Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Similar Deviations
(Group Message Sam and Dean Winchester)

C: Dean. Sam. We must help the mighty Thorin Oakenshield reclaim his stolen homeland of Erebor.

D: What the hell are you talking about?

S: I meant to tell you this earlier.

S: I took him to go see the Hobbit.

D: Why would you do that?! You know he gets weird ass ideas.

C: Dean, we must go help him. He could die without us.

D: Why should I give a rat's ass?

C: He is a majestic ruler, Dean. His majesticness must be saved for future generations.

D: His what?

C: His majescticness.

D: What the hell?

S: Thorin was pretty majestic. I have to admit that.

C: Then you understand, Sam! We have to go help the Dwarves reclaim Erebor!

S: You know what, Cas, you're right. You and Dean should get ready and be on your way tonight.

D: Sam, what are you doing?

S: I'll even go find you a bow and arrow. You can match wits with Kíli.

D: Sam, what the hell are you doing?

S: I'll pack your provisions.

D: Sam, stop it.

S: I'll even call Gandalf for you.

C: Dean, Sam is going to help us project King Thorin's majesty

S: Damn right I will.

D: I hate you both.
Even Cas loves Thorin's majesticness.

I am so out of practive on writing these damn things.

Give me a few hours, and I'll go back to the way I used to write them.

Being without practice fucking SUCKS.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

"What smells so good?"

"Finally out of your coma are you?" Sebastian Moran said nonchalantly, not turning to face his boss, who was standing in the doorway, looking much more ruffled than his normal Westwood look. He was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a wife-beater, a purple silk dressing gown half hanging off of him.

"Yes mum, I'm fine thank you." Jim said mockingly, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice, drinking straight from the container. He leaned against the counter, watching the sniper as he continued to work with a creamy substance in the bowl in front of him. He stared at it, as though it was some foreign substance that was going to come to life and attack them both.

Seb noticed Jim's eyes on him and glanced over, not stopping his use of the metal whisk he'd been employing. He snorted. "It's not going to bite you you know."

"Ha ha." Jim sneered. "What is it?"



"Yes Jim, it's the sugary paste that people put on baked things."

Jim stood there for a moment, seemingly transfixed by the thick substance that was now oozing down the sides of the mixing bowl. "Why would anyone  want to eat that?! And more to the point, why are you making it?"

"Because sugar cookies are boring without frosting, and I didn't have anything to do. Seriously, have you never noticed how much more gets done when you wake up from your binge induced comas?"

"What coma? It takes a much lower level of brain wave to constitute a coma, and I can assure you, my brain has never reached those levels. Besides, name one time when I got up and you were actually doing something useful." Jim set the carton down, using his hands to push himself up to sit on the counter, elbows resting on his knees and his attention fixed on Moran. Sebastian was still working on the frosting, putting it aside only long enough to take the cookies out of the oven.

"Just because you don't consider it useful doesn't mean it's not." Seb pointed out. "If I didn't clean my equipment properly it wouldn't be ready to go when you get the whim to shoot someone. Or when someone catches a whim to shoot you. Which-" He said, setting the cookies down on top of the stove and taking of the oven mitt. "Has been happening a LOT more often." Moran gave Jim a meaningful look.

Jim shrugged, stealing one of the cooling cookies off of the rack and eating it, waving his hand to dismiss the sniper's implications. The temperature didn't seem to bother him.  "You loove it." He drawled. "Gives you something to do."

"Well, maybe once in a while I like to do things like this."

Jim wrinkled his nose, looking down on Moran in disdain as the other man continued to work with the frosting.

"But it's so painfully...normal." Jim said, dragging out the last word like it was something slimy. "Domestic even. You're supposed to be the best sniper in Europe, things like this aren't supposed to entertain you. I thought you had slightly more brain power than that, Sebbie. I'm disappointed."

Sebastian snorted, yanking the cookie tray away from Moriarty right as the man went to take another one. "You don't seem that disgusted with the arrangement. Besides," he pointed out, "Snipers have to be calm and focused. Baking calms me down."

"Booooring." Jim sang, sliding off of the counter to wander back over to the fridge, dissappearing behind the door as he searched for something that would suit him. "I can't understand how people like you could be any more relaxed. There's nothing going on in there to begin with. If you were any more relaxed you'd be dead."

"Keep thinking that Jim." Seb mumbled, now using a spoon to dribble and smooth the frosting over the cookies, one after another.

Jim pulled his head out of the fridge and frowned, unhappy with the lack of attention he was receiving. He disliked how passive this new hobby was making his sniper. This was why he didn't watch telly. He couldn't get a rise out of the TV. "What? No snappy comment? No 'Jim, if you keep this up you won't survive to go after Sherlock again'?" Moriarty said, not bothering to close the fridge. He came up behind Seb, hooking two fingers under the corner of the other man's jaw. He looked at an invisible watch on his wrist, shaking his head sadly, his lip pouting just a little. "Just as I thought. No pulse."

Sebastian looked down at Jim, rolling his eyes. Moriarty took his fingers off of Moran's throat and circled around him, now focused on the frosting bowl. He dipped two fingers into the bowl and stared at the white glop as it oozed over them. Moran just ignored Jim's behavior, he was so used to it it was unnatural.

Jim sniffed at the substance experimentally, making a face. "This is not frosting." He announced, still staring at it as though it had personally offended him. "Frosting doesn't....ooze.."

"It's a glaze frosting." Seb replied, long-suffering to the end. "Are you seriously telling me that you've never had a glaze frosting on anything? Never had a frosted sugar cookie or a cinnamon roll?"

Moriarty shrugged. "Don't concern myself much with food, and when I do I don't tend to keep a log of what I eat."

Seb snorted. "That's a lie. What about the time when we went out to eat and you kept ordering something different because you didn't like the taste of the first five hundred things you ordered?"

"Not my fault they don't know the meaning of the word 'food'. Just because I don't think much about what I eat doesn't mean I won't notice when they try and feed me something that isn't physically edible."

"It was prime steak!"

"Nooot my problem." Jim said, wiping his frosting covered hand on Moran's sleeve. Sebastian looked down at the smear in annoyance as his boss went to flop down on the couch in the nearby living room.  

All was quiet for another five minutes before Seb heard an enormous sigh from the living room.

"If you start throwing darts at the Mona Lisa again, I swear..."

"Aww, Sebbie that's adorable! I didn't know you had the brain cells to appreciate high art."

"I couldn't care less. What I do care about is the fact that YOU decided to plant a bomb right behind the painting. Who knows what could set it off!?"

"Your concern is touching."

"Hey, if you go up, so do I. The world may revolve around you in your brain, but not so much in here."

"Hmm. Not surprised. There's not so much of anything in your brain."

"....You done?"

"Never. Though if you bring me something to eat I may be quiet for a few minutes."

Sebastian finished dribbling the cookies with frosting and walked into the living room, dropping the bowl onto Jim's lap.

"There. Eat that."

Jim scowled at it, not bothering to move. He just glared at it, as though it would move on its own by sheer force of hatred.

"This ISN'T food." He complained loudly.

"Well, if you want real food, get off your super intelligent arse and get it yourself." Sebastian said, heading back into the kitchen.

Sebastian ignored the grumbling that followed him into the next room.

Jim stared at the bowl which was currently occupying the space on top of his stomach. He tipped it forward with one finger, scowling again when the gooey substance slimed towards him in slow motion.

"Seeeeb!" He whined, knowing full well that the other man was ignoring him completely. Well, he would just have to see what would come of that  later. He turned his attention back on the bowl. The frosting was close to dripping onto his shirt now. He grimaced, catching a falling drip with his finger. Letting the bowl sit back upright again, he stared at the milky white drop of sugar that clung to the pad of his finger. Experimentally, he licked it.

Sebastian had cleaned the entire kitchen up by the time Jim showed up again. Moran smirked. "Finally decide that starving to death is worse than being lazy?"

"Not hungry anymore." Jim said nonchalantly, dropping the frosting bowl into the sink in front of the sniper.

Moran stared at it in shock, pausing half-way through drying his hands on a dish towel. The bowl had been licked clean.
This is the disclaimer. I wrote this for fun. That is really the ONLY reason. It was inspired by the antics of me and my friend at college as we made cookies for a bake sale. I wrote it because I have a strange fascination with Moriarty as of late, and because I really wanted some Seb/Jim fics that were not slash. I like to think of them like I think of Sherlock and John, just a really close, really strange platonic relationship. Only Seb and Jim are evil. Yeah.

SO this is probably OOC, but it's mostly for the giggles so yeah. Enjoy XD.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

"Hey, Castiel, look at this," Gabriel called to his brother over his shoulder. He had stolen Sam's laptop while the hunter was out with Dean on a food run. Cas walked up to Gabriel curiously and peered over his shoulder at the article the archangel was reading.

"National Kissing Day?" Cas said, his head tilting. "What is the point of this?"

"Well, it gives you an excuse to kiss Dean senseless," Gabriel chuckled. "Though I never need one to kiss Sammy." Cas's eyes flicked over the article, reading quickly. A smile curved his lips and Gabriel knew he had scored a point. He closed the laptop and stood to stretch.

"So, that mind of yours planning madly?" Gabriel asked, smirking at Cas. The younger angel nodded, a light in his eyes. Without warning, Cas turned on his heel and rushed upstairs, stomping loudly in his haste. Gabriel chuckled again and wandered into the kitchen. He had already planned out exactly how he was going to seduce Sam today, having found out a few days ago about the upcoming holiday. He listened to muffled noises coming from upstairs and assumed Cas was readying a few surprises of his own for Dean.

He cocked his head as he heard the front door open and Sam and Dean walk in with groceries. Gabriel walked out of the kitchen and grabbed a few of the bags from Sam. Gabriel helped put away the food and waited until Sam was facing away from him before wrapping his arms around his torso.

