#'riley is about grief' no riley is about being so down to trust other people that they become competitive about it. hope this helps.

[myhyperfixationisiforgot]

Look. Look at me. Look me in the eye. Riley Gunnarsdottir is important because people love her. So many people love her so fucking much. Yes, she's in part a story about how grief fills you up and empties you out like breathing but Riley is about reaching out. She reaches and someone always takes her hand. Folks offer her places to stay, they host her shows, they bring her supplies, they give her a ride and keep her safe and save her friends. Someone loves Riley enough to visit graves for her. Someone loves Riley enough to plan escape routes for her. Someone loves Riley enough to bring her aboard and flee the country with no questions except is he alright? In a series with so many characters defined by their relationships to one or two people outside the cluster, Riley has so many people in so many places that you can't even picture it and yet. Riley ran and someone caught her, everywhere, over and over and over.

[czigonas]

Alright. Hear me out. SoapGhost Mummy('99) fusion/AU with some WWI backstory (most of which is only implied in the films).

(This is entirely @appleciderp's fault because of both these two posts. Also my appreciation for OG Captain MacTavish's outfits.)

(Now, The Mummy is already not entirely historically accurate but I am also not a historian, so if I mess up some details about WWI, no I didn't. Most of this is just the plot of the movie but with the cod boys replacing a few people or just being added outright.)

Apple, here you go. (Also, this got really long, so it's under a cut.)

Captain John "Soap" MacTavish returns home to Scotland after serving in a unit attached to the EEF in WWI; a shadow of the man who went out to fight. While most of his company survived the brutal conditions of the Middle Eastern theatre where they were stationed, his trusted Lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, was one of those killed in the Battle of Megiddo just two months before the end of the war. His body was unable to be recovered.

In his attempts to drown his grief, Johnny loses track of most of the rest of his unit. All he has left is his younger sister Evelyn, as both of their parents died even before he was called to fight. To give themselves a new start - and both hope to curb his drinking and support his sister's blossoming career - they move to Egypt after donating a sizable chunk of their parents' estate to the library in the Cairo Museum, where it turns out the library curator is fellow ex-Captain, John Price.

(Going with Captain for Soap here because with the amount of money required to get Evelyn into her position, there's no way he wouldn't have had the money to purchase a commission. Don't worry, unlike Bey, Price won't die.)

Johnny steals reappropriates the map and box from O'Connell and, after Price tries to convince them Hamunaptra isn't real and they shouldn't pursue it, they negotiate to have O'Connell released from prison and get ready to head off down the river. The American company is lead by Dr. Shepherd and his cocky guide, Phillip Graves, who served with O'Connell in the French Foreign Legion during WWI.

When the Medjai attack the boat, Johnny gets briefly cornered by a fighter whose face is fully covered with cloth except for his eyes. While most of the Medjai are dressed similarly, this one's mask is unique and not easily pulled away from his face. The fighter hesitates to attack, however, letting Soap escape (but with a nagging feeling that he was somehow familiar).

Both groups reach the city at the same time and are again attacked by the Medjai. Johnny finds himself subtly shuffled out of danger by the same masked fighter that he encountered on the riverboat. While Ardeth gives his warning to Rick, Evelyn, and the Americans, Soap tries to ask where he and the fighter may have met before. He doesn't answer except to watch Johnny in return with what seems to Johnny to be somewhat frustrated puzzlement. The masked fighter leaves with the rest of the Medjai, though he seems reluctant to go.

While the Americans finally go to open the chest with the Book of the Dead, Graves decides to taunt O'Connell (and possibly attempt to flirt a bit with Soap) and so isn't present when the chest is opened and the curse activated. Evelyn steals reappropriates (like brother, like sister) the Book of the Dead from Shepherd's tent and reads the passage that resurrects Imhotep, which also sets off the plague of locusts.

Everyone flees into the city and, while Rick and Evelyn encounter Imhotep, Graves gets lost trying to find Soap, who has also wandered off a little. The masked fighter finds him first, however, and shuffles him back towards the rest of the party, leaving Graves to be found by the desiccated Imhotep after he's taken Burns' eyes and tongue.

(Torn between Graves being Jewish and saving himself the same way Beni does [prayers in Hebrew, which Imhotep recognises], having him enter the mummy's service some other way, having him die outright immediately, or even just him escaping somehow with or without Imhotep on his trail.)

Back in Cairo, Johnny realises he's being stalked by the masked Medjai, though he never manages to catch the guy to figure out why. He meets back up with Rick, Evelyn, Henderson, and Daniels in time to see Burns' drained body and Imhotep regenerate somewhat. After the mummy flees in fear of the cat, Rick sets Evelyn up in her room to be guarded by the Americans while he goes to warn Shepherd and Johnny goes to find the Medjai, hoping to finally get some answers (and maybe he's worried about the guy, nothing wrong with that).

He doesn't manage to find the masked fighter before Rick and Daniels catch up to him with the news that Shepherd is dead, however. They all rush back to Evelyn's room to scare off Imhotep with the cat again after Henderson gets eaten, and pack up to head towards the museum looking for answers.

And answers they find! Not only is Ardeth there with Price, but so is the masked fighter who's been stalking Johnny. Price and Ardeth lay out what's going on and while Rick, Evelyn, and Daniels ask the Medjai questions and start theorising about things, Price takes Soap to the side and reveals what he's kind of started to suspect: the masked fighter is Ghost, miraculously alive.

See, during the Battle of Megiddo, when Soap thought he saw Simon killed, he was actually just gravely injured. Because they were unable to reach him before the end of the battle - or even for a some time afterwards - he was picked up instead by the irregulars of the Hejaz and their allies who had also fought. While they were able to heal his physical wounds, Simon had also suffered significant memory loss and was unable to tell them which company he'd been attached to in order for them to help him get home.

Unfortunately, he was also somewhat mistrustful of those who had saved him, and slipped away sometime in the night to try and return to the only place that he had stuck in his head: Egypt, around Cairo, where his unit had been based out of. The Medjai had found him wandering the desert and took him in next, and he stayed because not only were they based in Egypt, which was familiar territory, but they were willing to teach him new ways to fight.

Price had recognised him once after Ardeth had brought him along to one of their regular meetings about the state of Hamunaptra, and had been trying to break through his memory loss ever since, with no luck. Soap was, essentially, their last hope on that front. Johnny declares that even if he can't manage to break through and Ghost never remembers, he won't leave Simon behind ever again.

He and Price (and Ghost who's approached them as they talked, focused entirely upon Johnny) rejoin the other four to escape the museum as the locals start to surround them. Poor Daniels gets dragged off and sucked dry along the way (not in a fun way), but the rest of them make it further until they're cornered. Evelyn agrees to go with Imhotep, now fully restored after eating the last American, demanding that the remaining four be spared if she does. Imhotep, of course, doesn't honour that agreement, but they're all four accomplished fighters and make their way into the sewers to escape.

They make their way to an airstrip where they find our boy Nikolai. (Nikolai had been fighting for the Russian Empire until the Revolution. He disagreed with the Bolshevik concessions to Germany as well as the general direction of the war, and ended up in Egypt, also fighting in the French Foreign Legion.) Nik and Price are well acquainted, and it takes no time to convince him they need to fly to Hamunaptra. Nikolai is an excellent pilot and, when Imhotep's sandstorm attempts to down them, he manages to execute an emergency landing with only injuries to himself and Price. Even though their injuries are relatively minor, Nik and Price are urged to stay behind at the crash site while everyone else continues on.

So Johnny, Rick, Simon, and Ardeth make their way in to Hamunaptra, determined to dig up the Book of Amun-Ra and save Evelyn. When they find themselves cornered by mummified priests, Soap and Ghost stay behind to fight them off while Rick and Ardeth confront Imhotep and save Evelyn.

Once the mummies are under Ardeth's command (as the one reading the inscription on the Book of Amun-Ra), Johnny and Simon finally manage to sit and have a bit of a talk and Simon takes off his mask. Turns out, he's been remembering more and more as he tries to figure out why Johnny is so familiar feeling. At this point, Ghost has almost all of his memories back, including the ones regarding how much he loved Soap. Johnny, of course, loves him back (and thinking he'd lost Simon, especially so close to the end of the war and them being free to be "good bachelor friends who live in a country house together", had been one of his major breaking points).

(I think if Graves was in Imhotep's service and survived this long, he definitely escapes the main temple with a bag of treasure, only to meet Soap and Ghost outside, still alive. He'd probably interrupt them kissing, tbh. He's that kind of cockblock. And then they'd either kill him for betraying them or leave him for the desert to kill.)

Rick, Evelyn, and Ardeth stumble out of the temple themselves, possibly after having deliberately set off a self-destruct booby trap. Ardeth takes the Book of Amun-Ra for safe keeping, much to Evelyn's disappointment. Ardeth and Ghost have a nice little chat where Ghost thanks the Medjai for taking care of him when he didn't know who he was. Ardeth denies the notion of any debt between them and wishes him well in the next chapter of his life.

The two couples gather up several of the camels, head back to the crash site to pick up Price and Nikolai, and then return to Cairo (and possibly everyone goes home to England, but possibly Price and Nik stay behind). Everyone splits the treasure they didn't realise had already been packed into the saddlebags.

(Gaz shows up in the next one, piloting the airship. Instead of being Rick's friend, he's Soap and Ghost's.)

[dumbfuck-mojave]

First Dates and A n x i e t y

(Some lines of dialogue in this are from this prompt post by @screnwriter, go have a look there’s a lot of good ones!!) 

Franchise: Scream

Pairing: Dewey Riley x Reader

Also Featured: Mentions of Sidney, Randy, Tatum, Billy and Stu. Maureen Prescott mention. 

Warnings: A very VERY obscure spoiler for Scream (2022), you probably won’t even notice it if you don’t know what I’m talking about by the time you’ve read through but I know some people don’t like wondering or realizing they got spoiled over some little detail so tread cautiously. Mentions of the events from the first Scream, survivor’s guilt and the grieving process. This is also hella awkward lol. Like one or two swears, mentions of vomit in one sentence. Reader and Dewey are on a diner date so food. Reader is Dewey’s age but nothing else is specified. 

A/N: Just to clarify, I tried very hard not to romanticize grief or the healing process in this. It’s an extremely hard thing to go through, and someone saying they love you isn’t going to magically fix it. I was trying to figure out how to not make this pro-cop but make it pro-Dewey. Cops scare the absolute fuck out of me but I trust Dewey with my life. I found him super hard to write for some reason, but I still like how this ending turned out. He’s my darling man 💖💖. I do the ~ shit in every fic of mine I think I’m making it my brand.

Word Count: 1,761

@novatheghostfaceapologist @thirsting4slashers​ gotta make sure to tag the Scream besties officially got a clique going

“Are you, um, are you having a good time?”

“Yes, Dewey. I am.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me.” 

“Dewey.” You sighed, putting down your hamburger so you could grasp his hands, “You can never make me uncomfortable, ok? So stop thinking like that.” 

“If you say so-” Dewey looked away for a moment, then back towards you. He barely got his lips parted before you spoke up and beat him to it. 

“I’m sure. I’m unequivocally, definitely, certainly sure. Let’s go back to enjoying our meal.” You caught his eye and shot him a small smile, just to be sure he knew you weren’t actually mad or upset. 

The little diner was quiet, the few other customers than Dewey and yourself were scattered intermittently through the brightly colored room. A radio news station flowed softly from the overhead sound system, pairing with the soft conversations from patrons and the occasional clanging of dishes to make a cozy and welcoming atmosphere. But the most comforting part of everything was the man who sat in front of you, you just wished he could see it. 

You and Dewey had been vaguely familiar with each other your whole lives, having been in the same grade during school. After you had graduated and Dewey became a cop, you had only seen him a handful of times, not trying to agitate or get in trouble with the law. He was always so passionate and helpful, you weren’t surprised he chose that career path in your small, sleepy town. Everything was fine, you gave him a wave in the fleeting moments you saw him, feeling fuzziness in your chest as he would give you a wide smile in return. 

Everything was fine, everything was fine until it wasn’t. 

The news of Maureen’s death was a shockwave. Stuff like that didn’t happen in Woodsboro and the authorities had been left scrambling to calm the aftermath of the shell-shocking news. It was a new thing for everyone and the bruises and scars were still prominent in the town as time moved on. You remembered the day Dewey had come in to question you, Maureen having been a frequent at the store you worked at. He was fumbling and tinted red throughout the entire process and half of your energy had been spent trying to relax him. The other half was spent trying to relax yourself for being this close to him, alone, for the first time in years.

Inappropriate? Maybe. But it was all over and done with now.

 Then, you know, Ghostface. 

It was on a whole other level. Your heart already ached for Sidney enough when her mother died, but having your classmates and best friend brutally murdered by your boyfriend and other friend barely a year after was enough to break somebody and you tried to keep a close eye on her while still staying in your proper place. Tatum was a sweetheart, routinely coming in after school, Sidney and sometimes Randy in tow, and would spend hours looking through all the inventory. You worked at one of the fancier stores in town, a fashion boutique with a name most of the customers couldn’t pronounce. 

The store felt a little less lively now. 

Your heart hurt for Dewey too. He adored Tatum and Tatum adored him, no matter how much she poked fun in a way only siblings can. Dewey’s natural sunshine went away that day, overcast by clouds of grief and guilt for something he didn’t need to blame himself for. That was the first time you fully reached out since graduation day, not being forceful but just offering up a safe space to talk, and he accepted.

 You felt a little nervous getting close to him this way, in such a horrific circumstance, but the feeling of old nostalgia held a strong grip on you as you helped Dewey the best you could. He even, at one time, admitted shyly to you that he had been wanting to talk again for ages but could never find the words. After that, you became more clear with your concerns, hoping he would understand and not take offense or be upset. Of course, being the gentle and sweet man he was, assured you he wasn’t upset and understood you. A new form of conversation opened.

Which is why you felt comfortable saying yes when the Deputy of Woodsboro asked you out early one morning, quietly as you poured him a cup of coffee. 

“These fries are really good, I’ve never tried them in this style before.” Dewey spoke up, holding a seasoned crisp in the air for emphasis. 

“Aren’t they? I used to come here all the time when I was younger, the recipe has barely changed. I would even say they’ve improved them.” You cheekily winked at Dewey, and he chuckled. 

“I’m glad you recommended this place, I’m not so good with choosing things.” You could see him cringe then, looking away, “It’s starting to seem like I’m not good at dates in general.”

Your brow furrowed, “You’re doing just fine, Dewey. Just let it go, don’t worry, I’m not going to judge you or anything. I already know you and I already like you, you can’t change my mind with one date.”

You were hoping you would get a smile out of him with that, but you didn’t. You were struggling to, not wanting to say the wrong thing or act a certain way despite just telling Dewey to not worry about doing so. Just two awkward people, sitting in a diner, but it somehow didn’t feel awkward. You were broken out of your thoughts when you felt a warm hand settle on your own. 

“I’m scared.”

That…wasn’t what you were expecting, for some reason. 

“Why are you scared?”

Dewey inhaled deeply, then let out a sigh. The sigh of a broken man, and your frown deepened as the lines of his forehead did. 

