#scrapbullet

[lizardkingeliot]

scrapbullet replied to your photoset: So, what’d you do to Bennett? I pulled a gun on...

…is it odd that I look at this gifset and just think ‘oh hey, threesome!’

I mean I’m not saying that Marcus went from sleeping in their nook to sleeping in their bed but like... that’s exactly what i’m saying.

[tsuki-chibi]

“What are you doing?” Tony asked in surprise.

“Peter said it’s customary to clink these glasses together at midnight and wish each other a good year,” Gamora said. She held seven glasses in her hands, each one half-full of wine. Her eyes narrowed. “He said that the more glasses you clink, the better your luck will be. Was he lying?”

Tony swallowed a laugh, relying on years of experience to keep a straight face. Normally he would’ve told Gamora the truth, but he wanted to be able to kiss his boyfriend at midnight. And it was pretty hard to kiss someone who was nursing a fat lip.

“I think your luck will be better than anyone’s,” he settled for saying. “Where is Peter anyway?”

“He’s out on the balcony trying to stop Rocket from shooting at the blasts of colored light.”

Good god. Tony hastily walked to the balcony, relieved that he reached the door just as Peter was firmly guiding Rocket inside with one hand, Rocket’s favorite gun held in the other. Rocket was plainly sulking, but considering that Tony really did not want to start the new year off with a complaint from the police department, that was too bad.

“There you are,” Peter said brightly, eyes lighting up.

“I was just talking to Gamora,” Tony said.

Peter grinned. “I told Nebula the same thing. Five credits says they get into a fight over who can hold more glasses before midnight.”

“You’re awful,” Tony said, but he was smiling.

“Hey, Gamora’s pulled a bunch of shit on me over the years. Turnabout is fair play.” Peter set Rocket’s gun down and reached for Tony, pulling him out onto the balcony. Tony went willingly, jumping a little at the renewed crack of fireworks. They were much louder outside.

“Too much?” Peter asked.

“No. It’s okay.” Tony’s eyes tracked the fireworks. He’d always liked them.

“My mom liked them too,” Peter said, following his gaze. He stepped behind Tony and hugged him from behind, setting his chin on Tony’s head. “I remember when I was a kid, she always promised she’d take me to see the ball drop.”

“There it goes,” Tony said softly. They watched the ball drop. When it hit, even more fireworks went off, lighting up the clear sky. Peter kissed Tony’s cheek.

“Happy New Year’s, angel.”

[brassfannibal]

ellelan replied to your photo “I posted this on twitter/Discord but I figured I’d post it on here...”

hi dawn! you're beautiful and here be lots of love <3

scrapbullet replied to your photo “I posted this on twitter/Discord but I figured I’d post it on here...”

i second elle, you're beautiful and v. brave ��

flintsjohn replied to your photo “I posted this on twitter/Discord but I figured I’d post it on here...”

I’m so happy for you hon, congrats!!! ������

Thank you so much!! This means the world to me ❤️

[reluming]

3, 12 and 14 for the fanfic asks mdear! and happy new year! ❤

thank you scrap!! happy new year! 💕

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

He sits there on the hard, grey rock and cries, thinking of Flint’s eyes, the subtle shade of them always shifting and always beautiful: forest-green, grass-green, sea-green. Always there, all around Silver, in the colour of everything living and tame, growing and wild. He could live inland, get the fuck away from the sea forever and he would never escape it. He could sail for the rest of his life and he would be surrounded by it.

from truth is heavier than fiction. the fact that i even wrote this fic haunts me still.

12. favorite character to write about this year

in 2016 i used to find silver really difficult to write, but in 2017 i became more and more fond of writing him. i had a lot of conflicted feelings about him to work through and i worked through those feelings by writing his POV a lot. i really do enjoy exploring his insecurities and the deep loneliness that lives within him, something that shrinks from and yearns for love at the same time; the shadows in him that he will not allow to be brought into the light. i sure do love writing him, even if i’m not always 100% able to say that i love him. anyway he’s very relatable in some ways and i don’t like to think about it too much!!!!

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

i absolutely never expected to write a fic about werewolf!flint and vampire!silver but @samhound​’s art is just too good!!! 

ask me some questions to wrap up my 2017 in fanfic!