"Got a surprise for you, kiddo," Gabriel said fondly before snapping and disappearing them. Dean snorted at the space they had occupied and walked out into the library. The older hunter hadn't seen Cas so assumed the angel was out doing angel-y things. He started when warm arms wrapped around him from behind then relaxed into Cas's embrace.

"Hey," Dean said fondly. "How are you?"

"I am fine, Dean," Cas replied, tightening his embrace. "I want to show you something." Without letting go, the angel moved both of them upstairs.


"Gabe, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, stumbling to catch his balance. He looked around the room, noting bowls and bowls full of Hershey's Kisses. Every flavor he had ever seen tumbled over tables. Even some flavors he was pretty sure didn't exist, such as liqueur-flavored ones, joined the chaos of candy. Sam spun slowly, taking in the large bed covered in red sheets against one wall along with the other tables filled with cakes and pies.

"Happy Kissing Day, Sammy," Gabriel said fondly, holding out an unwrapped Kiss for Sam. The hunter leaned forward slowly and ran his tongue over the candy, slowly sucking it into his mouth. He grinned at the archangel and grabbed a Kiss from the table next to him. Unwrapping it slowly, Sam held the chocolate out to Gabriel who lapped it up, his eyes never leaving Sam's.

Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gabriel's shoulders. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over Gabriel's and dipped his tongue into the archangel's mouth. Gabriel's hands threaded into Sam's hair, holding the hunter close to him. They broke apart and laughed, happiness overflowing between them.

"Want to try out the bed?" Sam suggested, arching an eyebrow at Gabriel.

"Of course," Gabriel replied, smiling. "This is officially my new favorite holiday." Sweeping Sam's legs out from underneath him, Gabriel pinned his hunter to the bed, planning on staying there for several hours.


"What's going on, Cas?" Dean asked quietly as he took in the room. It was spotless and the bed was made with silky blue sheets. Dean noted absently that the sheets were the same shade of amazing blue as Cas's eyes.

"Gabriel showed me something earlier," Cas explained. "And I want to start a new anniversary with you." The angel stepped forward and pulled Dean's head down to his, pressing his lips gently against the hunter's. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's shoulders and pulled him tight against himself, deepening their kiss.

"Not that I'm complaining," Dean said, breaking their kiss. "But what are you wanting to turn into an anniversary." Cas blushed and broke from Dean's hold, starting to pace the room. Now that he was here, Cas wasn't sure how Dean was going to react. He had a feeling this might not have been as good an idea as he thought at first.

"Today is National Kissing Day," Cas mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I thought it might be nice if we spent it together. I got your favorite foods." His arm waved jerkily at a small endtable covered with hamburgers and pie. Dean's mouth watered at the sight and he stepped behind Cas, stopping his pacing.

"This is a sweet idea," Dean told his angel. "Why are you so nervous?"

"You hate what you call chick-flick moments," Cas replied, his eyes flicking around the room. "This seems like it qualifies." Dean turned Cas to face him, one hand cupping his chin and raising his face to his.

"I don't hate this," Dean said softly, smiling into Cas's eyes. "Thank you for the thought. I think it's a great idea to start a new tradition on today." He leaned forward and kissed Cas again, his tongue exploring the angel's mouth. Dean's hands worked their way under Cas's shirt and ran over his back, tracing the muscles under his skin. Cas groaned into their kiss and threaded his fingers into Dean's hair.

"Happy kissing day," Dean said fondly, breaking their kiss. "I love you, Castiel."

"I love you, Dean," Cas replied before pulling his head down again.
I'm getting lazy with this so Destiel and Sabriel are sharing a fic for National Kissing Day. I love these two ships, they are just adorable. Enjoy and, as always, comments are :heart:
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

G: Send me a picture.
S: What?
G: I'm tied up, and I won't be able to make it down for a few days.
G: So send me a picture.
S:  (picture message enclosed)
G: Cute, kid. Real cute.
S: I'm sensing sarcasm.
G: We both know I didn't mean a picture of Bobby.
S: Well you didn't specify.
G: All right, fine. Sam, it would please me very much if you were to send me a picture of yourself.
S: (picture message enclosed)
G: If you EVER want to sleep with me again, you'll send me a picture of you shirtless.
S: (picture message enclosed)
G: Holy shit, kid!
S: What?!
G: You've got some nice jugs.
S: I hate you.

I'd actually never heard that term until I was talking to some guy. It was kind of funny.



Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Sebastian and Jim were at a bar, celebrating their victory over the last case. Sebastian could hold his liquor reasonably well, but later in the night he found he actually couldn't hold his liquor, and he actually dropped it all over the floor. At this realization he only giggled and took another sip of his beer.
And then, Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy started to play on the radio in the background in the bar and Sebastian jumped up excitedly, nearly losing his footing. "Oh shit, I love this song!" He cried to the rest of the drunk people in the bar and Jim, who was only a little tipsy and the radio that was only background music earlier got cranked up. Sebastian started singing along with the song just as they hit the chorus, nearly butchering the song in his drunken state.
He even attempted to get on a table and start dancing, but soon found out that gravity decided that the ground was a much better place to be right then. He bobbed his head to the music and danced around on the floor instead of the table, using an empty beer bottle as a microphone.
Jim giggled as his boyfriend made a fool of himself and recorded the scene on his phone. He felt almost giddy at the thought of showing this to him in the morning.


The next day Sebastian found himself lying on the couch of his and Jim's flat sporting a serious hangover. "Fuck. What did I do last night?" He asked Jim, not sure if he wanted to know the answer, holding his face in his hands.
Jim laughed and handed him some Ibuprofen and water, being surprisingly nice for once. Sebastian accepted them and swallowed them eagerly. "I have a video of exactly what you did last night, if you want to see."
"Shit…" It had to be bad if Jim took a video of it. "You're gonna show me the video whether I want to or not so I might as well."
Jim grinned and grabbed out his phone, immediately opening the video to show Sebastian singing a horribly out of tune Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy into an empty beer bottle. Only after five seconds Sebastian covered his face in his hands again, this time out of embarrassment. "Damn it, why didn't you take me home when I started doing that?"
"But you looked like you were having so much fun." Jim sing-songed, smiling sweetly.
Sebastian sent him a half-hearted glare. "I hate you."
"Love you too!" Jim cooed before he slammed the door as he left, causing Sebastian to hold his head and groan.
For :iconsilvermoonlight13: who requested that Sebastian sing Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy while drunk at a bar.
Um. Yeah. That's pretty much what it is.
I don't own the song Dance Dance or Sebastian Moran or Jim Moriarty!

Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. It should have been a not friendly but still peaceful business meeting, not an exchange of potentially lethal shots. But when you worked for James Moriarty you could never be sure of what was waiting ahead for you. For that reason, and for many others he had learnt during the years spent at the madman’s side, Sebastian Moran was always ready. For what, he didn’t know, but still prepared pretty much for everything. And they had to thank his quick reflexes if the people with a bullet in the skull were some of their client’s men and not them.

The sniper had felt the atmosphere of the small Finnish cottage getting colder and colder and he calmly had crossed his arms, his right hand casually resting on the gun hidden in his jacket and the left tapping on the one he had secured on his hip. He wasn’t exactly listening to the discussion going on between the Russian man and his employer, he was too busy keeping an eye on the armed men who were standing behind their clients. He had already spotted their weapons, three guns on each bodyguard and the one on the left had also a knife in his boot. He and Moriarty were facing the door, but there was a window behind their backs, large enough to become an emergency exit once broken the glass.

A sudden stream of curses in Russian had forced him to move his attention back to his boss’s speaker, whose face was now livid and awfully tense. He was grinding his teeth in rage, but Jim had showed no worry at all, had spoken few amused words in the Slavic language and chuckled. The client hadn’t seemed to have appreciated whatever he had said because he had jumped on his feet and shouted orders. His jackals had immediately reached for their guns, but before they could draw them Moran had already shot two of them and had grabbed Moriarty by the waist.

“Moran, what are you…?!” the consulting criminal had started to protest, but he had interrupted him ignoring the deadly glare he had just received.

“Sorry, boss, but it’s time to leave the party” he had stated shooting at the window and crashing the glass. His opponents were quickly recovering from their shock, they needed to get out before the shooting started. He had lifted himself through the opening and had dragged the shorter man with him, ignoring the splinters that scratched his skin through his trousers. “Forgive me my bad manners, but we are in a rush. I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You moron! If you don’t let me go immediately be sure that I’ll skin you alive as soon as we get home!” Jim had growled, clearly irate, struggling in the other’s strong grip. “I’m not kidding! Let me go, Moran!”

Pretending not to have heard the threat, Sebastian had jumped on the frozen ground, running quickly behind a woodpile, and, once there, he had unceremoniously threw his employer in a snowdrift. And there he was, knelt beside the shorter man, carefully leaning out, gun in hand. Behind them there was only the lake shore, only two metres apart. That meant no alternative ways of escape, but at least their enemies couldn’t surround them either. The bodyguards had run out after them through the cottage door, followed closely by their boss, who was once again shouting in Russian. The ex-soldier didn’t know the language, but there were few expressions, which could turn out to be essential in his job, that he had forced himself to pick up in many idioms. One of them was “kill them” and it was exactly what had just come out from their now former client. He didn’t wait another second and shot one of the men right in the chest. The other collapsed in the snow, staining its white with his blood.

A spray of gunfire followed his shot, forcing him to take shelter behind the woodpile. He cursed heavily under his breath. There were more men than the five who had been in the room with them. It wasn’t going to be easy. He glanced at Jim who was still wearing his frown but hadn’t shown any intention of scolding him again. The shorter man’s suit was completely damped and he was shivering, even if he was trying not to show it. The sniper bit his lower lip, growling lowly and cursing the horrible choice of place for the meeting. Neutral ground or whatever, he didn’t care. The fact was that temperature was several degrees below zero and his own fingers were starting to become numb. He needed to get them somewhere warmer soon or they both would risk hypothermia in addiction to a bullet hole.

“Hold on, boss” he said quietly, biting his lips. “I’ll get us out quickly”. He handed Jim his other gun. “Take it. And don’t move. I’ll take care of those bastards.”