“I’m scared of the future. I’m scared of who I’m going to lose next. I barely survived this one, what if it happens again? What if I lose you? Or Sidney or Randy? They’re just starting out in life, they haven’t even graduated yet, they shouldn’t have needed to go through this. I’m worried about me. I don’t want to be stuck being useless in some town not able to solve murders and watching more people die. I can’t focus on the present because I’m too worried about the future.”

He stammered to a stop, becoming aware of how loud he had gotten. His gaze darted around the room nervously. You took his face in your hands, watching how he relaxed from your warm touch immediately. 

“You’re... so brave, Dewey. I know it’s hard to not overthink past actions and mistakes, but what’s important is that you did your best. You always do your best, and I love you for it. I know I can’t make it all better, it won’t go away just like that, but I’m going to be there for you. You aren’t alone, there’s so many people who care and have so much respect for you. You’re amazing, you show me that every moment of every day. You’re strong and you can get through this, I know you can. There’s going to be bad days, bad weeks, but you have people you can rely on. You’re not a burden, you’re not useless, you’re Dewey Riley. Dewey Riley is incredible, he’s sweet and he’s helpful and he’s the man I’ve been in love with since 7th grade. So, please don’t think you’re nothing short of spectacular, or at least talk to someone about it. You don’t have to hold it in.” 

Dewey’s eyes welled with tears and he nodded. 

“I don’t know what else to say, but thank you.”

“You don’t need to say anything else.”

“We’re going to do this together?”

“Together, I’ll be with you until the stars fall and the tides disappear, you’re the one for me.”

You got your smile with that. 

“That was awfully poetic.”

You blushed, “I wrote a lot of poetry in 7th grade.”

“Ok, I definitely need to see that now.”

“No, you absolutely do not.”

“But I dooo~.” He cooed at you in a sing-song voice, and you thought you could never feel softer for this man. So light. So warm. 

Dewey moved a little towards the opening of the booth. 

“Can… I come sit next to you?” 

You giggled, moving further into the seat, “Of course, Deputy Riley. It would be my pleasure.”

Dewey smiled as he stood up, tumbling a bit before he caught himself. He must’ve seen you jump out of the corner of his eye because he was quick to reassure you.

“Don’t worry, kind of still getting used to the nerve damage, you know?”

He laughed and despite the unusual circumstances, you laughed too. 

He plopped down into the seat beside you, pulling over his almost empty basket as you scooted just a bit closer to him, so your arms were side by side. 

“So, I, uh, I heard Sidney and Randy stopped by looking for some clothes for graduation pictures.”

“Oh, yeah!” You perked up at that, but still made sure to replace your arms touching with your thigh pressed against his, “It was really good to see them. They were in there for a bit, Randy kept looking at bowties so we know what to expect from him at least.”

You both chuckled.

“That’s not bad. Nothing will ever top our graduation ceremony, I think.”

“Oh? The one where I fell on my ass going across the stage, the one where Robby Sinclair vomited right in front of that old lady in the first row because he was already so blasted from pre-gaming? The one where your shoe fell off as you were going down the stairs?”

As you recalled more and more things about that momentous day, Dewey stayed silent, staring at you fondly. 

“That is, in fact, the one I’m referring to.”

“Listen, I’m not saying we were the best class that school has ever had, but we were the best class that school has ever had. Go Panthers, am I right?”

“Go Panthers.”

“Do you remember that one time when-”

“You don’t mind if I kiss you, do you?”

You halt with a screech after that, looking over at him with wide eyes. But once your eyes meet his own, fond and warm like melted chocolate, you sigh and smile. 

“No, no. I don’t think I do.” 

[wenellyb]

I got your stance on Sam not having to cry. But then I think about all the young black men who grow up being told that they aren't supposed to cry. Black men being strong and not showing emotions is a trope that white writers love to use. I'm upset that Malcolm used it in tfatw. I see my uncle tell his son that big boys don't cry whenever he tries to express himself, and black male friends around me suppress those types of emotions. In this day and age where black men are slowly getting more comfortable to show emotion, cry, go to therapy, talk more openly about their trauma and support each other. I'd love to see that for Sam, however we got it for Bucky instead. I think that's the triggering part for some fans, Bucky gets to cry, to voice his frustrated, to go to therapy, but why not Sam? Why does Sam have to swallow down his pain and keep it moving? Why do white characters get to show all their emotions on screen and the black ones have to soldier on?

Last time I remember seeing a black character have a complete breakdown in Marvel was T'Challa over his father's death.

People wanna see Sam have that breakdown, whether it's a flashback over Riley and his parents, or Steve and the stress of being Captain America. But like you said, not everyone shows emotion by crying. I just wanna see Sam throw a chair across the room at least lol.

Trust me I get you and I understand you, and when it comes to my personal experience, this is not limited to Black Men actually, Black women experience this too.

And yes, there's not being allowed to cry (stay strong etc,..) but there's also not being able to cry because of the trauma being too big or because your body just can't do it.

Trauma, pain and grief are a weird thing and you cannot control your reactions, I'm not saying Sam's reactions are healthy but they are very realistic.

I have attended funerals where no one was crying, and it's not because the people weren't sad, or weren't traumatized, it's because they couldn't. Sometimes because if one person broke down, the whole family would breakdown. And sometimes, it's because they have been through so much trauma that tears just won't fall. When you have been through too much, your body sometimes can't do it anymore, whether you're allowed or not.

I know that the reason you mention is one big issue but it isn't the only one.

I really think it's important that people realize that tears, cries, screams, aren't the only way to express emotions. It's important to realize that the way you express you emotions also depends on your culture and background and we can't expect everyone to react the same.

I also disagree that we got to see Bucky's tears of frustrations. Because the only tears we saw from Bucky were tears of joy and relief, we Saw Bucky being angry in the therapy scene but we didn't see him cry either.

In my opinion, the show didn't let White characters show their emotions and not the Black characters. I think that fandoms and even society as a whole are "trained" to see White people's pain but not so much the pain of non-White people.

You mentioning Bucky is a great example, because the only times we saw him crying were the tears of joy/relief in Wakanda, all the other times he had emotional scenes, he didn't cry (just like Sam). He didn't cry while talking to Yuri, even though he was emotional.

During the therapy scene, Bucky got a very emotional scene where he was able to express his emotions as you mentionned, he said "If Steve was wrong about you maybe he was wrong about me". But Sam also got emotional during that scene, when he told Bucky he had no right to comment on something he wouldn't understand. Sam also got to express himself. But it went unnoticed. The first thing Sam ever said to Bucky in the show was that it broke his heart that they gave the shield to Walker, Sam is expressing his feelings. We don't see him cry or have a breakdown but we don't see his emotions, his pain,...We just ignore it as a fandom (because no tears were shed, I assume).

Bucky had emotional scenes yes, but so did Sam. So did Sam. And yet, we often hear about how only Bucky got to express himself and not Sam. Because Sam's reactions went unnoticed, but they were there.

Don't get me wrong, I agree with everything you said, but I still don't think it justify saying that we didn't see Sam's sadness or suffering in the show, because we did. Constantly.

Last point, my stand isn't exactly that Sam "doesn't have to cry" what I'm saying is that "Sam doesn't have to cry for people to notice that he's in pain". I would have been fine with seeing him cry, but not seeing him cry doesn't mean that I didn't see him being sad or emotional, because his reactions were very realistic to me.

I think it's healthy that we as a fandom ask to see more of Sam, more of his background, his History, his relationships etc, but I think it's completely unfair to act like the FATWS didn't give us some of that already, scenes where we got to see Sam's emotions.

I'm fine either way, I would love to see Sam being more emotional in the future. But him not crying or not having a breakdown isn't a deal breaker.

I really appreciate your input and hope my answer was clear, sometimes the things I write sounds much clear in my brain lol.

[all-the-promises-at-sundown]

Life Is Strange: True Colors

final thoughts after my first ever play through below!

sooooo I finished the game, get ready for this whole jumble of my thoughts on this game.

I took my time with it due to college etc and I wanted the time to be right for when I would play the last episode.

If you’re looking for a super detailed and well articulated review or something I am not your girl 😂. This is just a random individuals final thoughts and feelings after playing the game for the first time, which they were excited for, for 6 months and who is a big fan of the franchise in general.

So heres what I thought of Life is Strange: True Colors! -

Deck nine had a slight amount of trust from me already from their first attempt in the series, before the storm. I know that game is either loved or hated but overall I really liked what they tried to do with the game, I think they did Rachel justice as a character and it gave us an amazing insight into Arcadia bay before the events of the first game. After True colors I would say that I now 100% have faith in them as developers and I hope they stay responsible for the franchise from now on.

They created a beautiful world with incredible characters, each with their own flaws and likeable traits. I connected with pretty much every single one of them from the get go, their ability to do this is down to more mature and professional script writing! This game actually had an amazing script! It was funny, heartwarming and realistic at the best of times.

Speaking more about the characters, I personally believe this is our best set of characters to date in the franchise (this my personal opinion 😬), with Alex being the best protagonist. This is down to the beautiful performance by Erika Mori whose ability to convey the right facial expressions and emotions when needed made the game a whole other level of immersive, I was amazed by her performance as well as the rest of the cast, who were all perfect choices for the characters they portrayed. The motion capture budget certainly paid off in favour of this aspect as it brought the game and story to life.

Some personal favourite characters of mine are definitely Alex, Steph, Riley and Duckie.

Now onto the story itself, overall I think the story of true colors isn’t its strongest aspect but this is in fact hidden underneath the beautiful environment, cinematics and chemistry between characters. My reasoning for this is due to the games pacing, I found it rather jarring that you go from Alex being distraught at the time of her brothers death to only a few days later, involving herself in a town LARP, I struggled to comprehend that Gabes death had only been a few weeks or days ago during these events as even in episode two, you are straight back into the game without ever really seeing Alex’s grief and depression over the days before this chapter takes place, now I love exploring these games so I made sure to read every text and journal entry in order to properly immersive myself and the time jumps are only explained through this, so if you’re not like me i imagine this being all the more confusing. I do also accept the fact however that people grieve in different ways which gives her surprising (to me) semi cheery mood an explanation.

The main mystery was still intriguing as each episode I had a different suspect to who could have been responsible for the blast which resulted in gabes death, which was a lot of fun theorising about. From episode 3 I was sold on it being Diane and that was that but the twist that Jed was in fact responsible for the blast going ahead due to his actions years before was really well done to me, I didn’t think it was obvious whatsoever and I also liked how it added a whole other layer onto the story itself as this man spent years feeling guilty for his actions, it experimented with how far guilt pushes us to do stupid and selfish things. The twist that he worked with Alex and Gabes dad down in the mine and he made a decision that got him killed, was also unexpected and the shock of this was entertaining.

I think Alex’s power was also an amazing game mechanic as it added a whole new way of building relationships within the universe. The power itself is definitely up there for me with Max’s ability of rewinding time. Speaking of relationships, true colors uses these the best way any instalment in the franchise has, but once again due to pacing I felt as though these developed really quickly as you go from just meeting Steph and Ryan a few days ago to a close friendship (which you don’t really see the progress of) and then (if you choose to) a full blown romance, I loved the content we got with this in the game and I think the chemistry between the characters was amazing but I did find it odd due to how fast paced this all was.

Some smaller points I would like to make. The choices in this game were so much fun to decide between and I had to pause my game to sit and think logically about a lot of them which is what I crave with games like these, all the smaller side stories are also entertaining and emotional which kept me engaged with the nps. Another aspect which assisted this was the use of text messages and their version of social media, it added a whole new way to truly feel welcomed in this world and I loved it.

The track list was really good, I loved many of the songs included and it really brought back the classic life is strange vibe, sadly I did think it would have more of an impact in the game overall as I do believe it missed the mark at some points with the lack of licensed music during memorable moments (such as obstacles at the end of life is strange).

The collectible trophies encouraged me to explore the town more which resulted in more interesting encounters and memories being discovered, a system that I loved, being able to nosy in on people’s past was intriguing to me and I think it worked well.

The big question however is continue to release episodically or the whole game at once? I do enjoy the fact they kept the chapter system in the game but I did have issues with this. Episodically I think only works if each chapter had major plot reveals and developments occurring. Which is why I’d say True colors worked well as a full game release, some of these chapters are too short on their own to be released individually, I disliked the removal of credits at the end as I didn’t like the way each chapter would just cut off suddenly and take you to statistics, it would pull me out of the moment sometimes and I found it frustrating, I do however understand why this had to happen. I miss the montages at the end of an episode like we had in life is strange 1 where you’d see what the side characters were up to as a licensed track would play over this, it felt official and made me ready to move onto the next episode.

So my summarised final thought would be that i adored True Colors, it disappointed me in some aspects which weren’t many sure, but this doesn’t change the love I have for this game. The characters (especially Alex), the world, the music, the story and every other detail included within created an emotional and beautiful experience that I want to go back and replay as many times possible. I had high expectations for this game and it didn’t exceed them but it certainly met them and for that I congratulate Deck Nine as their passion for the franchise is evident.

What a rollercoaster. 8.5/10

If you read any of this, thank you 😂☺️, just thought it’d be cool to put my thoughts and feelings of this game out there.

Here’s to wavelengths!

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In -- Chapter 16

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warning: Some language, mild sexual talk

Since it’s been awhile since I last posted an update, in the previous chapter Madeleine had confronted Riley with a video after she left the ball. 

Thank you @burnsoslow for the preread and beta.

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

Riley sat on a leather bench at the foot of the bed with a television remote held loosely between her hands, folded in her lap. 

Somehow her worn-out body managed to walk from the corridor after the encounter with Madeleine, up the many stairs of the quarters she shared with Liam and to their bedroom. The shock of the situation combined with exhaustion and throbbing pain in her lower back was secondary to the fear she felt at possibly giving up the man she loved. 

With trembling hands, she had slipped the DVD into the player and watched her nightmare play out on the screen -- It was all true. Madeleine acquired an illicit video of Riley and her ex-husband that the Queen had no clue was recorded of her or existed.

Her thumb grazed over the pause button several times, but she knew pressing it wouldn’t stop the hurt and embarrassment she felt at that moment at watching her former husband violating her trust and privacy. It wouldn’t stop Madeleine from releasing the video of it to the press and public. And it wouldn't stop the love she felt for Liam -- no one was powerful enough to take that feeling away from her.

But it was those words Madeleine threatened her with that got equal consideration with that video in Riley’s mind. She tried to envision how the scenario would carry out if the video was released and for those who would be affected by it: her father, her friends, her former students. 

Liam.

“It’s a shame that he’ll lose his reign, all because of you.”

“Would you really do that to Liam?”

“Do you genuinely believe you’re worth all the trouble it will cause him?”

Riley hit the pause button, her hands flying up to cover her tear-laden face as she bent over in sobs, shaking her head. She was wrestling with that inner voice, replaying Madeleine’s words like a broken record while struggling to remember everything Liam told her about trusting him and his love for her.

No matter how hard she tried to let his tender voice speak to that sacred place in her heart, Madeleine’s threats and taunts were getting the best of her. If there was even a slight possibility that the Countess was right, and Liam would get dragged through the mud in all of this, then there was no question what needed to be done. 

