow of emotion reflect in Sirius’ face.

His friend was suffering while the other prospered. “You don’t have to answer. I’ve known it for a while now.”

Sirius swallowed hard, flexing his fists on his knees. “I think we have to give her the ultimatum soon. The Easter holidays are next week – we could give her till after. She could have the whole break to think about it. James and I are staying here anyways, it’ll be perfect.”

Remus still looked at him skeptically, “I should’ve stopped this bet before it got so serious.” They didn’t say anything, and Remus continued, “I think you both didn’t expect to fall for her so easily.”

“She’s easy to love.”

Remus tried not to have such a noticeable reaction. He knew the slightest hint towards that conversation would scare Sirius right off. “Maybe you should talk to her.” He pointed towards the couple rising from their seats, James kissing the back of (Y/N)’s hand.

Sirius didn’t respond as James came waltzing back towards them. He didn’t even see the still sullen look on (Y/N)’s face as she retreated.

“Evening, boys,” James mused, “I would like to say that I’m feeling rather good about my prospects. I do believe I’m going to win this bet.”

Sirius felt his hands shake, “And once you do, are you going back to Evans?”

“Sorry?” James wiped the smirk from his face.

“That was the point, wasn’t it? Get the rebound to make Lily jealous.”

James paused to think of a proper response, “Sure, to make Lily jealous, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go for her again.”

A slow nod, “So you’re planning on going steady with (Y/N).”

Remus flickered his eyes between his two friends, he tried to interpret the look on James’ face. Did he realize what these words were doing to Sirius?

“If she’ll have me, yeah.”

Sirius had to rise from his seat after that. “Excuse me.”

He sped down the aisle of seats, heart beating rapidly beneath his burning chest. There was only one face he wanted to see, one that he wanted to hold. It was almost involuntary how fast he scoured the corridors outside the Great Hall. All he knew was that he wanted to see her. He wanted to tell her, show her.

And there she was continuing her retreat back to her common room.

“(Y/N)!” he sped ever quicker, a painful throb echoing in his chest. He noticed her slow her steps, but not turn to look at him. “What’s going on?”

He was met with a distressed look on her face, “Hello, Sirius.”

“Are you all right?”

There was a flicker of a smile gracing her features, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not sure.”

“Tell me,” he stated, staring into her downtrodden eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” When she met his gaze it was like fire. “I – I don’t understand how I can choose.”

Sirius had an inkling about what she was referring too. As always he kept a respectable distance, not wishing to overwhelm her, though the burning in his chest tried to will him to hold her.

“Choose?”

“I’ve noticed James sort of pining over Lily. And when he does it makes me sad. Like I’m not the only girl for him.”

You’re the only girl for me.

“But when it’s just us two it’s like nothing else matters. I really do like him – but he’s not the only one on my mind.”

Sirius swallowed hard, “Yes?”

She stared up at him, guilt plainly visible. “But I don’t exactly know how he feels.” She remembered the way Sirius had held her face back when she tumbled off the owlery tower. The thought made her cheeks redden.

Sirius noticed, feeling that familiar churning in his stomach, something he usually fought against. But his hand betrayed him, reaching out to graze her blush with just his fingertips. His head yelled at him to stop, but his heart yearned to go further.

“And if you knew, it would help?”

“The plainer the better.” Her breathing hitched at the way his gaze melted into hers.

And then he was just inches away, his breath just as unsteady as hers against her lips. The fire seared through them as they connected, (Y/N) going limp but Sirius clamping his hands on either side of her face.

Every ounce of him screamed of desperation, of a longing for this moment. It was making (Y/N) dizzy, her lungs momentarily forgetting how to work. Sirius pulled away, catching his breath and leaning his forehead against hers.

“Does that tell you plain enough?”

She shivered at his whisper, “In the only way you can tell it. That’s always been you, Sirius – few words, full action.” She caught herself smiling but being confused at the contorted look on his face.

“You should take the Easter holidays. Think it through.” He finally backed away, though his hands held onto her for a fraction of a second longer, “We’ll respect your decision, no matter what it is.”