Moriarty raised a questioning eyebrow as he took the weapon, but Moran once again ignored it and brushed past him heading towards the other end of the pile. The bullets were still being fired, but he was sure that it was only a diversionary. There were eight armed men on them, but he could count only four guns shooting. They were surely covering the other four approaching their shelter. He needed to be quick if he didn’t want to find himself in a quite inconvenient position. He crawled in the snow, ignoring the biting cold, and reached his destination. Once there he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Catching his opponents off guard was his only chance to end the whole thing quickly. He had to succeed in shooting them all before they got him. Otherwise…He would have to deal with serious injures too.

Sebastian tightened his grip on his weapon and stood, immediately setting his sight on the nearest man, who had almost reached the woodpile, instantly shooting him dead. The others immediately turned towards him, but he didn’t let them the time to take aim and fired again, shot after shot, hitting his target each time. A bullet grazed his arm, gaining a gasp of pain from his lips, but he forced himself to ignore the blood soaking his shirt and jacket and drew the gun towards the last jackal, only to find out that the man had already his weapon on him and was smirking triumphantly. The sniper swore, stiffening in his spot. His mind was racing. The bastard was about to shot him. He would have no time to dodge it and, even if he had fired in turn, he would have been hit. His finger tightened on the trigger. One thing was sure. He wasn’t going down alone.

However, before he could do anything, the bodyguard collapsed, crimson liquid flooding out from his forehead. The ex-soldier turned and his surprised eyes met the figure of his employer standing, gun still drawn in his target’s direction. A feral smirk blossomed on his face as he started to walk towards him. Jim never wanted to dirty his hands, but he knew well that the consulting criminal still had a very good aim when he needed it. He always had to put at use all his skills to dodge the objects that the shorter man threw at him when he was in a foul mood. And at times the paper holder or the lamp hit him anyway.

“Nice shot, boss” he complimented going to stand by his side, rubbing his wrist on his wound. “You have been going to the shooting range again, haven’t you?”

“Don’t try to flatter me. I’m still going to punish you for ruining my clothes and forcing me to use this stupid thing”. Moriarty let his weapon fall on the ground. “My suit costs more than your favourite riffle, you idiot. I’m going to use your payment to buy a new one”. He gave his sniper another dirty look. “And don’t even dare to think that I’ve been practicing just because you suggest me to do it. I was bored.”

Moran rolled his eyes with an amused grin and opened his mouth to retort, but he caught a sudden movement with the corner of his eye before he could say anything. His training kicked in immediately and he pushed the consulting criminal aside, out of the line of fire. The bullet penetrated his flesh this time, sticking into his right shoulder. He cried out in pain and fury, falling in the snow. His sight blurred for a moment, but he quickly blinked to clear it. There was no time for weaknesses. He grabbed the gun that Jim had abandoned with his left hand and shoot, hitting their former client in the chest and successfully getting rid of him. A few time he had been so glad to be ambidextrous.

As soon as he saw the Russian falling, he let his arm relaxed and groaned, closing his eyes. Luckily no bone had been hit, but it hurt like hell anyway. He threw the weapon away and pressed a handful of snow on the wound to stop the bleeding. The last thing he needed now was to faint for blood loss. He would have to extract the bullet and wrap the wound as soon as they would be somewhere comfortable, but for now the snow could do. There was a small team waiting for they call only few kilometres apart.

He forced himself in a seated position and looked around, just in time to spot Jim trudging out of the lake, now completely drenched. In the rush of getting him out of the fire line he had inadvertently pushed the madman in the freezing waters. He was going to pay dearly for his carelessness. His eyes widened in horror and he stood up immediately, rushing towards him and taking off his jacket in the process, not without difficulties and ignoring the fact that he was now wearing only a blood-stained shirt. His attention was all focused on Moriarty, who was now shaking uncontrollably, arms wrapped around himself. The ex-soldier put the piece of clothing on the other’s shoulders and dared to hook his good arm around them, pulling his employer close to him. Body heat was the first handy way to fight hypothermia. The long nights in the desert during the months at war had taught him and his comrades that.

“Boss, you have better to call the others” he suggested, feeling the other snuggling even more in his chest. Under different circumstances he would have laughed at the scene, but not now. At least, he had better not if he wanted to stay alive. “It’s a bit too cold for my tastes.”

“Y-You…weren’t the one w-who ended up in…in a f-fucking frozen…lake!” Jim stuttered in an angry tone. He usually never swore, but the situation was pulling him to his limits. He was used to stand behind the safe line, watching the others working, fighting and dying from a comfortable spot. Now he was completely, literally frozen and even thinking was getting harder. The heat of the ex-soldier’s body was helping, but wasn’t enough. The taller man’s skin was cold as well. They needed help and soon. He sneezed. “Moran…you…you useless low being! C-Call them. My phone…is dead! Thanks to the bloody lake!”

Sebastian nodded, not daring to answer, and removed his arm from his employer to grab his phone, quickly sending a text before putting it back around the shorter man’s shoulder. The consulting criminal sneezed again, teeth chattering, and they both knew that the next day he would be ill, for the first time in years. The ex-soldier lifted his eyes. Fantastic. He would have to deal with a sick Moriarty other than with a gunshot wound.

Five minutes later the team was there, bringing everything they needed and ready to assist them. Jim was wrapped in a thermal blanket and brought on the snowmobile, while one of the men helped the sniper to take care of his wound, extracting the bullet for him and wrapping the injured flesh. Once they were done, Moran nodded a silent “thank you” to his subordinate and joined the consulting criminal on the vehicle. The engine was immediately started and the snowmobile got away the cottage behind, leaving the clean team the task to erase every trace of the mess. The Moriarty leant into him, seeking even more warmth, and he was glad to comply, twisting his body so that his boss could almost rest in his lap. None of them speak a word, each lost in his own thoughts, while outside the snow started to fall.


Sebastian snorted exasperated as a pillow hit him right in the face, making him drop the book he had been trying to read for an hour by now. He lifted his eyes to meet pissed dark ones. His boss was sat on the other side of the leather coach, wrapped in two blankets and surrounded by used tissues. An empty cup was rested on the coffee table in front of him, together with a half-eaten chocolate cookie.

It had been almost a week since the Finnish fiasco. Jim had become unbearable as soon as they had crossed the threshold of the consulting criminal’s flat. Moran had been forced to move in to be able to play at his best the role of the nurse. He didn’t mind that part, after all he had being spending more time there than in his own apartment in the last year and half, nights included, both for work and for his own pleasure. The guest room was pretty much his own by now and he even kept some spare clothes in the wardrobe too. He wasn’t bothered even by his many, at times annoying tasks. Taking care of the madman was a part of his job and he had already got used to having to do all the domestic chores, as well as to fighting with his employer to get him to eat and sleep. So adding to them a new struggle to make him take his meds didn’t really matter to him. Actually, he had to admit, not aloud obviously, that this sick version of Moriarty was almost cute in some moments. The man spent most of his time huddled up in his blankets, cheeks lightly blushed because of the fever and looking almost harmless, which was a first. Usually he managed to look dangerous even in the silliest situation, but apparently not when he was curled up like a big cat on the sofa, sulking, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. It almost made him smile.

What really disturbed his was his employer’s attitude towards him. The consulting criminal was always irritable, possibly even more than his usual self, and, when he didn’t give him the silent treatment, he spent his time whining, complaining and insulting him. Everything that Sebastian did was turned into a pretext to start a fight or to cover him with sarcastic comments and offensive remarks. He knew that it was a payback for what had happened at the cottage, but the sniper couldn’t help thinking that he was being wronged. It wasn’t his fault if their late client had decided to get rid of them because he didn’t want to pay the due price, nor it was the fact that Moriarty couldn’t have a conversation without calling his speaker every name under the sun. He hadn’t pushed him in the freezing waters on purpose. He had prevented him from being shot, and he was rather inclined also to remind that he had taken the bloody bullet in his place as well. So nobody could blame him if he repaid the shorter man with a similar harsh treatment when the other hit on his nerves. He had more than once refused to satisfy his employer’s whims, ignoring his protests and leaving the flat without permission. He had also started to smoke inside, knowing well how much the other hated it. Other times he had tried to talk Jim out of that childish behaviour, but in vain. Nothing he had done or said had been enough to stop their war.

“What was that for?” the ex-soldier asked, grabbing the pillow and throwing it back, right in his speaker’s face.

Moriarty let out an annoyed groan at that, but pushed the soft object on the floor. He couldn’t start that kind of battle, he couldn’t compete with Moran’s aim. “You pushed me in a bloody frozen lake, that’s what it was for” he stated harshly instead.

“Again? Come on, boss, drop it. This thing is starting to get awfully annoying. For the both of us” Sebastian answered, trying to keep his temper in check. “Besides, I’d like to remind you that I was trying to save your fucking life.”

“I’m more tempted to think that you were trying to end it” the consulting criminal accused, his voice getting even colder. “Just let me get better, Moran, and I swear that you’ll never forget your punishment”. His eyes shone dangerously. “If you were at least able to do your job properly, I wouldn’t be confined here with a stupid cold. Instead you are one of the most useless beings who have ever walked on the earth! Your task was to keep me safe, and what have you done? You have almost made me freeze to death. If it wasn’t for you being the best sniper on the market, you would already be dead and buried.”

The ex-soldier bared his teeth. “Fuck off, Jim!” he barked getting up. He could feel his anger growing in his chest, pushing to be realised. He needed some fresh air to calm down or he would end up punching his employer.

“Where do you think you are going, Moran? You are not leaving this flat until I tell you that you can go. Sit down. Now” the consulting criminal ordered, knowing too well that the other had to obey to a direct command. His voice turned from ice-cold to mockingly. “What’s wrong, Sebby? Can’t stand you the truth? Does it hurt being the stupid, common and awfully boring little being that you are? Oh, I can understand it. If I’m so disgusted by you, I can’t even image how horrible being you must be. My poor worthless pet. You always try so hard and yet you only manage to be disappointing.”