Those scattered bricks that formed the walls she came to Cordonia with, the ones Liam had broken down, were quickly stacking up again, one on top of the other. If something didn’t happen soon, Riley would be surrounded and suffocated inside that impenetrable cocoon that initially caused herself to doubt her worthiness to him in the first place.

All of those insecurities and fears crept up faster than a flooded riverbank, and she felt powerless to stop it from rising. Even if she could, she’d never allow Liam to suffer the consequences of something she had the power to prevent. To hell with whatever happened to her, but not him. He saved her weeks ago, and as her teary gaze slid from her hands to the wardrobe closet across the room, this would be her way of saving him.

Riley picked up the remote from her lap and tossed it aside. Determined to get out of the palace and Cordonia before anyone could see her, she swallowed her anger and grief and swiped a knuckle under each eye to dry the tears shed. 

She rose to her feet faster than she should have, feeling an intense shock of pain that began in her hip and shot down to her feet. There were no doubts that the fall from struggling with Madeleine injured her far worse than she wanted to admit to herself. With a shrieking whimper, she ground her teeth together and doubled over, feeling like she might faint. 

Riley grasped her back and gave herself a second to breathe through the pain before straightening up and staggering to her wardrobe to pack whatever she could as quickly as possible.

_____________

Liam stepped off the dance floor with Olivia's arm curled through his and escorted her back to their table. The conclusion of the ball was nearly upon him, and most guests had already stopped on their way out to say their farewells and offer congratulatory well-wishes. When they'd ask about the Queen's whereabouts, he'd tell them she had something come up that needed her attention. No one dared press him on the issue.

Checking the time on his watch, Liam looked up as Maxwell ran over with his phone in hand and dropped into a seat. He looked curiously at the out of breath Beaumont and asked, "What's going on, Maxwell?"

"Sorry," he replied before plucking a flute of champagne from a passing server's tray and gulping it down quickly. Wiping the droplets that dribbled from his mouth to his chin off with the back of his hand, he panted. "I ran here as fast as I could. I just got a text message from Drake. He's heading back soon."

"Did he say what the results of the paternity test were?" Olivia asked.

Maxwell nodded. "Yeah. They're Bastien's for sure. Las Vegas officials are allowing Drake to leave, but they've detained Bas until he pays up the $200,000 he owes to Boom Boom. Drake's return flight is scheduled to leave tomorrow morning, Cordonia time."

Liam pulled out his wallet and tossed $100 at a smug Leo, who promptly counted them out and stuffed the bills into his pocket. "I told you those little dudes weren't mine, bro. Really, your doubt in me hurts." 

"I'll admit you were right, Leo. But you do have a track record when it comes to being involved in weird stuff like this."

"Yeah, I've gotten myself into some pretty hairy shit a time or two," he laughed as the memories came to him. "Ahh, good times, good times. But, y'know, it wasn't always just fun and games with me, Liam. During those few occasions when I'd show up to train on being the top dog of this place, Father taught me several valuable lessons. Wanna know what they were?"

"Not really," Liam answered dryly, then tossed back the rest of his scotch to prepare himself. "But I assume you're going to tell me anyway."

"Damn right I am! This is good shit to know, straight from the Big Kahuna himself." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You must never tell anyone what I'm about to share with you all. This is top secret, classified Cordonian shit we're talking about; lives are on the line here. Father would be pissed if --"

"Just spit it out already!" Olivia snapped.

"Alright, first, never jizz in a jacuzzi unless you want to be covered in a thin spiderweb-like amalgamation of your own gravy. Daddio said he learned the hard way on that one ..."

"Oh, God. Leo!" Sickened, Liam dropped his head.

" ... Next, when you kiss a woman's hand, do it on the thumb side. Most people scratch their asses with their fingers, but rarely their thumbs. I might be an exception to the rule on that one." Leo chuckled to himself. "And lastly ... Rys spermies are MEAN sons-of-bitches, and we should dip my balls in a mug of hot water every day to kill them before having sex." 

"What the hell?" Olivia grimaced as she lowered her coffee mug away from her lips and pushed it away. 

"My dad told me the same thing," Maxwell boasted. "Except he called them Beaumont spermies. I guess he heard the same story from someone different than your dad."

Liam lowered the hands that were covering his face and breathed out heavily, "Leo, did our father ever teach you about anything other than using protection and sex during these meetings? Anything about negotiations, taxes, treaties ..."

Leo considered him for a moment. "Nope. He said you'd do all that stuff."

Liam grumbled. "Of course he did."

Olivia looked between Leo and Maxwell and scowled. "Well, it's too bad neither of your fathers took their own advice." She grabbed her clutch from the table. "At least I'll rest easier knowing the two of you aren't reproducing. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"I'll walk out with you, Liv." Liam rose and left the ballroom, having had more than enough of his fill of Leo for the night. There was also an incredibly sexy woman upstairs he'd been dreaming of pleasing all day, and he was overly eager to make good on his promise to join her shortly. 

______________

Liam made his way through the residential wing and down the long hallway to his quarters. While undoing his tie, he stopped midway when he noticed a vase that usually sat on a decorative table along the wall, tipped over on its side with bundles of long-stemmed roses littered on the ground around it. 

As he stooped down to pick them up, he found it oddly peculiar -- they didn't just fall over like this on their own. If a member of the staff had knocked them over, they would have picked them up; he felt certain Riley would have, as well.  

After rearranging the flowers in the vase and situating them back on the table, Liam removed his key card from his pocket and swiped it through the key fob next to the door.

"Riley! I'm home," he called out in a sensual tone, knowing she was most likely upstairs -- hopefully naked and ready to get her ass spanked -- and wouldn't have heard him.  

Taking a moment to check his reflection in the entryway mirror, Liam smoothed back his hair and tested his breath against his palm, satisfied he was good. After a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a can of whipped cream and chocolate sauce, Liam ascended the stairs, two at a time, to his bedroom. 

"Daddy's ready for his dessert ..." his exuberant voice trailed off as the sultry smirk he donned quickly faded away when he walked into an empty room. "Riley?"

Glancing around the bedroom, the en suite door was still open, and the light was off, so he knew she wasn't in there. The bed was still in pristine form and didn't look touched. He wasn't at all worried; Riley likely went for a snack, even though that thought seemed rather odd considering how adamant she was about returning to their quarters earlier.

Liam placed the toppings on a side table and slipped out his phone. He plopped down on the bench at the foot of their bed, thinking maybe he'd missed a message or call from her. 

There was nothing.

He scratched his head; it wasn't like Riley not to mention to him if she'd gone somewhere, not that she had to. But in this case, she knew he'd be up soon. Thinking about the overturned vase Liam walked upon, something started to not sit well with him. 

With the cell still in his hand, he pulled her contact information up. Just as he was about to hit the dial button, he heard "Liam" in a low, raspy voice.

Relief washed over him as he stood and put his phone away. "Love, you worried me. Everything okay?" Her face was ashen, and her eyes red and swollen. Liam's insides immediately clinched.

Riley didn't answer as Liam crossed the room, frantically approaching her, worry engraved on his features. “Riley, love, what’s wrong? What happened?” His eyes were desperately searching for any clue as to what was clearly something wrong with his wife.

She held out her hand, preventing him from coming too close. “Please ... don’t.”

Bewildered, he asked, “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

Riley turned her head away somberly; she couldn't bear to look at him. She had planned to get out of the palace before he returned from the ball; there was no way she would be able to face him. Liam would want an explanation that she couldn't give him. But when she got to the car, Riley noticed there was something important she forgot to give back to him, and there was no way she would take it. Maybe somewhere inside, even if she couldn't admit it, she needed to see him and do this right. “I ... have to go.” Her words were barely audible.

Liam's brows bumped together. “Go? You’re going somewhere this late? But you were tired before --”

“No,” Her head shook faster than she realized before she spat the rest out. “I’m leaving Cordonia. I’m returning to Las Vegas, and I’m not coming back.”

“Riley? What the hell is going on? You were fine and having a good time 30 minutes ago, and now, all of a sudden, you want to go back to Nevada. What am I missing here? Does this have something to do with what happened at dinner? Because I told you --”

“You’re not missing anything. I came here to prevent you from marrying Madeleine, and I did that. That was the agreement, and now ... I’m going home.”

Liam started to laugh and wagged his finger at her. “Leo put you up to pranking me? He's mad about me sending that damn monkey away and is trying to get me back, right? Because if he did, that's just … just heartless. And I don’t find it funny.”

“No, Liam.." She shook her head again. "Leo didn’t put me up to this, and it's not a prank.” Riley carefully pulled off the wedding bands she came back to give him and held them out to him.

He looked at them and gritted his teeth. “Put them back on,” he commanded.

“I can’t do that, Liam. They belonged to your mother, and I’m not taking something so sentimental with me back to Vegas.”

“You’re damn right you're not taking them back to Vegas with you because you’re not going!”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not!”

Riley choked out into a wispy sob, “I’m so sorry, Liam. I'm so sorry!”

He said nothing as he stared at her in disbelief and saw that she was serious. “Why?” He asked as his throat clenched and the first tear slipped down his cheek.

Her body felt leaden, never having seen him this shattered. “Liam, I just want to go home, okay? I mean ... this has been an amazing experience, and I’ll never forget it, but I miss my home, and my job, and my friends ..."

“Fuck your home! I’ll buy you one here that looks just like it. Visit your friends all you want ... hell, bring them here if you want to; I don’t care. That's NOT what's going on! There’s something you’re not telling me. And I want to know, NOW!”

Riley startled at his yell, wanting to hold him and make it better. “Liam, I don’t want to be in Cordonia anymore, or be the Queen, or live in this palace. I want to go home.”

He motioned around the room.“THIS is your home, Riley ... Cordonia.  I’m your home! This palace is your home." Liam scrubbed a frustrated hand furiously over his face. "Again, you were fine 30 minutes ago. What changed between you leaving the ball and coming up here? You're not telling the truth for some reason, but I can’t figure out why. Did I do something to upset you? Did someone else do something to upset you?"

"No!" she responded expeditiously.

"I love you, Riley. You know that, right?" She nodded; the glisten in his blue eyes and the desperation in his trembling voice was destroying her willpower. "Do you …  still love me?"

Riley slammed her eyes shut. She loved him with every fiber of her being, and to tell him so in this very moment would only serve to prolong this hellacious situation. The only way to protect him from losing everything -- in her mind -- was to let him go. He would fight her on this, and it broke her heart to see the pain and confusion in his eyes, but it had to be done.

“Do. You. Love. Me?” he enunciated his question once more. The struggle and agony on her face were evident to him.

Riley turned away from Liam and faced the door. Did she have it in her to answer that question with a lie?

"... the council will have no choice but to question Liam's decision-making abilities after not only squandering his pick of a queen on some American nobody but now one whose ass will be featured on the desktops of teenage boys across the world. It's a shame he'll lose his reign, all because of you. Would you really do that to Liam? Are you worth the trouble?"

The sadness crushed her. There was no other way to protect him. Riley swiped at her face and answered firmly.

“No.”

With that, the Queen walked out, leaving the King in an empty room with his shock, his confusion, and an unimaginable pain he'd never get over.

-----------

Tags:

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @yourmajesty09 @natureblooms24 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @kat-tia801 @debramcg1106 @shewillreadyou @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer

Liam x MC: @cordonia-gothqueen

Fools Rush In tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton​ @cordonianprincess​ @zaffrenotes​ @zilch3​ @drrookie​ @sfb123​ @secretaryunpaid​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted  a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good. 

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it. 

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered. 

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong. 

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been. 

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you? 

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend. 

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree. 

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe... 

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another. 

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction. 

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then. 

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them. 

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away. 

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now. 

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

-

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-” 

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift. 

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

-

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge. 

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid. 

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. 

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile. 

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[ronmanmob]

💗 Andy Riley

💗 Desires & Wants Meme​ 💔 Non-existent 💗 Very low 💗💗 A little 💗💗💗 Hopeful 💗💗💗💗 High 💗💗💗💗💗 Maximum

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗💗💗 (purely aesthetic appreciation of looks)

‘Magnetic’ly beau’iful’ is how Ron would describe Andy Riley, looks-wise; tall, dark and handsome with a roguish air that evokes some heady mixture of Harrison Ford’s Han Solo and a young Marlon Brando - to Ron’s eye at least. And he’d say as much to the man’s face if he asked him, but ‘til he does Ron’ll keep to his usual greeting; a fond, ‘Ello Trouble’ and a little wink. ‘Y’usual?’

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗💗💗 (how close a friend they consider them)

No matter how fate has them meet, Ron always finds Andy to be an absolute riot to go out on the town with. In certain kinds of company Ron can struggle keeping his social energy going the night through, but he and His American (as he fondly comes to call him) have such an easy back and forth as they chat nonsense at length, watch the game or otherwise party on down that his reserves never run into the red. 

Beyond those evenings-into-the-early-morning, Ron was beset at first with the same grief he has with all chaps - the habit he has of fronting up; pretending like his waters are calm and all’s well even when there’s a force nine blowing in and everything feels like its on fire. That reflex eases by degrees over time. The armour, so to speak, loosens slowly. And once its eased off enough, Horlicks nights - those insomnia-ridden bastards that bring no sleep but can, from time to time, let minds and hearts out into the open - occasionally occur. 

Be it in Ron’s kitchen with a literal mug of malty delicious, or on the pub’s roof or wherever else private they might find themselves, they talk into the marrow of each other, touching on topics which have, without meaning to, sparked off arguments and misunderstandings and yet...after some breathing room, they find each other again; learn each other’s shape that bit better and move forward with new knowledge; new understanding, even if they don’t or can’t agree. 

This mutual respect and trust are what Ron loves most about their friendship. In a world of yes-men and people pleasers, being challenged and proven wrong, having his mind changed and his views examined is something so rare as to be like gold dust.

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗💗💗💗 (wanting to have sex with them)

Given how attractive he finds Andy, Ron would be lying if he claimed to have no want to explore intimate relations with him. That said, he’s never had an indication from his pal that such a thing could come to pass between them, so he doesn’t let that kind of thought or feeling take root.

ROMANTIC INTENT: 💗💗💗💗 (hoping for a romantic relationship)

As is the case with sexual want, the notion of being romantically involved with a man he respects and cares for as much as he does Andy is a pleasant one, but is also one he won’t allow to take root without an indication from his friend that such a thing might be a mutual desire. Sowing seeds without that indication runs too high a risk of pain, and Ron doesn’t live his life - particularly his romantic life - to suffer.