[brightbluedot]

I just had this horrible thought and just needed to share it with someone; what if Eleanor was further along, and, when Flint is holding her in his arms, she asks him to save her baby? D:

THAT IS, IN FACT, HORRIBLE. DEAR GOD. YIKES. WOW. OKAY.

[aroundmyself]

Excuse me but I have fallen in love with kid!Scott Summers getting adopted and given some affection!

New York State Laws & Regulations for Child Care by Tieleen [Avengers, Scott Summers]

The Avengers adopted and taking care of 5-year-old Scott. This story is really a series of ficlets; each can pretty much be read individually.

Stars from Home by Sarai [Charles Xavier/Ruth Bat-Seraph, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe]

As Charles Xavier tries to move on from the loss of his friends, his goals, and his legs, he finds solace in old friends and a new cause.

Far Too Young to Be This Old by CNWrites [Clint Barton, multiple Mutant kids]

In which Clint Barton meets Cyclops, the leader of the X-Men, a new group of rarely-seen mutant superheroes that many people would compare to terrorists. However, Cyclops is not the strong, stubborn, deadly man that Clint has heard of. In fact, he is not a man at all. He is a kid.

Weltschmerz by palendse (scrapbullet), scrapbullet [Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Scott Summers]

Dad looks tired. He always does, these days. There are heavy bags under his eyes as he keeps vigil over father – who looks so deathly still, so pale Scott wants to cry anew – hands clasped tight together in a show of solidarity. Scott glimpses hatred.

The Mean Reds On Blue Days Verse by ctt [Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Scott Summers]

All his life, Scott Summers wondered and struggled to accept the idea, that even if his parents love each other deeply, they could never stay together.

The Dad Without Fear by Canaryhowl [Matt Murdock & Scott Summers]

Matt swore that he would never be like Stick. When he takes in Scott Summers, a blindfold-wearing street kid with a mysterious past, it’s time to prove it.

the wounds remain by sansarogers (mintaejin) [Steve Rogers & Scott Summers]

It's a mission to find Sinister, but instead they find an abused kid by the name of Scott Summers.

If anyone has more fics, please share~ Thank you!!

[dailyscottficrec]

Jun 2, 2022

The Haunted Man by scrapbullet

Author summary:

Intelligence and raw power can only get you so far, and even the loyalty of the ones called pack will waver and falter, falling away to nothingness. Deucalion is a merciful man and Scott will learn, soon enough, that his only allies are the ones he so vehemently proclaims as villains.

"A warning, to you and you alone."

Reason to love the fic: I am obsessed with how obsessed with Scott Deucalion is at all times. And this fic delivers that so well in a fantastic Deucalion voice. It says so much about their relationship in such a few amount of words. Lovely.

As ever, be sure to le the author know if you enjoyed the fic!

[extremegraphicviolins]

witcher fic recs!

here are some fics that i’ve read recently and adored. make sure to give the authors some love!

in no particular order:

Denude and Define, by @scrapbullet

better a sparrow than no birdsong at all, by @rvsvlka

Fate Slew Him, but He Did Not Drop, by JustGettingBy

Per aspera, ad astra series, by JustGettingBy

Promises series, by REVVII

Slip A Dick To Your Witcher, by @naryrising

home is nowhere, therefore you, by @et-in-arkadia

Companionship, by ArliaDevi

Opulence, by @yourqueenforayear

the world will follow after, by @eviefrie

Light my Fire, by ravenbringslight

Thin fingers, wrapped around your heart, by @trevardes

tiny happy things (like the pieces of my heart), by splendidlyimperfect

daybreak, by ninemelodies

front row praises, by The_Watchers_Crown

ten things I hate about you, by @truthanddivinity

here, where the world is quiet, by @drawlight

it ain’t over ‘til he sings, by tol_sirion

[mnemo-ink]

And some more Star Wars AU links!

Across The Stars by anon (kid!Charles and kid!Erik)

Across The Stars by Gerec

Across The Stars (The Blue-eyed Jedi Remix) by Nostalgic_Kitty

Got a Lead Brain ; It’s a Battle Magnet by letosatie

I Promised You Life by Sperare  (with some awesome senator Charles and Erikpining so hard for his husband)

Lonely Hearts Club by scrapbullet

X-Men VI : Return of the Jedi (comic) by Thacmis

With some xavierine too!