Moran clenched his fists, knuckles paling as his nails sunk in his palms. That was really enough. He hadn’t slept properly in three days because of the shorter man’s moods and pranks. He was tired, he had a terrible headache and his injured shoulder hurt like hell because he hadn’t had the time to treat it properly in the last week. “So that’s it? I’m just a useless bore to you?” he sneered, his pale eyes burning with anger. “Alright. That’s fine. I mean, you are the almighty genius here, so it must be true. Then I guess you don’t mind if I quit, do you?”

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t expecting that answer. “You what? You can’t be serious” he asked, furious and incredulous. “You can’t just quit, Moran! Don’t be an even worse idiot. You know very well that there’s only one way to leave my side.”

“Oh, I know it well, Moriarty” the sniper spat out, crossing his arms. He was still standing in spite of the previous command to sit down and his eyes wore a defiant look. The shorter man was right, he wasn’t thinking about getting fired, in all senses, for real. But he couldn’t take that situation any longer and he wanted to push the other as far as he could, not caring about the consequences. Moriarty wouldn’t get rid of him so easily, or at least he hoped so. “But I am quitting. Come on, call your men and have me killed, that’s this is the procedure, right? I have executed too many people for you not to know how it works. Will you torture me? I bet you will, after all I’m not just one of your minions”. His sneer widened in a sickening way seeing that his boss hadn’t moved at all. “What are you waiting for? I’m worthless, an idiot, aren’t I? I’m sure that you can easily hire another sniper, even if he won’t be as good as I am. But you can deal with it. As you can find a new second in command and someone else ready to fuck you. Don’t you agree, Jim?”

“Moran, I told you to stop being an idiot. You are talking nonsense” the consulting criminal said, coldly but calmly. He couldn’t believe his ears. That wasn’t the first time they had a heated fire, but he must really have pulled the man’s strings too much to make him say those things. And he didn’t like it at all, because he could read in the other’s posture that he wasn’t kidding after all. Besides, his employee had never used his surname since their first meeting. Another bad sign. “Maybe it’s better if you go for that walk and cool down. Then you had better to come back and apologise. Otherwise I will consider for real your death wish.”

Sebastian held his gaze, almost mockingly. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. You are no longer my boss, you can’t give me orders. I’m a dead walking man, but I’m also a free one now” he stated, lowering his voice in turn. “So, go on and kill me. I have no intention to work for a man who doesn’t even care for his own life. I’m not ending up once again alone and unemployed in a blood dirty hole just because my boss has killed himself or has been killed out of carelessness! No way, I’d rather die while still holding my position!”

Jim rolled his eyes, irritated. “Now, now, Moran. Don’t give me that crap” he snorted, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. His tone was soaked in sarcasm. “Because you, filthy thing, care about my life instead, don’t you?”

The sniper shook his head in disbelief. How could the madman ask such a stupid question? “Of course I do care, you prick! I took a bullet for you less than a week ago! Or have you already forgotten? And it hasn’t been the first time that I almost got killed to protect you and your affairs. It’s my job, but I don’t enjoy it that much. Or do you think that I have some freaking fetish for being shot and torture perhaps?” he exclaimed, too worked up to really mind what he was saying. “I’m ready to do anything for you, to keep you safe and satisfied, to meet your bloody impossible expectations! I care about your life, and not only because you pay me. I care because working for you is my only aim, the only sense of my existence, because you, insane son of a bitch, and your fucking suicidal plans are my life!”

He was almost yelling by the end of his speech and once he was finished he just stood there, panting and frozen. He had said too much, he had let dangerous words slip through his lips, implying meanings that should have never seen the light of the day. The silence had fallen on the flat and a thick tension burdened the atmosphere, matching the intensity of the strange dark light that shone in Moriarty’s eyes. The latter kept his gaze focus on the ex-soldier, an unfathomable expression on his face. It was impossible know if he was furious, disappointed or simply disgusted. Sebastian knew only one thing. His boss hated sentiment, especially the kind he had just shown. It was really true, he was a worthless failure, he had just thrown away years of almost perfect service by making an only unforgivable mistake.

“You are so sweet that it makes me even more nauseous” the consulting criminal commented in the end, several minutes later. His tone matched his words, he really sounded sickened. His eyes, instead, bore something else, to obscure to be read. “You have deeply disappointed me, Moran. I haven’t hired you and made you my right-hand man to have you to care. On the contrary, I did it because I thought you wouldn’t. What should I do with you now?”

“I think I should leave” the ex-soldier answered quietly, lowering his gaze in shame. Speaking those words hurt more than the wound on his shoulder. “If you decide to get rid of me, your men will find me at my place. I won’t fight back, I promise. If you don’t…Call me when you have got a job for me. I’ll go on doing everything I’ve always done for you, but I swear that you won’t see my face or hear my voice again unless it’s strictly necessary.”

He was about to turn to leave, but Jim’s voice stopped him one more time. “Sebastian Moron, take another step and I will shoot you here and now” it threatened, but the harshness in it was gone. “Where do you think you are going? I’ve already told you that you can’t leave if I don’t give you the permission to do it. You can’t leave, I still need your assistance. I’m sick and it’s your fault. You still have to make it up to me.”

Moran looked at his employer, confused and surprise. He had thought that the man would be happy to have him out of the way, instead there was an almost playful hint in his voice. The consulting criminal got up from his spot and approached him, but when he sought his gaze he noticed that the other’s eyes were now avoiding him.

“Boss?” he inquired, uncertain.

“I’ll tell you more, ‘Bastian. You’d better make up your slow mind and move in here, once and for all. You have been thinking about it for months. I think you should just act on it as you do with all the rest” he claimed, leaving his employee speechless. For the first time he was thankful for the fever that reddened his cheeks. Not that he would blush, of course. His body didn’t know that kind of reaction. Even if he couldn’t deny that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He grabbed the taller man’s wrist and his nails painfully dug in the other’s flesh. He was a psychopath unable to feel love or friendship or whatever, and yet the thought of no longer having his lethal shadow by his side made something tremble inside him. It didn’t scare him, but it still didn’t feel right. “I can’t afford you to go around alone. You a potential target that could be used against me, even if not an easy one. I need to keep you close to me, so that I can help you to hide your idiotic sentimentalism. We have appearances to keep up. Moriarty can’t afford weaknesses. Got it?”

Sebastian grinned widely at that, a real smile blossoming on his face. Jim couldn’t help staring at it. He had never seen his sniper smile sincerely. He usually smirked or sneered, and there was always a hint of sarcasm or scorn in his expression. His sharp features seemed softer in that moment. He felt a hand covering his own, fingertips gently brushing his skin.

“I got it, boss” the ex-soldier nodded slowly. He hadn’t missed what his employer wanted to say with his words. “I don’t know how this happened, but I fucking care too. I should have you killed, but instead I want you to stay by my side. Forever and always”. It warmed him up from the inside. He wasn’t expecting the other to say it aloud and he was fine with that. It was as Jim had said, Moriarty couldn’t afford to have weaknesses, as Moran shouldn’t have. He sank his eyes in those dangerously charming dark globes. “And I got you.”

The consulting criminal smirked, a hint of fondness on his face, and realised him wrist. “I’m sure of that, Seb. You are the best when you take charge of something” he simply stated, closing the matter and making up a bit for his previous insults at the same time. “Now, I think you should cook us dinner. It’s already late.”

The sniper nodded and disappeared in the kitchen, while Moriarty sank back in the couch pillows, listening to the sound of dishes and kitchenware being moved. He tapped a finger on his lips, pensively. Maybe he had made a mistake, indulging on his moment of fragility. But it should be nothing irreparable. After all, he had done nothing but sorting out an inconvenient issue that had stayed unsolved for too much time and that his employee had accidentally brought up. It was fated to happen sooner or later. Moran had never put too much effort in concealing the attraction he held for him, both on a physical level and on a mental one. He himself had never been immune to the sniper’s rough charm, especially since he was able to see his sharp mind behind his merciless bloodthirsty killer’s mask. They had started to gravitate around each other every time they had had the chance to, both of them pretending not to notice their common pull. Then one evening, after a particularly exciting job, it had happened. Sebastian was turned on as always after a killing and he was still thrilled as well by the unexpected but fun sides that the episode had provided to him. Their eyes had lingered in each other a moment too much and the next thing he had known was that he was pressed against a wall, hands in his sniper hair, while they were both busy devouring each other’s mouth. It had been the first of the countless night that the taller man had spent in his bed.

And yet, not even the sex had solved their issue. Acting on a purely physical level had gave them the chance to unload the tension, but it was only a matter of time before it would start not to be enough anymore. The Finnish fiasco had been the breaking point of a situation that had been going on for years. He was furious because Moran had been shot. He knew too well that the ex-soldier could have died on that frozen land and he had found himself unable to deal with the overwhelming feeling that the awareness had given him. So he had taken it out on the sniper, who had been madly worried as well because Jim had avoided death by a hair in turn. The whole situation had already happened before, more than once, but they had arrived at their limit. They had to ways to solve the matter, parting forever or acting on it. And, since the first option was unacceptable, they had had no real choice other than playing their little show of yells and threats. Now they were finally done, it was settled once and for all. Moriarty knew that it should have upset him, all that sentiment, but instead it had put him in a better mood. And it was a very welcome surprise.

They dined in silence and for once the consulting criminal didn’t make a fuss over eating his food or shoot his employee some sarcastic comment about his cooking. Actually it was quite good, but there was no way that Jim complimented it, not even under torture. After the meal the dishes were abandoned in the sink, where they would be in the morning waiting for Sebastian to take care of them, and the two moved back in the living room. The sniper had planned to go back to his book, but his boss prevented him from doing it, forcing him to lay down on the couch and then curling up next to him, back against his chest, being careful not to harm the injure shoulder. He didn’t protest, too astonished to say or do anything. In the end he tentatively sneaked an arm around the shorter man’s waist and, seeing that no harm had come from his dare, he relaxed a bit more, his other hand playing with the other’s silky hair. The news was playing on the television but none of them was really paying attention.