@tarnishedhalo​ tagging you in dear as this came from a kindly Nonny

[puppypeter]

I love stucky and I love sambucky and I love reading about both, but you know what I would absolutely love to read? 500k about how Steve and Bucky were together during the war, then Steve wakes up in the new century and is all alone. He meets Sam, they become good friends and it slowly becomes something else. It’s comfort at first (they both know the struggle of being vets and the grief of losing someone they love), they get more touchy-feely, have cuddle sessions, then they smooch for the first time, go on dates. They deal with the guilt they both feel, as they feel they might be betraying their ‘one true love(s)’ (Bucky & Riley). Then canon stuff happens and Bucky shows up. But instead of Steve just running for him and leaving Sam behind (cause that’d be an ass move), as he heals they slowly integrate him in the relationship. And then all together they deal with the obvious issues of a bit of jealousy, learning to trust Bucky and help him, Sam accepting that while Steve got Bucky back he won’t get Riley back, but it’s ok, he’s got not one but two people that love him now. I don’t want one daddy and two sweeties or two daddies and one baby. I want equals. I want a sweet honest relationship where they take care of each other. Steve and Sam will look after Bucky when he has his nightmares and help him. When Steve misses his mum on her birthday, his boys are there for him. When it’s the anniversary of Riley’s passing, Steve and Bucky wrap Sam up in a ton of blankets, get him his favourite foods (they have to order in cause let’s be honest, Sam is probably the only one allowed in the kitchen) and cuddle the shit out of him. I want love and support, but also struggles and angst. But I also want laughter and fun. Sam bringing them to meet his sister and nieces and nephews, Steve and Bucky helping repair the boat, them all going to the gym to train together and Sam getting all loud about how it’s not fair they’re both super soldiers. Steve and Sam going for runs early in the morning, leaving Bucky in bed with a kiss on his forehead because there’s no way in hell he’s getting up early to go running, fuck that. But he’ll have the coffee hot and breakfast ready for when they come back. He’ll let them braid his hair while they obsess over a new tv show. Getting secret matching tattoos. All their dates!!! Steve and Sam showing Bucky all the good places to eat that Sam had taken Steve to back when they first started going out. Bucky dealing with his disability and getting comfortable with showing his body and not using the prosthetic at home. At some point they’ll deal with Steve’s issues around being Captain America vs being Steve Rogers. There’s a weird feeling in the air and Sam thinks maybe someone is about to propose, but Steve actually ends up giving him the shield. He just wants to be Steve, but he wants someone who deserves it to take on the mantle, if he wants it. They get him lots of arts supplies when he gets accepted to art school. They deal with Sam working with the Air Force again. Sometimes it’s tough, being back where he lost his lover, but it’s also amazing to be back (and he secretly enjoys telling his boyfriends all the sweet compliments he gets from Torres and seeing their reactions - Steve laughs cause Torres is adorable, Bucky’s eyes suddenly look a lot like the Winter Soldier so Sam shouts that he got him plums!!!). Bucky goes to therapy, it takes a few trials to find a good fit. Years down the line, they have kids. It was never in the plans until they went shopping together and Steve couldn’t stop staring at those little clothes and ended up getting all emotional in aisle 4. Sam and Bucky still go on missions here and there, Steve likes to be a stay at home dad, even when he has to run around make sure the kids don’t get into trouble. Thank god he has years of practice with his boys. And so many more things. Idk how I already wrote this much, I just wanted to say I’d really love to read about Steve/Sam/Bucky being saps in love. ❤️

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

too fast for love

Technically a sequel to this and this, but can totally be read as a sexy-fluffy standalone. And it’s also over on AO3.

- - -

1

It became a ritual after Sam returned home from Afghanistan, filled with overwhelming misery and crippling grief, and too jittery with the pressure of it most days to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. AJ and Cass had been so young, back then, a teething toddler who barely remembered his uncle, and a baby small enough that Sam had constantly been afraid of accidentally squishing him, somehow.

Which hadn’t stopped Sarah from pushing them into his arms with a cheery, “How about some time with Uncle Sammy, boys?” and absolutely no regard for Sam’s fumbling and sputtering.

He’d resented her for it, at times. For having the boys, and someone to raise them with, while Sam hadn’t even been able to bring Riley home to bury him. For making him be part of her happy little family, for engaging him and involving him in their daily lives. And even for being stronger than him, later on, for not falling apart completely, when Caleb had had the accident and made her a widow.

It still fills him with shame and guilt, even today, to think about those months. Because Sam knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if it hadn’t been for his sister, he wouldn’t be here today.

He would have given up.

But Sarah hadn’t let him. She’d always been the more stubborn one, out of the two of them.

(Watch out for the break!)

And so Sam had gone out on the boat with Caleb, had helped out at the restaurant, and had looked after the boys for them. He’d changed poopy diapers, endured tantrums, argued with a sassy two-year-old, and had realised, eventually, how much he loved it.

Loved it, and needed it.

Evenings had always been his favourite. He’d been perpetually exhausted those days, awake most nights to avoid the nightmares he knew would find him if he closed his eyes, and it had always been the worst during the evenings, when things started to calm down and settle. And the boys, however young they’d been, must have felt it, too, because in the evenings, they were content to curl up with Sam on the couch, watching him with big, curious eyes while Sam read to them.

And, somehow, they’d just never stopped.

They’re too old to want to be tucked in by their uncle every night, now, but whenever Sam’s home for a stretch of time, they’ll eventually fall back into their comfortable, practiced routine. The books have changed, from ones with few words and colourful pictures to novels about pirates and treasures, but they still sprawl all over Sam with their pointy elbows, bickering over the best spot until Sam makes them shriek with laughter by threatening to dump them on the floor.

Sam is simultaneously surprised, and not surprised at all, by how seamlessly Bucky fits into all of it. As if there had always been this space, reserved and waiting just for him, ready to be filled with snarky remarks and soft, eye-crinkling smiles alike.

He’s leaning in the doorway of the boys’ room, watching them puzzle over their newest Lego set with Bucky. It looks like it’s got about a million tiny little pieces he will undoubtedly step on at some point, and Sam’s honestly kind of relieved that Bucky seems to be genuinely enjoying the whole building process, because he’s not sure he’d have the patience for it.

Cass is still sorting pieces into piles, despite his drooping eyes, but AJ is mostly leaning against Buck, yawning every so often as he squints down at the instructions. They’d insisted they wanted Bucky, tonight, high-fiving and grinning at each other when Sarah had given them the okay, nearly tripping over each other in their hurry to get upstairs and into their PJs.

“Looks like your stuck with the dishes, buddy,” Bucky had said, all fake sympathy, before he’d winked at Sam, and followed the boys with a shouted, “An’ don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

“Look at you, all smitten,” Sarah had teased, and only laughed at him when Sam had forced the undoubtedly sappy smile off his face to glare at her. “Now go grab a towel.”

AJ slumps a little more against Bucky, not even pretending to read anymore. Bucky strokes a hand over his head, and glances up at Sam, brows raised in question.

“All right, monsters,” Sam says, stepping into the room, “time for bed.”

The boys are tired enough that they don’t even put up much of a protest, crawling under the covers while Sam turns off the overhead light, and Bucky turns on the star projector. Bucky gets sleepy fistbumps from them both, then leaves Sam to say good night in peace.

AJ is already mostly asleep, only murmuring quietly when Sam kisses the top of his head, but Cass tugs at his sleeve until Sam perches on the edge of his bed. He pillows his head on Sam’s thigh with a happy little sigh, making Sam chuckle softly, and gently scratch his fingers through his hair until his breaths even out.

Bucky’s fresh out of the shower when Sam gets up to his attic bedroom, towel slung around his hips and hair still wet. He comes readily when Sam reaches for him, tucking himself against Sam, and humming contentedly when Sam runs his hands up and down his back.

“You’re good with them,” Sam tells him, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder, right over the connection between metal and flesh, “Uncle Bucky.”

Sam can feel Bucky smile against the side of his head. “They’re good kids,” he murmurs back, arms winding around Sam’s waist.

“I’m surprised they didn’t make you read to them, though,” Sam muses. He opens his mouth against Bucky’s neck, just to feel him shiver, and threads his fingers into the short hair at the back of his head. “Only a few chapters left in this one. They’ve been bugging me for two chapters most nights.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, pulling back. His face is open, eyes half-lidded, and mouth soft with a half-smile. “Readin’ with them, ‘s your thing.”

Sam marvels, sometimes, at just how good Bucky is at reading people. Sam never told him any of this, yet here Bucky is, knowing it anyway, and going out of his way to find his own special thing to do with the boys.

Being considerate. Being downright sweet.

It’s tempting, to say it right then. To tell Bucky. But it’s too soon for something so big, so important, so Sam swallows the words back down, and kisses Bucky instead.

 2

Watching Bucky come undone beneath him is something Sam will absolutely never get tired of.

It’s intimate, a privilege, to be allowed to see Bucky like this, unguarded and trusting. There’s a watchfulness that’s been beaten into him, in the army and under HYDRA, that Bucky’s never quite been able to shake again. It’s most pronounced on missions, during fights, where Bucky’s unwavering awareness of their surroundings has saved both their asses on multiple occasions.

At home, here in Delacroix, he’s different. To most people, he probably looks relaxed, at ease, but Sam knows better. Sure, yeah, Bucky isn’t constantly on high alert, lets himself be a person instead of a soldier, but that doesn’t magically erase decades of training and torture that have become instinct.

And that instinct shows, in small ways, every day.

The neighbourhood adores Bucky, and Sam is unspeakably grateful to them for bringing him into the fold without questions or judgement, but whenever they’re delighted because Bucky remembers a birthday or some other special occasion, Sam worries. Because Bucky’s genuine with his well-wishes and kindness, but the reason he knows what he knows isn’t the town gossip or new friendships he’s struck up, it’s hours upon hours of research and observation to ensure there isn’t any sort of threat hiding out in plain sight.

There hasn’t been a single broken glass or plate in the house since Bucky’s been staying with them. He always knows exactly where the boys are, if they’re playing outside, and he’s got Sarah’s work schedule memorised down to the minute.

And at times, mostly after particularly bad nights, he can barely let Sam out of his sight.

Bucky has been without control over anything for so long, it’s become something he’s borderline obsessive about, now. They don’t talk about it much, but Sam knows Bucky’s working on it with his new therapist; on sitting back, on letting others be in charge, of themselves and of him, when it’s necessary.

On letting himself be taken care of.

“Sam,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, pulling Sam back out of his own head. “Sam, please.”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam murmurs, and leans down to brush a kiss over Bucky’s slack mouth. “I’m right here, I got you.”

He gives a shallow thrust of his hips that has Bucky moan softly, eyes fluttering, and brushes some of the sweaty hair away from Bucky’s forehead. He kisses the soft skin under Bucky’s left eye as he begins to move again, slow but steady, one hand cupping Bucky’s cheek, and the other trailing teasingly down his chest, lower and lower.

Bucky’s breath hitches when Sam’s hand curls around his straining cock, then he groans low in his throat when Sam starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.

“Ssh, baby, it’s okay.” Sam kisses his cheek, chuckling softly when Bucky turns his head with a whine, demanding more. “I got you, you’re okay. Let go for me, baby.”

He kisses Bucky, properly, and flicks his thumb over the head of Bucky’s cock the next time he pushes in. Bucky’s quiet as he comes, going tense for a long moment, fingers digging into Sam’s back, before he shudders all over, and melts back into the mattress.

“That’s it,” Sam praises, working him through it. “That’s it, baby, that’s perfect.”

He moves to sit back when Bucky’s cock starts to go soft in his hand, and takes a moment to just look, to appreciate. Bucky’s eyes are glassy and damp, his lips red and swollen. He’s got his arms stretched out loosely over his head, fingers twitching absently every now and again, and there’s evidence of his orgasm from his navel up to his chest, a few drops dangerously close to one pebbled nipple.

He looks obscene. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and Sam’s so fucking in love with this man, it’s unreal.

But he knows better than to say as much with his dick still hard inside Bucky, so he settles his hands on Bucky’s hips, and asks, “Okay?”

It takes Bucky a few seconds of blissed-out staring to respond, but then he nods, and rasps out, “Yeah, c’mon.”

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. He tightens his grip, and starts thrusting again, faster now, chasing his own release. Bucky’s making the most beautiful sounds for him, breathless little ahs with each of Sam’s pushes, back arching, tongue dipping out to lick his bottom lip—

“Shit, Bucky,” Sam curses when he comes, collapsing forward, onto Bucky’s chest. He tucks his face into Bucky’s neck, panting, as Bucky wraps an arm around him, squeezing him. “Gonna kill me, one of these days.”

Bucky’s chuckling as he rolls them over, ignoring Sam’s half-hearted complaints, and lowers himself down to bring their mouths together. They make out unhurriedly, hands roaming lazily, until Sam has to pull away to yawn.

They’re sticky and gross, and Sam’s definitely going to bitch about it tomorrow, but he lets Bucky tug the covers up over them anyway. He grunts at the manhandling when Bucky rolls him over onto his side to spoon up behind him, but lets Bucky take his hand, and link their fingers together.

He falls asleep to the steady, familiar rhythm of Bucky’s breathing.

 3

The temptation to dropkick the guy with the weird, glowy spear right off the roof is really fucking hard to ignore, what with Bucky’s blood still dripping from the thing’s tip. At least the guy looks suitably terrified as Sam stalks towards him, looking up at Sam with wide eyes as he clutches at the bullethole in his shoulder.

Because of course Bucky still manages to shoot someone while he’s in the process of falling off a goddamn three-story building.

Sam has to shake his head against the memory of the sound it had made, the sickening crunch, when Bucky’d hit the ground, of Bucky’s pain-filled scream in his ear right before the comms had gone quiet. He ignores whatever the guy is saying as he kicks away the spear and cuffs him, a little rougher about it than strictly necessary, and takes off as soon as the first SWORD chopper comes into view.

“Torres—”

“We’re in an ambulance, heading West,” Torres answers immediately, “they’re taking him to St Anna’s.”

Swooping higher, Sam finally spots the ambulance’s flashing lights in the distance. “I see you.”

Torres doesn’t say anything else, but he keeps the connection open for Sam. The medics don’t say much, too busy stabilising Bucky, but being able to hear them work—knowing that they’re not giving up on him—is the only thing keeping Sam sane right now.

People part for him like the Red Sea as he storms into the emergency room, and for once, he’s glad to be recognisable when a nurse approaches him with a nod, and a brisque, “Follow me, Captain.”

He’s led to an empty room and given a set of scrubs to change into, which he accepts gratefully. The nurse quirks an apologetic smile at him when he asks about Bucky.

“He’s in surgery right now,” the man, Alexei, tells him, voice full of sympathy. “His right lung was punctured, but at the moment, they’re more worried about potential spinal injuries. Sergeant Barnes was unresponsive when he arrived, but his vitals looked promising, given the circumstances.”

“That’s—okay, yeah.” Sam scrubs trembling hands over his face, taking a few deep breaths. “Thank you.”

Alexei inclines his head with another kind smile. “I’ll let you know the moment there are any new developments.”

Sam’s just changed into the scrubs when there’s a knock on the door, and Torres peeks his head in. He slips inside when he spots Sam, closing it quietly behind himself.

There’s blood all over him, from his neck down to his waist, but most of it on his arms and hands. He’s pale, and trembling, and Sam has pulled him into a tight, bruising hug before he’s even consciously aware of having crossed the room.

Torres grips him back just as hard for several long moments, before he steps back with a wet, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I tried to help, to stop the bleeding, but there was so much blood everywhere—”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” Sam cuts in, gentle but firm. He reaches out to squeeze Torres’ shoulders, giving him a little shake. “You hear me? You did everything you were supposed to do, Lieutenant.”

