DOG STAR

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@vivaciousdoe

“Evans,” Sirius says pleasantly, dropping down next to her without asking, and without moving the cloak on the chair that’s presumably hers. After taking a moment to make himself comfortable ---- chair tipped back on two legs, hair swept artfully back from his face ---- he finally focuses his gaze on her.

"How would you like to do me ---- and by extension James ---- a favour?”

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@pr0ngs

“Now hear me out,” Sirius says, placing both hands on James’ shoulders and looking into his eyes. “And I know this is going to sound mad, coming from me, but... I don’t think this is a very sensible idea.”

The mere words taste bitter in his mouth; his lips twist in distaste at having to be the one to say them.

[fidemcanem]

@bornbreathless

“No, stop laughing,” he says, crossly. He’s getting that imperious look on his face again; the one he wears when he’s angry, the one that makes him look just like his little brother. “I’m not joking. This is really ----”

Serious.

“----real,” he finishes, lamely.

[fidemcanem]

i have been distracted by my multi, many apologies - like gets u a little thing! will work through some drafts so don’t be surprised if you suddenly get a notif from a thread that’s been quiet for months. that’s just how i roll babeyyy

[fidemcanem]

idk if you remember me but ... hi, my name is Fluffy and I am going through my old rp stuff, reading threads and missing the heck out of it, and you are one of those dearest to me -have always been since we rp'ed four or more years ago- and damn to see you active just makes me so happy. hope you're doing well and sending lots of love.

HELLO! omg yes of course i remember! it’s been a long time but i really hope you’re doing well and it’s so good to hear from you!! if you’re still active on a blog somewhere then PLEASE feel free to hit me up, i’d love to hear from you!!

[bornbreathless-a-deactivated202]

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He didn’t get this one.

Indie TUA original character OC/AU/crossover friendly Established 03/04/2019 Loved by Stitch

[reducios]

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

[proditeur]

There are times when life terrifies me. But what scares me more than that is the thought of what would happen if I chose to do nothing when I could have done something.

est. 2017, as conjured by g

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i done writin

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bornbreathless‌:

The head-patting would hurt a lot more if she wasn’t running on the adrenaline rush - something she still doesn’t understand, given the whole no-blood-flow thing - of everything. The unexpected relief of finally having told someone.

Dad’s going to be pissed.

“She knows,” she says, shrugging one shoulder a little as she finally pulls back from the hug, falling back into the rhythm of fake breaths without even realising. “You think they’d have let me come to school without telling the nurse? And Dumbledore knows. McGonagall, too, I think.” char would be surprised if half the staff didn’t know at least part of her whole thing.

She reaches up and gently pokes at the wound, hissing through her teeth at the sting of it. “No offence, but I think this might need a bit more than manful dabbing.”

“Makes sense,” he says, and doesn’t add like Remus. Of course someone has to know; otherwise there’d end up an awkward situation just like this, and then what? What if Sirius had run away, shrieking the whole while about a student having died?

Not that he would ever do that, of course. Shrieking is for girls, and James when you tickle just the right part of his ribs when he’s distracted by Evans walking by.

“So, er---- I should take you to Poppy?” he asks. “I’m following your lead here. I’ve never performed first aid on someone who isn’t technically alive before. Do you even heal? You must, otherwise bits of you would be falling off right now.”

[fidemcanem]

quietvs‌:

               A noise, close to a hiss but not quite as animalistic, came from Regulus as Sirius’ hand touched him. He attempted to push him away.  ❝  Don’t touch my hair.  ❞ Regulus folded his arms across his chest, lips pulled tight. He wasn’t laughing anymore, not even a little. But of course, he knew Sirius was teasing. They looked alike so the older of the two could not deny his brother.                 Regulus rolled his eyes at Sirius’ advice, though that’s entirely what he was afraid of. Being himself. Unfortunately, Regulus feared that could be the thing that kept girls away. Or anyone. Himself.  He expected a lot. He was clean, neat, and quiet, most of the time. Normally, his self confidence was heightened but when it came to girls, he crumbled.  Especially pretty girls.  He’d never had such a problem with self-esteem before. It had never even occurred he wasn’t enough until someone had suggested it as a joke to his mother over the holidays. Regulus wasn’t QUITE as handsome as Sirius.. he wasn’t quite as masculine and commanding, either. If Sirius wasn’t interested in the ‘Black Throne’, that left Regulus. Sirius gone or there —- especially if he had no children. It still left Regulus with responsibility.       ‘ Because that younger one can’t run your household’ and some laughter accompanied. Regulus never had a single doubt until someone had forced it into him with a shitty side comment that he had overheard. Regulus was young, eager to please. Maybe he seemed overzealous. Too eager. Too willing to do what was needed to be done. Did that make him naive? He was only doing what he was supposed to. Regulus hadn’t told anyone about how it had hurt his feelings – he didn’t have many friends to confide into. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Sirius.               ❝  I’m not telling you. She’ll find out quicker than I’d like if your big mouth starts on.  The whole SCHOOL will probably find out.  ❞ 

     “ ---- oi!”

Sirius’ outrage is only half-feigned. He doesn’t particularly like to be criticised at the best of times, but by his own brother? And for something that’s not even accurate? Sirius is bloody great at keeping secrets. The best, in fact. The only problem being that it’s almost impossible to prove that without immediately disproving it.

But Regulus ought to remember, at least, how careful he was of childhood secrets--silly little things, not important at all, but still covered by some sacred bond of brotherhood. Even if the same sacred bond also meant that Sirius stole Regulus’ dessert, and cheated at chess, and ruffled his hair and pinched him hard in the ribs to make him yell, sometimes. 

Siblings. They’re complicated. Even moreso when one turns out to be something of a family traitor.

“I would never. Unless it’s Minnie, in which case I’m afraid I’d be obliged to publicly defend her honour. Go on, I promise. Can’t hurt. Might help. Maybe I know something about her.”

Far from likely; Sirius is so uninterested in his peers as to be almost clueless about anyone who doesn’t inhabit his direct circle. He knows what James likes for breakfast when it’s cold outside, and how many pages of a book Remus is likely to read before his attention wanders, and Pete’s favourite combination of every-flavour beans, but even the most basic of information about his other classmates goes straight in one ear and out the other. In all honesty, he doesn’t care all that much.

“Anyway, you’re the one that came to me. D’you want my help or not?”

[fidemcanem]

@kingofdirtandnothing​ [ bucky ]

He’s trained for stealth, for infiltration, for subtlety and for espionage.

Of course, a man can never help his nature, and Sirius has found by and large that kicking the door in and acting while everyone is still deeply surprised that anyone would be so stupid is far more effective than his superiors are prepared to give credit to.

Then again, he’s usually not alone when he does this. Usually, he’s got James by his side--covering each others’ backs with a synchronicity others couldn’t achieve despite all the training in the world--and Remus in his ear for comms and tech, and Peter coming in through the back where he’s least expected. This time, it’s just him.

So against his instincts, he does what he’s trained to do, and he makes his cautious way into the depths of the building. He’s aware, too, that out here he has no back-up, no resources available to him. America, for God’s sake. There’s a hundred thousand different things that could go wrong and what would happen? He’d probably end up in some secret government internment camp for spies, or something, and his own government wouldn’t do shit to come get him.

He’s busy entertaining these somewhat grim thoughts when he he’s scared absolutely shitless by the sudden blaring of alarms, the screech of steel shutters slamming down. Lockdown. He hadn’t touched anything! Not a damn thing. And he certainly hadn’t found what he was looking for. Or should he say----who.

A sound echoing towards him might be the march of jackbooted thugs, who will absolutely kick his head in if they find him here. In a split second, he makes a decision; pushes open a door and flings himself in.

He’s expecting that the room might be occupied, that there might be threats to deal with. What he’s not expecting is to come face-to-face with a man he recognises from the heavily redacted file he’d been briefed on. The man he’s been sent to find.