And unable to stand her gaze any longer, he ran off to the solitude of the Black Lake.

~~~

Peter shuffled uncomfortably at the Hogsmeade train station, Remus steady at his side. Steady, but concentrating on calming his nerves.

“How long does it take to get off the train?”

Remus sighed, “She’s probably getting every free second she can before facing us.”

The two of them were instructed to escort (Y/N) back to the castle, both James and Sirius agreeing the coming conversation would be handled better nearer to their dormitories.

James was afraid (Y/N) would pull a fast one and choose Sirius, even though they had a more intimate relationship.

Sirius was afraid that (Y/N) would pick James regardless of his moment of vulnerability with her. He couldn’t help but convince himself that she would want someone more apt at demonstrating public displays of affection.

Therefore, the duty was laid to Remus and Peter, the two that would ensure her safety and counsel her where it was needed.

Remus was collecting his thoughts as she quietly stepped off the train and onto the platform. He quickly offered to carry her trunk to the nearest carriage, “(Y/N)! How was your holiday?”

She gave a heavier sigh than expected, “Not long enough.”

Peter tip toed around to give her a hug, “We missed you. All of us.”

She tried to hold back a grimace, but followed them to the carriage, “They haven’t been giving you grief, have they?” There was a pause that confirmed her suspicions, “Of course they would be.”

“They’re anxious to see you,” Remus stated, sitting beside Peter, “They’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sirius more depressed. And James has dug an imprint in the rug from all his pacing,” Peter prattled, not taking much heed to his words. “It’s been a long week for them as well.”

(Y/N) frowned, ��Yeah, I’ve been much the same. Thank you – for meeting me.”

The ride back up to the castle was mostly silent, Peter squirming and Remus remaining rigid. (Y/N) could feel them both wondering the same thing: what was her decision? It sent more anxiety flooding threw her at the thought.

Peter appeared to be getting at his wits end as the school loomed every closer, “(Y/N)… can I ask?”

“Hmm?”

He swallowed, “Who won?”

That took her aback. What an odd way to phrase it. “Won?” Remus attempted to subtly nudge his friend a warning, but (Y/N) quickly caught it. “You mean won my affections? Who beat the other? How silly – you make it sound like a competition.”

She smiled but felt a wave of paralysis at the stony response from the other two. Peter looked absolutely petrified as Remus seemed to collect himself quicker.

“Yes, a very silly way to put it. He meant, who did you choose? Of course.”

“Are you…” she peered at them, her mind overworking. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, not at all,” Remus said all too quickly, “We’re just looking out for our friends.”

(Y/N) seemed more and more skeptical. The way these two were sitting uncomfortably put her on edge. There was clearly something going on and she knew exactly who to target for further questioning.

“Peter?”

The small blonde boy widened his eyes in fear, knowing his own resolve will be corrupted immediately. Remus seemed to think this too, closing his eyes to hide his exhausted defeat.

“What are you hiding? Has it got something to do with James and Sirius?”

Peter felt his own head nod without consent from his mind. He also felt a second jab to the ribs from Remus.

“Well, what is it?” She felt her heart beat faster. She knew it had something to do with what she said before. “Is… does it have to do with some competition?”

Peter turned towards his taller friend with a pleading look, very quietly saying, “It was a kind of competition.”

~~~

James and Sirius waited in the grounds near the pumpkin patch that was now filled with spring weeds and flowers.

A new imprint in the dirt spoke of James’ pacing, his hands being wrung before him. He kept straightening his hair to no avail, his skewed glasses falling farther and farther down his nose. He couldn’t understand how Sirius could stand so still near him.

Sirius was a statue, the only evidence of life being the quickened pulse and strenuous breaths working his lungs. He was determined not to show his reaction to her picking James. He was practicing now – practicing in keeping his composure.

It got harder as he saw students begin to flood the school gates. He watched James pause his frantic steps, straining to find their friends. Sirius refrained from doing it too, knowing that if he let himself he would begin to unravel.

James clutched his fidgeting hands together, spotting (Y/N), Remus, and Peter near the back of the crowd. A grin split his features and he bounced on his toes, “There they are!”

The two of them had hardly spoken a word all week, each wondering how their friendship would be after one of them was chosen. It was still hard to feel that the ‘best man should win,’ when each hoped that they’d be picked.