He sends Torres’ off to go clean up in the small ensuite while he goes to find another set of scrubs. While he’s at it, Sam detours to the first snack machine he sees, and buys the most sugary things he can find. He can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, now that he’s not pumped full of adrenalin anymore, but he refuses to crash.

Not before he knows that Bucky’s okay.

They wait for what feels like hours, sitting next to each other on surprisingly comfortable chairs back in their room, snacking on their candy. Alexei comes by every so often, though he can’t tell them much. Torres’ nods off eventually, slumped against Sam’s side, but Sam stays awake, watching the door.

He still jumps when it finally opens, startling Torres awake as well. They both stand as Bucky is wheeled into the room, followed by a woman who must be the surgeon. She explains the procedure and Bucky’s injuries, but Sam’s brain shuts her out as soon as he hears that Bucky’s out of the woods.

It’s definitely rude, but Sam doesn’t currently have the mental capacity to care. All he can focus on is Bucky. Bucky’s ashen face, and the dark circles under his closed eyes. The coolness of his skin, when Sam takes his hand to press a lingering kiss to the back of it.

He doesn’t notice Alexei and the doctor leaving, or Torres moving closer. Not until Torres tentatively touches his side to guide him into one of the chairs he’s dragged over.

It’s early morning, Torres asleep on the floor this time, when Bucky’s fingers curl around Sam’s, holding on weakly. Sam lets himself cry, then.

“I love you,” he thinks, clutching Bucky’s hand like a lifeline. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 +1

“Fuck, shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Sam swears as he sprints across the hall, the hardwood floor way too cold under his feet. “First thing we’re getting is a rug.”

It won’t technically be the first thing they buy, since they’ve already ordered some more furniture online, but it’s too early in the morning for semantics. The point is, the heat hasn’t been turned on yet in their new house, which hadn’t been as much of a problem last night with a human-shaped furnace under the covers with him, but seems like a pretty severe oversight right about now.

The noise Sam makes when an arm sneaks around him from behind, lifting him up and depositing him on a stool at the breakfast bar, definitely isn’t anywhere close to a squeak. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, man?”

Bucky drops a kiss on his shoulder before he moves back to the stove, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What, that’s the thanks I get for savin’ your poor feet from frostbite?”

“Well, thank you, honey,” Sam says sweetly, making sure his words are   dripping with sarcasm, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Bucky puts a steaming plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. “Damn right, you wouldn’t,” he preens, waggling his eyebrows, and kisses Sam’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Sam says, a couple of minutes later, genuine this time. He lifts up a forkful of perfectly soft, cheesy eggs when Bucky raises a brow at him. “These are good.”

Bucky just smiles, and hooks his foot around Sam’s. But then the smile turns wider, suddenly, brighter, until he’s laughing quietly, and shaking his head.

“What?” Sam asks, and knocks their knees together when Bucky just keeps giggling, all excited and giddy. “Come on, Buck, what?”

“We got a house,” Bucky manages eventually, biting his lip, though his eyes are still crinkled happily. “Sam, we own a house. Together. For real.”

Warmth blooms in Sam’s chest at that, and he just has to reach out and grasp Bucky’s free hand. “Yeah,” he says, unable not to smile back. “Yeah, we do.”

“Fuckin’ right,” Bucky cheers, which has Sam laughing in turn. He stops abruptly, though, when the next words out of Bucky’s mouth are, “I love you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sam groans, and throws his hands up in the air. “Are you kidding me? For months I’ve been trying to find the right moment. The perfect moment. I was gonna make it romantic, woo the shit out of you. And you just—”

“Sam, sweetheart.” Bucky sounds amused, mostly, but there’s so much affection there as well, in the soft lines around his eyes, and the way he’s sweeping his metal thumb across the back of Sam’s hand, slow and steady. “I fuckin’ love you, you shithead. An’ I said it first, so, ya know. Deal with it.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” Sam says, without heat, even as he uses their joint hands to tug Bucky towards him across the bar. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Yeah,” Bucky hums, leaning in close, “I really am. Now shut up, and kiss me, Samuel.”

And for once, Sam sees no reason to argue, and does just that.

[spencers-renaissance]

A Chronicle of Loss

Summary: 5 people Spencer Reid lost and 1 person he gained. A look at the traumas Spencer faces over the series, and giving him the happy ending he deserves.

Tags: grief, loss, abandonment issues, insecurity, depression, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, getting together, ‘didn’t know they were dating’, protective derek, autistic spencer

TW: self-harm, drug addiction, grief

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

The Inescapable Unravelling (<)

1. William

Spencer’s only ten years old when he watches his father pack his bags in his parents’ bedroom, watches as he smiles sadly at the sorry sight of him and his mother begging him not to leave, only to ignore their pleas and walk out the door. He remembers the anxiety written on his mother’s face, the shame in her eyes at being left in such a cruel way, the uncertainty as to whether they’d cope without William like it’s branded onto his skin, an egregious mark he can’t ignore. 

Just like that, he became the man of the house. He became the voice of reason, the sensible one, the person dealing with Diana’s episodes, all while balancing his school work in a desperate attempt to live a different life to the one he existed in as a child. 

He knows it wasn’t solely Diana, or Riley Jenkins, or any average marital issue that caused him to leave, he knows it was partly that William simply didn’t know how to handle an autistic child prodigy. He had a genius son who struggled with communication, had no friends, and refused to engage in any of the bonding activities he came up with. In the end, Spencer being different only compounded his desire to leave and, eventually, he stopped suppressing it and gave in.

He’d never blame his mother, but her confusion in her episodes often sent him flying down half a flight of steps or clutching a stinging cheek or banging his head on a door frame. She called him clumsy and he didn’t correct her. She called him ‘crash’ and he accepted the nickname. Without William there, he was completely and utterly alone, left to deal with the grief of losing a father and a schizophrenic mother who struggled to look after herself, let alone him. 

He still thinks about it all these years later. He thinks about what his father said to Diana when he left: “you refuse to take care of yourself.” He reflects on the fact that he was well aware Diana wouldn’t be able to take care of him, that he would be left to fend for himself, that a 10 year old can’t provide adequate mental health support no matter how hard he tries, and he still left. He thinks about what that meant, how little his father actually cared for him. 

He still thinks about it, and he still cries. His first encounter with grief, and he was only 10 years old. 

2. Innocence

Spencer had joined the BAU at 22: three PhDs under his belt and a lifetime of expectation on his shoulders, but somehow he’d managed to remain the most innocent member of the team throughout the first few years of his job. Until Tobias Hankel had taken it and completely obliterated any shreds of naivete he had left. 

Of course, he knew evil. He’d even experienced it first-hand, he’d been viciously bullied growing up and he’d encountered his fair share of violent, deranged serial killers, but Tobias -- or, more accurately, Charles and Raphael -- introduced him to evil on a completely new scale. The pain and fear that had tormented him in that cabin lived in a secluded, festering part of his psyche, reproducing at a terrifying rate in his memory, never resting, never quieting, unless dilaudid was streaming through his veins. 

His innocence was gone; there was only darkness, loneliness, corruption, and he was grieving for something he’d never get back. His life was now separated into two distinctly different eras, marked only by his kidnapping, by the cruel torture he’d been subjected to. 

Along with his innocence, he’d lost his relationships, he’d lost the family he’d found and loved so dearly. Nobody tried to help him escape the clutches of his PTSD or addiction, he felt like he was drowning right in front of his friends while they talked and laughed among themselves, muffling his desperate cries for help, and the frustration and abandonment joined the pain and fear in their festering corner of his mind. 

He eventually gets clean, he eventually recovers. But he’s never the same. He’s forever tainted by the actions of one man -- a man he struggled to blame -- and he can’t help but mourn the life he had before Tobias, the optimistic, brightly coloured world-view he used to hold before it was ripped up, stamped on, and burned to ashes right before his eyes. 

3. Gideon

Gideon leaves. Gideon leaves and the blow is almost as crushing as it was when he was ten. His mentor, his father figure, his friend abandons him with no warning, no goodbye. It hurts that he didn’t think Spencer worthy of anything more than a useless fucking letter that he left for him in a cabin because he knew that Spencer loved him enough to drive out there and find it; he knew that Gideon was much more special to Spencer than he ever was to him.

This pain feels almost worse because he’s surrounded by people feeling the same way, if to a less extreme extent. He finds himself comparing himself to Hotch, Derek, the whole team: it makes him feel as though he’s overreacting when even Penelope, arguably the most emotive member of the BAU, seems back on her feet within a few days and Spencer still feels as though he’s been hollowed out and all his insides replaced with the smouldering ashes of grief filling him up, weighing heavy in his stomach, climbing up his throat and choking him. 

He drags his feet, he doesn’t sleep, he drinks coffee, he runs on auto-pilot. Others notice, of course they do, but there’s nothing any of them can say to make it better, not even Hotch when he’s pulled into his office and sternly told that he needs to open up. Spencer just looks at him with empty, exhausted eyes and shrugs. Weeks ago, he would’ve cried but there aren’t anymore tears to cry, he’s reached a truce with himself. He isn’t happy but he isn’t crushingly depressed anymore: he feels nothing, an abyss of grey matter circling around inside him as he struggles to perform basic functions. 

“It’ll get better, kid,” Derek says seriously one day when he sits down at his desk, dullness settled deep in his eyes and numbness deep in his veins. It doesn’t feel like it. 

Rossi joins the team and he’s nothing but cold towards Spencer and the rejection only adds insult to injury, and nobody seems to care. His stomach hurts all the time and he’s losing weight again, he knows, but he can’t seem to put any effort into anything at all, least of all trying to be happy, trying to look after himself. 

He’s lost his protector and he’s replaced by another person who sees him as an intentional but irritating robot to be used and discarded, not thought of again until another geographical profile is required, or an obscure fact would help the investigation. The agony of existence for almost a year after Gideon’s disappearance feels almost too much to bear, even if Rossi does warm up to him, even if he does eventually begin to heal and forgive. It’s the first time grief almost kills him, and he isn’t even mourning the dead. 

4. Emily

Emily’s death tears him apart. For the first time since the year after Hankel, he considers many things. He buys dilaudid and fiddles with the bottle every evening, torn between the sweet relief he knows would be guaranteed the second it’s flooding his bloodstream and the torment of knowing it was Emily who helped him get clean the first time, how disappointed she’d be if she knew he was throwing away all those hours she put in, disregarding the belief she had in him. 

He holds a razor over the top of his thighs and slashes as deep as he can bear, daydreams about burying the blade deep enough to slice open his femoral artery and give up, embrace the darkness that’s been living inside him for years anyway. But he can’t stand the grief it would bring JJ, losing another sibling to suicide, even if he isn’t blood related. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone but himself, but it’s so cripplingly tempting and the frustration at not being able to give in to any of his darker fantasies has him tearing his heart out. 

Instead he cries, sobs, weeps, over the death of his best friend, shouts in anger at the unfairness of Emily’s life being taken by a dirty criminal while he gets to live as she’s six feet under, dark and cold in the ground. Images of her beautiful face he loved so much rotting away, turning into something grotesque and mangled roam around in his brain and he berates himself relentlessly for not appreciating her wide grin and teasing eyes more, hates himself for not appreciating every single moment with her that he could. 

And when she miraculously rises from the dead, he can’t even appreciate it because he feels as though he’s lost another friend. JJ, the one person he tried every day to live for, pictured in his mind every time he considered ending everything, had deceived him, had held him while he cried, held a cool washcloth to his forehead after he threw up from the force of his crying and the extremity of his grief, had watched him writhe in agony, all while having the power to stop it and doing nothing. 

The betrayal dizzies him: he doesn’t know who he can trust and the shock of Emily’s return leaves him reeling. He’s cold to the people he loves, and he can’t rejoice in Emily’s return, can’t sit down with her and chat like they used to, or hug her again, or joke with her, or prank Derek together. Again, he’s drowning and this time everyone’s focus is on him but he’s refusing their hands reaching out to help, stubbornly accepting his fate, too scared to take an outstretched arm in case it lets him go again. Surely the cold darkness of the cruel waters is kinder than another rejection or deception?

Finally, finally, he decides to trust one hand and he’s pulled above the waters again, not quite out of the ocean but at least he can breathe. Eventually, he finds the strength to walk to shore and he’s wrapped up in Emily’s strong arms, burying his face in her hair and swearing he’ll never let go again. 

5. Alex

He never, not for a moment, blames Alex for her decision to let go. If anything he admires her for it, he’s proud she made the right decision for her and her family, and at least he saw this one coming. He’s lost enough people by this point that the loss doesn’t ache and burn and fester in the way it used to, and they stay in contact; they have a bi-weekly FaceTime call and she texts him memes that he doesn’t understand and book recommendations regularly. 

But that’s not to say that losing his maternal figure on the team, the woman who he’d connected with the fastest out of any BAU member, who had understood him in a way no-one else could, who loved and cared for him like a son, doesn’t stab him in the gut. 

He’d take a bullet for absolutely everyone on the team, but he hadn’t taken a bullet for Alex out of some misguided loyalty to a coworker or because she was a member of the BAU, he’d taken a bullet for her because she was the best person he knew, and - plain and simple - some inner, more primal instinct within him wanted to save her life. And she’d stayed with him at the hospital, a little due to her guilt, a little due to her seeing Ethan in him, but mostly because she loved him. 

And he loved her. So seeing her walk down those stairs and knowing she wouldn’t walk into the bullpen the next morning - no matter how much he knew that this was the right thing for her to do - left him feeling hollow again, a little broken, a lot sore. He missed her deeply, both because she was an amazing asset to the team, but also because she’s a beautiful person who brought sunshine to his gloomy world. She had an indescribable talent for making him happy, and he felt her absence in his every-day life bitterly.

Although she’s still around, she still finds ways to brighten his day, still has some creepy telepathic ability to know when he’s down and exactly how to make him feel better, it’s another loss to add to the many he’s somehow managed to have collected over the years. And he can’t seem to tell the grief in his heart any different. 

At least this time it can be temporarily alleviated by a text message. It’s more than he could have asked for, really. 

The Gradual Intertwining (>)

+1 Derek

He falls in love with Derek like the kind of slow and steady drizzle that’s almost indistinguishable from heavy mist; so easily confused for the ordinary, familiar platonic feelings he’s harboured for years. It’s because of this that he doesn’t put up an umbrella, he continues walking as he’s gradually soaked in deep, entrenched yearning, until one day, he finally realises it’s raining. 

It’s on the morning of Rossi’s 60th birthday party that it finally clicks and, suddenly, it’s obvious. He let Derek carry him to bed last night after he fell asleep watching a movie, for God’s sake: he’d even woken up on the way but faked it just so he wouldn’t put him down. He’s known for years that a 187 IQ doesn’t mean his emotional intelligence is excellent, too, but this feels ridiculous even for him. He’s practically been in a relationship for years and he had no idea. This must be why he always got that strange feeling in his stomach when Derek talked about literally anybody else.