“Ah, Seb, by the way. I don’t like to cuddle” Moriarty purred pressing himself closer to him, but his tone seemed to mean the opposite of what he had said. He lifted his arm, fingertips brushing the ex-soldier’s jaw. “So don’t get the wrong idea. This is not going to become a habit.”

Moran smirked. “Of course, Jim. I would never think that” he nodded with a hint of sarcasm. “This is a special occasion.”

The consulting criminal shot him a nasty glare. “You shouldn’t provoke me. You know that the consequences are everything but enjoyable. At least, for the one who suffers them” he warned, but his voice remained quiet. He snorted. “I hate you, ‘Bastian. You unworthy moron.”

The ex-soldier laughed at that. “Always flattering, aren’t you?” he commented, but didn’t felt offended by the insults. On the contrary the fond tone in which they had been pronounced pleased him. “Well, I think that you are a bloody insane bastard”. His fingers ran on his boss side teasingly. “But that’s also why I like you so much after all.”

Moriarty raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to make me sick enough to throw up my dinner, Moran?” he mocked, rolling on his back to be able to face him. “You’d have to clean up, I’m warning you.”

“Flattering and now romantic” the taller man commented sarcastically. “Seriously, boss, you really know how to set the mood!”

“And you seriously should shut up. It’s you and your idiotic mouth who are spoiling the mood, not me, darling.”

“Why don’t you make me?”

A manic grin crept on Jim’s face and he leant forwards, capturing the sniper’s lips with his own, his arms moving around the other’s neck, hugging it almost too tight. They eagerly kissed, immediately deepening the contact, but for the first time it was a real kiss and not a rough battle for dominance made of bites and attempts to literally steal the other’s breath away. Mouths melted together pressing one against the other, firmly but almost affectionately, and tongues danced, spreading heat along their tangled bodies. Moran would have sworn to have heard Moriarty moan in pleasure in the kiss, but didn’t dare to make a comment about it as they parted to catch their breath, also because his attention was captured by the sight of his boss slowly licking his lips.

“You’ll get sick staying this close to me. Are you aware of that, Seb? And what about your wound?” the madman asked smirking as he pecked him on the mouth. “I’m not going to nurse you, forget it.”

“My immune system is stronger than yours, and I can take the pain. I will be fine” he shrugged, titling his head as he ran his tongue at the base of his employer’s neck. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was just stating a fact”. Jim pushed him away and freed himself from his grip. He got up and stretched. “Now you’d better come to bed and fuck me. Maybe I will forgive you for your stupid speech about quitting.”

Sebastian jumped on his feet and immediately followed him, not even trying to hide his eagerness. He should have protested since his boss still had some lines above fever and his shoulder hadn’t still recovered, but it would have been a waste of time. When Moriarty set his mind on something there was no way to talk him out of him. The feeling of a hand sleeping in his own interrupted his thoughts. He shot a glance at the other, who kept his eyes in front of him as nothing was happening, and smiled again. He had better enjoy the evening because for sure Jim wasn’t going to be this affectionate again anytime soon. He gently squeezed the cold pale fingers, in a silent gesture of appreciation as he entered the bedroom.

The consulting criminal smirked in response and pushed him on the bed, throwing himself on the top of him immediately after and capturing his mouth once again. Maybe having a weakness could have his positive sides, Moriarty mused as the sniper’s hand roughly caressed his skin, making him shiver in anticipation. At least in private. He would surely come out with a way to exploit it. After all, taking out the best from every possible situation and making all the pieces fit together was his job. It was just another game, like his usual ones, but with the difference that he would lose everything if he made a mistake. His grin widened in the kiss. Not boring at all.

Hello, folks!

This is my first (published) story about Sherlock fandom. The series i without any doubt my favourite show, and I really wanted to write something about it. And since I'm completely in love with Jim Moriarty, he had to be the focus of my first work in the fandom, especially after what they has shown us last month. Don't worry, this story is spoiler free!

Speaking of that, I think this could be considered pre-series or at least pre-TRF (of course). I've been reading/watching also other books/stories/films related to Sherlock Holmes and I found myself quite caught by Sebastian Moran's character as well (yeah, I'm one of the people who really long to see him in "Sherlock" as well...Or to get that spin-off about him and Jim that had been proposed by some fan on the internet. It would be awesome!).

Since today is V-Day, I thought that it could be nice to publish the story today, also to say "Happy V-Day" to everyone, even if I don't celebrate and even if the fic has nothing to do with it.

Sorry for the rambling (I always get nervous when I'm publishing something!). Please, let me know what you think about it! I don't have a beta, so please, forgive me my errors. English is not my first language!


Can be found also here:


Warnings: The story contains slash (Moran/Moriarty, Mormor)! Don't like, don't read please!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the show. Everything belong to A. C. Doyle and BBC!

Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

“No.” Remus carried on reading his book. “I won’t go.”

“Go on, Rem. Please?” Sirius perched on the arm of the chair. His chair, really, but since Remus had moved in with him two months earlier it had become ‘Rem’s reading chair’. “It’s a great bar, you’ll really enjoy it…”

Remus lowered his book. “It’s just going to be another one of those bars where the alcohol would kill an elephant. No thanks.”

“Wrong! This place is upmarket. It has one of these weird Muggle thingies, a ‘karrie and okie’ thing.”

Remus sighed, trying to avoid looking at Sirius’ puppy dog eyes and pouting lips. “You’ll just abandon me at the bar and go off to find someone. Why can’t you Floo James to go with you?”

Sirius began to play with Remus’ hair. “He won’t go into those bars,” he said distractedly.

“Ah. A gay bar. And I’m the only one mug enough to go with you.”

“Remmie, it’ll be fun. I’ll tell the guys not to hit on you. What else are you going to do? Sit around at home reading another boring book?” Sirius snatched the book from Remus’ hand and stood above him, dangling it just out of reach of Remus’ hands. Remus put his hands on his hips and glared. Sirius grinned. “Come with me or the book goes in the fire.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

Sirius frowned. “Of course you do. Those tight jeans, and the shirt.”

“Siri, the jeans are about two sizes too small. I can barely walk in them!”

Sirius smirked. “But they make your ass look good.”

Remus hit him on the arm, and walked out of the room, calling behind him as he left. “The no chatting up rule applies to you too.”


Remus looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know why he gave in when Sirius pestered him. The others always seemed to be able to resist Mr Black’s charms, but Remus eventually caved every single time. A gay karaoke bar. It wasn’t the first time they’d gone to a gay bar together. James refused point blank to step inside, saying that whoever Sirius wanted to shag was his own business, but he wasn't going to be flirted with by other men, or even thought about in that way. Peter was out of the question, Sirius hated to be alone in his company for more than five minutes. So Remus ended up as escort. He didn’t mind going into the bars- it intrigued him to see how people who were open about their sexuality acted. Remus sometimes wished he could live like that, but no one knew about his sexuality. Not even Sirius, and they’d been living together for the best part of eight years, only apart for a maximum of two months.

Maybe that was why he gave in. Remus stared at his reflection, willing it to give him answers. Maybe he was hoping that Sirius would figure it out, and then he’d have this massive secret relieved slightly. But then, Sirius probably couldn’t see that anything was hidden. For him, being gay was fine. He couldn’t see it as Remus did- another way of being different, another thing to mark him out as a freak.

Remus pulled his hair into a little ponytail, grimacing as the inevitable strands escaped to wisp around his face. He wished Sirius could know, because then he might see Remus as more than just a friend.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Remus called. Sirius stuck his head round, grinning.

“Looking good, Rem.”

“I hate my hair. It needs a cut.”

Sirius walked in to stand behind Remus, who caught his breath at the proximity of his friend’s body. “I like it that length. It softens your face, makes you look vulnerable.”

“That’s all I need.” Remus laughed, and stepped to the side so that when he turned he wasn't pressed against Sirius. He raised an eyebrow. “A scarf?”

Sirius wrapped it around his neck and struck a pose. “I think it makes me look… sexy.” He threw his arm around Remus’ shoulders. “I need something to liven the outfit up. Black is all very well, and I know it suits me, but sometimes it needs colour.”

“But orange?”

“It’s apricot, and I like it.” Sirius pouted, and Remus pushed him off, laughing. “Come on, we’re going.”

“On the bike?”

“How else?”


They pulled up outside a bar on one of the side streets, a long queue waiting outside. Mostly male, with a few women. Sirius took off his helmet and put a hat on, tipping it so that it hung over one eye. He put his arm around Remus and walked them to the front of the queue.

“Hey, look at us.” Sirius pointed to the blacked out window and their reflection. “We look good together.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “That’s great. I look good with my gay best friend.”

Sirius laughed, and nodded at the bouncer. “Charlie.”

“Sirius. This your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Ain’t he cute?”

Remus sighed. “Sirius Black, take your arm off me.”

Sirius winked at the bouncer. “He isn’t used to public affection.”

“Take your arm off me or I will rip it off and beat you to death with it.”

“Aw, that’s my little Moony. Can we go in?”

Charlie nodded. “Sure. Karaoke starts at nine.”

They walked into the club. Even at this relatively early hour it was packed, a heaving mass of writhing bodies. Sirius elbowed his way through the crowd to the bar and lifted Remus up onto a stool.

Remus sighed. “Siri, I am capable of climbing onto a bar stool. I may be short, but I’m not a midget.”

Sirius smiled dazzlingly, and gestured to the barman. “A pina colada and scotch on the rocks.” He turned so that he was leaning against the bar. “Isn’t this great?”

“Yes. I can barely think of a better way to spend my evening.”

“Sarcasm noted and ignored.” Sirius picked up his drink and sipped it. “This makes me feel alive, Moony. It’s amazing.” Remus drank his whisky, staring at Sirius. He did look alive, so vibrant and vivacious and Sirius. His cheeks were flushed slightly, and his lips were parted. He turned suddenly, and Remus took a huge gulp of his drink to hide the fact that he’d been staring. “I’ll get someone to sit with you.”

