Fandoms are life

24 | I love my books and my Fandoms and you should too even though they might ruin your life and destroy your relationships

[ladywarlock03]

Karaoke night gone wrong? (Part 2 here)

First time chucking a brick, kinda nervous haha.

The idea I had in mind was more complex but this is the best I can give y'all right now

[perpetuallyexhaustedbookwyrm]

I had to suffer this brick to the face, now you can too.

[writingdose]

[writingdose]

writers, instead of asking ai for help, you can always use your childhood trauma and repressed issues to help you with that fic

[theunfortunate-author]

my daily affirmation as an author

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Generation Gap (Avengers x Reader Drabble)

Summary: There are some things that most of the Avengers missed out on… and it can be pretty funny to the rest

Word count: 609

Warnings: fluff, bad rhyming, midnight/unbetaed typing

A/N: ‘Cause sometimes childhood memories mesh with things you love now and make stupid stories pop into your head as you’re trying to sleep *shrugs* ah well

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Steve and BUcky had been born in the past; they’d adapted incredibly well to technology, and although they didn’t understand most pop culture references the first time, they did endeavour to learn about them for the future. Natasha had never had a childhood, so a lot of pop culture went over her head. She didn’t generally see the point in learning about it either; it wasn’t necessary for anything she did after all. Bruce was similar; he knew a lot of the references, but didn’t really care to understand them. Tony, well Tony had a “privileged” childhood. Though he understood most modern pop culture, he’d missed a healthy dose of the mainstream. The twins had been with HYDRA for most of their lives and Thor didn’t even register most things. With all of this, certain members of the team managed to walk themselves into puns and jokes pretty easily, and for the rest of the team, these were the most precious moments.

Steve had gathered the team for a “team bonding” night again. Everyone grumbled about them, but generally understood that since the accords, it was important to understand each other. So although no one was excited about it, they all trudged out to the open field behind the compound for captur the flag. It was all running smoothly until Steve tried to get everyone’s attention.

“Are ya ready kids?” he called sarcastically, clearly ready to start and ready for everyone to quiet down.

“Aye aye captain,” Natasha snarked back with a salute. Bucky chuckled and mumbled something under his breath.

“I can’t hear you?” Steve prompted, looking at Bucky with his eyebrow raised.

Bucky saw the eyebrow, smirked and stepped right up into Steve’s face and shouted, “AYE AYE CAPTAIN!”

Both of the super-soldiers turned sharply when they heard a snort from behind them. Looking over their shoulders they found the source.

Y/N, Sam, Clint, Scott, and Peter were all trying and failing to hide giant grins. Peter broke first, collapsing on the ground, cackling loudly. Clint was doubled up with his hands on his knees, looking at Scott who was having trouble breathing. Sam and Y/N were standing off to the side, when Sam shot Y/N a grin and started to sing.

“Oh! Who lives in a compound in upstate New York?”

“Captain America,”Y/N cheered in response.

“Star-spangled, and striped, and pious is he?”

“Captain America,” Scott replied.

Then Y/N took over,

“If punching out Nazis is something you wish.”

“Captain America” Peter joined in.

“Then pick up your shield and throw it like this!” she mimed Steve throwing his shield.

“Captain America” Clint cheered.

Then all 5 of them cheered, “Captain America,Captain America, Captain Americaaaaa!” and Peter whistled a little tune before they all fell into hysterics; rolling on the ground with tears in their eyes.

The rest of the team was standing over their teammates with concern and utter confusion on their faces.

“What the fuck was that?” Bucky asked. He was extremely confused. He knew that the others had been making fun of Steve, which he would normally have joined in on, but he had NO CLUE what that song was.

Scott recovered first, and, catching Bucky’s question, he rolled to his feet and staggered over to him.

“It’s from a kids show. It’s a ridiculous show, but you have got to watch it.”

The team bonding day was then spent watching cartoons; “Fairly Odd Parents”, “Rugrats”, and yes, “Spongebob”.

Steve did not find it as funny as all the others when he figured out where the song came from, but he smiled none the less.

I am NOT sorry! I came up with that whole song on my own and I HA to write it down nd share my melted brain with all of you! 

Perma Tags: @buckyappreciationsociety @17marvelousfreak @melconnor2007 @feelmyroarrrr @addictionmarvel @writingwithadinosaur @whenallsaidanddone @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @umwhatandrea @pineapplebooboo @thefridgeismybestie @its-not-the-kat @xlemon-limex

[buckybarnesappreciationsociety]

Thanks for the Monday morning laughter! And yes, I did sing along!! It’s a catchy tune!!!

[perpetuallyexhaustedbookwyrm]

Discovered I can look at past likes and (along with discovering and laughing at the many phases I've had over the years) I've found some amazing hidden gems from a nostalgic age of fandom. Enjoy.

[xximperioxx]

[endlessstorms]

Why Not You?

scott miller x shy!sweetheart!fem!reader

summary: after worrying that scott has hated you for the past year, an overheard conversation confirms your fears... or does it? based on this ask

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, unspecified age gap (reader is mentioned to be younger than javi and referred to as 'kid'/'kiddo' by him, but in a familial way), power imbalance briefly mentioned, reader is insecure and can't communicate, scott is a dumbass and can't communicate, idiots in love?, almost exclusively dialogue oops (sorry if i missed any!)

word count: 6.9k

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long!! turns out writing a sweetheart reader is much harder for me than i thought lmao but i had a lot of fun with this! she gets a little sassy, but she's just overwhelmed!!

divider credits to @saradika-graphics

You’re not one to dwell on the negatives of anything. 

Normally, you can keep your head held high, focus on the positives, and get through life with a wide smile on your face.

But Scott Miller has been testing your patience for the past year.

You know why he doesn’t like you. You know he thinks your position on the team is simply a product of nepotism given you’re Javi’s cousin–and you’re the first to admit that he’s kind of right. 

But you also know that, family or not, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good at what you do.

Which is why, usually, you can ignore his quips and the way he introduces you to every new person you meet as the ‘nepo baby’ of the team.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s ridiculously gorgeous, but that is not the point.

This morning, as usual, you’re first in the parking lot–radar and satellite images already pulled up on your tablet.

And, again, as usual, Scott is the second person out of his room.

“Morning!” You greet with a wide smile as he approaches, typical aviator sunglasses and baseball cap on.

He grunts in response, same as every morning. 

And, like every day before today, you bite your tongue and wait for the others to join you. 

…And maybe take the time to admire his jawline that you’re a little convinced he only chews gum so frequently to show off. So, really, it would be rude not to appreciate it.

At the sound of more motel doors closing, you snap your eyes back to your tablet, rocking back and forth on the heels of your shoes. As you drag around the radar imagery to appear busy and not like you were just practically drooling over your boss, a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug. 

“Morning, kiddo,” Javi greets, patting your shoulder twice before releasing you as more of the team starts to gather around.

You hum, angling your tablet toward him. “There are some good cells out west, like we called. As long as we leave in the next 20 minutes, we should be right on time.”

“You heard her, folks!” Javi announces, clapping his hands together once. 

“Uh, hold on,” Scott interjects, effectively halting everyone’s movements and sending your stomach straight to your ass. He pulls up the radar on his tablet, dragging his finger across the screen before turning it towards the group. “What about this cell to the south? It looks just as good–if not better–than the ones to the west. Since when do we go based on one person’s assessment and not a discussion?” He tilts his head, tone laced with a condescending edge.

You freeze, feeling heat spread through your body like wildfire.

No matter how many times Scott challenges your calls, it never gets any less mortifying. 

You open and close your mouth a couple times before Javi spares you any further embarrassment by cutting in smoothly.

“I looked at the south cell right before coming out.” He shrugs casually, not at all fazed by Scott’s confidence or patronizing tone. “It does seem strong, but it doesn’t look better to me. I was gonna suggest going west either way.” He steps closer to Scott, peering down at the tablet still in the taller man’s hands. “If you think it does, though, we can talk about it! We have time.”

You watch as Scott’s jaw works, like he’s making his response more palatable. He stares at the screen for another long moment. “No.” He clears his throat. “West is fine.”

“Sick,” Javi says with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder before shooing everyone. “I wanna be on the road in 15, so get to it!”

You turn on your heel immediately, making your way to Wizard to help make sure all of the equipment is functioning properly. 

“That seemed more tense than usual,” Kate murmurs as she helps you get to work turning on the large monitors in the back of the van.

“Yup,” you say as evenly as possible, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe he’s just stressed. We have had a few failed chases recently.”

Peter snorts quietly from where he’s booting up the rest of the equipment next to you before quickly clearing his throat, pretending not to be listening to your conversation.

“You always try to find an excuse when he’s being an ass,” Kate sighs.