Sirius peered at the three figures making their way towards them across the grounds. Remus and Peter seemed less eager to reach them, carrying a trunk and keeping their heads down. (Y/N), on the other hand, was determinedly marching her way over.

It was plain to see that those steps were fueled with a kind of vigor. A kind of anger. And it seemed like James was beginning to recognize it too. He retreated a few steps to stand beside Sirius.

“Does she look upset to you?”

“It looks like she’s crying,” Sirius muttered. He could feel himself beginning to snap and unravel against his better judgement.

And the closer she got, the truer the assessment was. Her face was blotched and twisted in a kind of fury, one that made her breaths come out in sputters.

“You…” her voice was weak and betrayed.

And both boys had an idea on what was happening, though neither wanted to admit it. James craned his neck to see the ashamed looks on Remus and Peter’s faces.

“Now, (Y/N),” he stated, his anxious excitement plummeting to fear. “I don’t know what you heard…”

Sirius felt the blood drain from his face. What little hope he was experiencing distinguished in an instant.

(Y/N) finally reached them, raising her hand and giving an almighty smack across James’ cheek. She stumbled backward and looked ready to deliver another to Sirius.

James staggered, holding his face, absolutely stunned. But Sirius straightened out, knowing that he deserved it. But (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to do it again; she resorted to shoving Sirius away, hitting and pounding at his chest where she could.

“You… complete… arrogant… selfish… FUCKS!”

Cracks appeared in Sirius’ heart, his shoulders sinking to block her blows but not to stop her. She fumed, using her full force to push him away and retreat a few steps.

“A bloody COMPETITION? I suppose it was all some grand joke to you two.” She was sobbing now, fresh tears streaming down her already puffy cheeks. “Let’s see if we can get the stupid, naïve girl to fall in love with us – was that it?”

She paused for only a second, not wishing for a response just now, “I should have seen something what with the both of you wanting to suddenly be best friends with me out of the blue – and at the exact same time!” She ran her fingers harshly into her hair, “And it was all a LIE.”

Sirius started to shake his head, but James beat him to the first spoken word, “It’s not like that, (Y/N), not anymore.”

“Not ANYMORE?”

“Honest,” James tried to continue, “At first it was just to see who’d you like more. And now we – we both – feel very, very different.”

(Y/N) had her hands on her hips, not even bothering to wipe away her tears. “And that’s supposed to redeem the fact you did it in the first place?”

“No! Of course not, it’s just…” he looked towards the paralyzed Sirius, “You need to know that regardless of the intentions, we’ve both developed very real feelings for you.”

“Real enough to forget about Lily Evans?” she practically shrieked, “Did the rebound work for you?”

James stuttered, unable to form a worthy enough response. But (Y/N) didn’t need it, the look on his face was good enough. She instead rounded on Sirius, “And you.”

He set his jaw but blinked a few times. The burning, yearning in his chest was now aching – destroying him from the inside out.

“I suppose you think it’s funny trying to kill me to get my attention.”

The air left his lungs, “I… I never – I could never – find that funny.” But the hatred in her eyes was so real he thought nothing he said would take it away. It made him want to cower. “It was foolish and accidental how you fell. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

But she didn’t want to hear it. How he wished he could wipe her face clear, to kiss the pain away.

James outstretched a hand, “Please, (Y/N) – let’s go sit and talk. Allow us to apologize.”

She immediately started to shake her head, “I don’t need an apology. I couldn’t trust it anyway. I just wanted to see the look on your faces when I told you my decision. That I’ve made my choice.” She contorted her face into an unflattering sneer, “That neither of you get to win.”

She retreater farther, edging towards the castle, “Don’t you dare speak to me. Don’t you dare look at me. From this day on, you don’t exist in my mind. And you’re going to keep it that way.”

James took a hesitant step towards her but knew it was too late. She was stumbling away, uneasy on her exhausted feet. He felt his own eyes burning, not realizing that tears were flooding them. He let out a breath that stuttered and whimpered.

Sirius thought he could describe without a doubt the feeling of your heart being torn from your chest. He was beyond tears, beyond regret. There was no way he could recover from the despair that now encumbered him. He turned to the pained looks of Remus and Peter.