Remus glared out at the dance floor, finally alone. Why did Sirius have to pity him and find a chaperone? Why couldn’t Sirius do it? Because Sirius wanted, needed, to dance, and without someone there Remus would be propositioned by every guy in the place.

“Um, hi?” Remus turned, to see a man of average height with dark brown hair. He smiled. “I’m Will. You must be Remus.”

“Hi. Sorry about this. Sirius drags me to these places and then abandons me.”

“Same here. Except, of course, it’s not Sirius. Who drags me. It’s my best friend. Jack”

Remus smiled. “So he’s off dancing?”

“Probably found some guy and dragged him off to a corner. That’s more like Jack. Well, not a corner. Maybe the toilets, although what they’d be doing in there…”

Remus laughed, and went back to scanning the dancefloor. He could see Sirius, dancing in the midst of a group of people. They were all trying to look as though they were the one he was with, but Remus took some small solace in the fact that Sirius had come here with him. He grimaced suddenly. He knew that he probably wouldn’t be the only one to leave with Sirius. He’d pick up some guy, take him home and then shag him while Remus tried to bury himself in the next room.

“So, how long have you been gay?”

Remus choked and stared at Will. “Wha? Wh- I’m not gay, I’m just here with Sirius.”

Will smiled. “Remus, I’m good at these things. While you might not be out yet, you are most positively queer. And, unless I’m very much mistaken, you fancy someone out there.” He turned. “So, which lucky guy is it?”

“He’d never look at me,” Remus whispered. He’d never see this Will again, so why not?

“Come on, Remus, you’re gorgeous! Don’t worry, I’m not coming on to you, I already found someone.”

“Who? Long term relationship?”

Will smiled sadly and swilled his drink around. “No, we’ve only ever kissed. It’s my friend, Jack. He’s wonderful. But not ‘my type’, and he’d rather chew off his own arm than go out with me.”

“You never know.” Remus put his empty glass back on the bar.

“I highly doubt it. But anyway, who’s your guy?”


Will nodded. “I don’t blame you. When he came over earlier, I was kicking myself for feeling about Jack the way I do. He’s bloody sexy.”

“Yes. And he’s everything. Beauty and danger and protectiveness and everything I could ever want or need.” Remus stopped.

“And?” Will prompted.

Remus laughed bitterly. “And nothing. He doesn’t know I’m gay, and in any case I wouldn’t want to just be another notch on his bedpost. He thinks he can have everything. Sex, and no boring relationship in the morning. No thinking about the other person’s feelings, worrying if they still like you.”

“Maybe you should tell him.”

Remus stared into Will’s dark brown eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Will challenged.

“Because I need him as a friend.” Remus sighed, and began to fiddle with the loop on his jeans.

Will put his head on one side. “OK. I have a plan. You get up there and sing a song. If Sirius is smart enough, he’ll get what you’re trying to say. If not, then everything will be fine.”

“What song?”

“You’re So Vain.”

Remus laughed. “I don’t sing. I’m too shy.”


Remus stared at the microphone in his hands, and wondered exactly how Will had got him up on stage. There had been drinks involved. And now he was up here, about to sing a song which…

The music started, and Remus jumped to stare down at the screen. The words seemed to flow out easily enough, and if he didn’t look up then he could pretend he was alone in the room.

“You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye
Your scarf it was apricot
You had one eye in the mirror as you watched yourself gavotte
And all the girls dreamed that they’d be your partner
They’d be your partner, and…

You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this song is about you
Don’t you, don’t you

You had me several years ago when I was still quite naïve
Well you said that we made such a pretty pair
And that you would never leave
But you gave away the things you loved and one of them was me
I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee
Clouds in my coffee and…

You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this song is about you
Don’t you, don’t you, don’t you.”

Remus paused, allowing the instrumental to kick in, and looked down. Sirius was stood there, gazing up at him. His lips were slightly parted and a frown line was creasing his forehead. Remus dropped the microphone and leapt down from the stage, pushing his way through the crowd and into the toilets.

He ran into the end cubicle and locked himself in, leaning against the wall and shaking slightly. He wrapped his arms around his body. What the hell had he been thinking? How stupid had he been? Baring his soul like that… it had been idiotic. Sirius didn’t want him. Sirius wanted sex, pure sex, from a guy who looked perfect, just like Sirius himself. What Sirius didn’t want- didn’t need- was a gay werewolf with issues and a scarred body.


Remus let a cry out as he clapped his hand to his mouth. He didn’t want Sirius to be here, he didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes as he rejected him.

“Rem? I know you’re in here, coz you ran in here.” Remus heard Sirius begin to walk along the cubicles, pushing each one open in turn. He looked at the floor, to see Sirius’ shoes under the door. “Rem, let me in. Or at least talk to me.” Remus stayed silent, shutting his eyes and rocking gently. This wasn’t happening, he was dreaming. “Come on! Remus, I need to see you. Fine. Alohomora.” The door sprang open, and Remus backed away, his eyes still clenched shut.

“Go away.”

“No.” Remus couldn’t hear Sirius moving. “Why did you sing that song?”

“Bloody Will. He told me to.”

“Why that song?”

Remus decided to brazen it out. He stood up straight and opened his eyes, meeting Sirius’ gaze. He was looking accusing. “No reason. Will just got me a bit tipsy, told me to sing, and that was the first song they offered me.”

“Rem, you were a crap liar when we were at school, and you still are.”

“I'm telling the truth, Padders.” Remus pushed past Sirius, hoping desperately that the lie was not plainly visible on his face, and trying to ignore the feeling he got when he was close to Sirius.

He walked across to the washbasin, and watched Sirius in the mirror as he washed his hands. He didn’t have to wait long for a change. Sirius seemed to shrug, and came to stand next to Remus. He stared at himself in the mirror, checking his makeup. “Ok Rem. Whatever you say. Listen, do you mind if I bring this guy home?”

“Sure.” Remus’ heart clenched.

“His name’s John. He’s dead sexy. Should be good for a few hours tonight-”

“Shut up!” Remus snarled. “I don’t want to know every single detail! Just take him home, and shag him, and leave me out of it!”

He tried to leave the room, but found Sirius’ hands clenching his arms. He refused to look up, staring instead at the floor and their feet. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was sure Sirius would hear it.

“Remus! I know something’s wrong, so tell me. I just want to help you!”

“You can’t help.” The whisper was agonisingly painful.

Sirius’ finger came under Remus’ chin and forced it up, staring into his eyes. Remus caught his breath as he saw the perfect red lips, the stormy grey eyes. “I want to. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll do whatever I can.”

Remus opened his mouth to tell his secret, and couldn’t do it. He wrenched himself away. “I hate you.”

The hurt look on Sirius’ face brought tears to Remus’ eyes, but he pretended that they were tears of rage. “Why?”

“Why? I hate the fact that you look so goddamn perfect every single time I see you. I hate the fact that you bring me to all these stinking bars, and each time you leave me at the bar to watch. I hate the fact that you’ll dance with anyone in the whole room except me.” Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Remus carried on. Now that he was saying it, he couldn’t stop. “I hate the fact that everyone watches you dancing, when it should be just me who’s allowed to think about you like that. I hate the fact that there’s a new person in your bed every week, and I have to listen to you in the next room and dream that it could be me. I hate you so much, because I fucking love you, and you can’t see that!”

The hot tears had completely clouded Remus’ vision, and he sank to his knees. He didn’t want to see the look of disgust on Sirius’ face.

“Rem? Why did you never tell me?”

“Get out, just get out now.”

“No.” Remus felt his head being pulled up, and before he could say anything, Sirius was kissing him. It was exactly as he had imagined it. Sirius tasted like nothing he had ever dreamt of. Remus was aware he was moaning, but couldn’t be bothered to stop it. Sirius pulled back. “You should’ve told me earlier. I thought I had no chance.”

“Is this just pity?”

Sirius laughed and stroked Remus’ hair. “No. Merlin, Rem, I’ve loved you for years.”

“Then why all the other guys?”

Sirius’ eyes turned haunted for a moment. “I was trying to get you out of my head.”

Remus kissed him lightly. “I suppose you want to get back to John.”

“Not a chance.” Sirius stood, stretching out. He looked around the room. “Do you think we could have sex in here?”

Remus stood, wiping the tears from his face. “I’d rather not.” Sirius’ face made him laugh. “I didn’t say we couldn’t do it at home…”


As they ran through the club, hand in hand, Remus couldn’t resist calling out to Will. “Tell Jack you love him! He probably loves you!”
I really shouldn't write so much yaoi. It's bad for me, I'm sure of it. But anyway... I own NOTHING. Except the plot. And even that's dodgy. So be nice...
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. Steve would've sworn that he could've heard a pin drop. As it was, the only sound he could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears and his ragged breathing.

Stark mansion was never this quiet. There was always noise. Whether it was the radio cranked up as loud as it could go, or the sounds of Tony trying, and failing again, to make something in the kitchen, or the very loud bangs and crashes coming from his garage as he worked out a few new kinks in the armour. There was always noise of some kind.

Tony could not stand silence.

Silence meant rejection and it unnerved Tony. He hated it and always tried to fill it up in whatever way he could. He'd babble on and on about whatever new technological development he'd made or the weather – whatever first popped into his head and he'd launch into a very long spiel about it.

Steve knew that and he understood and he put up with it, enjoyed it even. He thought it was endearing even if it did somewhat unnerve or even irritate the others. Steve found that he liked it. A lot.

Maybe it was because he'd lost so much and Tony was some sort of reminder of that, but no. Tony was his own person. He was not his father; the two of them were as different as night and day.

But the silence was starting to get to him. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he could hear his pulse ringing in his ears. Something was very, very wrong. And he couldn't say what that was.

"Tony?" His voice echoed, but there was no response.