        “----oh,” he says, dumbly. “Good. It’s you.”

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fasciinating‌:

Spock’s eyes wander the state of the cadet’s FORMAL ATTIRE as Sirius provides comment to it. it is in disarray, however — a contradiction. & unsurprisingly, in direct violation of at least three articles within Starfleet protocol, the Vulcan will choose not to mention. clearly, it is in jest. OR in some other form of obvious rebellion. he does not know for certain. though, admittedly, it is a concept Spock understands in his own right. & thus, he does not care. WHAT MATTERS — even if it is only himself that he considers it as such — is the young man came at all. “ fascinating. ” he says. involved in an apparent GAMBLE of sorts, Spock tilts his chin. his eyes sweep the ground briefly, returning again as he conceals a turn up of his amusement in the admission. after a moment, he CLEAVES through the scattered troves of passing red students & their guardians, taking a few steps closer. “ i am curious as to which outcome you have decided in this — wager. & perhaps, more curiously, how it might be achieved. ” after all, vulcans DO NOT smile.

“James is dead set. Says you’ve never smiled; your face muscles are probably all atrophied and you’re just plain incapable. Tragic.” Sirius waggles his eyebrows, and knows that somewhere in the crowd, James has got half an eye on him. They always do, the two of them drawn to each other like magnets, like two fixed points tethered by something that mere spatial distance can’t sever.

“But I reckon I’ve got one over on him,” he says, faux thoughtfulness settling across his brow.

He rolls his shoulders, slides his hands into his pockets. He’s slouching, but anyone who cares to look closely might notice that it’s affected; in thoughtless moments his spine straightens back out to a prouder posture that he hasn’t yet managed to discard. Just another piece of  the puzzle that makes up his facade.

Not that many see through it, or care to. Spock, however, is both sharply observant and has taken a keen interest in Sirius, for whatever reason that may be. A door once opened can be walked through both ways, however; Sirius has had plenty of time to observe the passive Vulcan too.

“See, I not only think that you will smile -- I think I’ll be the one to make you smile.”

[fidemcanem]

She's just. Asleep. Basically on top of him. Azkaban hasn't made him any less of a furnace and she's fucking tired, let her sleep!

Azkaban has changed almost everything about him.

He’s all sharp edges now, ragged and angular lines that used to be smooth, elegant. He’s thinner than before--appetite stolen along with the years, and even double portions forced upon him don’t seem inclined to put meat on his bones. His hair is clean, but lacks the lustre that used to be the envy of his peers.

But through all this, he’s still a furnace, even in the face of the cold bite of winter. His fingers are never chilled, his toes never ice beneath the covers. Warmth radiates from him just as it always had. 

So it shouldn’t surprise him, when she finds him lying on a sofa whose dark, embroidered cushions seem to swallow his still-skeletal frame, and drapes herself over him. Cold fingers press at warm wrist, and he can feel a cool ankle brush up against his calf. 

It shouldn’t surprise him, but it does.

He only notices that he’s warm for the first time as she buries herself into his heat and sighs with contentment, drifts off in a handful of not-breaths. His flesh is warm, but beneath that is the cold cage of his bones, still carrying the chill of the grim north sea and the aura of too many soul-sucking grey shapes, indistinct but inescapable. A stinging ache too deep ever to dig out.

He’s never put it into words. Isn’t sure he even could. Is there a man or woman alive who could understand the weight in his stomach that anchors him to a place he’ll never go to again?

And so he wraps his arms around her, and lets her bask in borrowed warmth.

               He has no need for it, anyway.

[fidemcanem]

i have an unexpected pathfinder session this afternoon (online, obviously) which is going to replace what was going to be my writing time.

in the meantime, please send me memes, or let me know if you want a thing. i’m aware that i owe all the things but that it’s been a long time since i’ve been here, so also let me know if you’ve dropped what we had before and want a new thing!

[longestnight]

your old self is left behind somewhere in that childhood home, somewhere where your first ideals were made. don’t look back on it. where you’re going, it can’t follow

[elsa-the-viking-queen-deactivat]