“He has his reasons.”

“Does he?” She asks, popping a hip and resting a hand on it, looking at you.

“Most people aren’t assholes for no reason.”

“Key word, most.”

“It’s fine, Kate, really,” you say, turning to face her after turning on the last screen. “I know he doesn’t like me, and I’m sure that, to him, his reasons are completely justified. I can’t make him like me.”

Kate frowns. 

“That’s incredibly mature of you.”

You shrug, shooting her a toothy grin. “Thank you. Do you need help getting Lion ready?”

She shakes her head with a soft smile, but there’s a knowing look in her eyes. “You are too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

- - - -

“Are you getting anything?” Javi asks as you follow the rest of the team into the packed bar, celebrating a very successful chase. “I’ll just order for both of us, you can go grab a table.”

“Oh– thanks! Um…” You glance around to search for an open table, eyes locking onto one before leaning closer to Javi so he can hear you over the thumping music. “A vodka cran, please!”

He gives you a thumbs up and starts to weave through the crowd towards the bar behind the rest of your teammates while you split off to make a beeline for the free table, managing to snag it just before another group appears. 

“Oh!” You wince before shooting them an apologetic smile. “Sorry–”

The guy closest to you just scoffs and rolls his eyes before stalking off with his friends trailing behind him. Your smile falters as they walk away, eyebrows drawing close together. 

Was that rude of you?

You’re not the only group searching for a table, obviously. And it’s not like you were specifically trying to take it from them…

No, you remind yourself. They were probably just annoyed that they didn’t get here first. It wasn’t personal.

You slide into a tall chair at the end of the table, fingers tapping restlessly against the sticky wood while you wait for the others to come back once they have their drinks. The few minutes it takes feel like forever, and you let out a relieved breath you didn’t know you were holding when Javi sits down next to you with a loud sigh.

He slides you your drink, and you lean forward to take a long sip, avoiding his narrowed eyes that are raking over your face.

“What happened?”

“Hm?” You sit up straighter, meeting his gaze. “Nothing.”

“You look upset.”

You wave him off. “No, some guy was just upset that I got to the table first. It was nothing.”

Javi hums, clearly unconvinced. “Did he say something?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, he just walked away. Really, it was nothing, I just wasn’t sure if I was rude or something.”

His brows furrow. “You don’t have a rude bone in your body.”

Scott plops down in the seat across from you then, quickly followed by the others claiming their own seats and finding spots to stand at the table. 

“It’s almost annoying,” Scott comments dryly, taking a swig of his beer. 

You frown, which Javi catches immediately. “He’s kidding,” he says, shooting Scott a look. 

Scott just shrugs one shoulder before angling himself to speak to Andy, who’s standing behind him.

It takes a few more sips of your drink for the tension in your shoulders to start to drain, but soon enough you’re back to your usual smiley self, listening intently to the conversations around you.

When Javi gets up to use the bathroom, Kate swoops in almost immediately to take his spot. You get engrossed in talking with her, barely noticing when Javi comes back and simply stands behind the chair she stole to continue his conversation with Peter. 

During a lapse in the conversation, you let your eyes roam over the other patrons–only allowing your gaze to linger on Scott’s side profile for a couple seconds before continuing your sweep. 

When you spot the Wranglers at a table across the bar, you elbow Kate’s side gently. “Tyler’s here.”

She snaps her head to follow your gaze, the movement making you turn toward her with your eyebrows raised. Her cheeks are flushed now, and you grin. 

“I knew it!” You whisper.

She smacks your arm. “Shut up!”

“You are so painfully obvious,” you chuckle, earning yourself another smack, which just makes you laugh harder. “Wanna go say hi?”

She hesitates for a second before schooling her expression and rolling her shoulders back. “Sure,” she says casually with a shrug.

You roll your eyes playfully as you both stand, quickly finishing the last couple sips of your drink.

“Where are you guys going?” Javi asks.

“The Wranglers are here.” You point them out. “Just gonna go say hi.”

“Oh, good,” Scott mutters sarcastically. “Can’t do anything without them showing up.”

You frown again. “You didn’t even know they were here. They’re not bothering you.”

“They’re everywhere. Whatever, go say hi to your boyfriends,” he says, waving you off.

You just stare at him for a moment, but decide pretty quickly that you have nothing nice to say to that. Thankfully, Kate’s grabbing your hand and gently pulling you behind her toward the Wranglers’ table before you have to figure out how to walk away without making it more awkward. 

You’re both greeted warmly by Tyler and his team, and you feel more at ease almost instantly. Despite having limited interactions with them, they’ve always been nice.

It’s a nice change of pace. 

The conversation flows easily, and you’re genuinely surprised–but not at all upset–when Dani and Lily are creating a group chat with you and Kate.

This job can be more lonely than people think, and while you’re eternally grateful to have Kate, it’s always nice to have more friends. 

When you both return to your team, you’re feeling significantly better–accepting Scott’s comments as his usual irritation with Tyler and his crew versus irritation with you or Kate.

But the wide smile on your face falters ever so slightly and you stop hearing what Kate’s saying when you notice a girl leaning in too closely to Scott, giggling excessively–

No. That’s mean. She’s pretty, and he’s clearly interested as well, and that’s okay. 

You turn back to Kate, blinking once. “Sorry, what?”

She studies you for a beat, eyes flicking briefly to Scott before repeating herself.

You spend the next 20 minutes forcing yourself to engage in the rapidly changing topics of conversation with some of your teammates, but your focus gets pulled entirely when Scott’s chair scrapes as he stands. You watch as he walks toward the door, the girl pressed against his side, and feel your stomach drop when they leave together. 

This is fine.

You’re fine.

It’s not like you’re in love with him or anything–you just find him attractive and it’s natural to be a little disappointed when someone you find attractive shows interest in someone else.

That’s all this is. 

That’s what you tell yourself while you lie in bed later that night, repeating it until sleep finally pulls you under.

- - - -

When you exit your room in the morning, your steps falter for a second when you spot Javi and Scott already in the parking lot, backs turned to you as they lean against Lion’s bed.

Weird.

You keep your steps quiet as you head over to get Wizard ready–not wanting to disturb their conversation. 

But you regret that almost immediately when you catch snippets of Scott’s ranting. 

“...annoying. It’s like she’s trying to win me over–change my mind, or something.”

You freeze halfway to the van, your stomach twisting in knots.

He called your kindness annoying just last night.

…Is he talking about you?

Is that what he thinks you’ve been doing? Trying to win him over?

Is that what you’ve been doing?

“...tell her that.”

Javi’s voice is so casual that you feel a small sense of betrayal. 

Surely he doesn’t think that’s what you’ve been doing too, right?

No.

No, you can’t keep listening. It’s rude.

So you slide open the side door to the van with a bit more force than necessary, making sure it’s loud enough for them to hear.

At the whoosh, both of their heads snap toward you.

Javi immediately pushes off the truck and approaches you with a smile. “Hey, kid! Didn’t hear you come out.”

You shoot him a tight smile before turning back to the monitors. Your fingers fumble with the button on the first one, and you have to try again to successfully turn it on.

He watches you move through the cargo space with a frown on his face.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes briefly. “Yup,” you correct more cheerfully, though it sounds flat even to you.

“...You sure?”

“I just didn’t sleep well.” You shrug, moving stiffly to the next screen.

It’s not technically a lie.

“I’ve literally known you your entire life–you can’t lie to me.”

“Javi.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to when you still, squeezing your eyes shut again, staying turned away from him. “Please.”

The silence after stretches. Long enough that you almost force yourself to look at him–make sure he’s still there.

“Okay,” he nearly whispers. “Sorry.”

You keep your eyes shut tightly, swallowing hard. 

“Thank you.”

He leaves after that, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

- - - -

Three days.

That’s how long you manage to fool everyone–even Kate and Javi–before you’re cornered.

It happens after a chase. 

One where nobody could get their positioning right because the tornado kept shifting, leading to an entire day wasted.

So it’s safe to say you’re all a little on edge.

You don’t go up to your room right away–feeling too restless. So you decide to sit at the small table set up in the back of the van to work on the report that the rest of the team has decided to put off until tomorrow.

“Your measurements are off,” a familiar gruff voice says lowly, startling you.

“Jesus christ,” you whip around with a hand on your chest to see Scott leaning against the door you’d left open for airflow. “You scared me.”

He just stares at you. Waiting.

You blink. 

“Your measurements are off,” he repeats, climbing in beside you.

You scoot over awkwardly, trying to make space for the giant of a man.

“Where are they off?”

He rolls his eyes.

As if your lack of argument is annoying to him.

A small, slightly evil part of you thinks good.