In and of itself, that wasn't unusual. If Tony was wrapped up enough in his work then he'd block the entire world out; though he would usually make an exception for Steve.

There was something about the silence, though, that told Steve that this just wasn't another of Tony's moods.

It was hard to describe, but his soldier's instincts were screaming in his ears. There was just something wrong – very, very wrong, wrong, wrong! – about all of this. Too much silence. Tony was supposed to be home and he hated silence. There should have been sounds of some kind or another.

He walked further in, muscles tense and poised for combat. Despite that feeling of dread sinking low in his stomach, Steve felt his training kicking in and a strange sense of calm settled over him.

Steve didn't actually see anything out of the ordinary until he rounded the corner to the large living room with its huge windows looking out over the city below.

The coffee table had been kicked over and one of the lamps had been knocked off its table and shattered on the polished floor.

That was it. That was the only sign Steve needed.

"Tony?!" He whirled around, taking off towards the staircase that led down to the lab. If something had happened it would be all his fault because he should not have left Tony alone, not like that, because sometimes he did forget that Tony wasn't as strong as he seemed to be.

If Tony was hurt, if someone had – then it was Steve's fault. He shouldn't have lost his temper with him, shouldn't have gotten into that argument with him. If he hadn't started it, then he would have been here. He would have been here and he'd have been able to help Tony – save him.

If anything had happened to him, it would be all Steve's fault. Maybe Tony would be able to forgive him some day, but Steve would never forget; would never stop blaming himself.

He'd failed to save Bucky. He wouldn't fail Tony like that. Not when Tony was all he had left, that one spot of light that made him smile when he'd been drowning in the fact that everything he'd known and loved was gone. Tony had helped him through all of that, taught him that it was okay to open up his heart again.

He wouldn't be able to take Tony's loss. It would destroy him.

Steve only stopped long enough to withdraw the gun that Fury had issued him alongside his reinstated commission. It felt unfamiliar in his hand – the weight of it wasn't quite what he was used to – but he felt a little bit calmer. This was something he knew.

Carefully, he made his way towards the stairs, clearing the living room as he went. He slowly made his way down the stairs, making sure not to make a single noise as he went.

But, god, how he wanted to rush down those stairs, calling out Tony's name.

The sleek glass door to the lab was closed, which Steve noticed when he came to the bottom of the stairs. From what he can see from a cursory glance of the lab, nothing looks out of place; almost everything was where it should be, where he remembered it being.

Steve made his way over to the keypad, a small spurt of reassurance shooting through him when he realized that the door was locked. It wasn't just locked, he realized, but locked to the point where he'd need the override that Tony had installed for him (well, Pepper and Steve had insisted on it).

He punched in the code, not lowering his gun, and the door slid open with a quiet whoosh. For a brief moment, Steve tensed, expecting someone to pop out from somewhere with a gun to Tony's head, but that didn't happen. Instead, he was greeted by the quiet noises of the lab.

Focused, Steve raised the gun, slowly moving further into the lab, senses on high alert.

A soft noise that sounded something like a wounded animal drew his attention and he whirled around. He couldn't see anyone, but –


His name came out as more of a panicked exhalation of breath than anything else, but Steve felt his heart hammer in his chest before it jumped into his throat. Slowly – so painful, he just wanted to rush to Tony and take him into his arms and just hold him – he approached Tony, clearing each area as he went.

Tony was collapsed on the floor; he'd probably dragged himself all the way there. He was shaking and, from what Steve could see, barely breathing. He must have heard Steve, though, because he tensed up and tried to drag himself away.

Once he was close enough, and assured that they were the only ones there, he holstered his gun and rushed the rest of the distance to Tony's side.

"Tony!" That time, his voice was louder. Steve could hear the barely suppressed panic in his voice as he wrapped his arms carefully around Tony's shoulders and rolled him over.

The first thing that registered in Steve's mind was that the familiar glow of the arc reactor at the front of Tony's chest was gone. He reached out a shaking hand and pressed it against where it would be, feeling the hollow area where it usually was.

It was gone.

Tony had relaxed a little when he realized that it was Steve, but he was dangerously pale and the veins stood out in his neck and face. He was weakly gasping for breath. But he managed to grab Steve's hand on his chest, squeezing it with all the strength he had left and pointed weakly towards where he'd been dragging himself.

As loath as he was to let go of Tony, he knew that he had to. He might not have understood all the technological babble about the arc reactor, but he was all too well aware of the fact that Tony's survival depended on it.

He did, though, drop a quick kiss on his cheek before moving away and nearly pulling the door of the cabinet that Tony had indicated off its hinges. Steve didn't really care about the damage – those were fixable, Tony was irreplaceable – and quickly found what he was looking for sitting on one of the shelves. The spare arc reactor gave off an innocent glow as Steve pulled it off the shelf, smashing the protective glass casing on the floor before rushing back to Tony's side.

Tony was trying to give Steve instructions on how to connect the arc reactor, but his voice was so weak that Steve could only make a few out. He was shaking badly, worse than before, and his pallor was taking on an unhealthy purplish hue.

Without much thought, Steve ripped the thin cotton tee that Tony had been wearing right off, revealing the empty hole where the old arc reactor had been. The hole where the arc reactor had been was like a gaping wound to Steve and he felt his heart jump up into his throat.

He fumbled for a minute with the cord attached to the spare arc reactor before carefully – his hands only had a slight tremor – sliding it into the hole. He carefully kept it as centred as he could, since he vaguely remembered Tony saying something how it would just click into place; his hands were too large to comfortably fit into the arc reactor's socket, but his fingers were long enough that he could almost reach the plate at the bottom.

Steve heard the click of the arc reactor snapping into place and let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He carefully slid the arc reactor into place, securing it the way he'd seen Tony do before.

Tony made a soft noise that sounded something like a whimper as Steve connected the arc reactor. His breathing slowly began to even out but he was still shaking and his skin was still very white. But the purplish hue started to fade.

Without thinking, Steve pulled Tony into a sitting position and right into a tight embrace. He buried his face in Tony's neck; feeling his pulse, inhaling hi scent, the fact that he was still warm and breathing and alive. That was all that mattered.

Words fell out of his mouth without any particular order. Steve was babbling and they both knew it.

"I'm sorry... what happened? ... doesn't matter... oh god... you're... I thought you... alive... thank god... scared me... please... Tony..."

Tony was still recovering from the shock and he was shaking. Steve was holding him a little too tightly, but that wasn't important. He just threw his own arms around Steve's shoulders once he found the strength and held onto him just as tightly.

The two of them stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, Steve's rambling quieted down and he was pressing feather-light kisses to Tony's neck, making the older man shiver. But the two of them remained tangled together on the floor of the lab, both unwilling to move.

After several more minutes of the two of them just sitting there holding each other, Steve's grip slackened just a little bit. His head was still resting on Tony's shoulder. It took a few more minutes before he pulled away to look at Tony.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

Still a little too pale, Tony blinked a few times to focus. "Fine, just fine. Better than before even."

Reaching up, Steve smoothed his hands down the sides of Tony's face, stopping to cup it in his hands, "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to get angry at you like that, I shouldn't have–"

"No, no, it's fine, really. I'm fine and you're fine and really, I think that you'd have gotten shot if you'd been here but I'm glad that you're not because cleaning up blood is really a pain in the ass and I really think it's okay that you weren't here and I'm sorry that I pissed you off so badly that you really thought that you had to leave, but I totally understand."

"Tony..."Steve sighed. He couldn't help the feeling of relief that was swelling up in his chest; warmth spreading outward from somewhere deep inside him that he hadn't lost this, that he hadn't lost Tony.

"You know what? I'm not actually that sure about what happened. I just remember that I was on my feet one second and then the next I was sort of falling over and I think I might have broken a lamp. No, I didn't see their face, I think they were wearing a mask but I could be wrong because everything was looking really blurry..."

Tony had leaned closer to Steve, still shivering a little, probably from shock. He was still talking.

"... said something about needing the arc reactor but nothing else. They just took it and left and then I just remember thinking that oh god, I have to get to the lab, there's a spare one there just in case someone tries this again – I learned my lesson from the last time this happened–"

And Steve did remember that; Fury mentioned it in his briefing and sometimes Tony had nightmares about the incident and would wake up in a cold sweat and clung to Steve for hours – not that Steve minded.

"–maybe I should keep one closer to the stairs because I think I nearly passed out when I finally got to the bottom and I really didn't think you'd get back so soon. I was kind of hoping that I'd be able to make it before you got back cause I really do know that you wouldn't want to find my dead body since I know you and I know you'd blame yourself even though it's not your fault and–"

"Tony, it's alright," Steve said, pressing a kiss to Tony's lips to silence him. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"You can't say that. I'll probably do something to piss you off again and then we'll argue and–"

"We'll work it out, don't worry." Steve managed to smile, kissing Tony again, several times. "This won't happen again, alright?"

Tony frowned but shrugged, "Alright, if you say so."

Steve caught the barely suppressed yawn that followed that statement and this time his smile was a little more genuine. The floor of the garage wasn't particularly comfortable and Tony was tired. He'd put him to bed before he contacted Fury about what had happened.

And of course he wasn't about to let Tony walk after he'd nearly died.

"I know. But you're tired and you nearly just died," Steve choked a little on the last word. He had to take a deep breath to steady himself before he continued, "You need rest; not more exercise."

Tony hummed thoughtfully. Steve knew he was probably trying to come up with a good argument to the contrary, but the way he was snuggling closer to Steve's chest and how he hadn't put up a fight when Steve swept him up into a bridal carry was answer enough.

It was a little awkward manoeuvring up the stairs with Tony in his arms, but Steve managed. Tony had already started to doze off in his arms by the time they reached the bedroom, and he only made a sleepy mumble along the lines of a demand for Steve to get into bed with him.

Even though he was fully dressed and it was only late in the afternoon, Steve complied. He shucked off his shoes near the end of the bed before lying Tony down in it and set his gun and its holster on the bedside table, within easy reach if he needed it. He tucked Tony in, telling him in a soft voice that he'd be right back.