This is not an ideal realisation to come to when Derek is currently cuddled around him, about to wake up any minute. Spencer tries very hard not to think about the fact that he won’t blink an eye at their entwined limbs and what that means, but he’s not exactly in control of his thoughts right now. 

He feels like he sleepwalks through the morning, trying to pay attention to what Derek talks to him about as he cooks him breakfast, but his mind has sort of short-circuited, not knowing how to adapt to this new information. His brain is not equipped to process being in love, and zoning out is as good a coping mechanism as any for now. It’s not until they head back to the bedroom to get dressed and ready for the day that he snaps out of it.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says loudly, clicking his fingers in front of Spencer’s face to get his attention. 

“Hm?” Spencer hums, feeling the world fade back into focus despite the haze of confusion still dizzying him somewhat. 

“Alright, you’ve been spacy with me all morning,” Derek says, shifting his weight slightly as he levels Spencer with an inquisitive gaze. He can’t help but feel a cool kind of dread pour down his spine at the idea of that look figuring him out. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, sorry,” Spencer says, forcing himself to snap back into action as he attempts to compartmentalise. “Just… didn’t sleep well, I guess.”

Derek looks doubtful but takes him at his word. “Okay,” he acquiesces. “Better get dressed, though. We’ve got a lot to get through today.”

“We do?” Spencer asks, ignoring the fact that he’s still stood in his ratty, oversized shirt and underwear in front of the man he’s deeply in love with, maybe for the sake of his sanity, maybe because he finds it hard to be embarrassed in front of Derek Morgan, not after all these years. 

“Yeah,” Derek says, like it’s obvious, “we gotta run to the grocery store and pick up a present for Rossi - probably some food for this barebones apartment of yours, too - pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners, and swing round Penelope’s to give her the blender I borrowed back. And I know for a fact you have some work to do on your latest paper, as well.”

Spencer, with his new perspective on the situation, considers the fact that Derek has included him in errands that are pretty exclusive to his own life. He also considers the fact that he never would have stopped to think this odd if he didn’t have the knowledge he has now. Unfortunately, simply considering does not shed much light on the situation. 

Because of this, Spencer does what he’s always done. He nods and gets ready for his day of driving around with Derek doing very mundane chores and wonders why he feels so excited. 

(While they’re out and about, it strikes Spencer why the realisation that he’s in love with Derek feels so paralysing: almost everyone he’s ever loved has left. He’s 34 and he’s never had a loving, committed relationship, and that’s for a reason: there’s only so much grief one heart can take. How could he ever give himself over to someone, hand them the key to his heart, open the door into his life, knowing that they could leave? Forever simply doesn’t exist, not for Spencer anyway. And truly, he doesn’t think he’d survive the loss of Derek, he can’t think of anything in the world that would be more painful.)

Despite the emotional exertion of the day, Rossi’s party is actually fairly enjoyable, probably aided by the glass of wine Spencer had accepted immediately upon entering the garden, he bloody well deserved it after the day he’s had. He gets chatting with JJ and Hotch and he barely even notices the absence of Derek by his side, having been roped into a conversation with Rossi and one of his famous poker friends that Spencer wouldn’t be able to place with a gun to his head. 

It’s not long before they reconvene though, programmed with some kind of homing instinct that always leads them back to one another, and Derek’s leaning a bit too close. Spencer finds it a little hard to breathe with his body pressed so close to his own, Derek’s warm, wine flavoured breath on his ear making his insides flip and setting butterflies free to roam his stomach. 

They spend the rest of the party like that, pressed away together in a corner, tucked inside one another’s pockets, and Spencer knows that he’s responsible for at least half of the instigation: he’s pressing back against Derek’s side with just as much pressure, leaning in closer, laughing a little louder, not bothering to hide the adoration that must be plainly written across his face. 

“Wanna come back to mine for a drink?” Derek asks as the night draws to a close, and how can Spencer refuse? They spend more nights together than apart at this point, and the last thing he wants is to feel lonely tonight, not after today.

“Please,” is all he says.

No-one says anything when they leave together, Derek’s hand loosely placed on his lower back. 

Derek’s apartment is warm and tidy, the opposite of Spencer’s, but it feels just as much like home as his own when he steps over the threshold. He’s about to tell him just that, but as he turns around to face him, Derek’s looking at him in a way he’s never seen before and his breath catches.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?” 

Derek steps a little closer, crowding into his space even more. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Spencer doesn’t bother answering, instead closing the gap on his own and pressing his lips to Derek’s. His hands go to Derek’s side on instinct but as he kisses back, Spencer feels one hand tangling itself gently in his hair, and another cupping his jaw and he gives way, melting into the touch. The whole thing goes right to his stomach, feeling it bottom out as the intensity of the moment threatens to overwhelm him before a small sound escapes Derek’s lips and he’s reminded who’s kissing him, whose hands are on him, who’s making him feel these things. All of a sudden, it’s easier to let go.

Their lips mould together as they collapse into one another, the final piece of the gradual intertwining of their lives and bodies over the last twelve years. A fire lights under Spencer and he feels his world tilt on its axis, except unlike previous life-altering experiences, this time it feels like its tilting into place, as though he’s been off-kilter this whole time, finally returned to his natural state. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this,” Derek whispers as they pull away.

“Why didn’t you kiss me sooner, then?” Spencer asks. 

“Today is the first day you knew you wanted it,” Derek replies, before he’s kissing him again. 

(Later that night, when they’re tucked into Derek’s bed, Spencer lies with his head on his chest, comforted by the steady, reassuring heartbeat as Derek whispers promises of forever into his hair. Spencer knows that nobody can ever really promise anything, but for the first time in his life, he decides it doesn’t matter. They’ll have to part some day, in one way or another - maybe Spencer will be the one to go first this time - but he realises that he’d rather have known Derek like this, to have known how it feels to love and be loved back, only to have him leave, than to have him stay and never know it at all.)

@criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

[anactorya]

What Doesn’t Kill You (2200 words, PG-13, hospitalization, grief/mourning, mild horror)

Written for the @sambuckylibrary Halloween bingo. Prompt: witching hour. Also on AO3.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Sam’s heard it a hundred times, even believed it a few of them.

Right now, clutching the edges of his hospital chair tight enough to leave fingernail imprints in the scratchy plastic, watching Bucky waxen and still and breathing through a tube, he’s pretty sure it’s a bunch of bullshit. Because he’s fine, got a few scrapes and bruises and a knock on the head that didn’t even give him a concussion, nowhere near death’s door, and he feels weaker and more useless than he ever has. Worn out like an old dishtowel. You could hold him up to the light and see right through him.

He keeps thinking back to Steve. All the hours Sam spent sitting at his bedside after they found him half-drowned on the bank of the Potomac, waiting for him to wake up. He held it together pretty good back then, but this is different. The doctors keep saying shit like minimal brain activity and invasive life support and limits of enhanced healing, and Sam knows what that stuff means. Bucky isn’t going to wake up.

In a way, it’s more like the day Riley died, except the whole thing’s happening in slow motion and Sam gets a front row seat to every excruciating inch of that spiral towards the ground. Another person Sam loved, gone before he ever plucked up the courage to say how he felt, because he can fall backwards out of planes and leap off buildings and go toe-to-toe with alien megalomaniacs, but when it comes to letting someone else in on his heart, he’s a fucking coward.

So, yeah. Sam’s lost people before. Riley, his parents, Nat. Steve, who never even said a real goodbye. Karli, who could’ve been good if he’d gotten through to her a little earlier. But this might be the one that finally breaks him.

A hand finds his shoulder, startling him out of his reverie. It’s Rhodes, his face set in a carefully neutral expression that makes Sam want to say something shitty just to wipe it off.

He doesn’t. Rhodes has always been good to him, better than he has to be, and the guy knows what it’s like. He lost a best friend too.

Except, no, he doesn’t know, not really. Nobody does. Sam’s never told them.

“Sam,” Rhodes says, heavily, “you’ve been here for three days, and I hate to say it, but you’re starting to smell like it.”

Sam shakes his head, breathes into his hands.

“At least take a shower, sleep in an actual bed. The doctors–”

“The doctor told me to contact his family, make arrangements,” he hears himself say. His voice is very distant, very flat. “I’m his family.”

“Pepper has people,” Rhodes offers. “If you don’t wanna deal with that stuff, you don’t have to.”

A flash of anger burns in his chest–at the way everyone’s talking about this like a done deal, like it’s already over, and at the same time, at the thought that if he has to organise a, a fucking funeral for Bucky he might want to be hands-off about it, not make sure himself that everything gets done right. It’s a tangled, inchoate mess of feeling, none of which makes it out his mouth. His hands are shaking.

Rhodes squeezes his shoulder. “Go home, Sam. Be with your family.”

He leaves, and the only sound left in the room is Bucky’s mechanical breathing. The bruises on his face have faded away, healing where the damage inside of him couldn’t and leaving him looking unfairly normal. Like a still photograph of himself, except for all the damn equipment keeping him alive.

Sam got wake up you asshole and you’re not allowed to leave me here alone out of his system days ago, and now all he does is reach for Bucky’s hand and squeeze it. Bucky doesn’t squeeze back, doesn’t react at all, not even a flutter of an eyelid, and after a moment Sam lets his hand fall back to his side.

#

Louisiana means you grow up knowing magic’s real. Sam knew it long before he ever met Wanda or Strange, or saw an alien god opening portals to another world on the TV news. It isn’t some big mystery, and it’s probably the same anyplace you can head out on the water–or up a mountain or into the deeps of a forest–and not see a living soul for hours on end. It just is. You know there are things out there, strange and old and probably best left alone, so you avoid them unless you’re desperate.

Sam’s been desperate before, or thought he was. He got halfway out here after Riley died, before he remembered he preferred physics to folklore and turned the hell around.

Tonight, he isn’t so sure.

There’s a post sticking up from the bank at the edge of the water, probably the remnant of an old dock that’s long since crumbled into the water. Some people claim it’s the signpost of a drowned crossroad, though that doesn’t make a lick of sense geographically.

Either way, what the rumours say is it’s a place to get help when all human means have failed. Come out here in the hour after midnight–the witching hour, when the veil between worlds is thinnest. Take a photograph and a drop of your blood, bury them beside the post, and something will come out of the water and help you. For a price.

Now, Sam scrapes away damp earth with his bare hands, Carlos’s borrowed boat bobbing in the water behind him. Hurried out here so fast he forgot to bring tools. Lucky Carlos left his penknife in there.

The photograph is from Torres’s Polaroid phase. Ankara, he thinks, after a mission. Bucky’s usual scowl has slipped as he crouches to pet one of the ubiquitous street cats (It doesn’t matter if he’s got fleas, Sam, they can’t bite vibranium!) and Sam’s in the foreground, smiling way brighter than he’d realised at the time.

Sam bisects it carefully with the penknife, making sure no part of Bucky is visible on the section he presses into the ground, and slips the other half into his back pocket. Then he grits his teeth and draws the blade across his palm, watches the blood spatter his sunlit face.

After that, he waits.

It’s almost peaceful out here for a while, just the insect noises of the night and the plashing of the water and the sound of his own breathing. The minutes tick down toward the end of the witching hour, and he almost convinces himself this isn’t gonna work.

And then.

It’s like the air and the silence thicken, a veil drawn between him and the rest of the world. Each breath feels a little harder, the night heat heavy on his skin and a chill somewhere beneath it. A sound reaches his ears from the edge of the water. A quiet splash, and a drag of wet fabric, and a shape resolves itself out of the darkness.

She’s like the swamp made flesh. Water-weed green and dripping from head to toe, fingers slender and reaching as cypress roots, eyes feu-follet balls of light in the mossy mass of her face.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her voice is a wet rattle like a dying breath, the sympathy in it startlingly out-of-place. “I could feel your pain miles away.”

Sam grits his teeth and draws himself to his feet. He forces himself to look her in the eyes, but there’s a wrongness about the light that burns there that makes it an effort, keeps making him want to lower his gaze. “Can you help him?” he demands. “Bring him back?”

“Help him?” says that voice. “Or help you?” Her hand comes to rest over his heart, skinny fingers splayed, and he tries not to flinch. “He isn’t the one suffering.”

His throat feels tight. “Does it matter?”

A sludgy croak of a sound. It takes Sam a moment to realise it’s her laugh. “Maybe not.” She regards him steadily. “But you’ve survived worse than this. You’d survive it again.”

It’s the kind of statement that ought to be encouraging, but the way she says it, it’s perfectly neutral, like she’s observing that there’s rain on the way, or it’s Tuesday.

The thing is, she’s right. Sam knows she is. He pulled himself back together, piece by painful piece, after Riley died. He learned to fly solo. He rebuilt his life after the Blip and talked himself around to trusting his own judgement after Steve waltzed off to the past. Now, he’s gotten used to having Bucky at his side, in his life, watching his six in the field and teasing him over dinner, but he could learn to live without it. Fly a little more carefully, trust Torres to have his back, spend more time with Sarah and the boys and the neighbours to fill the silence. He’d be almost whole again, eventually.

But godfuckingdammit, he is sick of being strong.

“Didn’t come out here for daily affirmations,” he says. “Can you help me or not?”

She inclines her head. “You can’t claim I talked you into this.”

“So you’ll do it?” He takes a deep breath. “What’s your price?”

She shrugs, trailing a hand down his arm and crouching to dig into the ground where he buried his photograph. It’s damp and dirt-stained when she unearths it, but she smiles anyway. “You’ll owe me. That’s all.”

“Owe you what?” But even as he asks, he knows the answer doesn’t matter. He’ll promise anything if it means a do-over, a chance to get it right this time, say all the things he should’ve said to Riley way back when, the things he should’ve said to Bucky months ago.

“I’ll know when I need it.” She tucks Sam’s photograph away somewhere in the folds of her garment. “Seal it with a kiss.”

Her mouth tastes like swamp water, brackish and bitter. Sam swallows down bile. And at the same time, he feels a creeping sensation like the water itself wrapping around him, twining roots around his heart, pulling him under like a gator’s death roll. He fights for breath, lungs filling up with it, tears springing to his eyes, darkness crowding his vision.

As abruptly as it crept up on him, it’s gone. He sucks in a huge breath, bending over, hands on his thighs, and when he comes back to himself, she’s gone.

#

By the time he gets back to town, he has three missed calls. One from the hospital, one from Rhodes, and one from–

His heart leaps in his chest. He’s on a plane to DC within the hour.

At the specialist treatment facility, nobody stops him to ask for ID or what he’s doing here. He finds Bucky sitting up in bed, drinking orange juice through a straw and looking bitchy about it. His face lights up like Christmas when Sam walks in, that wide unashamed smile, and Sam aches with realising how much he’s missed it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he says.

Bucky shakes his head. “Rhodes told me the docs thought I was a goner,” he says. “Sent you home to plan my funeral. Don’t know that I could’ve stood being here, either.”

Sam exhales dizzily. “Yeah, well. Shoulda known better with your stubborn old ass. What’d you do, annoy the shit out of the Grim Reaper until he got sick of you?”