He saw their lips moving but could hear no noise. He found he couldn’t catch his breath.

This quite possibly could be the biggest mistake that either of them will make in their entire lives.

~~~

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader. The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think. Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP! BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP! BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms. Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out. Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift. But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters. As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent. It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills.

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off. Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed. “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.” I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space. It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures. Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together. Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting. She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief. Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order. First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix. Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space.

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels. Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone. “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component. The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is. Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily. Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something. I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion. The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom. Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it. Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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g0dtier · 4 years ago

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Ok look even i realize i cant make a post like that before elaborating so as someone who has an art degree, was groomed themselves and was raised by someone who worked with teenagers who were groomed specifically for 20 years, heres my take on why tumblrs mentality towards fiction (&real degeneracy) is wrong and what you can do to help victims

Im gonna leave out the whole "fiction = reality" shit because at this point everyone knows it doesnt, they just cherry pick where to believe it does. This is not a black and white issue. Fiction may bring up something that was already there, but since none of us are shooting celebs because of books or molesting animals cause furry shit exists, its safe to say theres a line. 1000s of teen boys idealize that one dipshit from fight club. 99% grow out of it. The few that dont were already fucked up and wouldve ended up blowing some shit up either way. No, ao3 is not normalizing pedophilia and you are in no way helping victims. Youre kind of being a detriment.

Pedophiles may use fiction to groom kids, but they did that before fandom existed as well. There is no big difference between using fiction of 2 teens vs fiction of 2 adults to groom a kid cause a pedophile will either say "youre so much more mature than these fictional kids" or "youre so mature for your age you might as well be an adult, i think this fictional adult couple really represents us" and the minor will still take it as a compliment because that is the point of the action. The reason the abusers can take advantage of them is because they want that validation, for reasons listed below. The form that validation comes in doesnt matter.

Tumblrs mentality is purely focused on outrage. Its about hating the perpetrators and pretending people who arent perpetrators actually are, not about helping the victims.

People here have a wrong idea of what a relationship between a minor & pedophile looks like & how they function. People forget that while to us normal people the minors come across as victims in a horrifying situation (which they are), to the minors themselves it doesnt look anything like that. The problem with many of these relationships is not that the minors dont know what theyre doing or are doing it against their will, the problem most of the time is that they, in their minds, are active participants who choose to do this.

Pedos often actively look for kids in fragile situations. No self esteem, bad home life, severe depression. These are the reasons kids want the validation i listed before. Theyre vulnerable to it because they dont get any of it anywhere else and here theres an adult figure just giving it to them.

The point of a grooming is to give the kid validation and make the kid rely on them. To make the kid believe that the adult is the only one who understands them. Its to put the responsibility of the abusers mental wellbeing on the kids' shoulders in the kids' head. And 99% of the time kids already have a close relationship with the abuser when it gets to that point because of aforementioned validation. They create codependency.