After The Fall by Gerec (Xavierine, Cherik)

Love Won’t Save You by TurtleTotem (Xavierine, Cherik)

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by scrapbullet

“You, sir, are disgusting,” Jaskier declares, voice muffled as he pulls his chemise over his head, and promptly drops trou. Naked, he appraises Geralt from head to toe, admiring the play of candlelight over toned muscle - well, what he can see beneath the gore, anyway. “I can’t even see your handsome face underneath all that blood and bile.”

“Hm.” Geralt cocks a brow, universally disbelieving.

Words: 745, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Ficlet, Prompt Fill, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bathing/Washing, Sleepy Kisses, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Not Beta Read

[lurkerdelima]

19; vanerackham pretty please? ;3

19: kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing 

Thank you, my dear scrap! This ended up maybe a little more angsty than I intended, I’m sorry! I hope you like it anyway. ❤️

Sometimes, Jack finds he can organize his thoughts better if he puts them to paper before he speaks them aloud. This is how he finds himself sitting at his desk on a weekday evening, in his room at the brothel, writing a list of things he needs to say to Anne. Things about himself and about her, about Max, about how they’re all going to somehow make this thing work together, because he’s determined to make it so. He’s got a lantern lit as the room grows dark, and he’s writing quickly, quill pen rapidly scratching over the page as his thoughts flow freely.

Then the door creaks slowly open. He pauses, lifts pen from paper. Waits.

“Good evening, Chaz,” he says, because he doesn’t have to look up to know who’s just walked into his bedroom uninvited. Who else?

“Jackie,” Charles says as he shuts the door behind himself, voice gruff and low as always, with something of a slip-slide edge to it. Rum, Jack suspects. Perhaps opium. Maybe even both.

Whatever it is, whatever substance or concoction is coursing through Charles’s veins, Jack chooses to feign ignorance to it. He puts pen to paper again, and resolutely pays no mind to the other man in the room, focusing instead on what he needs to say to Anne.

Then a familiar presence insinuates itself on his desk. A thick thigh right next to the page on which he’s writing; a tanned, rough hand grabbing for the quill pen, taking it from him.

“I’m attempting to do something rather important, here,” Jack says, finally looking up at Charles. It’s dark outside but he shines blindingly, not unlike the sun, all gleaming skin and bright eyes with a feral grin on his face.

“More important than whatever else you could be doing with me?” Charles asks, leaning down close to Jack. He licks his cheek, a long, hot stripe up the side of his face that makes Jack shiver. “Hmm? Talk, Jackie.”

“Charles,” he says, his voice a supplication, a murmur of assent, whether he means for it to be or not.

Charles seems to take that as permission and slides fluid as water down into Jack’s lap. He slips his arms around his neck and leans in, and all Jack tastes is the burn of alcohol and the sickly sweet, floral lingering essence of something stronger.

“Charles,” he says again when he pulls away, resting his forehead lightly against his companion’s, holding him close and trying not to get too distracted by the sensation of Charles sitting in his lap - hard thighs and the warm, familiar juncture in between, the way his belly rises and falls against Jack’s as he breathes.

“Come to bed,” Charles slurs. “Let me- let me-” he says, pushing Jack’s coat off his shoulders.

Jack lets him, of course. Gives in more than willingly - enthusiastically, even - and wakes the next morning with bruises on his thighs, his chest, his throat. He looks at Charles, sleeping deeply still in the bright light of dawn, and rolls over to curl wordlessly into him. He rests his head on his scarred bare chest and listens to the steady beating of his heart, then drifts off that way, comforted, lulled back to sleep.

He doesn’t finish the letter to Anne.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, scrapbullet

September 30-gen and family-ish, with Coulson and Daisy Johnson, with the prompt: “The art of not being an idiot is extremely challenging for me.” for @scrapbullet

Written by @ladywinterlight

Author’s Note: Not canon compliant. I’m off in my own little headspace for a while with a bit of family fluff. Conversely, this also means no spoilers. :) Happy birthday!

Daisy stood in Coulson’s office, debriefing on a mission gone sideways. She’d managed to pull it off, but her methods were somewhat less orthodox than was usual - even for her. 

“Why’d you do it, Daisy?” Coulson asked gently, tossing the report on his desk.