“Something like that. Guess I gotta thank that shitty knock-off serum for something, huh.” There’s an edge to his voice, like always when this stuff comes up, and Sam gets it, he does. Owing your life to something you hate is complicated.

He tries not to think about how much more complicated it would be if Bucky knew the truth.

“Hey,” he says instead, “don’t think you get to make a habit of this.” He tries to sound stern, but the tears pricking at his eyes make it hard. “Three days sitting on the crappy plastic chairs they got in here, I thought my ass was gonna fall off.”

Bucky smiles up at him, crooked, a little looser. “Now that’d be a real tragedy.”

Sam’s breath catches in his throat, heartbeat skittering. But shit, if he’s in the hole to some creepy-ass swamp goddess for who knows what kind of favour, or maybe his immortal soul, he’s damn well gonna make it count.

So he ignores the plastic chair and perches on the edge of the mattress, close enough to smell antiseptic and orange juice and feel Bucky’s warmth through his hospital gown.

(Roots wrapped around his heart, foul water on the back of his tongue, shapes moving in the depths.)

San leans in, telegraphing his intent, Bucky’s eyes fastened on his mouth. Presses their lips together, soft.

“About damn time.” Bucky sighs into the kiss, resting his forehead against Sam’s; and after a moment, Sam tastes only oranges.

[ftstorm]

My take on 5x10

Welp, that was a big one!

You know, before going into this episode I reminded myself this was the first episode of a new era, the first episode completely made by the new team.

So with that in mind my expectations were "Okay, let's see what they've got."

And oh boy did they surprise me.

DISCLAIMER: this text post is long af, not kidding.

1. THE INTRO SCENE.

You guys have no idea how glad I am that we got Mac doing a usual MacGyvering in his house. It's been ages since they implemented this format of showing his dynamics outside Phoenix and around his house.

I wasn't worried about the proposal thing at all. Guys, you have to accept that MacRiley was always going to happen after that 4x04 episode.

There was also the fact that this was the intro scene (usually the most important plot issues happen in the outro scene), Bozer's weird reaction and the melancholic audio cue.

If that proposal was happening, they would've made it more uplifting.

(I gotta say that watching Monica Marcer and the official MacGyver account making damage control in Twitter 3mins into the episode was a funny experience)

So my initial questions about Mac wanting to propose were: "what are his motivations?" and "how is this not going to work out by the end of the episode?"

The second question we got the answer later on. The first question remains unanswered. If we take on Mac's words, he says:

Mac: Unexpected, I know, I know. But that's why I like about it. You know ever since I lost my dad and Jack I've been thinking about the bigger picture. A commitment to make things work it's exactly what Desi and I need. A grand romantic gesture. *cue melancholic music*

Here we're presented with a bunch of things worth analysing, in my opinion.

He's trying to see the "bigger picture" which, for me, it means he's trying to tackle down different issues from his life with one specific, efficient action [the proposal]. Those issues being:

> his current romantic relationship: make is aware they have an inconsistent relationship > his performance at work: he needs balance between his personal affairs and his work, which is based on saving the world in a daily basis and for that he needs to be focused. > dealing with his past losses: to my understanding, saying "ever isn I lost my dad and Jac I've been thinking about the bigger picture" means that he doesn't want hopelessness to take over him, he wants to keep on moving and being proactive about his life.

So... you have to understand that in some sort of way, this proposal thing is a signal that Mac is healing. In some sort of way, if you were in Mac's shoes you would see that it was a positive thing for him. A step forward.

The thing is, we [the audience] have an extended understanding of the situation and we know that an engagement would be an incredibly rushed decision.

As well as it is that Mac's trying to move forward, he obviously hasn't been able to pinpoint the true issue behind his relationship with Desi. He isn't wrong about them lacking in the commitment department, but forcing the relationship to scalate isn't the right move. He should be asking himself: "Why are we avoiding commitment?"

And that's when he'd find out that they have very deep and important trust and communication issues.

~~~~

2. Moving on. MURDOC.

Russ: I can process it more efficiently by having it all spread out ahead me, you know. I reckon see the bigger picture at once.

This is when I realized that the episode was centered on this whole "bigger picture" idea. Russ struggles to see the full picture until the very end and Mac finds out that he hasn't been seeing the full picture of his life at all by the end of the episode.

Fast forward, the team's in Mexico, Riley knows about the ring already and she has already had the talk with Bozer in which she refers to her feelings for Mac in a past tense.

Then Murdoc appears.

And as if the episode wasn't already a rollercoaster after Mac's reveal, now Murdoc shows up to put everything upside down.

First I gotta say, man Dastmalchian is SUCH A GOOD MURDOC. Excellent actor. The way he delivers his lines, his facial expressions, all of it make an original and very entertaining Murdoc.

He always gives me such a Andrew Scott's Moriarty vibes and I love it.

Secondly, his dynamic with Andrews: *cheff kiss*

I loved how Andrews was so over Murdoc's theatrics, to the point his facial expression screamed "Why did I even reclute this guy" LOL.

Back to the story.

This is something I was hoping it wouldn't happen but at the same time I don't see another way it could've happened which is the explanation behind Murdoc's escape and how Phoenix didn't know about it.

Because what they told us is that the FBI didn't let them in on Murdoc's escape, right? Does that imply that the FBI has a corrupt agent in charge? Does it imply that the order of not letting Phoenix in came from above? Maybe someone with higher clearence than Matty? A politician? Governement conspiracy?

It smells like plot hole, tbh. I feel like the Murdoc's escape is a classic "it is what it is". We'll see if they come back to this in later episodes.

~~~~

3. BIG SECRET REVEAL 1.

By now we're at the point of the rollercoaster where you're going up and up and up. Your tension building more and more as you're getting close to the drop.

Bozer and Riley's audio was the drop.

You know, during this scene I jumped from my seat, closed my eyes, cringed, squealed, my heart accelarated, forgot how to breathe...

As a person who is a little bit bipolar when it comes to romance (I can be very shy about it or very outspoken about it) that scene made me SO UNCOMFORTABLE.

Imagine having your feelings exposed not only to the person you have feelings for but also his girlfriend who happens to be your friend, your boss and the criminal that's threatening to kill hundreds of people.

I was like: "Not like this!!"

And Mac's reaction didn't help because of the lack of it. I don't know what I expected but his slightly monotone reaction broke my heart.

Thankfully, I've recovered since then and I don't mind that it happened that way.

Still, imagine how suffocating it must've been for Riley. That idea was what made me so uncomfortable and I think that's what they were going for. They wanted to make it as straightforward and awkward as possible.

But it doesn't end there. It's followed by Mac revealing the ring to Desi (and Riley). Mac's in "fuck it" mood and Desi kinda panics.

Little side note here, using GUM and a DIAMOND to break a bullet proof glass... BIG YES. That's an intrinsic MacGyverism.

~~~~

4. BIG SECRET REVEAL 2.

Then we get a breather from this drama by introducing another drama, Leanna's death.

Bozer's reaction to the news was heartbreaking for my already heartbroken heart.

I have my suspicions as to why they decided to kill her... The other episode completely made by the new team was the Quarantine one (5x06). During that episode Mac and Bozer bond over Bozer's pain. After learning about Bozer's mom, Mac chooses to share a piece of his own pain with him.

So, hear me out, I think they writers are planning to help Mac process his own grief THROUGH Bozer's grief. Keep in mind that we still have a Bozer centered episode coming up.

This is just a theory. I may be wrong, but I think it may be right too.

Back to the episode.

Once again we see a three dimensional Russ. He does something accordingly to his own judgement thinking it's the right decision [hiding Leanna's death], he realizes he screwed up, he gives Bozer a very heartfelt apology about it.

Henry's acting talent shone with this narrative. Actually, most of the actors had the chance to shine THANKS to the NARRATIVE. Murdoc, Andrews, Desi, Mac, Russ and Bozer... they all had their highlight moments (I'll talk about Riley later).

Parenthesis here... THE NARRATIVE HAS RETURNED THEIR SOULS TO OUR DEAR CHARACTERS!

WOW, they aren't brooding, angry, sad or whiny ALL THE EFFIN TIME. ABOUT TIME!

~~~~

5. LAST ACT.

For the third or fouth time in this episode my heart broke again when Mac was friendly towards Riley, after she explained herself. It really felt like he was friendzoning her.

But here's something to point out. Riley visibly relaxed when he reacted that way. What does that tell us?

> She had been so tense up until that point. Imo, she's on the defensive now. You can even see it in her wardrobe, make up and hairstyle choices. They're very contrasting to Riley's most vulnerable moments in this show (like when Audrey broke up with her).

Riley has had a year to sort out her feelings. We see in this episode that she spoke about them in a past tense. Whether she achieved it or not is unknown. We just know that she has at least tried to move on.

> She was mostly afraid of ruining her close relationship with Mac (who's her only family, along with Bozer) and her friendship (?) with Desi. We've seen it over and over again: Riley DID NOT WANT to get in the middle of them.

Keep that in mind as we go in the last scene.

It took me a while to figure out a possible thread of thought inside Mac's mind. Why did he look at the ring and decided to go to Riley's house? It really didn't make sense to me.

One moment he was thinking about his proposal and somehow that lead to him having the necessity to know if Riley still had feelings for him? Why??

My theory is that he went to her apartment for permission.

His question was a way of asking Riley for permission to propose to Desi. It was a way of reassuring himself that proposing was still the right decision.

In a way, he could also be fishing for an excuse to not do it [the proposal].

Because now he has doubts. He's confused, unsure.

Mac asks:

Mac: Hiding your emotions and letting it pass. Did it go away?

What could her answer have been? Here I wanna go back again to Riley being emotionally defensive, added her strong desire of not wanting to be in the middle of Mac and Desi's relationship.

I think she would've said "Yes, it worked."

Because it also lines up with my idea that the love triangle has changed from "Riley's a better match for Mac" to "Mac needs to win Riley's heart".

Riley's done her job. She worked out her feelings. Now it's time for Mac to sort out his humongously messed up internal self and reignite her spark. That's what I think.