So you know what angrily screeching "pedophile!" at any adult interacting on any level with a teenager does? It gives the abuser a reason to call themselves the victim and itll give the minor, whos likely already reluctant to be open about something an abuser does making them uncomfortable because many of them already have low self esteem and dont trust their own judgment and are scared of the consequences (for example: losing what to them is the only person that understands them) even less likely to talk about it. Because regardless of what tumblr thinks, most of these kids do not realize theyre being abused until much later. Theyre not waiting for someone to give them an out.

And no, no matter how hard you try, youre never gonna convince teens that the person theyre talking to is abusing them. Almost every single victim talks about how they hate abusers but how theirs isnt one, adults included. Theyre just misunderstood, or lonely, or really didnt mean it like that. Teens arent gonna listen to randos on the internet trying to convince them the 23yo who "relies on them for help and who is only in love with them, a 15yo, because theyre just really special and cool" is an abuser. Teens are gonna do stuff behind the back of others and lie about it because teens have a really bad case of "dont tell me what to do" syndrome.

What you CAN do to help teens:

- vote for more funding to health care, specifically mental health care. I know everyone rags on cps but cps does not take away children for no reason and will ALWAYS strife to work it out with the parents by offering personal help if possible

- strife to create a safe space for teens to talk about their experiences. Demonizing any adult interacting with children, no matter how creepy it may seem to you or me, makes the victims more reluctant to come forward. Theyre abuse victims. Adult abuse victims dont respond well to "girl youre being abused leave him!!" either. They respond a lot better to "wow dont you think he shouldnt treat you like that? Dont you think your feelings matter and hes being unfair to you?". You need to demonize the actions, not the context of the relationship because teens have already decided the context itself is fine and its usually not what they have a problem with and they wont till theyre older, no matter how hard you try to convince them.

- giving teens safe spaces to learn/talk about sex and what is or isnt right in a relationship. Most pedophiles are not stable. Theyre often codependent or manipulative or overbearing. Teach kids how to recognize these signs and that theyre not ok.

What doesnt help teens:

- taking down ao3 or yelling that some horndog on twitter drew an adult character looking too young. Taboo fiction is not linked to actual degeneracy and doesnt normalize any of it and is not a more succesful tool to help groom kids than anything else. Pretending it is will make minors less likely to seek help tho because the fear of backlash as stated above.

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sou-ver-2-0 · 4 years ago

Note

I was thinking of an AU, where the death game is created by Sou and set up in Shin's favor. I don't have it well developed yet, but I thought it might be something you'd find interesting!

I definitely find that idea interesting!! I wish you luck in developing that idea further!

For canon, I’m attached to the theory that the Man from the Memorandum is the mastermind of the Death Game, and that his favored candidate is Sara, leaving Shin in the dust. But I really love the idea that Sou could parallel the Memorandum Man in this regard, and that his favored candidate is Shin! An AU where Sou is the mastermind himself sounds delicious as candy to me.

I’ll leave it to you to work out the finer details of your AU. But, maybe it will inspire you if I share some of the ideas @novatoast and I have come up with for our:

“Sou/Midori wants Shin to live” Theory

This theory is a villain stan’s fever dream, but we do have some evidence for it. The basic principles of this theory are that:

Sou might have died for Shin, or else, that he died knowing that his death would give Shin a fighting chance.

Midori is leaving gifts for Shin, and so the “weakest candidate” ends up having a shocking number of advantages.

I already discussed some ways the first point could work in my “Midori is Meister’s Son Theory” post. The basic argument for it is that Original Sou parallels Kai, and if Kai died entrusting his “hopes and regrets” to Sara, it is possible that Sou died entrusting his own name to Shin. Midori the doll even claims, “I gave Sou to Shin.”

The obvious counterargument against this theory is that Midori also states that he wanted to kill Shin himself! You know, “since he was going to die anyway.” To explain this contradiction, I previously speculated that Midori could have lost his “positive emotions” for Shin, to parallel how Rio Ranger lost his own “positive emotions.” Recently, I thought of a different explanation: notably, Midori only says this line in the “Kanna lives” route. It’s possible that Nankidai is setting up a surprise in this route that the person Midori really wants to kill is Kanna, for taking “his Shin” away from him. Another explanation is that Midori is furious at Shin for throwing away all his chances at survival, and this line reflects his anger.

Am I reaching? Obviously, yes. This is the theory where I dial up my self-indulgence to eleven.

Anyway! Isn’t it funny how Shin keeps getting all these gifts and advantages? What if Midori was giving them to him??