He points a finger at the value you’d typed out for the distance between Scarecrow and the tornado. “That’s not how far I was.”

You huff a little, deleting the number. “That was a typo,” you mutter, correcting it.

“Sure it was.”

“Anything else I can help you with?” You ask, spinning to face him. Your hands are clasped tightly in your lap as you stare at him expectantly.

His eyes narrow briefly before his lips slowly curl into a small smirk.

“Someone’s grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You’re absolutely grumpy.”

“Maybe I’m just done trying to win you over.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth.

His smirk fades, replaced by genuine confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I just heard you and Javi–”

“Wait–you heard me and Javi?”

You nod. “Out by the truck. After the bar. I didn’t– that’s not what I’ve been trying–”

His eyebrows press even closer together. “Hold on,” he interrupts. He stares at you for a moment, like he’s replaying the past three days in his head. Understanding washes over his face. “That wasn’t about you.”

All you can do is blink at him.

“That… what?” 

Now you’re confused.

“I was talking about Amy.” “Who the fuck is Amy?” 

Scott snorts–thoroughly amused by the swear you let slip.

“The girl from the bar,” he explains with a small chuckle.

“What could you have possibly been talking about?” 

He sighs. “I told her I didn’t want anything serious, she agreed, then suddenly she was trying to, like, ask me on a date.”

Ouch. Ignoring that punch to the gut for a bit.

“Wait.” He sits up straighter. “What did you think I meant?”

“I thought you were talking about me!” You exclaim, gesturing with your hands.

“Why would I be talking about you?”

“I don’t know!” You put your head in your hands, closing your eyes. “I thought you were annoyed because you thought I was just being nice to try to win you over, or something.”

“I mean, I think you’re annoying, but not because you’re trying to win me over,” he says dryly.

You whip your head up, eyes wide. “Scott!”

He laughs–a real laugh. “I’m kidding.” He takes a second to let his laughter die down, then shifts uncomfortably. “...Why did it bother you so much?”

And there’s the question you were hoping to avoid.

You look down at your hands in your lap, feeling your cheeks warm. 

Because you can’t come up with an answer that doesn’t sound like a poorly hidden version of ‘I’ve had a crush on you since the day I met you, and your validation means more than I let myself admit.’

He watches you carefully, the teasing gone from his face. “Would it really have upset you that much if I were talking about you?”

“Well–” you cut yourself off, debating for a second just how honest to be. “I mean… yeah, a little.”

“Why?”

You’re taken aback by the genuine bafflement in his expression.

“What do you mean, why?”

“Why do you care so much what I think?”

You look at him like he’s grown a second head. “Because it sucks thinking that someone you’ve worked with for a year doesn’t like you.”

“But I never said I didn’t like you–well, her, in this case.”

“No, you just said that my entire personality is annoying.”

“I didn’t say that, though.” “But I thought you did.”

“Right…” He nods once, lips rolled in. “Well… for what it’s worth, I don’t not like you.”

“But you don’t like me,” you supply.

“I didn’t say that, either.”

That makes you pause.

“...You’ve been pretty obvious with how you act,” you say quietly, stomach twisting as you finally say what’s been secretly, sneakily eating you alive for the past year.

“What do you mean, how I act?” There’s a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone that makes you bristle.

“I just mean the constant correcting in front of the entire team, introducing me as the ‘nepo baby,’ ignoring my greetings.” “I do that with everybody,” he tacks your name onto the end, and you almost choke.

He almost never uses your name, and certainly not in the tone he just did.

Because this wasn’t angry. 

It wasn’t commanding.

It was almost… soft?

“You don’t call everybody the ‘nepo baby,’” you deadpan once your lungs figure out how to work again.

“Well, that’s because you’re the only nepotism hire.”

“Scott,” you sigh, exasperated. 

“You are!” “Okay.” You stand, brushing off imaginary dirt from your jeans. “I’m glad we cleared that up, but I don’t think this is going anywhere anymore.”

He stands quickly, almost slamming his head into the roof of the van, ducking at the last second. “Wait– what?”

“Jesus,” you breathe out, taking a step back from his slightly hunched form. “I’m trying to tell you why I was upset, and you’re arguing semantics.”

He huffs. “I’m not arguing semantics–”

“That is, quite literally, exactly what you’re doing. Like, right now.”

“I–” He cuts himself off, brows furrowed as he mentally replays the conversation. “Okay… yeah, maybe a little.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. “Look, if you do think my kindness is annoying, or whatever, that’s fine. But I would prefer knowing that right now instead of walking away from this conversation thinking we’re like… fine with each other.”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, thinking intently before finally speaking. “I don’t think your kindness is annoying. I did–when you first started. Mostly because, yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually bring anything to the team.” At your frown, he rolls his eyes. “Javi brought in his younger cousin without an interview. What did you expect me to think?”

“...Fair enough.” You gesture for him to continue.

“But, unfortunately, you’ve proven that you know what you’re doing.”

“Unfortunately?” You repeat incredulously.

“I’m kidding. Jesus, lighten up.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve continued to treat me like that. I thought you hated me.”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t intentionally being an ass.”

You look at him, unimpressed.

“That’s just how I am!” He throws his arms up in exasperation.

You point at him. “Except that’s not true. Because you treat Kate just fine now, and I heard you started out with pretty much the same assumptions about her.”

“Can we do this outside?” He brings a hand up to the back of his neck, wincing. “This stupid ass van is too short.”

“Oh– yes, yeah.” You scramble out of the van, waiting for him to follow.

“I still challenge her decisions if I disagree with them,” he argues as he stretches his back outside. 

“But you challenge her in a way that feels professional. You challenge me in a way that feels personal. That’s the difference.”

“I think you’re the only person that thinks that.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Kate herself agrees with me.”

He pauses, frowning. “...She said that?”

You nod. “More than once, actually.”

“Oh…” He exhales. “What did she say?”

You shrug, looking down at your feet as you scuff the toe of your boot against the pavement. “That your problem with me feels deeper than it ever did with her.”

He hums.

And for what feels like an hour, you both stand in silence, save for the sound of the crickets and birds as the sun gets lower.

“Well… I didn’t mean to make you think I hated you.”

You sigh, looking up at the sky.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve felt out of place the entire time I’ve been here.”

You’re not even trying to argue.

You’re just tired. 

When you look back at him, his face is doing something complicated. 

He looks a little guilty, a lot confused.

“Well, I’m… sorry… that I did that.” 

He winces as he fumbles his way through the apology, and it’s, unfortunately, a little endearing.

Because now you know he didn’t have any malicious intent–not that you thought he wanted to hurt your feelings this whole time.

But it certainly makes you feel better knowing that most of this has been a miscommunication. 

“Thank you.” You give him a small smile. “I appreciate that.”

He looks shocked that you accepted his, honestly, pretty bad apology. But he gives what appears to be his best attempt at a genuine smile of his own. 

“So are we, like… good now?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real irritation behind it. “I’ve tried to be good for the past year.”

He grimaces. “My bad.”

You nod once, sharply. “Yes. Your bad.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you think you’re funny.”

“Oh, I know I’m funny. You’d have known that earlier, if you were–”

He sighs loudly, interrupting you. “Weren’t a dick, yeah, I got it,” he finishes with a chuckle. 

You stand in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a moment before you realize you should probably get ready for bed.

“Goodnight, Scott,” you say lightly with a nod, turning around, trying to bite back your smile.

“‘Night,” he calls after you, shaking his head with his own suppressed grin.

- - - -

You wake up feeling lighter than you have in days.

Which is immediately noticed by Javi and Kate.

“You look happy,” Kate comments, and she and Javi sit in the seats across from you at the diner where you’re waiting for everyone else.

You nod, sipping your coffee. “Talked through things with Scott.”

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, there was just a misunderstanding,” you explain as you set down your cup, glancing down at the menu. “But we cleared it up!”

“What kind of misunderstanding?” Javi asks.

You explain what happened–overhearing their conversation about Amy, assuming it was about you, trying not to let it bother you–while still scanning through the menu. 

When neither of them say anything for a long moment after you’re done, you look up.

Kate looks confused. 

Javi looks almost devastated. 

“You thought I’d let Scott bitch about you to me? And respond like that?”

Your eyes widen, and you drop the menu, shaking your head. 

“No! No– that’s why I was so upset! Because I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

“You didn’t think to ask?”

You frown. “...No.”

“So you just suffered?” Kate asks, an incredulous edge to her tone.

“I didn’t suffer.”

“You walked around like a kicked puppy for three days,” she points out, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

“...Okay, maybe I suffered a little. But I didn’t want to make it worse!”

Javi sighs deeply. “You’re the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!”

Kate points an accusing finger at you. “Don’t ‘hey’ him, he’s right.”