Daisy sighed and shrugged. She leaned her hip against the side of his desk, and he turned in his chair to look up at her. “I dunno. It seemed to make sense at the time?” Coulson just gave her a look. “Okay, fine. The art of not being an idiot is extremely challenging for me,” she said flippantly.

Coulson managed to keep a straight face for almost a minute, but then a small smile broke through. Daisy laughed, and Coulson joined in with a quiet chuckle.

“If that’s true, it’s a challenge half our team faces regularly,” Coulson commented.

“Oh, trust me, I’m well aware,” Daisy agreed readily.

“Seriously, Daisy, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she answered, addressing both his question and his unspoken concern. “Medical already patched me up, and I’ve been ordered to get a couple of solid meals and a good night’s sleep.”

His expression softened and Coulson nodded his acceptance. “Good. I’m glad there’s no lasting harm.” He smirked at her. “Artless idiocy aside.”

“I suppose I should go get that meal,” Daisy said after a moment of quietly fidgeting, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Coulson nodded and Daisy headed for the office door. She had the handle in her hand when he called out, “Daisy, wait…”

She paused, twisting around to look at him over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Would you like some company?”

A genuine smile spread across her face and lightened her dark eyes. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” She waited by the door for Coulson to lock up his files and join her.

Coulson put a hand on her arm, and Daisy looped her arm through his. They walked together to the base cafeteria, with Daisy chatting about idle nonsense. Coulson listened with an indulgent expression, just glad to see her happy for a change.

Neither of them really knew how to be family to the other. They’d gone so long without. But they tried, and that was enough for both Daisy and Coulson. It gave them something they’d lacked in their lives. However strange it seemed to other people, it was okay.

Because they had each other.

[scottrecs]

Rec: Memory Map

Memory Map (552 words) by scrapbullet Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall Additional Tags: Feels, mentions of abuse, but Isaac is okay really Summary:Scott's nostrils flare. "You smell like-"

Like grief. Yeah.

Funny, that. But it isn't exactly right, not really.

[brassfannibal]

the only comparison should be; silver, or a gorgeous view of the ocean on a sunny day with birds cawing and the taste of sweetened tea on your tongue~ THAT IS ALL.

Omg yes!! Thissss. The pretty is equal in measure 😋 ❤️

[reluming]

'a thirst only deserts know best' and number 9 :3

thank you scrap <3

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

so ‘we lean like gardens (toward light)’ and ‘a thirst only deserts know best’ was originally meant to be one fic, but i wrote ‘we lean like gardens (toward light)’ and it got longer than i thought it would, so i decided the rest of it could wait till another fic. and then it took me a while to actually get round to the other fic, so my vision for it got a bit muddied by the time i actually wrote it.

but based on my very sparse & minimal notes, my original vision, which i never wrote, would have started out with silver asking flint if he ever wondered what it would have been like to go to eton like thomas, to be at a boarding school surrounded by posh pretty boys! but then flint starts thinking about his own shitty experiences growing up in the navy and he gets a bit maudlin. anyway i think silver and flint end up roleplaying :’)

ask me questions about my fic?

(read a thirst only deserts know best)

[brightbluedot]

can we have more of flint calling miranda 'my sweet'? and not in a shouty ginger rageface way (though admittedly he's. erm. aesthetically pleasing whilst angry)

That moment always stands out to me, too!! I can totally see that being something he calls her in more sincere, quiet moments – she is his dearest friend, after all, she has a way of softening his heart. 

I can see him approaching her as she stares out the window, and he knows her mind dwells now not in dark places, but dull ones, gray ones, so he wraps his arm around her shoulders and kisses her temple, murmurs that things will get better, my sweet, I swear it, feeling almost proud when her reflection almost smiles.

Or maybe it’s written on the inside cover of a book, a bit tattered and smelling of salt water – I know this isn’t to your usual tastes, my sweet, but I hope you find some enjoyment in it nonetheless. (She doesn’t, not really, but that first handwritten page makes it worth keeping.) 

It could be more casual, too, thank you, my sweet and here you go, my sweet said with small smiles over traded cups of tea or misplaced bookmarks, or whatever other mundane thing they have the privilege to be concerned with for a few hours. 

asldfjsk I’ll be thinking about this all day now I am Ruined thank you