1. The name ‘Sou Hiyori’: Midori claims that he gave Sou to Shin! Sou is the name of a villain who lies and uses people. It’s the name of a strong man who has the potential to win. The previous Death Game winner may have even been the role of “The Villain,” so it can be done!

2. The laptop: Shin finds the Hidden Room with the laptop, and he even comments that it may be a gift from the kidnappers. To me, Shin’s dialogue sounds like someone who is used to being toyed with. However, the laptop is undeniably useful to Shin. Firstly, it contains incriminating evidence against Kai, helping to ensure Kai’s death in the First Main Game instead of Shin. Secondly, the laptop proves Shin’s usefulness to the group as a computer hacker, giving him a lifeline he could seize…if he so desired.

3. The gift of knowledge: Before the First Main Game, Shin somehow knew about the Sacrifice Card! And other details about the Main Game! He uses this knowledge to isolate Kanna and trick her—underhanded tactics he surely picked up from his relationship with Sou. Shin also uses this knowledge to devise a strategy to draw out the Sage, while protecting himself and Kanna by acting outrageous enough that they could have each been the Sacrifice.

4. The laptop charger: Wowowow isn’t that convenient?? Isn’t that just what we all needed to keep using the laptop, that precious item which highlights Shin’s invaluable skillset? And Shin just found a charger lying around? Wow!

5. The stun gun: Shin mysteriously got himself a weapon!! Where the hell did you get that, Shin? That’s clearly an unfair advantage!

6. Kugie’s smartphone: I love the implications that Midori may have intended Kugie’s smartphone—with the cruel message—to be a present for Shin, to corner Kanna even further. Notably, Shin and Kanna found the room first, but they were too scared to go inside, and so Sara ended up picking up the phone. Ultimately, Shin used the smartphone to try to boost Kanna’s self-esteem, and he tried to hide the fact that he cared about her. (Though Kanna figured it out anyway.)

With these gifts falling into his lap, Shin entered the Second Main Game with a Strong Persona; a henchman who was willing to die for him; and with everyone recognizing how indispensable his computer hacking skills were. He had so many advantages.

And then he throws them all away.

He gives up on lying about his name, because he wants to be able to trust people again.

He uses all his wiles to try to save Kanna, even at the cost of his own life.

He argues that you should not vote for the “useless” child, and that you should instead vote for the “hated” villain, himself.

If Shin had simply kept up the selfish Sou Hiyori persona, he could have survived!

Wouldn’t it be interesting if Sou/Midori had also given up everything for Shin? That he may have had logical reasons for being so cruel to Shin, to try to make Shin a “strong” person? Because he thought that was the only way his kind-hearted, “weak” friend could live?

Who had the motivation to give the weakest candidate so many advantages? Might Shin have had his own “hero in the shadows,” similar to how Kai was looking out for Sara…but more like a “devil in the shadows” looking out for him?

…On the one hand, I don’t want to get my hopes up too high for Midori. He’s honestly a flat character so far. But he has so much potential!!

The way I’m envisioning this theory, Sou/Midori could be trying to foil Meister’s hopes that Sara will win. (Though it’s certainly possible that Sou/Midori is simply playing into Meister’s hands, or else that he’s dutifully following instructions. We just don’t know.) What makes this theory so fun to me is that I love rebellious villains trying to overthrow the system. I also like the idea that Sou/Midori could turn out to be shockingly “concerned for Shin’s welfare,” but without ever understanding what Shin really needed from him as a friend. That Sou could have approached “saving Shin” from a point of view that is still selfish and cruel. That his actions still harmed Shin, because he never cared what Shin himself wanted.

Going back to your AU though!! If Sou Hiyori is the Mastermind himself? I feel like he could give Shin even more advantages! That sounds like such a cool premise to me. I’m sorry that I hijacked your ask to talk about this theory, haha, but I hope you found it interesting. Good luck!

#yttd #your turn to die #kimi ga shine #your turn to die spoilers #sou hiyori #shin tsukimi #sou and midori #asks #meta #mine #theories

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plasticnightmaredoll · 4 years ago

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(art commission by the lovely and talented @curious-menace)

It is a time where I would like to see what my followers think about various concepts I have in mind pertaining to alternate versions of one my fics. It may take some time to write out any alternate versions since I've been busy and stressed out so much lately, but I am very curious as to what others would find intriguing to read.

But first, some backstory so be patient. We'll get to the voting at the end of this post.

I've been having a lot of bad days lately, and my mood has plummeted to a major low. This includes my self-esteem, which has always been in the dumps but is now basically a dumpster fire.