You pout. 

“What’s Javi right about?” Scott asks, sliding into the seat next to you as Peter takes the seat next to Kate. 

Your heart rate picks up, which you pointedly ignore.

“Nothing.”

“She’s terrible with her emotions,” Javi supplies. 

“I am not!”

“Oh, no, you are,” Scott agrees with a nod.

“And you’re any better?” You shoot back with a playful tilt of your head.

“Ooh, she’s feisty this morning,” Scott teases.

You cross your arms over your chest with a frown. “I’m not feisty.”

He pinches his thumb and pointer finger together, keeping them just a small distance apart, holding his hand up. “Little bit,” he muses in a slightly higher-pitched voice than usual.

You huff and glare at him, but it’s weak. He just responds with a wide, smug grin before addressing everyone now that the rest of the team’s arrived–immediately launching into logistics for today’s chase.

And, for once, you just take it in.

Because this is finally starting to feel right.

- - - -

The shift in your relationship with Scott doesn’t register right away.

Mostly because it doesn’t happen right away.

It starts with the teasing. 

Then, over the next couple of weeks, it turns into him asking for your opinion on chase routes and data interpretation.

A week later, he’s offering to let you ride in Scarecrow with him and Andy for a chase. 

Then he’s sending Andy to take your place in Wizard for the day and offering you the passenger seat with just him.

It’s not hard to read into it a little bit. You’re not completely devoid of emotions–of course your very attractive boss who’s finally trusting your professional judgement and talking to you normally is going to make you giggle and kick your feet a bit.

But you’re also not insane enough to think he might feel anything for you past professional appreciation. 

…Kate apparently is, though.

“You know he likes you, right?” She asks as you both settle into your beds the night after the chase where it was just you and Scott in Scarecrow.

You shrug, turning off the lamp next to your bed, plunging the room into darkness.

“I mean, I know he trusts me now, yeah.”

“Not what I’m saying.”

You roll onto your side, facing her. “Then what are you saying?”

Even in the low streetlamp lighting streaming through the curtains, you can make out her unimpressed expression.

“You know what I’m saying.”

You blink.

Then snort.

“Yeah, okay.”

She sits up in one sharp movement. “I’m serious! And I know you like him!”

“I do not like him.”

“You absolutely like him.”

“I mean, I think he’s attractive–”

“Bitch.”

“Woah!”

“He kicked Andy out of Scarecrow.”

“He– he did not kick him out. He just gave me a chance to get closer to the action. I’m sure he’s offered the same to Peter.”

Kate shakes her head. 

“How would you know?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow.

“Because I was just talking about it with Javi.”

“Talking about what?”

“Scott! And how he’s…” She trails off, gesturing at you as a whole. 

“I don’t like the implication of that.” You narrow your eyes at her.

“Well, I don’t like how oblivious you’re being,” she shoots back. 

“I am not being oblivious, I’m being realistic. He tolerates me, he’s not in love with me.”

But even as you say it, you can feel the way your heart rate picks up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

You roll onto your other side, tucking the blanket tightly under your chin. “Goodnight, Kate.”

“I’m just saying!” “Goodnight, Kate.”

- - - -

Unfortunately, Kate’s words have gotten in your head.

Even more unfortunately, Scott keeps doing things that make it very hard to keep denying that she may be right. 

Including offering to let you ride in Scarecrow for the rest of the week–glaring at Andy when he opened his mouth to question being in Wizard for even longer.

You wince guiltily at that.

But it’s admittedly very nice having four days in a row of one-on-one conversation with Scott that doesn’t end with you making excuses for his behavior.

On day five, though, something feels different.

Not necessarily wrong.

But different.

He’s quieter. 

Not in the way you’d grown used to at the start–the one that feels full of awkward tension where you’re just waiting for him to tell you what you’ve done wrong.

This feels like he’s holding something back in a way that makes you nervous for entirely different reasons.

So you wait until you’re on your way to the new motel after the chase–both soaked to the bone from the rain and your hair a tangled mess, but your limbs vibrating with adrenaline.

“Are you okay?”

He freezes, eyebrows drawing close together as he continues staring out at the road. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, studying the side of his face. “You’re quiet today.”

He hums, the muscles in his jaw flexing a few times. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Amy.”

Oh.

You swallow down the sick feeling climbing up your throat, tilting your head curiously.

“What about her?”

He shrugs one shoulder lazily. “Why I didn’t want anything serious with her.”

You stay silent, waiting for him to elaborate. Because you’re honestly not sure how to respond to that.

“I should’ve,” he continues, almost like he’s talking to himself. “She was my type, we had a good time. I want a relationship–I think. She was the logical choice.”

The more he talks, the more your stomach turns. But you push anyway.

“...Then why didn’t you?”

“Because she wasn’t you.”

He says it so casually you’re certain you misheard him.

“I– sorry, what?”

“Because. She wasn’t you,” he repeats more firmly, finally glancing at you for a second before returning his gaze to the road.

And all you can do is laugh. 

That gets you a longer, more incredulous look.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because I thought you just said you rejected Amy because she wasn’t me.” You laugh even harder at that, nearly to the point of tears.

“That is what I said.” His voice rises slightly in pitch, the incredulous expression morphing into something like concern.

Your laughter dies down slowly as the words sink in.

Because she wasn’t you.

The combination of the revelation, adrenaline, and exhaustion makes you react… poorly.

“You what?” You almost snap.

His eyes widen.

“Or not?” He tries sheepishly.

“No! I– what? For how long?” 

“I don’t know!” He rushes out, a twinge of panic in his tone.

“Please elaborate on that!” You practically beg. 

“I–” He cuts himself off to take a deep breath, taking one hand off the wheel to set his hat in his lap and run a hand through his hair. “I thought you were attractive day one. But I think I started to actually have, like, feelings right before the Amy thing?”

You throw your arms out. “Scott!” The panic has taken over both of your tones now.

“I know!” 

You groan loudly, dropping your head back against the seat.

“I’m getting the feeling that this was not the right thing to say,” he says. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way–I wouldn’t blame you. But can you just, like… say that? Instead of yelling at me?”

“I do feel the same way!” You blurt, looking at him like it should be obvious.

“Then what the hell is the problem?”

The glare you shoot him is deadly, by your standards.

“The problem is that I spent the first year thinking you hated my guts, then had to adjust after learning you didn’t anymore, and now I’m finding out you have feelings for me–feelings so big, apparently, that you rejected a woman who you should’ve liked instead! That’s a lot to take in, Scott!”

The silence returns after that–broken only by your ragged breathing after practically exploding.

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. 

Then, slowly, his eyebrows draw closer together, and the corners of his lips turn down slightly.

“You actually thought I hated you?”

The softness in his voice makes you pause–only for a second.

“Yes! I told you that!”

“I thought you were being dramatic!”

You groan, scrubbing your face with both hands.

“Why would I exaggerate that?”

“I don’t know!” The panicked edge is back.

“Okay.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. We need to talk about this.”

“I’m trying–”

“Ah–” you cut him off, pointer finger in the air. “No. No more defensiveness. From either of us. We both need to shut up and listen.”

“I–”

“No!” 

His frown deepens, but more playfully this time. “You’re bossy.”

“Scott,” you sigh, exasperated.

He fails to hide the growing smirk on his face as he smoothly changes lanes to the right, keeping his blinker on for the upcoming exit.

“We’re still, like, 20 minutes from the motel,” you point out, the end of the sentence pitching up slightly in confusion. 

“This is not a conversation I want to have without being able to look at your face.” He takes the exit for a small town you’ve never driven through before. “And I don’t feel like waiting 20 minutes to do that.”

Your cheeks burn at his words. You open and close your mouth a couple times, but can’t formulate a response that doesn’t sound lackluster compared to the significance of what he said, so you stay silent.

It doesn’t take long for him to pull into the empty parking lot of a small park he rerouted the GPS to, and, unfortunately for you, your brain still hasn’t quite caught up to what’s happening. 

Because when he unbuckles, turns to you, and very plainly says, “You are the person I want to try a relationship with,” you start laughing again.

“Oh, come on,” he sighs, but there’s amusement in his eyes. “Stop doing that.”

“I can’t help it!”

You keep giggling–all attempts to stop failing–until suddenly both of his hands are on your face, cupping your cheeks.

Your mouth snaps shut, and it feels like every system in your body has stopped working.

“This was all I had to do to shut you up?” He teases quietly.

“I barely talked to you for months,” you mumble, the words slurred a little by the pressure on your cheeks.

“I’m aware,” he murmurs, thumbs absentmindedly stroking the apples of your cheeks as he holds eye contact.

“If you want to have a conversation, I need you to stop holding my face.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t think.”