Also, if anyone has any idea on how the song that played in that scene relates with the moment please share it with me because I don't really understand the song choice lol.

~~~~

6. ADDITIONAL COMMENTS

Desi. I'm not sure what's going on in her mind. She seemed stressed out by the ring, very serious about Riley, lenient with Mac... I'm really not sure.

My guess would be that she doesn't want that type of commitment but she wants to be with Mac yet she can't ignore Riley so does that mean she has to end it with Mac? That's the thought process she may have had? Idk...

I'm glad they let her be mature about it, with no overreactions, no whining, no blaming, nothing of that style that we're used to see in her.

I'm also glad about that moment when she defeats Murdoc and Andrews. THAT'S HOW YOU WRITE A TOUGH DESI. It was filmed with such a gracefulness and elegance. I liked it.

From a MacDesi point of view, she's probably being open minded and giving him space and waiting for him to come back to her... but somehow I got the vibe that she's actually... running away?

Lastly but no less important.

THE HISPANIC REPRESANTION OMG. RUSS SPEAKING SPANISH AND THAT CUMBIA MUSIC FILLED MY HEART WITH SO MUCH PRIDE!!! :')

[numbaoneflaya]

Can I get a list of all ur ocs?

Well anon youve done it, you made me make a list of all my major OCS in one place. I hope your happy with yourself. Under the cut for obvious reasons, may link in my blog desc later.

Modern/BTD verse!!

Jilly- Ferret beastkin little creature, was recently turned into a werewolf by vincent as well so she's running around on full moons in a wereferret wolf hybrid creature form. Chaotic and friendly and wants to be everyone's bestie. She has the most energy in the world and is very kind hearted. Banned from most Claires for stealing and from one Home Depot for climbing the shelves. Prone to living life with rose colored glasses on and seeing the best in everything/everything even when there's nothing there. Socialization is a must for her and is why being basemented/kidnapped broke her psych so quickly and developed severe stockholm. Sometimes overly talkative/enthusiastic and can scare people off. Even if she sees someone shes decided shes friends with be noticeably 'evil', will convince herself it must be for some reason/her fault and ignore it.

Ciggy- Undead punk still learning to harness his powers to interact with the world as a ghost. Was sacrificed by a cult he joined for free concert tickets and to get laid. Likes to cause problems on purpose both pre and prior death and he's not above possessing someone once he learns how to. Was called Rooster in high school before he dropped out because he's loud, obnoxious and always screaming. And also has bright red dyed hair. Looking 4 ways to become less ghosty bcs he wants to be able to help raise his infant daughter, whom he died before he could meet. Bit annoying and in your face, likes poking at bruises, his or others. Kind of a sad heart seeking attention through volume and persistence.

Mike: Vampire loser! Sells drugs and lives at raves. Was turned when she was attacked by a coked out vampire (whom she supplied the product to) and has major scarring on her face and chest. Needs a somewhat constant influx of blood so shell sometimes take victims back to her place and chain them up, slowly draining them over time. Feels bad (ish) about it tho so it is possible to survive her if you are nice and or interesting enough. Kind of desperate for a friend and for love. Is a stalker. If she likes you enough/finds you interesting, she might just appear in your house one night and start rummaging through your fridge like nothing is wrong and youve been besties for years. Its best to indulge her and be friendly, otherwise she could turn violent quickly if her feelings are hurt.

Kilaine- Regular human woman, but fucked up. Born and raised by an elite waspy society she had an interest in the human body and pain tolerance since she was young. Quickly learned that these traits were socially unacceptable in most professions, so she became a doctor. The only family she cared about was her younger sister who she lost in a car accident, where they were flipped over and trapped inside while it was afire. While her sister burned up in front of her Kilaine only lost her left arm and had major burns on her body. This tipped her descent into sadism and she is now madly obsessed with bringing her sister back no matter the cost. Rude and offstandish, clinical.

Dragon age verse!

Thurwen- My main Hero of Ferelden with a bad temper and a heart of gold. City elf from the Denerim Alienage, 18 at the start of origins. She's a reaver warrior with a lot of pent up rage which sometimes scares others when she lets it out in battle. Over the years she's grown less moody as she's had to take the role of Commander. Crude sense of humor and violent impulses, very sensitive to the plights of others and tries often to help. Never seen crying in public but only cries to herself at night- major martyr and hanged man complex.

Caz- My circle mage elf inquisitor who was an apostate before the conclave. Blood magic, but make it sneaky. Wary of strangers and new faces, always dealing with the impulse to flee/find a high vantage point. Endless curiosity about the unknown/ the forbidden/ naughty, was supposed to be made tranquil for it but she escaped. Kind of a little creature as well, lived on her own for a while as an apostate in the woods, filed her teeth down to sharp ends to make herself look more intimidating (shes 5 ft tall) and less cute (her elf ears are huge and expressive, which shes embarrassed about)

Dag and Thagna- Carta twins! Professional lyrium smugglers since birth pretty much. Raised casteless in dust town and had to work their way up the chain of command by themselves. Dag is the brother, Thagna the sister. Their father traded them to the carta for drinking money and their mom died in childbirth so they have somewhat of a codependent relationship. Both charismatic and calculating, friendly and agreeable but won't hesitate to put a dagger in your back. Hard to pin down morally or physically, squirrelly bastards.

Reila: Dalish elf who works for the inquisition/ is the inquisitor in some aus. She has an extreme fixation on elvhen history and rebuilding what they have lost. Not a people person, prefers solitude. Takes some time to warm up to shemhlen as she has a hard history with them. Good friends with Caz, who recruited her in the first place. Doesn't understand very many social cues and finds societal expectations limiting and frustrating. Fondness for halla and hooved animals, which she finds graceful.

Elder scrolls verse!

Valkya: Near seven foot nord woman whos over a thousand years old by the events of skyrim. Tall and buff, two handed warrior and compulsive hero there to bask in the spotlight save the day. She was killed at the start of the events of Elder scrolls online and had her soul ripped out and sent to coldharbor and she's just been a pain in the ass about it since then. Her body can physically die and will not regrow pieces. Her soul however will escape and teleport to the nearest source of power where her body will regrow from an aetherial plasm until its whole again. Loud and brash, friendly and jovial. Actually pretty keen especially after centuries of life but prefers to play dumb as it makes people underestimate her. Plus, she really does enjoy mud wrestling and drinking contests and acting generally like a rambunctious frat boy. Ha developed a bit of a substance problem and a problem with acting out, as after being alive so long she would turn to anything to dull the ache inside of her that never goes away.

Espira- My Dragonborn! Redguard from Hammerfell who was briefly in the Ash’abah due to killing undead while protecting her parents water farm as a child. Ran away from them after years and went to Cyrodille, then to Skyrim and was caught crossing the border. Reserved, kind and soft spoken, she's a sword and shield warrior who's committed herself to doing good in the world by helping others. Dislikes killing and anything messy but believes it is often necessary in order to protect the weak. She blacksmiths often to save money on the upkeep of her own equipment, and takes up metal jewelry working as a hobby with the excess material. Prone to trusting others too much and giving too many second chances, as shes always looking for ways to make even the most hardened criminal a second look at life.

Riley- Espiras little brother who she locked in the wardrobe during the event of the water farm attack. In preventing him from doing violence against the undead she kept him from being conscripted into the Ash’abah. He's way more chaotic than his sister, and suffers from a case of little sibling syndrome in which he will often pester/poke at people just to get a rise out of them. Still kind hearted as his sister, he tries to hide it because he believes that the world is a cruel place and the cruel survive. Despite that belief he is often still unable to force himself to be cruel/careless, only making a show of it so that others leave him alone and don't see that he's very sensitive and emotional. Deaf in one ear due to a magic mishap in his youth, he trained and enchanted his most beloved rats to live for years and sit on his shoulder, alerting him to noises he would not otherwise notice.

Felria: Evil vamp :/ chaotic evil dunmer necromancer. Small and devilish and likes dead bodies too much. Manipulative and cunning, she loves acting. She's a trained assassin for the dark brotherhood and is the speaker. Likes dressing up for missions and wearing disguises like its all a play. Loves toying with people more than she loves killing them, will act in ways that cause as much trauma as possible for other people just for fun and she finds the reactions interesting. Considers herself too far removed from most people's perception of morality and of her so it's hard for her to trust someone or see them as worthy of knowing her. Finds the psychology of grief and fear to be interesting and wants to study them first hand. The hero of kvatch.

Herren: Fifty something year old rat woman looking for something to keep her going. Ran away from her wealthy family in her youth when they wanted her to take charge of the household, instead became an infamous jewel thief and swashbuckler. Spent most of her life traveling and stealing and double dealing. She's smarmy and sarcastic, a serial romancer of the highest caliber. Bit of a show off and a hedonist, always looking for the next good party or new product to snort. Her family died off due to the hard times she wasn't there for and she keeps looking for bigger and bigger heists to fill her appetite as she's chronically bored and lonely, though wont accept intimacy and will scoff at it out of the belief she doesn't deserve it. Irresponsible and selfish, lonely and terrified of any sort of commitment. Fun to party with though!

[canary-warrior]

MacRiley drabble #3

Summary: AU of the hallway scene. Instead of Desi and Russ, Mac and Scarlett runs into Riley and Bozer

“There’s been a security breach,” Bozer said urgently, rushing into the room, which had Riley and Matty only. “Where is everyone else?”

“In the briefing room. Russ and Desi are putting together teams and going over plans,” Riley responded, eyes locked on her computer. “It’s coming from the interrogation room. We’re closer, we can hold them off until Desi and Russ can get there,” she said, looking at Matty.

“Go! Be careful,” Matty said, handing her gun to Bozer. He and Riley nodded and took off.

Once Bozer and Riley reached the hall, they were shocked at what they saw. Mac and Scarlett, both wearing masks.

“Mac, what’s going on, man?” Bozer asked, surprised. What was Mac doing? Why did he break Scarlett out of her cell?

Mac felt conflicted. He had anticipated that other Phoenix agents would respond to the alarm, but not Riley and Bozer. Hell, he was prepared for Russ and Desi, but he thought that nobody would send Riley and Bozer, they were too important. How was he going to go through with his plan? Swallowing, he said “Just move out of the way, no one has to get hurt.”

“Mac,” Riley pleaded. “Don’t do this. Just put her back in her cell. Talk to us, okay? We’re worried about you, please, Mac.”

Mac felt his heart break at Riley’s words and Bozer’s grief stricken face. They always believed in him. Even when Russ accused him of being compromised, and Desi as well, Riley and Bozer were the only ones who didn’t agree with them. They loved him, and they were truly worried about him. They were his family, his true family. He didn’t want to hurt them.

But Mac also couldn’t let billions of people die. 

“Riley, Bozer, move. Now.” Mac commanded his voice to be steely, almost villain like. Why did it have to be them? Mac felt a spark of anger. Who would send Riley and Bozer after an intruder? Their brains were too valuable to be placed in unnecessary danger. He was angriest at himself, though, for what he would have to do. He needed to gain Scarlett’s trust so she wouldn’t kick his ass and leave him the moment they get out, and needed to convince everyone that he truly defected.

“No, we’re not going anywhere, Mac.” Riley said stubbornly.

“Family doesn’t turn their back on each other,” Bozer agreed.

God, it pained Mac to do this, and he felt his heart breaking each second as he pulled the top off the flare. He walked back to the wall and held the open flame up to the fire detector. 

Riley’s eyes widened as she realized what Mac was doing. She and Bozer began to run towards him. “No, wait-” It was like someone sucked all the air out of Riley. She couldn’t breathe, oh god, she couldn’t breathe. She and Bozer stopped where they were standing and slid to the floor. She didn’t have the energy to sit up anymore, and she just collapsed on the floor. Bozer followed a few seconds after.

Mac watched as the two people he loved most in the world collapse on the floor, struggling to breath. He hated himself for hurting them in the worst possible way. He picked up his duffel bag and walked, with Scarlett right behind him.

Mac looked at Bozer, his brother, and Riley, the woman who made him feel things that he didn’t even know was possible (and yes, he knew that he shouldn’t be feeling things like that while in a relationship with another). He had to save the world, he had to save the lives of billions. The cost was too high, but if Mac didn’t do this, billions would die.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Riley and Bozer, who were still suffocating on the floor. With the weight of the world on his shoulders and a heart broken into a million pieces, Mac walked out of the Phoenix with Scarlett, ready to take down Codex at whatever cost.

[chicagocityofclans]

Clarisse “Clara” Fields → Margot Robbie → Black Bear Shifter

→ Basic Information

Age: 229

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: September 3rd

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Religion: Christian

→ Her Personality Clara has for a long time played things close to her chest. She has built walls between her true feelings and those that she portrays in an effort to control her reaction and the reactions of others. Clara finds safety and comfort in control, and is deeply disturbed when it’s taken away from her. The rigidity in the way she communicates has contributed to the somewhat ice queen facade she portrays. She has strict rules for herself and the pack and expects them to be followed. She is difficult to persuade and may hold out just to prove a point.

Clara, in addition to controlling her reactions, also enjoys controlling the way her environment looks. She is always put together, and her homes and the hotel are always immaculate. Her cleaning helps control the anxiety she feels and having beautiful environments put her at ease. Clara is very protective of her pack and has dedicated herself and her life to helping it and its members be as successful and comfortable as possible. Clara often provides support for new members when they come to the city, even helping them find jobs at the hotel or in one of the real estate companies owned by the clan. She is generous and is comfortable in sharing her wealth. She is gracious and always willing to listen, and has a long standing passion for humanitarianism. Clara often goes on environmental charity trips and has dedicated a branch of the pack towards funding them.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: CEO/Owner of Fields Hotels, Head of Clan Heavy, and Council Member

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Matchmaking and Humanitarianism

Two Dislikes: Her personal space being intruded and People who shirk responsibility

Two Fears: Germs and Losing/Ruining her family’s legacy

Two Hobbies: Equestrianism and Hunting

Three Positive Traits: Neat, Protective, and Dignified

Three Negative Traits: Unbending, Controlling, Anxious

→ Her Connections Parent Names:

Garland Fields (Father): Clara loved her father more than anyone. She idolized him and was constantly at his side. She had her sights on leadership from a young age, and tried to soak up everything she could from her father. Clara took on more and more responsibility as she grew up, taking over the Fields Hotel and running it successfully at the turn of the century. It was at this point that Clara began to see some concerning signs in her father: aggression, random sporadic shifts, waking up covered in blood. Clara paid the human shifters $1,000 over that year to keep her father’s antics quiet. She could see he had hypershift and couldn’t bear to let his reputation be blemished. They went out hunting and Clara killed her father, using the excuse of dementia to cover his and her tracks. She still feels guilty over this at times and will direct her guilt into anger towards Asa.

Annabelle Fields (Mother): Annabelle died before Asa and Clara turned 50. They found part of her body in the woods about 5 miles from their house. It was obvious that hunters of some kind got to her. It deeply affected each member of the Field’s family.

Sibling Names:

Asa Fields (Twin Brother): Clara and Asa have always tended to butt heads, and it's only gotten worse since he has returned from being gone. Clara feels like he’s intruding on the system she’s built and dedicated her whole life towards. She also has a lot of resentment of him not returning home when Garland died. She was entirely alone grieving her father and has felt on her own since then. A part of her is happy he is back and wants to readily trust them like she did when they were kids. Both are damaged, and at the moment Clara is treating Asa as if he were a problem member in her pack.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

None

Platonic Connections:

Taye Black (Pack Member): Taye is one of the people Clara trusts most. He’s able to handle whatever needs handling and she has come to trust his calls in situations that she isn’t there for.

Bryce Holt (Best Friend): Bryce and Clara did not start out friends. She heavily blamed Clara for the exchange that Bryce’s father requested, and loudly shouted that whenever she could. Clara finally sat down and they began talking things out. Clara offered a fraction of her own experiences, and Bryce was willing to finally open up. Their bond grew after that, and Clara considers Bryce her best friend.

Patrick Perry (Pack Member): Patrick is one of Clara’s pack that she finds particularly exhausting. She has frequently seen him talking with the Mist family and believes that he is the one who has given them so much information on the supernatural.

Anna Johansen (Pack Member): Clara has only met a dozen or so panda shifters in her time. Typically they came to be matched and then returned to their homes, so Clara is delighted to have Anna with them. She is hoping to have her take interest in the real estate side of the business, and is glad that Riley is assisting with that.

Michael Johansen (New Pack Member/Interest): Clara has found herself enjoying Michael’s company. She’d met him briefly a few times before he asked to move his pack to the city. She was happy to have a whole new crop of heavies in, but was surprised when she found herself becoming close to the former alpha.

Ezra Schultz (Good Friend): Ezra is the longest remaining pack member in Chicago, having been with the Fields since they were originally founded in New Orleans. She has seen some of the signs for dementia in Ezra and is dreading the day she will have to take care of him. She has always found him to have a “true north” conscience and never knows where he will side in board meetings.

Hollis Sony (Good Friend): Hollis and Clara are close. She has repeatedly backed Clara when tough decisions had to be made and has always been a good sounding board for issues when Clara wasn’t sure what the best path was.

Nathan Cleirigh (Psychiatrist): They rarely get to the root of any of her issues, sticking generally to her compulsions and depression and grief over her father. They have never gone deeper, despite the fact that Clara knows that they should. It embarasses her too much to talk about her other relationships and opinion of herself.

Chris Bialar (Fellow Alpha): Chris and Clara have gotten closer over the recent years when they realized how much they have in common in regards to their packs. They are both facing dwindling numbers with an inability to replace them.

Nick Hamelin (Fellow Alpha): Clara used to think Nick hated her, as she was the constant center of his jabs, but when she confronted him he set her straight. They stay out of each other’s way, generally, and both care greatly about their packs. Clara does actively avoid getting on his bad side, as she knows what the repercussions may be.

Ellis Watts (Fellow Alpha): Clara and Ellis get along fine. They aren’t particularly close, but she respects how he runs his pack and the leadership that he and his higher ups show.

Percy McCormick III (Fellow Alpha): Clara has known Percy since they were children. He has always been a show man and is great at being a person that people think they should follow, but he isn’t a leader. However, no one has pushed against him in the pack, and she would never undermine another leader.

Isaac Baker (Fellow Alpha): Isaac and Clara have very different styles in meetings and they tend to clash. Isaac is short, arupt, and disregards the traditions put in place that have kept everything running smoothly in the first place. That being said she respects his willingness to stand up for his principles even if he is standing alone.

Scorpius Getta (Business Associate):  Scorpius bailed the Heavies out, for a steep price that Clara and her pack are still paying off today. However, he has always treated her and the deal with the utmost professionalism and respect, which Clara returns.

Dan Prior (Old Acquaintance): Clara knew Dan from when he was human. His parents were often in talks with her own, and she thinks they even considered the change before he “disappeared”. They still talk when she goes down.

Maxine Vanes (Liaison): Max is on Clara’s speed dial for whenever the rats cross the line with her hotel. She is often able to deal with it well enough where Clara doesn’t have to talk to Nick.

Talia Cleirigh (Former Business Associate): Talia used to put her and Asa to bed and stop the nightmares that they frequently had over their mother. She used her on and off until she made her deal with Getta. That was too private of information to allow someone to see. She still has temporary insomnia, but uses that time to check on the hotel and get other work done.

Hostile Connections:

Sam Thompson (Board Member): Clara has known Sam her whole life. They grew up together, almost like siblings. However, he has always been a challenging force throughout her leadership and recently she’s lost much of her trust in him. He holds the same resentment towards Clara that his father held for Garland. That they were cheated out of a position. It at one point caused Clara great anxiety and sleepless nights, wondering when he was going to challenge her. She finally decided to stop waiting around and began training to fight in her human physical form. She has continued to wait for an attack, especially after she had to kill Sam’s wife four years ago. For all that Clara dislikes Sam, she is incredibly impressed that he held on for his kids, and believes he is genuinely a good father, and even leader at times.

Eliza Meyers (Board Member): Eliza gets the short end of the stick, mostly due to her age. She is young and parrots whatever Sam says, which has led to Clara ignoring her opinion for almost the entirety of her being on the council. She has decided to let her take the lead in this new project of creating the indoor hunting ground.

Pets:

None - Clara has difficulty with animals being indoors, though this is an issue she is working on.

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