However, I don't want to be entirely cruel to myself. I deserve some sort of happiness, some sort of reprieve, and writing can be a good coping mechanism. I put a lot of my own thoughts, emotions, struggles, opinions, etc. into my works, as they serve as a way for me to get things off my chest. Sometimes, it's just cute and funny stuff, other times angsty but eventually fluffy stuff, and other times it's quite depressing and dark.

One fic, in particular, stands out, and that is the Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, "Volunteer," (trigger warnings: mentions psychological torture and suicide...more about this fic in a bit for those who would rather not read it because of those triggers) which features Arkham Knight Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane, as well as a lady friend for Edward named Sara. It also features Erron Black and Cassie Cage from Mortal Kombat (Cassie is only mentioned in the story a few times).

If you read the blog intro/self-introduction post pinned at the top of my Tumblr, you know very well how I feel about Cassie Cage (particularly in MK11) and the Erron Black x Cassie Cage (BlackCage) pairing. Those negative feelings are mostly due to a very bad experience with a pushy BlackCage fan who just wouldn't relent one bit on their stance and it was emotionally and mentally draining to try and talk to them, including providing counter-arguments.

I've come up with alternate versions for "Volunteer" recently due to the spike in stress, depression, anxiety, and insecurities I've been dealing with as of late. This is where my followers come in!

I would like people to vote on which alternate take on "Volunteer" they would be interested in reading. Now, I can't guarantee when I'd get to it because, as I mentioned already, I've got a lot going on. However, I really want to try and write at least one alternate version of that fic, just to get some insecurities and negative thoughts off my chest.

Now, for those who are wary of reading "Volunteer" because of the trigger warnings, here's my advice: Just read the first chapter, if you want to. Chapter 2 deals directly with the sensitive subject matter, although, you can probably guess what happens anyway just by reading Chapter 1 and if you know anything about Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow...well, he likes to mess with people...mentally. To put it very mildly.

Now it's time for the voting. I have three different scenarios I've come up with that are variations/alternate versions of the current "Volunteer" fic's concept/storyline. I'd like followers to select 1 (one) alternate telling of the fic. I will open anonymous asks again, so if you are shy or just want your vote to remain a secret for some other reason, then that's fine by me. Otherwise, you can reply to this post with your choice.

Edit: if you are turned off by the idea of a Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, I get it. I don't read crossover fics myself, and that's usually because the crossovers either make no sense or do make sense but the ideas are poorly executed.

This crossover I'm talking about, though, isn't a full-on crossover of MK and Batman. There's no world-building, no larger plot, and no other characters in MK even appear or are mentioned except Erron Black and Cassie Cage.

If anything, it's more of a Batman Arkhamverse standard AU with Riddler and a female oc, and Erron and Cassie are the only concrete elements of MK brought in. I mean, yes, the other MK characters exist, I guess, but they have no purpose in this crossover I've written, and won't make any appearances.

So, if you had any concerns about the crossover aspect, I hope this clears things up

Choices below the cut!

A) "Don't You Wish"

This version is inspired by a song from Pink, called, "There You Go." In this alternate telling, Erron manages to survive Scarecrow's fear toxin, and escape (most likely because Erron is out of his mind and panicking, thus not a threat, and he has no one to help him, so Scarecrow doesn't give a damn what happens to the dude). The first thing Erron does is go to Sara's place, having already broken up with Cassie after realizing dating her was a mistake, and Sara means more to him than he thought.

Well, it's been several months since Sara basically pushed Erron out of her life for his poor choice in women, and (Arkham Knight) Edward Nigma has proven to be a much better (and, wiser and more sensible -- yes, I know, but he's not a skirt chaser, Guys) friend to Sara. While Erron ran off with a blonde selfie princess, Edward offered genuine comfort and companionship, and now Sara has been in the process of moving on from Erron even further.

Sara humors Erron and lets him tell her -- while sounding terrified, confused, and conflicted beyond belief thanks to the fear toxin -- what happened to him. Now, Sara doesn't know Edward asked Scarecrow to take care of Erron as a means of getting revenge for her. Doesn't matter anyway. She's unsympathetic towards Erron's plight, feeling as if he didn't even give her a chance to confess her feelings towards him, nor did he even seem to notice how she felt; it was like he was too busy with thinking with his privates to realize he had someone in front of him who would have treated him better.