He looks far too pleased with himself–stopping the motion with his thumbs, but not loosening his grip.

“I make you speechless?”

“You also make me nauseous,” you shoot back weakly. 

His mouth twists as he finally releases your face. “Ouch.”

“Well, it’s true.” You take a deep breath, regaining your composure, sitting up straighter. “All right, you start.”

“Why do I start?”

“Because you’re the one who made my brain short-circuit when you said you rejected practically the perfect woman for you because she wasn’t me.”

“Calling her the perfect woman for me is a stretch–”

“Scott. Semantics.”

“Right.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

“I just… why me?”

It’s not hesitant or shy like it has been in your head since his revelation.

Because, while you can make an entire list of reasons you’re insecure, right now you just need to know the logic behind his choice.

He, apparently, hears the insecurity anyway and frowns.

“Why not you?”

He says it so…

Simply.

Like he hasn’t questioned it once since realizing. 

You blink. 

“I… you make it sound so simple,” you breathe out with an attempt at a chuckle.

“It is simple.” It sounds a lot like duh.

“Okay, well, not for me.”

He nods slowly, then scrunches his eyebrows together like he’s trying to figure out the best way to explain it for you.

“I mean, it was kind of weird, at first. Because once you proved that you deserved your spot on the team, I felt very… neutral towards you, I guess.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Crazy, considering I thought you hated me.”

“Yeah, I’m realizing there was a very big difference in how we interpreted that,” he chuckles. 

You nod, like no kidding, then motion for him to continue. 

“But then I started noticing you more. Not just, like, how you looked, or whatever–though that, too. But the little things. Like how you crack your knuckles one-by-one to give your hands something to do when you’re standing in place for too long. Or how you clear your throat when talking in front of the entire team to give yourself an extra second to calm down first.

“Or–the biggest one–how your kindness is so fucking genuine it’s almost sickening. Because I saw how you’d make excuses for any and everyone–including me–even when you absolutely should’ve gotten mad.”

The more he speaks, the tighter your throat feels.

You feel raw–more exposed than you ever have–and it’s terrifying.

But something about it is so beautiful.

“You noticed all of that?” You manage to choke out.

He shrugs once. “You’re very easy to read.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” He nods once, sharply. “You’re very… expressive.” When you frown, he rushes to elaborate. “Not in a bad way!”

“Sometimes I think I’m too expressive.”

“Not possible,” he reassures, hands slowly coming back up to your face–slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted to.

You don’t.

“You should be more expressive,” you tell him, leaning into his touch almost involuntarily. “Would’ve saved me a lot of confusion.”

“Why do you think I’m spilling my fucking guts right now? ‘M trying to take after you.”

You swallow thickly, letting yourself finally admire his face after only allowing yourself brief glances for the past year.

The freckles that dust the bridge of his nose.

The curls plastered to his forehead from the rain.

The sharpness of his blue eyes that you don’t get to see nearly enough thanks to his insistence on wearing sunglasses.

“Javi might lose his mind,” you whisper finally.

He snorts–because of course your focus is on Javi’s reaction right now.

“I think Javi will be okay,” he says, matching your volume as he leans closer over the center console.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes flick to his lips before quickly returning to meet his.

“Hopefully,” you squeak out.

He huffs out a laugh, grip tightening on your face just enough to ground you.

“...Can I kiss you?” He asks after a moment, not at all shy about his own focus on your lips.

You don’t trust yourself to attempt any words, so all you can do is nod dumbly, forcing yourself to take a shaky breath as he draws closer.

Your eyes flutter shut just before his lips meet yours.

He’s firm, but not rough–sitting still while your brain struggles to catch up.

But when your mouth moves tentatively against his, he returns the movement immediately.

It only lasts a few seconds, but when you pull apart, you’re both breathless.

Not from lack of air.

From overwhelming emotion and pure relief.

His forehead rests against yours as you work to steady yourselves–eyes closed, just feeling for once.

“So…” he starts, not moving. “Do you wanna try a relationship with me, too?”

You can’t help the small chuckle that escapes at his nervous tone.

“Was me kissing you back not enough of an answer?”

“Just wanna make sure,” he mutters, tilting his head so his lips brush against yours as he speaks.

Instead of speaking, you close the distance again.

And this time, the kiss feels like an answer.

A resolution.

[footlongdingledong]

idk man not to sound like a cartoon hippie but if your entirrrrre blog and dash is about how the world sucks and everyones bigoted i think you are going to give yorself brain worms

[footlongdingledong]

"ah but all of this is important and true and if i dont reblog all of this important stuff waga baga THE WORMS! THATS WORMS! THE BRAIN WORMS!

[footlongdingledong]

i do not think you are doing activism chief i think what you are doing is sitting in your room flagellating yourself expecting something to happen

[neiptune]

love me some "you're always too fucking reckless" x "well I'm not your problem anymore am I" dynamic

[hometoursandotherstuff]

[ohangeleyes]

alright, i'll be the one to say it. ao3 and tumblr becoming "mainstream" did so much damage to the community and the writers. i have seen loads of videos and posts about:

1. people hating on writers and fics. writing is something we do for free and for fun. if you stumble upon a fanfic that isn't necessarily your cup of tea or you just don't like, scroll. dont read it. literally leave their page. you don't know if this could be the author's first work that they're so excited about, you dont know if the language they're writing in isn't their first language, you dont know that the writer could be a literal teen and loads of other reasons. fanfictions don't HAVE to be perfect. you write what you want to write because we do it for fun and enjoyment and we want to share that to the world. seriously, what is the wrong with that?..

2. x reader consumers getting WAY too entitled. the number of tiktoks i've seen that say "i run a strict program when it comes to reading fanfics." girl you aint running shit. this is FAN FICTION you're reading. F A N F I C T I O N. there is no denying that most fanfiction writes are beyond talented but just because you read one fanfic that exceeds your expectations doesn't give you the right to talk down on others that don't. people have their own personal writing style, their way of doing things and you talking shit on that isn't right.

at the end of the day, we are all humans, reading and writing is what we do and what we're meant to do. and for you to talk shit about a person WRITING is so insane. we are humans. not some robots that you can tell what to do so you can consume it.

i've seen so so many authors take down their fanfics and losing all motivation to write because of a hate comment. DONT LIKE DONT READ‼️

and to every author reading this, this community values your work and your contribution. we love u and, please, never let anyone's negative words have an effect on you.

[mayfieldss]

Expendable [ frank castle x reader ]

Synopsis/request: frank x reader where they're kind of fighting each other and at each others' throats when suddenly he realizes what's about to happen and doesn't hesitate to tackle reader out of the way to save her. requested by @lonelyghosts-stuff Word count: 2.4k

Content warnings: slight matt murdock x reader vibes, violence, gore, lots of fucking blood.

It feels like you've been in the diner for hours. It's late, and the glow of the street lights from outside cast a faint yellow light through the window you sit beside. The leather of the red booth is peeling, coming away easily under the assault of your fingers as Frank sits across from you.

"Don't act like you didn't see this coming." his voice is a low growl, and the woman behind the counter, the only person in the diner besides the two of you, spares a glance of concern.

"Oh, trust me I saw it coming, I just hoped you'd be better than that."

Frank huffs a laugh, lifting his coffee mug toward his lips. Coffee at midnight, certainly a choice, but you can't talk since you're drinking the same. It's the only thing a 24 hour dinner has in a town this small.

"If you wanted a saint you should'a called Red." Frank leans back in the booth, eyes scanning over your face. Neon light from the signs behind the counter reflects on to your skin and his. The pink and blue letters read "Patty's diner!"

"Don't bring him into this." your voice is a harsh snap, but it doesn't have much of an effect on Frank. He just looks out the window, past the empty carpark and into the dark beyond.

"I called you because I knew you'd come. But I never asked you to kill anyone." you say that last part as a whisper, hoping the waitress minds her business.

"So Red doesn't answer his phone, huh?" Frank brings his gaze back to you, assessing. You hate the way he reads into your silence. He hums, "No, he answers, don't he? He just doesn't show up."

Frank knows he's hitting nerves, but he doesn't seem to care whether the words hurt you or not. He leans forward on the table, and you force yourself to keep eye contact with him despite the twisting in your gut.

"I called you because you're expendable." You lean forward as well, spitting venom. "Because if you die, I won't have to feel a thing."

Frank's expression doesn't change, staying hard and still. You try to school your own face into doing the same. Frank leans back, nudging his coffee cup away from him. "I did what you asked, I got rid of them." Frank mutters.

You scoff, eyes shifting to the waitress as she slips out back toward the kitchen. "I didn't ask you to get rid of them, I asked you to come help me."

"Because they were coming after you." Frank adds, "Now they're not." his voice is like gravel, each word scraping against you.

"Are you implying that you saved me?" you grip your coffee cup tighter, frowning at him. His seems certain, smug, and you hate it.

"Not implying. I did." he says it so matter of fact and it makes your skin heat.

"I didn't need saving." you stand from the booth, shuffling out rather ungracefully, the heel of your boot catching on the table leg.

"Oh really? Is that why I had to shoot five guys with semi automatics outside your apartment? Huh? I didn't realize you had that under control." Frank's voice is a harsh whisper, but the sound still carries thanks to it's intensity.

"You could have called the police!" you push him back as he stands up, causing him to grab the top of the booth for stability. "You could have called me. Instead I came home to blood on my doormat, and a man's body blocking the door." you glance toward the kitchen, the waitress still nowhere to be seen.

"Called the police? Yeah, right. So they could save you? I thought you didn't need saving. I guess you'll let the blues do it, because it makes you feel better when people are shot down legally right? Even if some incompetent rookie cop dies in the process?" Frank steps out of the booth, facing you head on in the aisle of the diner. "I got it done. Maybe it ain't clean how you like it, but you're the one who called."

"How do you get up every day and look at yourself in the mirror?"

Frank smiles, a weak upturn of his lips that has a lump forming in the back of your throat. "With ease sweetheart. I don't regret killing a single one of those scumbags, and you shouldn't regret calling me to do it. I did you a favor, even if you don't wanna see it."

You feel your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into the skin of your palms. "Go to hell, Frank."

Frank takes a step forward, pushing past you. "Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but we're already there." his footsteps are heavy as he heads toward the door, but his boots somehow stay silent in that military trained way.

You watch Frank go but as he reaches the door, he pauses, looking through the glass. You watch his shoulders stiffen, before he's turning back to you, footsteps fast and no longer silent. "Down, now!" Frank barks, but it takes you a second to process.

There's panic written on his face, mixed with the focus of having been in this situation a thousand times before. He reaches you just as the bullets start flying, tackling you down. His body is a harsh weight on you as you slam to the ground, one of his hands cupping the back of your head to soften the blow. And then he's on top of you, his torso over yours and his other arm shielding your face from bullets and debris.

Your heart has never beat this fast before, thumping hard against your chest and his as he holds you down. His head is ducked down toward your ear, breathing harsh beside it. The gunfire pauses for a moment, as the people outside reload, and Frank's eyes are locked to yours in a second.

"You alright?" his hands come to either side of your face, examining your expression for hurt or signs of injury. You nod, though still in shock as he repeats himself. "Yeah? You alright? Use your words."

You manage an out of breath, "Yeah." as your hands grip his biceps. Frank shifts off of you, pulling you toward him and up into a crouched position. "Stay low, get behind the counter and don't so much as lift your head till I come get'cha, alright?"

The voices of men outside advance toward the door, the sound of cocking guns and a few stray bullets firing making you flinch. But you nod, eyes watery as you move through broken glass toward the counter. Your gaze moves around for the waitress, and when she pokes her head out from the kitchen you want to scream at her to hide. But the men are already inside the diner, and if you so much as breathe you'll give yourself away. You gesture as subtly as you can for her to get low, just like Frank told you, but just as her gaze shifts to you with a panicked deer expression, a shot rings out. It blasts right through her, her mouth still wide in fear as blood from her now unrecognizable face paints the doorway and the space behind the counter. You feel it on your face, and see it on your hands as they shake in front of you, coming up to cover your mouth. Her body crumples like a sandcastle kicked down, and she hits the ground with a wet thump. You pull your knees up closer to you as her blood crawls toward your boots.

Noise rings out around you now, the sound of bullets, grunting, and screams of men that you know aren't Frank filling the diner. And you stay silent, still, trying not to let out a noise as the sweet waitress's empty vessel bleeds nearby.

You measure time by the amount of blood that leaves her, and when the diner is finally quiet, save for the sound of a single pair of boots squelching on the ground, you know it's over. A man makes his way around the side of the counter, and you see the black boots, wet with a liquid that's color doesn't show on the dark leather. You stare straight past them, toward the woman's lifeless body, even as Frank crouches down, intentionally blocking your view of her.

"Hey," his hands reach out, holding each side of your head to keep you from glancing around him to the body behind. "We gotta go. You hear me? We gotta go."

You swallow hard, trying to keep a cap on the whimper that wants to slip out. "C'mon." Frank's hands slide under your arms, pulling you to your feet.

You hold onto him tight to stop your hands from shaking as he drags you out from behind the counter and toward the kitchen. Your eyes instantly scan the floor landing on the waitress and her blood again. Blood that soaks your shoes, and makes you slip as you walk through it.

"Eyes up, baby girl." Frank mutters, a hand on the back of your neck as he leads you toward the back door of the diner. He's got a firm grip on his gun with his other hand and as you reach for the handle, Frank moves you behind him. He opens the door slowly, checking the surroundings with gun pointed, before finally stepping out. Reaching a hand behind him he waits for you to step into his grip before moving again.

You move is harmony through the ally behind the diner, you clutching onto him for dear life despite all your previous comments about his nature. You don't care anymore how violent and dangerous he might be. You now know there's people out there that are worse.

When Frank deems it safe, you stop walking, hidden beneath the shadow of an abandoned pipe production building. He tucks the gun into the waistband of his pants, hands reaching out to you. He wipes speckles of blood from your cheeks with his thumbs, a light grunt leaving him. "Any of this yours?"

Your voice shakes as you answer, "No."

In some ways you wish it was. Every time you blink you can see the destroyed face of the waitress on the inside of your eyelids.

"Good." Frank's hand comes up to the back of your head, "C'mere." he pulls you against his chest, tucking your head against his shoulder. You let him, arms wrapping around him tight. Shaking in Frank Castle's arms was the last thing you expected to happen tonight, but there's nothing you can do but allow it as he presses a kiss to your hair.

"You're gonna be alright. I'm gonna sort it, okay? Gonna fix it."

But you know Frank's way of fixing things is by breaking a lot more first. "That girl..." you start, pushing back the tears that scrape like barbed wire in your throat. "I should have pulled her down, called out to her, something."

"Don't do that. She wasn't your fault."

You pull back from his chest, eyes coming up to meet his. "Then whose fault was it?"

Frank's calloused hand comes up to brush back your hair, "The guy who pulled the trigger."

You don't say anything for a moment, letting those words sink in as you try to believe them. Try to believe that she was unsavable. "You hear me?" Frank growls, "This ain't on you."

His hands move back to your face, pulling you in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "This ain't on you." you allow your eyes to close, hands shaking again as Frank continues. "You're gonna get a motel, and you're gonna lay low until I come 'n get you, alright? Call Red if you want, but don't tell anyone else where you are. Just me and him."

You glance around, eyes adjusted to the darkness, and see nothing but dirt, dust and metal. "I'm not calling Matt." you mumble, swallowing down the events of the night. You're gonna be fine, if Frank says so, you choose to believe it.

"You said it. He doesn't show, why bother?" it hurts to admit, and you see a flicker of pity in Frank's eyes. It disappears quickly, replaced by his usual stone cold stare.

"Damn right." He mutters, eyes flicking away from you to scan the surroundings. When he looks back to you, his stance is different, ready for battle. "repeat it back to me, what you're gonna do."

You inhale deeply, rubbing a hand down your face. "I'm laying low in a hotel until you come and get me."

Frank nods once, hands now squeezing your biceps, "Good girl." He start walking, and you follow without a second thought, keeping yourself alert. He hails down a taxi, assessing everything with military eyes until he deems it safe. He opens the door for you, putting a hand on the lip between the door and the roof so you don't bump your head. You duck inside, and he closes the door behind you, leaning in through the open passenger window for one last moment. "If you need anything, you call me, you got that?"

You nod, and place your hand over his on the edge of the window. "Be careful." It's a pointless thing to say to someone like him, but you have to.

"Thought I was expendable, you're not supposed to feel a thing, remember?"

There's a pang in your chest at his words, your brows furrowing at the memory of your cruel statement. Words you didn't mean, that you could never mean. Shuffling closer to the window, your hand comes up to grip the fabric of his shirt. You pull him closer, and despite every bone in your body that warns against it, you kiss him. Softly, you allow your lips to press to his, breathing him in. The smell of gunpowder and copper consume you, only for a second or two before you pull away. His eyes flutter back open, expression softer than you've ever seen it.

"Don't die." you whisper, quiet enough for him to hear, before the driver pulls away from the curb, and Frank is forced to move back from the cab. You roll up the window as Frank fades into the shadows of the street, the name of a hotel leaving your lips before you tell the cabby to go a little faster.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

MARVEL GENERAL: @mellowladyangel @5kyyy @avyannadawn

FRANK CASTLE: lonelyghosts-stuff @pone21 @ej13928

[constantlymisspelled]

Mandalorian Armour Colours

Armour Colour meanings and Classifications

Perhaps it's a little ridiculous, but with more and more fans wanting a full comprehensive guide to colours, and my own frustration at not being able to find the fanon colour charts of old, here we are. For both your sake, and mine, please don't be upset if anyone doesn't utilise this guide, it is after all a guide, and only a fanmade compilation. If anyone has any criticisms, that's what edit is for, and if you want further definition, do not hesitate to let me know in the comments.

The Classicly Accepted;

[This section is the clolours accepted by Canon Media, both Disney and Legends. I will include a colour swatch and the Taubman's pallet code for ease of use. If there are colours you wish to see evaluated, or meanings you wish to infer, let me know.]

[The tiles above are literally the closest I could find to Jaster's colour, and to Boba's visor colours. The left is Red Alert, T12 26.H5, and the right is Crossfire, T15 196.6.]

Red - Ge'tal

'Honouring a parent.' This colour has been seen on the edge of Boba Fett's visor for years, and has been a staple Mandalorian colour for a long time. Honouring a parent is considered acceptable in most forms of Mandalorian Society, hence its widespread use. Honouring does not have to mean morning, and when some Mandalorians move past the grief of a lost loved one, or parent, they move to change the greys to reds, or oranges, in remembrance not of their death, but the life that family member - usually a provider in this case - had lived.

White - Cin

'A new start/Clean slate.' The literal translation for the phrase describing white on armour (Cin Vhetin) is 'White field,' or 'Snow Covoured Field.' It creates the notion that you are starting over, as winter has come, and it covers all that you used to be, allowing you to completely restructure yourself before spring arrives to thaw it, as a totally new person, with new honour and oaths to fulfil. Often associated with adult adoptions, or redemption vows completed, signifying new life.

[The image above features Jaster as he was in the first issue of Jango Fett - Open Seasons. It is accessible (the pic) on wiki, and I'm pretty sure the comic is available on most comic archives. Jaster's colour are, famously, dark grey, black, red and the yellow Haat Mando'ade Crest.]

Black - Ne'tra

Justice - the colour of Mandalorians whose moral code is unshakable. A notable wearer of this colour is Jaster Mereel himself. Most kute are often this colour, or dark blue (navy) and in most cases that is for cost reasons, and to prevent staining. However, black is the colour of night, and of Death - an important concept to all Mandalorian Sects - and creates a sense of uniformity amongst even the most visually different individuals. Justice, Death, and all that this might entail is a corner stone of Mandalorian culture and perception. One cannot live if they do not accept that Death is a possibility. Black can denote serving of justice, seeking justice, or preserving it.

Grey - Genet

'Honouring lost love, or mourning a lost loved one'. The separate shades of Grey have meaning in some Clans and Houses, but across most of Mandalorian Space, Grey is to signify the passing of a loved one. It can even be worn if either a Clan has been lost, or if a member has been excommunicated. There are also occasions of possible ven'riduur wearing the colour when another warrior gets there before them.

[The above image is the reverse of the New Zealand Free State of Niue's reverse coin. Gold does not promote prestige in Mandalorian culture, but danger. If dressed in gold, one is to be weary.]

Gold - Ve'vut

Vengeance, a common place, and important part of Mandalorian Culture and Law. Methods of vengeance are protected and controlled by Mandalorian Law. Acts that go from vengeance to Revenge can face serious consequence. Outsiders that meet warriors in this colour are warned to practice caution. A Mandalorian's wealth is not decided by the colour of their armour, but of their actions, and gold denotes a thirst for vengeance, in a control, personal manner.

[The image to the left is Nocturne Shade, T15 139.6, and the image to the right is Bright Cerulean, T15 138.7. I included a vivid and deep blue to show the scope of what is considered baseline, before entering Light Blue, Sky Blue, or Navy. I chose as close as I could to Jango Fett's armour, and both Paz Vizsla, and Vizsla House.]

Blue - Kebiin

Reliability, a warrior and Mandalorian who is secure in who they are, what they are capable of, and what they have to offer the galaxy. Warriors in their prime often wear this colour. It is often taken as a show of subtle faith and loyalty to whichever leader these particular Mandalorians serve. Blue is also often worn by mercenaries and Journeyman to create a sense of calm and trust between them and their charges. Blue is often seen as a solid, and dependable colour, and associated with leadership, and their support. Blue is the colour of the Mandalorian Protectors Universal Sigil. Parents who are raising children alone also wear this colour, as a way of reinforcing the belief that they can care for their child alone - a rare occurrence in Mandalorian Space.

Orange -

lust for life, shereshoy

[The colour to the right is literally as close as I could get to Boba Fett's armour. The image on the left is Irish Stone, T15 164.7, and the right is Deep Veridian, T10 54F-2.]

Green - Vorpan

Duty - often considered the workers' colour, green represents hard work, and deep commitment to a cause, a task, an ideal, or an action. Many members of the Fett House predominantly wear this colour as a nod to their humble beginnings, and many farmers and tradespeople wear some small segment of green to denote their occupation. The kind of green, and the way it is worn can also denote different trades and employment types, although like with most colours, each mandalorian is ultimately able to make decisions for themself on what their colours mean to them.

The Observed and Official Greater House uses;

[This section is for Fanon, or non-official colours. The Mandalorian Mercs and other cosplay groups have commonly accepted colour codes, as do some sections of the Fanfic writing community. If anyone has any colour ideas, do let me know, and feel free to leave a link to other colour charts in the notes! It's my ambition to make sourcing knowledge on Mandalorian culture easier and easier for newer fans.]

[Image for Beskar Silver was taken from the Etsy Adds for Beskar Ingots. There are multiple companies and craftspeople that make these - vey cool! I can not let myself buy any. I can not!!!]

Silver - Beskar

The Colour of unpainted beskar, the associated meanings are either that you have not had the chance to paint it, or if you are in full, evidently in use armour, that you have no right to wear paint. It is the assumed non-colours of the Silver Children (An Elite Group of Mandalorian Ori'ramikade) and the Naasaade (the Nameless Society, a group of Mandalorians who have either been put towards the path of redemption by order, or by choice) and of many bounty hunters of the Outer Rim who seek to keep their clan affiliations a secret. It is widely believed that if any Mandalorian is to have honour, it is one in silver, as it infers that this particular Mandalorian will do all that is possible to be seen as honourable once more by themselves, others, their clan, and the Ka'ra.

[The image on the left is Blue Booties (I know right?), T15 142.1, and the image on the right is Reflection, T15 142.2. I included an eggshell blue, and a powder, almost greenish pale blue. I even checked the definition of Cyan for you. Essentially, really light teal, like, really light.]

Cyan, or Sky Blue -

'New Love', often used as the symbol of engagement. Most Mandalorians cannot afford to exchange and modify pieces of their armour from one partner to another, and so instead of this practice from the eras of battlefield weddings, most unmarried warriors are encouraged to carry a small vial of this colour paint instead. This is a practice seen more amongst the traditionalists, who believe in earning armour on your own merit, and not upon the backs of others. Other methods of using this colour is in Cyan Beads upon your kute, or the addition of decorative cord upon a warrior's shoulder to denote engagement, or new marriage.

The Two Shades of Purple

[Purple is a difficult colour. Caught between red and blue, and having so many varied shades and meanings across both Mandalore, and the fandom, I've done my best to create the general feel of what purple means to a culture obsessed with living life to the fullest, and honouring your oaths.]

[Image on the left has Imperial Violet, T15 211.4, and the image on the right has Purple Statice, T15 210.5. I grabbed both a warm and cool variety for those of you with colour schemes to match. Purple is a colour often associated in fandom with chance, hope, and luck.]

a) Lavender, or Violet

The colour of luck and chance, Violet and Lavender are supposed to be a sign of recognition and faith to the old Mandalorian God and Spirit of Luck, and although belief in the Gods has long since faded, folklore still holds most shades of lighter purple as the colour of chance, change, and good futures. It is a common colour for new parents wishing to do right by their children.

[Image on the left is Imperial Purple, T15 213.7, and the image on the right is Royal Indigo, T15 130.7. Again, I have used both warm and cool shades to allow as much versatility as possible with colour palletes.]

b) Indigo

Often considered the colour of hope, Indigo and its shades are often used to mean the same things as other shades of purple, and when paired with colours such as Cyan, and Teal, or even most forms of blue, is meant to inspire a sense of gratitude, or gratefulness for victory, present peace, currently good fortune and such, whilst lighter shades are meant to bring said fortune.

[Image on the left is Tapestry Teal, T15 153.6, and the image on the right is Lagoon Teal, T15 153.5. Both Teals are on the lighter side, but you can absolutely go darker in this colour and have the same meaning.]

Teal -

Considered the unofficial colours of the New Mandalorians, the colour was originally worn only by medics, emergency workers, and those who had retired from active combat. It was supposed to be the colour of those who had seen violence, and stood up to atrocities in the name of peace. It is now considered a cowards colour amoungst Kyrtsaade circles, and New Mandalorians forbade its application in armour as a falsehood and a breaking of the Healers Code. However, Traditionalists and Way Followers still view it as the colour of choice for more reserved, shrewd verde who fight as a last resort.

[images above are to the left, Minty Green, T15 165.3, and to the right, Sherbet Lime, T15 167.3. Once again, included a warm and cool option.]

Light Green -

'Lust for peace', 'The Guardian', or 'Peace Keeper's Colours'. Often used by warriors who practice non-lethal forms of combat - guards that utilise stun batons and blanks instead of live ammunition. Under the New Mandalorians, it became indistinguishable from Teal and its meanings, but in all other forms of Mandalorian culture, Light Green is used for warriors and guards of sacred r special places, such as schools, hospitals, or the water ways. Light Green is a deeply respected, and widely used colour, even if its meaning has been watered down and misinterpreted by the galaxy at large.

Yellow - Shi'yayc

Dark Green

Dark Blue

Tan

Brown

Cream/Beige

Maroon and Burgundy

[I couldn't pick one... Image above contains Baby Girl, Pigtail Pink, River Rouge, Spring Pink, Jaguar Rose, After the Dance, Flamenco Fire, Turkish Delight, Pink Flambe, Pink Clay Pot, Bold Flame and Strawberry Splash. The codes are found on Taubmans website.]

Pink -

Respect, Knowledge, and Respected. Interestingly, pink in Mandalorian Space is a colour of status, as a unification of white and red, it combines the ideas of horouring those that raised you, and your new beginnings, and the outcome became the colour pink. Different shades mean different things in the more secular coverts, but it is important to note that field archivists, officers, and journalists have a tendency to wear at least some pink.

Additional Colours and Varieties;

Metallics

Mattes and Gloss

Patterning

Symbols of the Mandalorians;

The symbols used in Mandalore are vast, and complicated, and often the colour can change the meaning of the symbol. Colour is, as always, up to the discretion and particular tastes of the Mandalorian in question, but there are common associations, and symbols mandated for use by specific beings.

[Extrapolation will be added]

--------------

[Wrote this for my own use, and as a guide on mainstream Mandalore and the subsects we might actually see in Disney media (can you see me distancing their bizarre writing from myself? can you??) after all, the official website lists Din's armour as grey? What?? Bro, no.]

Resources;

The only copy of the old Fan Canon List I could find:

[Fanon List in image is as follows; Purple - Luck, Pink - Respected or Respecting Someone, White - Purity, Brown - Valor, Maroon - Power, Light Green - Lust for Peace, Scarlet - Defiance, Silver - Seeking Redemption, Yellow - Remembrance, Teal - Healing.]

Found on Pinterest. It used to part of one of the cosplay forums, but I can no longer find it. It runs off old canon. There are some issues with the list, but ah well.

Mandalorian Mercs Forum; [here]

They're rather official, and a great deal of their stuff is incredibly helpful, but I find their website hard to navigate. Probably just me though.

Mandalorian Wikipedia Colours; [here]

It doesn't have any of the extended fanon colours, but it dos have an in depth expose on what colour canon and EU Legends has provided us with.

Mando'a Translator; [here]

Not entirely sure how well it works, but it does simple words fine. Its sentence structure is terrible, just like all translate apps, so be warned.

Mando'a Dictionary and Forum; [here]

This Mando'a dictionary has got to be the most comprehensive I have found, however there are still mistakes. The only reason I know that is I printed the whole thing and read it like some kind of nerd.

Mandalorian Colour Definition found on Tumblr;[here]

This one is made by another user, I am unsure of their sources, but it matches closely with a great deal that I have found, so it’s pretty accurate so far.

Another Handy Mando'a forum; here

If there are any other helpful websites and links you can think of, let me know. The Codex will have reference to this chart at some stage, but I'll get to that later. I'm just religiously ignoring the Mandalorian Cookbook I started whilst sick last year. You never hear of it, it never existed.

[I will update this as I make further research.]

[perpetuallyexhaustedbookwyrm]

For anyone writing SW fanfic or planning to build Mandalorian armour at some point in the near or far future

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

“If I had time travel I’d kill Hitler” “If I had time travel I’d stop my favourite politician getting assassinated” you’re all thinking way too small. If I had time travel I’d stop Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin from dying on the moon due to Soviet sabotage, kicking off the Great Nuclear War and devastating half of the planet.

[stavarosthearcane]

Good Job.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

#this post gets me every time 

It’s from two days ago fam how many times could there have been

[heroofthreefaces]

do you think no one else has time travel

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Happy one month anniversary to this post that has not allowed me a single day of fucking peace since I made it.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

#surprise reblog!! 

STOP IT’S BEEN MONTHS. MONTHS!

YOU CAN STOP.

[roach-works]

wow if only you had a time machine

[transdaughterofthesun]

Honestly having reached a billion notes I think it’s safe to say that in the Year of our lord 2041, this is the most popular tumblr post out there.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I’m killing your parents before you’re born

[iforgotmyfandom]

:)

[idiototheinternet]

Still here, why’d you hesitate @derinthescarletpescatarian

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Your mum’s ability to hold up under active gunfire was really hot. I’m your dad now.

[lizyarikus]

Isn’t that the plot of Terminator

[anexperimentallife]

Where do you think the plot for Terminator came from?

[what-if-i-just-did]

This is such a classic trainwreck post that has the vibes of a 2014 screenshot posted to Pinterest and then the last addition is just last Tuesday I can’t even

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Imagine how I feel

[mrsjdavis]

POST, LIVE FOREVER!!!!!!

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

It doesn’t have to

[smegorl]

Yes it does.

[type-blaze0]

Of course it has to, it gets a billion notes in 2041

[angels-haven-official]

We all know who needs to be @’d

@hellsite-hall-of-fame

[dailymarvelheroes]

get you a man who can do both

[nitramaraho]

one of my patients came in for an emergency visit, because she snapped the wire on her retainer watching the movie when MBJ took his shirt off she clenched her teeth so fucking hard she snapped it. that is the fucking funniest shit ever to me this tiny 17 year old girl thirsting so goddamn hard she busted steel

[crystalitesummerstar]

Y'all, it gets better. She found out.

[buzzfeed]

We interviewed her, obviously.

[buzzfeed]

update:

[rainbowselfies]

[blvckgeezus]

Such a developing story.

[pastdueeverything]

I love this story

[athenadcvell]

This was a wild ride from start to finish

[gambit-of-a-small-rabbit-deacti]

I know I say this a lot, But this is one of the best things on this website

[nitramaraho]

Sophia is currently doing great in college, and I still get about one kid a month in the office who asked if this really happened.

[demigoddessqueens]

I found it!! The original post!!

[urcadelimabean]

HAS SHE SEEN SINNERS

[madenthusiasms]

Preferably when she wasn’t wearing the retainer.

[hjartasalt]

Mods are asleep post forbidden tits

[hjartasalt]

Huh

[hjartasalt]

Huh

[hjartasalt]

Huh

[hjartasalt]

Hhhhhhh

[anothermarkiplierfan]

Perfectly balanced as all things should be…

[0v9]

[lexeirikrleif]

[fruitloopghosty]

[offbrandbeethoven-blog]

i

[immortalcheesewedge]

balance

[abosl-deactivated20201212]

*does the anime character with glasses thing*

[punkmonksteven]

Does that really work though?

What…?

[micropet-deactivated20150708]

that’s so cool i wanna do it too!!!!!!

ok here goes

NO

[nickdiminico]

Okay, there’s no way that works.

Let me try this out.

[rabbitrecycle-deactivated202206]

I’m kinda skeptical about this? Can it really make you anime.

Guss i’ll give it a shot

ABORT ABORT

[hootyhoocatsinsuits]

yeah right, like that really happens

hmmm….

maybe I should try-

HOLY SHIT

WHAT THE FU 

[alwaysinternalyscreeming]

No way this can’t be real

Hmm

Meh let’s try it

Ok one more small push and-

G’DAY !!!

WTF… tumblr I don’t know what magic you have…

But I’m not complaining *dosent work* SHIT!!!

[quixylvre]

Forever a classic

[sauragnmon]

Indeed, this should never die.

[da-7-kings]

@hellsite-hall-of-fame