He stepped into the hall and sighed. It was going to be a very long next few days.

Title: Never Again
Fandom: The Avengers (movieverse)
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Words: 2607 words
Prompt: Due to a convenient plot device, Steve and the rest of the Avengers plan to visit Tony at his home in Malibu, as some sort of surprise. They arrive but no one seems to be there. Then they find Tony crawling, halfway to his lab. [ original prompt here ]

So, I'm finally catching up on posting everything that I have posted elsewhere to DA. I'm kind of slow. Please forgive me.

Also, I adore comments~


The Avengers © Marvel
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

1) No using the flaming battle axe as an emergency skillet
2) No dual-wielding two-handed weapons, even if I figure out how to within the rules.
3) Hengeyokai are not for making catgirls and bunny girls.
-a. And I am not allowed to fill a mansion with either or both.
4) Not allowed to use Warforged as cannon fodder with the justification "We can rebuild him!"
5) Just because I can, doesn't mean I should take Arcane Admixture so many times that Magic Missile deals nearly every damage type possible
6) My Warlock can have an Infernal Pact. He cannot be Legion and speak in the third person collective.
-a. Nor can the Warforged.
7) My Warlock will not describe his pact as having made a demon/devil/evil star/fairy/vestige his bitch.
8) If we encounter a female fox hengeyokai with a high charisma, I will refer to her by name and not constantly call her the foxy lady.
9) Zeppelins do not exist in Forgotten Realms. I am not allowed to build one from canvas and fire elementals.
-a. And if I did, it would not be used for battle or partying.
10) The Warlock is not Faust. His girlfriend is not automatically named Gretchen.
11) Rangers cannot make longbow shots from horseback. Especially by standing upright on the saddle.
12) The ranger's companion animal is not the emergency rations.
-a. Even though we can keep on resurrecting it.
13) If the elf wizard is obsessed with dragons, I cannot keep casting dragon illusions to make him shut up.
-a. Nor can I claim that random NPCs are actually dragons in disguise.
14) Cannot set the powergamers against each other.
-a. Even if it is absolutely hilarious.
15) When confronted by a fort full of alerted soldiers, making an intimidate check does not work
16) Not allowed to torch a village for the hell of it
17) Trying to break myself out of a brig is a bad idea
18) No matter how many times I ask, the DM will not let me list my alignment as Sarcastic Good
19) Cannot soak the powergamer in barbecue sauce and feed him to the dragon. Even if he deserves it
20) Cannot take weapon proficiency in torch
21) Shade vampires do not have vulnerability to torches. Not even if they're wearing black cloaks.
22) Cannot fill a Bag of Holding with lava
23) Cannot build a flamethrower from a wind elemental and alchemical fire
24) Cannot soak a fireproof object with alchemical fire for a reusable fireball. Even if it does deal more damage and can be used more often than the spell
25) When confronted with a black-cloaked figure on a hilltop, I will not immediately stab him and set him on fire
26) Cannot talk the assassins into killing their employer. Nor can I buy out their contract
27) Cannot use spells dealing radiant damage to cook. Food prepared this way is not deadly poison to evil-aligned creatures.
28) Cannot distract enemy forces with a massive tea ceremony. Can't summon succubus or nymph strippers, either.
29) The distraction cannot cost more than the actual operation.
30) Just because I can, I should not call my attacks
31) When summoning creatures, cannot shout the creature's name at the top of my voice.
32) Bardic music spells cannot be directly applied to the improvement of a stealth check
33) What checks to roll for sex is left to the DM's discretion
34) Just because the skald has high charisma and an aura, that aura is not automatically "Sexy and I Know it", "Bringing Sexy Back", or any other song extolling the singer or anybody else's sexiness.
35) I should not cast Animate Object on the fighter's sword. Even if it would boost his intelligence
36) I will not, under any circumstances, ask the female rogue if I can see all her knives.
37) Cannot cast Levitate on the barmaid's skirt. Or any other part of her.
38) Cannot pick my nose with anything bigger than my nose, no matter how well I roll
39) Cannot cast Invisibility on somebody's clothes.
40) No matter how well I roll, I cannot produce a ninja log in the middle of a hostage situation.
41) Cannot refer to the revenant Warlord as Commander Shepard
42) The changeling cannot see my deepest fears so I should refrain from calling it Pennywise.
43) The changeling's shapeshifting powers are to be used for disguise purposes only
44) Cannot cook off of the fire genasi's back. Or any other part
45) Cannot forge a flaming skillet, no matter how handy it could be.
46) If we accidentally set off the alarm, I cannot immediately turn into the largest creature possible and begin wreaking havoc.
-a. Exception: Unless this is the agreed-upon distraction
47) If I have a plot-ending power, I will use it as quickly as possible. I will NOT forget about it until after the grueling final boss fight.
48) If afflicted by friendly anti-zombie spells, I cannot ally myself with the zombies and help them kill the person responsible.
49) I cannot "accidentally" frag somebody outside of combat. Even if they totally deserved it
50) No matter how well I roll my stealth check, I cannot vanish from right in front of somebody.
-a. Spells allowing this are another  story
51) When caught flatfooted, I should not yell "Look! A distraction!" and run away. It rarely ends well and usually just annoys them more.
52) Cannot use my polearm for pole vaulting
53) Cannot leave in the middle of a fight to go brood in the Feywild
54) Cannot leave in the middle of a fight for any reason
55) Cannot summon swarms of birds, equip them with firepots, and use them as bombers. This applies to any swarm of flying creature.
-a. Even the Swarm Druid
56) Cannot refer to the Swarm Druid as the Worm that Walks
57) Changelings cannot become weapons. I should stop asking one to transform into a scythe
58) Warforged Druids shouldn't be ordered to roll out
59) Rogues in service to the Raven Queen are not fate ninjas. I should stop referring to them as such
60) If I worship Tymora, scoring with every woman I meet is not an acceptable form of worship
61) Fighters in service to the Raven Queen are not deathknights. I should stop referring to them as such
62) If I am a vampire worshiping the god of forethought, I cannot take weapon proficiency in fish
-a. Actually, I cannot take weapon proficiency in fish, period
63) Referring to the goddess of lust as the celestial stripper, while true, is frowned upon
64) The revenant does not come with build-in armor. Nor does the Warforged
65) Good-aligned Warforged do not have the Autobot symbol on their body somewhere; nor do evil-aligned Warforged have the Decepticon symbol
66) Warforged do not have to obey the Three Laws of Robotics
67) Cannot use illusion magic to "enhance" female characters' assets
-a. Outside of specific situations where it would come in handy.
--i. These situations do not occur very often
68) The Bard cannot specialize in Electric Lute
-a. Or electric anything, for that matter
69) Cannot use this list as a checklist of things to try
70) Dwarven assassins cannot use their beards as garrote wire.
71) Dwarven monks cannot make unarmed attacks with their beards.
72) The Pun Mage is not a thing.
Inspired by 2000 Things Mr. Welch Can No Longer Do in a Roleplaying Game

A bunch of jokes I came up with regarding my favorite and possibly least healthy hobby: Dungeons and Dragons. I will gladly explain stuff anybody is unclear on.

List of references (possibly incomplete):
3) Playboy and the catgirl obsession
6) The Bible and Mass Effect 2
9) One line from the Party Rock Anthem
10) The play Faust (obviously)
21) The Lord of the Rings
26) The Lord of the Rings
41) Mass Effect 2 again
42) It by Stephen King. Feel free to correct me on this one
56) HP Lovecraft. Don't ask.
57) The anime Soul Eater
58) Transformers
59) The RPG Exalted
61) Exalted again
62) The RPG Vampires: The Masquerade
65) Transformers again

Some of these are in-jokes for me, either for things I've done or seen done in sessions or things I've wanted to do:
13) I played with a guy like this. Didn't like him anyway, really didn't like him afterwards
14) This once happened at a session before I arrived, without any effort at all. Two of the other players quit it was so bad
15-17) All happened to me and my brother. At the same session. We scrapped the Evil-themed party after that
33) I asked this once, because I was very tired and thought it would be funny. Jury's out on if it should be Athletics, Acrobatics, or Endurance. Or all three
48) I threatened to do this when I played as a revenant, basically a sapient zombie

2) Deserves special mention as it was a rules exploit from D&D 3.5. There's a prestige class called Warshaper that takes a character's given shapeshifting powers and pretty much turns them into Clayface. I realized you could conceivably grow extra arms to dual-wield two-handed weapons.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.


Jack Frost - the Prince of Salex
North - the King of Salex
Tooth - the Queen of Salex
Bunny - the protector of the royal family
Sandy - wizard, Ren’s brother
Ren - wizard, Sandy’s brother, teacher of Elsa and Anna (my OC)
Elsa - sister of Anna, apprentice of Ren
Anna - sister of Elsa, apprentice of Ren
Merida - an archer, tracker of Salex
Hiccup - thief, dragon rider of Toothless, friend of Flynn, Kristoff, and Sven
Toothless - dragon of Hiccup, night fury
Kristoff - thief, friend of Hiccup, Toothless, Flynn, and Sven
Sven - friend of Toothless, Hiccup, Flynn, and Kristoff, reindeer
Rapunzel - lost princess of Ismere, protector of nature/animals
Flynn Rider - thief, friend of Hiccup, Toothless, Sven, and Kristoff
Pitch Black - the evil nightmare warlock/sorcerer
Kron - leader of Pitch’s fearling knights, stepbrother of Neera, iguanodon
Neera - stepsister of Kron, iguanodon
Erasmus - troll, Keeper of the enchanted library
Aladar - my friend, iguanodon
Me - an orphan, friend of Aladar

Should I do it or no?
Just something that came into my mind after watching the movie Dungeons and Dragons. It has characters from Rise of the Guardians, Brave, Frozen, Tangled, How To Train Your Dragon, Dinosaur, and also includes me. So, tell me what you all think. Should I do it or not?
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.