Sara tells Erron -- in a flat, disinterested tone -- that his situation is tragic and all but wtf is she supposed to do? Why not go to his dumb blonde gf? Oh, they broke up? Well, how predictable. And Crane is also a (sort of) friend to Sara, which shocks Erron and leaves him feeling worse than before.

Sara sends Erron on his way, and he wanders off in a daze, unsure of what to do with his life now.

Sara and Edward meet the next day, and they have a pleasant time, obviously moving towards becoming a couple. She chooses not to mention Erron as she is completely severing the cowboy from her life.

B) "I Don't Even Miss You"

This alternate telling is similar to the previous one, but this time it's inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "WTF Do I Know" (Hey, her Plastic Hearts album is actually fantastic!), and Edward is with Sara when Erron arrives at her place in a distressed state. At first, Sara deals with Erron in the hall of her apartment building, unsympathetic to his plight and basically telling him, "I told you so," and "too bad." Erron is getting more and more upset, even angry at Sara's callous tone, and starts to raise his voice, demanding to know why she is being so cold at a time like this?

Edward overhears Erron raising his voice to Sara, giving her a difficult time, and he gets pissed. Edward steps out into the hall and not only mocks Erron in various ways, but demands that he leave immediately, or what Scarecrow did will seem like a trip to Disney Land. Erron has caused Sara -- who is currently moving on and growing closer to Edward -- enough problems and heartache.

Edward reveals he set up Erron, and while Sara is stunned to find this out, she handles it better than expected. Edward said it was his way of getting revenge for her, and he'd do it again if need be. Erron is sent away feeling so much worse, feeling lost, hopeless, and betrayed.

Sara and Edward talk and she admits she's upset that he did something like this without speaking about it to her first. However, he explains that he genuinely did it for her and he doesn't want her to feel pain at the hands of some "idiotic cowman," who doesn't consider the feelings of others and who behaves like a greedy, violent Neanderthal. (And yes, Edward does care for Sara, and he didn't send Scarecrow after Erron out of jealousy -- maybe a little jealousy but it was mostly rage over Erron causing Sara so much emotional pain)

Sara means more to Edward than he can express, and he may not be the best when it comes to emotions, but he does care about her and wants her to be safe.

Sara forgives Edward, understanding that, through his heartfelt but very nervous and shy confession that he is sincere about his feelings for her, and they make amends. She of course tells him to never do something so extreme without consulting her first, though, because what happened to Erron -- while she doesn't care what happens to him in the slightest -- was a bit too much.

C) "Listen When the Devil's Calling"

Another title inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "Night Crawling," and this alternate telling involves Telltale Riddler and no Scarecrow. Almost a year has passed since Erron went with Cassie and Sara, out of bitterness and heartache, refused to speak or see him. This didn't sit well with him as she was his only friend, and his relationship with Cassie dies within a few months.

He goes looking for Sara, realizing she has moved out of her apartment. It doesn't take him long to find out where she is, and she's with The Riddler, a notorious criminal genius and one of Gotham's elite villains. Erron is worried for Sara and seeks her out.

Turns out, Sara's just fine. This isn't one of those scenarios where the girl is with a guy who just using her and taking advantage of her vulnerability. No, Edward does actually love her and takes good care of her. He finds people like reckless, selfish, and ignorant people like Erron to be a disgrace but also amusing because of how pathetically primitive they are.

Edward also doesn't appreciate how Erron pushed aside a good thing in Sara to pursue a girl who is a social media brat and has more selfies on her phone than brain cells in her, well, brain. It defies all logic to Edward, but he's also not surprised because of how much of a disappointment Erron is as a human being (hey, this is Riddler we're talking about, and he's not one to be sweet and gentle to those he can't stand). Edward doesn't say these things out loud, though, as it's a bit too vulnerable and personal for him to do such a thing with someone he doesn't know or trust.

Sara is upset that Erron has resurfaced and she remembers how heartbroken she was when he went after Cassie Cage. She wants Erron to leave her alone like she asked, so she can move on. She can't trust him anymore, because he's just a skirt chaser in her eyes.

Erron tries to plead his case, tries to apologize to Sara, and expresses how he really feels, but this just distresses her further. Edward steps in and tells Erron he's done enough to Sara, she clearly doesn't want to see him, and he needs to take his leave.

This isn't a request.

Edward pulls Erron aside, telling the cowboy that the only reason he's going to walk away from this alive is that Sara hasn't asked for him to be killed. Should she tell Edward to take care of Erron, well, you all know what Telltale Riddler is like.

And those are the three variations on "Volunteer."

If you could be so kind as to: