#ice chemist

[dailycharacteroption]

Ice Chemist (Alchemist Archetype)

(art by MagicalKaleidoscope on DeviantArt)

Do we have any Mr. Freeze fans in the audience. (We can all agree he should be called “Dr. Freeze”, right?)

Jokes aside, it’s often easy to assume that alchemists are “mad bombers” or pyromaniacs since they by default get fire-based weaponry as one of their core class features, but what if you don’t want that?

While fire and explosions are certainly very fancy and flashy, the sciences of chilling things, of cryogenics, are also very worthwhile. After all, We all know how refrigeration and freezing revolutionized food preservation, confectionary arts, and even medical science in the real world, so it only makes sense there would be alchemists exploring the applications of such in a fantasy game!

These so-called “ice chemists” Are most well-known for starting with icy cold bombs, but that is just the beginning! Later on they… well… they, um…

Huh. Aside from certain damaging extracts, there aren’t a lot of options directly related to cold in the ice chemist’s arsenals, and even those you have to choose to take as part of your normal spell selection.

Not that I mind such a simple archetype that only changes a little, but I feel like the ice chemist could have used a little expansion, at least being some optional discoveries that let them use their cryogenic arts in interesting ways. But we’ll get into making the most of your ice chemist later on. For now, let’s look at what they can do!

At it’s core, the ice chemist does exactly as promised, changing the base bomb damage to cold, but otherwise functioning as normal bombs except that they don’t count as being frost bombs with their secondary effect at first, learning to use fire bombs counts as a discovery (including not being able to be used alongside other bomb-altering discoveries), and being unable to use the explosive or inferno bomb discoveries.

They also gain an inherent resistance to cold and can comfortably live in extreme cold as their bodies are altered and adapted to function where others would freeze.

And then they learn the frost-bomb discovery, purely to add the bonus effect to their bombs.

As you can see, aside from the resistance and cold damage, there isn’t a whole lot going on here, but it can serve as a good basis for a thematic character. Extracts like detonate, elemental touch, and dragon breath can make them somewhat good at damage dealing. Meanwhile, in keeping with the themes of cold and preservation, the various discoveries based around healing oneself and becoming more resilient through self-mummification are thematic choices. In the end, you can mostly build them like any other alchemist, but hopefully this plants some thematic seeds.

When I made the comparisons to Mr. Freeze earlier, that wasn’t a shallow take. Yes, these chemists alter their bodies to be comfortable well below freezing temperatures, but much like the aforementioned Dr. Victor Fries, there’s a lot of ways you can play such a character, their hearts could be metaphorically frozen, feeling little beyond dispassionate determination. Or they might have a secret, tragic warm spot, or perhaps unhealthy obsession. Or they may buck all of that to be passionate and kind despite being icy cold beings.

An unnatural chill has come to the forest of Arnu’s Sleep. Some suspect the machinations of a winter fey or a white dragon driven by rivals from the north. However the truth is stranger, a mad doctor experimenting with the creation of artificial winter, regardless of the toll it takes on the surrounding region.

For centuries, the lair of Luciana the Frozen has stood as part dungeon, part museum of the icy alchemists many discoveries over her career, even long after her death. Those who brave it will have to contend with ice-encrusted bone golems and other frosty guardians, to say nothing of the alchemist herself, preserved in lich-like immortality with a literal heart of ice.

Unusual for a leshy, Needlebranch enjoys winter more than any other season, and seeks to unlock the secrets of plant life that thrives in winter, from the mundane pines and cedars, to exotic flowers that poke out of mountain snow, and beyond.

[h-a-unted]

"You're positive this can dissolve a man's whole body?"

@gingerspiice

[you-need-low-tar]

Sherlock is a chemist. Chemists would know about ice.

Ice. Most commonly seen in a crystalline form. Crystal: ordered, repeating pattern of particles, a solid.

the tidiest and most orderly brain.

Lattice type: wurtzite. Hexagonal symmetry. Tetrahedral bonds. The bonds result in a larger volume than expected. Ice is less dense than water. Ice floats, but you only see 1/10 above surface.

the smart one

the most dangerous man you've ever met

Hydrogen bonds. That's why an oxygen atom would form tetrahedral bonds. Strong. Ice has such a high melting point for a molecule so small and so light. Cold ice is hard, stiff, and brittle.

The Iceman.

[david-watts]

usually whenever I stop taking my medication it's because I'm miserable and/or suicidal but this time it's the opposite because I was both of those and it was the medication's fault. like the side effects became so bad that I'd rather risk what happens when I'm unmedicated than continue dealing with them

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer gets beaten up by an unsub, but as a result, his unfailingly attractive, sharp-tongued flatmate steps in as his personal nurse so in the end, it could always be worse.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, medical care, lecture on safety and risk-taking, no detailed descriptions or blood, reader on her period, spencer not putting a ring on that reader's finger (but he fucking should)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: request

Spencer slowly dragged himself up the stairs, wincing in pain with every step he managed to take. A slight sense of relief wrapped around him only at the very top, when he allowed himself to freeze in place for a while and take a deep, cautious breath.

What had happened to him was fairly self-explanatory — a minor scuffle with an unsub he accidentally got involved in, a pretty solid beating, and afterward telling everyone around that he was completely fine.

Because at that moment, yes, he was fine. Or at least he felt like he was. The remnants of adrenaline still lingering in his body had a numbing, dulling effect on most of the pain. So he allowed himself to tend only to what was visible and bleeding — a split brow and went home as if nothing had happened.

His actual condition only started to register somewhere halfway back.

First and foremost, a steady pain in his ribs that became unbearable only when climbing stairs or making sudden movements. His knuckles also made themselves known with a burning sensation. There were a few scrapes there, but if he were to assess himself entirely objectively, nothing life-threatening. He’d grab some ice from the fridge, shove it under his shirt, spend the next few days wincing when bending over, and that would be it.

Spencer forced himself to stand up straight and entered the apartment. With slow movements, he unwound the scarf from his neck and took off his coat, squinting when a sharp pain hit his side as he pulled one arm free. Ice. He definitely needed ice.

As soon as he washed his hands, he headed straight to the kitchen to grab some. However, he didn’t even make it close to the fridge when he suddenly and with surprise came to a halt at the sight of a woman sitting on a chair by the kitchen island.

His temporary flatmate glanced at him briefly, registering his arrival, but remained completely unfazed. In front of her was an open laptop, next to it a plate with half-eaten food and a mug, a blanket covered her legs, and she seemed focused on what she was doing. 

She glanced at him again, this time raising an eyebrow questioningly. Spencer parted his lips but said nothing, realizing he had frozen for a moment, staring at her. It was no longer just about the surprise of her presence, but more about the dilemma of what he should do next.

Should he just walk to the fridge and take out some ice without saying anything? Sure, it was his apartment, but what would he say if she asked a question? Should he tell her how he gave a great demonstration of strength, caution, and professionalism by letting himself get beaten like some limp boxing dummy?

 Did she even care enough about his condition to ask?

He shook himself out of his thoughts and closed his mouth before a fly could fly in. He cleared his throat, leaning one hand against the kitchen island and trying to look casual, as if his ribs weren’t throbbing in pain. Almost immediately, however, he realized his knuckles were all scratched up, so he quickly pulled his hand back. Still, he preferred to think the whole situation through. He cleared his throat again.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” he said. “I mean, this early.”

They usually finished work around the same time, unless his team was working on a case. Then their entire schedule would become irregular or even completely crazy.

She shrugged.

“Took some work home,” she explained, slowly shifting her gaze back to the laptop. Spencer was inwardly relieved she hadn’t noticed anything strange in his behavior. “Didn’t feel too well.”

He nodded as he listened to her. “You okay?”

There was a certain suspicion in her look—because even though they were currently living together, this kind of mutual concern was still something new. And even when it did happen, it was never expressed directly, only hidden somewhere between the lines.

But that day, he was too worn out to play around with it.

“Yeah,” she replied after a moment—not dismissively, but in a straightforward, genuine way. “Just my period.”

“I think I have a hot water bottle somewhere in the bathroom. At least I think so. Just in case you need it.”

“Already found it,” she said, patting the blanket that covered her up to the waist. Her gaze returned to him for a moment, and just as he was trying to figure out how to smoothly and inconspicuously grab a bag of ice from the fridge, her eyes suddenly narrowed in alarm, focusing on a very specific spot. “Wait, are you okay?”

Spencer’s mouth fell slightly open for a moment, unsure what had given him away—until it hit him that he literally had a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow. Instinctively, he reached up to touch it—with the same hand that had scraped knuckles, which she immediately clocked. Until now, her arms had been resting casually on the counter, but she crossed them over her chest, eyebrows lifting in a silent demand for explanation.

“I just kinda got hit,” he said quickly, hoping to downplay the whole thing before it turned into a bigger deal than it already was. And to avoid getting into the full scope of his physical state—something he preferred to take care of on his own. Her expression didn’t change at all, didn’t accept his answer, which forced him to sigh and add, “it’s…it’s normal, sometimes. I mean, unsub fights back and—”

He gestured vaguely with his hand, trying to finish the thought without saying too much. Her eyes followed the motion of his injured hand as he did, and he had to fight the urge to tuck it behind his back—opting instead to fold it in, just enough to be less visible, though it hurt a little.

“Right, but that’s why you have a gun. And why there’s more than one of you on scene—to keep that from happening. Or at least not often.”

Her voice had a sharp edge, and her expression was tense—until she fell silent for a beat, taking a calmer breath. It was clear she wasn’t trying to scold him or speak out of turn about something she hadn’t seen firsthand. After all, she worked in the same field and knew exactly how things sometimes went.

For a moment, she looked at him in silence, as if assessing the quality and precision of the bandage on his brow. She didn’t seem to find anything to complain about—which didn’t mean she was satisfied. A sigh.

“At least tell me you washed your hands? There’s…”

“Antiseptic ointment in the fridge,” he finished for her. “I know. I bought it myself.”

“Fantastic. Now go ahead and use it.”

Spencer wanted to roll his eyes at her nagging tone, but he was quickly bombarded by her even more piercing gaze, so he hopped over to the fridge. She was watching his back, he could feel it. He wanted to bend down and get the ice from the freezer too, but he was afraid it would hurt too much. He’d do it when he went to bed.

He turned back toward the kitchen island and set the ointment box down after squeezing the right amount onto his index finger. But instead of spreading it on the back of his hand like he should, he paused, meeting her fixed gaze.

“You can go back to work. You don’t have to supervise me,” he said.

“I think I do. If I didn’t tell you, you probably wouldn’t even use that ointment.”

‘I totally would’ve. Actually, I was going to.’

She didn’t look like she believed him for even a second. And that was completely okay, because he didn’t quite believe himself either. The layer of ointment on his scratched knuckles caused a burning sensation. He bit his inner cheek, trying not to wince.

He kept that unreadable expression until she looked back at her laptop screen, though he still felt like she was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Suddenly, their black cat jumped onto the counter and immediately padded over to him with a purr. Spencer turned his hand so the ointment wouldn’t get on the cat’s fur, stroking it with his palm. “Come to say hi, little acrobat?” he asked gently. The woman glanced at him, again, and he was aware of it.

Marie loved compliments and scratching behind her ear, so she started circling around the kitchen island, trying to get more. He closed his eyes as her tail brushed against his face.

A tickle in his nose. He felt an impending sneeze with dread but couldn’t hold it back. With the sneeze, he bent slightly, and then a sharp pain spread across his ribs.

And it was no longer a gentle bend; Spencer really doubled over, unable to hold back a loud hiss, his hand pressed tightly against his side, which did not help at all. Through his heavy breathing, a certain sound reached him — the sound of a laptop snapping shut.

“You cheeky liar,” the woman said to him, rising from her seat. In two steps, she was by his side but did not touch him until the wave of pain had passed and he was relatively upright. Only then did she practically push him onto the stool, forcing him to sit. “Sit here and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Spencer, following the order, didn’t move. Mostly because he wasn’t sure if he could even get up on his own. If the pain brought any good at all, it was that it at least overshadowed the feeling of embarrassment that filled him when the woman returned to the kitchen with a first aid kit, which she loudly set down on the counter.  

In the way she set it down and the sound that echoed, he sensed an unmistakable, openly displayed anger. He had to admit, he hadn’t expected such a reaction at all. He watched it all like some unknown water he couldn’t swim in, deciding not to speak first to avoid sinking.

“Tell me, how long did you plan to keep babbling with me before admitting that you’re not okay?”

He couldn’t stop himself from replying, “I am okay,” to which she only scoffed loudly. He felt as if the legs of his stool had suddenly lowered by several inches—dragging him down with them.

“People who are okay don’t usually double over in pain from a sneeze,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest and giving him a piercing stare. “People with rib or chest injuries do.”

Spencer clenched his jaw slightly and exhaled shallowly.

“You’d probably laugh,” he muttered. He didn’t think too hard about the words before letting them slip out, but he truly believed them. The woman pulled her head back, eyes wide in disbelief. Spencer broke eye contact and fixed his gaze on his bruised knuckles, running the fingers of one hand across the other. “It wasn’t some phenomenal fight, and anyone would tell you that. I just got beaten up.”

“Well, I see something different,” she said.

Spencer didn’t quite understand what she meant until he shifted his gaze to her face and noticed she was looking directly at his knuckles. Even so, he awkwardly shook his head from side to side.

“You weren’t there.”

She tilted her head slightly, silent, looking as though she had a dozen things to say but wasn’t sure which to pick. In the end, she spread one hand to the side with a shrug.

“Does it even matter?” she asked. “You still have wounds that need tending. Take it off.”

Seeing that Spencer wasn’t exactly eager to cooperate and didn’t even move, she snorted.

“Or I’ll just…”

She stepped closer and started unbuttoning his shirt herself, beginning with the ones near the collar. Spencer wasn’t cooperative, but he didn’t protest either. A kind of resignation settled over him, and maybe he just didn’t care anymore.

“Either way, I’m going to ask the team what really happened,” she stated. Her fingers kept working on the buttons. What he noticed was that her movements were the complete opposite of her tone and manner of speech—slow and gentle. “If I find out you went up against some giant all by yourself, I’ll be furious. None of you have any sense of self-preservation, and that’s not just about you—it’s all of you. Sometimes it’s better to wait for backup…”

“Sometimes there’s no time,” he cut in.

For a moment, she shifted her gaze from the button she was working on to his face.

“You’re one of a kind. There’ll be plenty more unsubs to catch.”

“So the victims.” 

Only then did her hands really slow down, just at the last button. She sighed.

“Okay, that’s not something I can really argue with,” she admitted. Spencer didn’t feel like the winner in this discussion, though. Once his shirt was fully unbuttoned, she carefully helped him slip both arms out of it, and he realized he didn’t even feel embarrassed about his half-nakedness. He didn’t have time to dwell on that realization, as he focused on her reaction and the concentrated look in her eyes as she stared at his ribs.

He looked down on himself. Bruising from rib injuries usually appeared only after some time because of how well-protected they were by muscles and fat tissue, but since he was rather slim, a faint bruise had already started to show. Her hand landed on one of them and even though she barely brushed it, Spencer held his breath from the sharp pain. She didn’t pull her hand away, however, examining the spot with attention.

“It’s warm and starting to swell. You really weren’t going to mention it at all? Spencer, they might be broken.”

He made eye contact with her, holding back from squeezing his eyes shut when her hand moved further up, to a spot that hurt even more.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. He couldn’t hide it — his voice shook completely and nearly broke into a whimper. He also drew a sharp breath into his lungs, which only worsened the pain.

Only then did she pull away. Spencer avoided looking directly at her face just above his, but he accidentally did when his head tilted slightly back from the conflicting sensation in his side. Her expression was rather unreadable, but definitely no longer angry. More concerned. The way anyone would look if their flatmate was writhing in pain right in front of them.

“Sorry, but I don’t trust any of your opinions when it comes to your health or well-being. You’re painfully biased and you overlook literally everything,” she muttered with a scoff.

Even though it was a criticism of him, Spencer nearly burst out laughing. He had to hold it back, though.

Meanwhile, the woman bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

“Let me be the judge of whether they’re broken. Try to sit up straighter, okay?”

She stepped back and motioned for him to breathe. She observed the rise and fall of his bare chest for a moment, and the weight of her gaze — along with the silence between them — felt almost suffocating. Even though he knew it was just an examination, he wanted to throw his shirt back on the second she finished.

“How do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked.

“Don’t talk.”

“No, genuinely, I’m wondering.”

She sighed impatiently.

“Let’s say it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this,” she said enigmatically. “For some reason, everyone sees me as a perfect, private nurse.”

Spencer frowned, unconvinced. She noticed, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

“Ask Morgan if you don’t believe me.”

She seemed to have finished watching his breathing. She was by his side again, leaning in slightly. Her hands slowly pressed against his ribs, meanwhile focusing on the places without bruises and that didn’t cause as much pain.

“So,” he started quietly, carefully controlling himself so as not to make any embarrassing noise, “is this kind of a typical Thursday for you?”

She locked eyes with him, not letting go or stepping back.

“No, actually this one is quite special,” she murmured. Spencer hesitantly parted his lips, not quite sure what she meant, but curious. Even impatient for her to finish the thought. She, as if on purpose, didn’t hurry.

He watched as her body straightened, her hands slid off him and crossed, one of her hips shifted to the side, and it was clear she was about to announce the final diagnosis. He preferred that she finish her previous thought first.

“I’ve never met anyone who blushed because I glanced at their bruised ribs,” she finally said, and it was obvious she was barely holding back amusement at the sudden change in his expression. “That’s why it’s so special.”

Spencer tried to keep a straight face through it all, though he could feel real heat rising on his neck and face. It always happened whenever someone pointed out his blushing — as if it were something he could control. Sometimes it just happened, even without a good reason. He gave a slight nod.

“So you’re saying it’s just bruised?” he asked. She smiled wickedly at the smooth topic change, but he pretended not to notice. “So I was right?”

She rolled her eyes, though there was something gentle in the gesture.

“Yes, you were right. But don’t get too excited—you still have bruised ribs.”

She hesitated for a moment, and then, for what must’ve been the umpteenth time, moved closer to him again. This time, however, her hand didn’t go to his ribs but to his face. She brushed a few strands of hair away so she could quietly inspect the butterfly bandage over the cut on his brow.

He thought she was going to say something about it, but she didn’t. She just looked at him, his hair caught between her fingers.

“You’ll be fine if you lie down on the couch for a bit,” she said softly. She let go of his hair, which, true to form, fell right back into a different shape than it had before she touched it. Unbothered, she lightly combed through it again with her nails, as if restoring order had become her goal. “I mean, not lie down completely. It’d be best if you were half-sitting, half-lying. I’ll bring you some ice in a minute. Something for the pain wouldn’t hurt either.”

Spencer frowned slightly, studying the expression on her face. Surprisingly soft—and only then did a certain question arise in him, one about her behavior that day and the care she had shown, which he decided to hold onto for just a little longer.

Instead, he chose to clarify something.

“You’re bringing me ice? While I’m just lying there?”

“Sweet of me, right? You should be grateful,” she replied smoothly.

“I am,” he admitted immediately, almost instinctively, with a slight nod of his head. “But why are you doing all this, really?”

Her hand finally finished its renovation of his hair and handed him his shirt, which he caught, though he didn’t put it on yet.

“Because,” she began slowly, “you could be bleeding internally and still pretend you’re totally fine. And if you died…” She reached out toward the cat sitting on the kitchen island, gently scratching her under the chin. “Marie would be fatherless. And I’d have to find someone else to bully.”

He parted his lips slightly, raising his eyebrows.

 “So that’s really my only purpose..?”

 She tilted her head, flashing him an overly sweet, innocent yet commanding smile.

 “Go lie down, sweetheart.”

[yeetus-feetus]

Today my mother made me go to the beach. And while I was there I let myself enjoy the water and sand between my toes.

After a little while I felt like crying.

I felt like crying because remembered the videos I had seen of Palestinian children playing in the water of their beaches, of parents chasing children around while they laughed, of people enjoying the water and feeling the sand between their toes.

Then I thought about how these people don't get to enjoy their beaches anymore. Because Israel won't let them, because Israel is bombing the families who used to play in the sand.

When we got in the car my mum rolled all the windows down, said something about the fresh air. And as we drove I felt the cool wind against my face, in my hair.

And I wanted to cry.

Because the people in Gaza don't get to just enjoy the fresh air. Because all they're breathing in is debris from destroyed buildings and white phosphorus, and the smell of the dead.

I looked out my window and saw my old school as we passed. And I felt guilty, because I dropped out. But their are children in Palestine who are crying and begging to go back to school and they can't.

The children in Gaza can't go back to school because Israel has destroyed and bombed them.

And I think about the displaced people taking refuge in those very schools while Israel attacked them. I think about how unfair and cruel that is.

And then I see the trees. My favourite trees, Gum trees that are native to my land. And I think about how the native trees in Gaza are being destroyed and bulldozed, very important trees that mean a lot to the Palestinian people. And those trees are being taken away by Israel.

Then there are houses, homes and people going about their day. I watch them from my car window and I want to cry still. Because the people in Gaza have no homes, they don't get to go about their day.

I think about the displaced people in Gaza, who are lucky to have a tent to sleep in. Because Israel has bombed their homes, rained white phosphorus above their homes, bulldozed over their homes, forced the Palestinian people to flee from their homes.

I'm barely holding in my tears, because I'm in the car on the way to my own home and the people in Gaza don't get to do that.

We pass the shops, and my throat starts to close up because there's people buying ice cream and groceries for their families. And the people in Gaza are being starved by Israel.

The people in Gaza don't get to have ice cream, they can't do their grocery shopping. They don't even have enough food for their own children because Israel refuses to let any aid trucks in, because they control all the borders and entries into Gaza.

We pass by a chemist in particular and I think about all the children in Gaza not being able to receive medical care. Because the hospitals are being attacked by Israel. Because no medical aid can get in. Because they have doctors being killed.

And then we pass by the park. The park is empty. And I think about the empty parks in Gaza. Because there are no children to play on the swings, no children to run and laugh. Because the children are crying instead. The children have no legs to play because they've been bombed. They can't laugh because white phosphorus has burned through their faces. They can't do anything because they are frozen in fear.

Theses children who should be filling up empty parks are holding their baby siblings, trying to keep them alive because their parents, aunt's and uncles, have all been slaughtered by the IDF. These children who should be laughing are screaming out for help because members of the IDF are raping them.

These children who should be having fun at the park are prisoners of Israel for throwing rocks at tanks like the boy David who threw a rock at the giant Goliath to save his people. And these children are being tortured in these prisons because they were hopeful and brave.

These children who should be with their families at the park are dying. Are dead. A lying beneath the ruble. Are cold and limp with no air in their lungs. These children are in pieces scattered across the blood drenched ground.

They should have been at the park today.

I can hear a man talking on the radio, and he's talking about unimportant nonsense things and I feel angry. I feel frustrated. Because why is no one else talking about this!? Why is no one talking about what's happening to these people!??

We pass by the fresh water creak right before my house and I want to scream! Because I know there's no fresh water in Gaza. I know there are Palestinians dying of dehydration and yet there is fresh, drinkable water running right there! But the water in Palestine has been polluted by blood and disease, and the seawater Israel has flooded their water supply with.

And when I get to my bed I finally scream and cry and punch my mattress to get all my emotions out.

Now I'm numb and writing this so that someone will see it, hoping that someone will understand, hoping that someone will fight even harder for the people of Palestine.

I'm hoping that they can enjoy their beaches again. I hope that's sometime soon.

[sabrinajenre96]

My favorite characters of my favorite tv shows:

Revenge (TV Show): Jack Porter

Shadows of Revenge (mini series-Complete)

The return of the prodigal sister

Chicago PD : Kenny Rixton:

A glimpse of the past.

Part Two: What Was Lost, What Still Remains

Chicago P.D. – Kenny Rixton x Y/N Voight

Operation baby Rixton

All that matters

The hunting party : Oliver Odell

Before the Fire

The hunting party x criminal minds crossover

Classified Activities : Domestic Edition

"Hang On for Me"

Roswell (1999): Kyle Valenti

The clumsy Evans

Starstruck on the Outskirts

Dynasty (2017): Matthew Blaisdel

“Chaos and arrivals”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

FBI :

OA Zidan:

Ride or die

Field trips & foot chase

Stewart Scola:

Behind Closed Doors

FBI INTERNATIONAL:

Wes Mitchell:

Wes Mitchell x FBI!Reader:

Wes Mitchell x reader

The One Who Got Away

CHICAGO PD:

Jay Halstead :

The right kind of goodbye

A better goodbye

A better hello ( part 2 of a better goodbye)

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The Pitt:

Dr Michael Robinavitch:

“Volcanic Mayhem and Bedtime Battles”

“The chemist and the glitters ”

Instincts and Ice Cream

The quiet scars after the storm

The Robinavitch's adventure ( on going )

Light to my darkness

When the Strom brought her

Dr Jack Abbott :

Rooftop shift

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

ER:

John Carter :

Not without you

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE RESIDENT :

Conrad Hawkins :

Elastic waistband and emotional landmines

In sickness and in sleuth

Born between floors

Shadow and light

Unexpected reunions

Little Scrubs and Sweet Spooks

After the Strom

Full circle

Our future home

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

GILMORE GIRLS:

Logan Huntzberger :

The other Gilmore girl

All the things I love about you

Only you

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

BLUE BLOODS:

Jamie Reagan

Shadow and steel ( FBI crossover)

Doctor in duty

Awkward moment, perfect timing

Speed waking and witness protection

Paging Dr Doom

Don't cross the doctor

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE ROOKIE:

Tim Bradford :

Legacy in the shadows

The line in the sand

A day with the Bradford's

Badges and bedside manners

The line we walk

Double trouble

Coming home

Worth the wait

The future I see

Legacy and Loyalty

Cathing more than flowers

Three's company

[stealingyourbones]

(Click for better quality or view the read more to see a text version of the tropes)

Take your best shot at DPxDC Non-Trope Bingo! This is a writing challenge, not an ask meme. The goal for this isn't to be critical of common DPxDC tropes, but to do a fun writing challenge that flexes your creative writing! Diagonal, Horizontal, Vertical, and Blackout bingos are allowed. Write a fic without the tropes for your selected bingo! How to submit your fic: - Tag @stealingyourbones with your fic and bingo - Reply to this post with your bingo - Add your fic to the NTDPxDCWB ao3 Collection

Row 1 Column 1: Danyal/Demon Twins/Secret Twins/Is a Wayne Row 1 Column 2: DP Character Works at: (Pizza Shop, Wayne Enterprises, Arkham, Book Shop, Batburger, Coffee Shop, Watchtower) Row 1 Column 3: Adoption/Unofficial Adoption/Adoption Bait Jokes/Mistaken for Wayne/Parent Batkid Row 1 Column 4: Shipping (as main focus/ within fandom shipping) Row 1 Column 5: Ghost King/OP/Eldritch Danny/ GZ Ambassador Danny

Row 2 Column 1: Summoning/Constantine Sold his Soul/Not Pariah Dark but it’s Danny bait and switch/Batfamily used as Sacrifice Row 2 Column 2: Liminal/Ecto-contamination/Lazarus Pits as Ectoplasm Row 2 Column 3: De-Aged/ Physically Different Danny/ Animal Transformation Row 2 Column 4: Anti-Ecto Act Ignorance by Any Heroes/Secret GIW/Amity Park is Unknown bc Firewalls/Ghost Magic/Etc Row 2 Column 5: Reveal Gone Wrong/ Fleeing Amity/ Bad Fenton Parents

Row 3 Column 1: OP Amity Parkers/Amity Similar Levels of Crazy to Gotham/Danny Not Shocked by Gotham Row 3 Column 2: Mistaken for Clone/Clone/Clark Hates Clones Row 3 Column 3: Batfamily/Gotham Row 3 Column 4: Homelessness Row 3 Column 5: DP Character Works as: (Ice Sculptor, Medium, Engineer, Chemist, Burglar, Rogue, Vigilante)

Row 4 Column 1: Good Dad Bruce/WFA Dynamic Batfamily Row 4 Column 2: JL/Any DC character even remotely being shocked by Danny/his situation/ghost zone Row 4 Column 3: Danny starstruck by Aliens in JL/ Space Core centric fic/ Space Ancient Danny Row 4 Column 4: Dani as Danny’s Daughter/ Danny as Jazz’s Son/ Fentons as Dan’s Kids Row 4 Column 5: DP Character Goes to: (Gotham Academy, Gotham University, Coffee Shop, Library, Gala)

Row 5 Column 1: Shipping (cross fandoms specifically) Row 5 Column 2: DP Character Is: (Retired Vigilante, Knowledgeable About Ghosts, Related to DC Character, Roommates with DC Character) Row 5 Column 3: DP Character Kills Joker or Rogue\ Fear Gas doesn’t Work as Intended Row 5 Column 4: Lady Gotham/Eldritch Gotham City Row 5 Column 5: Related to Wonder Woman via Pandora/Trained by Pandora or Clockwork

[robboyblunder]

Because I love making more work for myself I decided to draw my boy flick's entire crew, team "Hell to Pay", an espionage group of rag-tag off-shoot element ghouls from random era mixes going on! If you wanna know more about their roles and such, it's under the read more :)

(also depending on their reception I'll consider making that third ghoul guide about their elements...) (ID in ALT text!)

-Gravitate (Element: gravity(subversion of air)) aka Grav (to some) or Tate (only to friends) {male(He/him), Gay; tall/wide typical wall of meat; handsome in a roughened/scarred way; wears the era 1 mask and cult robes but they’re shortened and tailored for movement} - [Muscle #1: strong bodied, durable, high endurance; slower in speed, but can camouflage]

[About: powerfully strong and level headed, rarely lets things visibly get to him- able to make almost any situation bend to his advantage in some way. Good at clearing heavy issues, and is also into physics; he seems blunt and scary but he’s shy and likes cute things.] ------------

-Frosty aka Os (said like Oz) (Element: ice(subversion of water)) {Nonbinary(She/her and He/him), Lesbian; average height with wide fatter body build; butch; wears the masculine prequelle era mask and outfit with changes for utility} - [Muscle #2 and Healer: Also strong and durable, but agile and has good aim; good at quick decisions]

[About: Loves ice skating, roller blading, or anything that moves fast; adrenaline junkie who also doesn’t get fazed easily and laughs loud and easily while taking on challenges with excitement. She’s trained in combat medicine but also fine motor skill tasks, adept with his hands.] ------------

-Crystalline aka Alli (Element: crystal(subversion of earth)) {female(She/her), Bi; Short with a smaller average build; has the impera era uniform and mask that is decorated by her to be “cuter”} - [Diversion/Support: Able to make incredibly strong shields and structures with sharp projectiles]

[About: incredibly jumpy and anxious, she is constantly swinging on choices but loves to settle in with anything cozy; doesn’t like getting dirty, but will do what it takes and can get extreme when fighting. Introverted except for her favorite people, but friendly to most- she loves crafting and stimming with beads and stickers.] ------------

-Fizzle aka Fizz or Fizzy (Element: plasma(subversion of quintessence)) {Nonbinary(They/any), Unsure of sexuality but likes everyone; on the taller side with a bent back due to habits; lithe skinny; wears the impera uniform and mask but has the era 2 mask tied to the back of their head as well as lots of added pockets, pouches, and a ripped up trench coat} - [Analyst/Co-leader: helps make plans and comes up with unusual ideas/angles- bad at talking though]

[About: technology engineer/chemist who often runs around grunting more than talking leading to them emoting a bit like a cartoon, but loves helping others/butting into whatever they’re doing. A bit hard to read and chaotic yet organized in their own system; any science makes them delighted, as well as cheesy novels and a good pastry. Almost always somewhat burnt.]

[dramatiique]

"You can't just say it as if you're certain. There are tests that should be done." And out the Sonic Screwdriver came, held in front of him as if it was as strong as a sword. Oh, but that was so very wrong — it was stronger. As it talked to him in its buzzes and zaps, the Doctor checked the color, the readings— ah-ha, okay, she was a human! And that conclusion might make him look silly if he cared about that kind of thing, but he most definitely did not.

"All right, you pass. You're going to the chemist's to get medicine? What's wrong with your mum? Actually, what's wrong with this town as a whole? I know it has a name that seems like a bad omen but it can't be all that terrible, can it? Where is everyone?" And if she didn't know, then he'd just have to follow her back to her house and speak to her mum. He would ask anyone he could lay his eyes on until he got some sort of lead.

Another scream interrupted them and the Doctor nearly slammed his palm into his head. He'd been so wrapped up with this lady that he'd completely forgotten to rush into the chemist's and check what the hell all that screaming was about.

"You should stay here or you might end up screaming too." Did that make sense? Or did it sound like a threat from him? He didn't have time to correct that awkwardly stated comment before he dashed the remaining distance to the shop and barrelled his way through in the exact same manner he'd knocked into his new acquaintance.

Vevina had been bumped into a handful of times, but never so roughly as to be knocked back onto the ground! And then he was shouting at her, too! He didn't sound or look like a uniformed officer, though!

"What?" Dazed, she looked up at him, brow furrowed in confusion. "Human? I -- Of course I'm human!" She didn't look like an animal, did she? Or did he mean something...not human? No, that couldn't be. Was he a content creator trying to pull an ill-timed prank? Or not in his right mind?

Sitting up, she brushed her bangs out of her face and looked up at the man not-quite-shouting at her. She didn't know his face, which was odd because Panswick was so close-knit.

"I'm just trying to get to the chemist's," she started, hoping that would be reason enough for him to relax or leave her be. "My Mum needs her medicine."

[steinbeck-vines]

Every Flags inspiration theory I have found, compiled

Note: some links are used multiple times, from sources with multiple theories. I pretty much linked everything I could find.

Albatross

Charles Baudelaire: mentioned here, here, here, here, and here. He wrote “L’albatros,” had imagery of guts in his writing, was a party person, wrote about alcohol, was a poet and major influence on Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud, and travelled to India (kukri knives are Nepalese in origin, but they are used elsewhere, including by the modern Indian Army. There is a very tangential possible connection).

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: mentioned here, and someone I know IRL is convinced of it. In The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the albatross is a good omen for a ship (a boon to transit, + could connect to evading the helicopter and the time Albatross forced Chuuya to swim home) who is brutally killed, haunting the narrative.

Jules Verne: mentioned here. Albatross' management of vehicles goes with Around the World in Eighty Days, and the quicksand ability, if his, could reference Journey to the Center of the Earth. Verne being in 55 Minutes makes this seem less likely, though not out of the question given the unlikelihood of Albatross' legal name or author basis being specified.

Doc

Michael Crichton: mentioned here, here, here, and here. He wrote Jurassic Park, which includes dinosaurs (possibly connecting to his ability), the disastrous consequences of dubiously ethical genetic experiments (connecting to Stormbringer overall), and general themes of irresponsibly playing G-d. He had an M.D. from Harvard, making him, like Doc, a real doctor who studied in North America. Doc's religious views tying into the archangel Michael's significance in apocalyptic religious texts is possible if tangential.

Edward Elmer Smith/E.E. "Doc" Smith: mentioned here. A sci-fi author known as Doc who was also a chemist. (He was described as blond, athletic, and gallant by Heinlein, which could be an intentional irony if Doc is based on him).

Iceman

Eugene O’Neill: mentioned here, here, and here. He wrote The Iceman Cometh, a play with a lot of parallels to the Flags and Stormbringer, and looked like Iceman.

Richard Kuklinski: mentioned here, here, and here. A convicted murderer known as the Iceman who claimed to have been a mafia hitman and to have killed 100-200 people (actually killed at least 5 but probably not more than 15). There is a book about him called The Ice Man: Confessions of a Mafia Contract Killer (though he didn't write it).

Aoyama Jirō: mentioned here. An art critic known for keen insight and a member of IRL Nakahara Chuuya's friend group.

Kawakami Tetsutaro: mentioned here. He introduced IRL Nakahara Chuuya to Saburō Moroi, and they were close friends until Nakahara's death.

Lippmann

Walter Lippmann: mentioned here, here, here, here, here, here, and probably elsewhere. Named Lippmann, he wrote Public Opinion, and his career in journalism, propaganda and negotiation work, and close ties to people in power fit with Lippmann being the face of the Mafia. The way he frequently held back until he got to a controversial issue which he decided he had to speak out about at the end of his career and him authoring a book which opens by talking about delays in information transfer could both correspond to an ability which will (allegedly) go off when he's killed and show the world the perpetrator.

Hasegawa Yasuko: mentioned here. She was an actress who IRL Nakahara Chuuya was once in love with and remained friends with.

Piano Man

Moroi Saburō: mentioned here and here. He brought together a music group which turned into a friend group which included IRL Nakahara Chuuya and adapted some of Nakahara's poems to music, as well as writing a lot of other music for the piano and other instruments.

D.H. Lawrence: mentioned here. He wrote "Piano," a famous poem where listening to a piano brings back memories of a lost childhood.

Billy Joel: mentioned here, here (sort of?), and in at least one other post I can't relocate, usually or always as a joke. He wrote and performed the song "Piano Man," which is about people hanging out at a bar.

[sweaty-toothed-mad-woman]

✨ INTRO POST ✨

I’m Kat 👋

(((ik some people put the stuff that’s important in like a specific color but this is kinda just a jumble of random stuff so nothing is really important ngl)))

this blog is pretty much entirely Dead Poets Society, but I sometimes integrate my current obsessions into my posts, so be aware of that

my yapping blog: @barbaric-yap

my writing blog: @gather-ye-fucking-rosebuds (I only have one thing tho lol)

MY FAV THINGS (kinda random ass things tbh)

My fav color is ice blue

My fav movie is DPS and FBDO

My fav artist is Taylor Swift

My fav song is Shake It Off

My fav school subject is science

My fav number is 9, 21, or 47

My fav show is Psych

My fav book is Kotlc or Harry Potter

My fav actor is Matt Damon

My fav yt channel is Kallmekris

My fav snack is Doritos

SOME THINGS ABOUT ME

#undiagnosedautismandadhdandanxiety

Aroace and proud of it

my pronouns are she/her

Sports I do: soccer, basketball, flag football, cross country, tap, jazz, and ballet

Instruments I play: cello, piano, and (kinda) guitar

Clothes I wear: sporty/ athletic or just comfy

i have three irl friends but I get along w everyone so idk if it’s REALLY three friends

I probably need therapy but I don’t feel like it and also my parents don’t believe in therapy so there’s that

Have I mentioned how much I love Ferris buellers day off??? Bc honestly I might like it more than dps (don’t sue me)

I sleep with a stuffed animal dog named Bennett

When I grow up I wanna be a chemist at nasa

idk what else to put sooo

my bestiesssss

@caffeinatedgirlfriend

@snek-of-eden

@prettypinkbubbless

@soobiesworld

@sophie-jane-silver

@lechnsherrs

@the-undead-poets-society

@dreadedwhim

@yawping-poets-society

@thiamblogger

@plumheadraven

(lemme know if you wanna be added I need more friends lol)

spam my ask box pleeeeeeeeeease I’m bored 90% of my free time

carpe diem, bitches. go seize the day and sound your barbaric yawps while gathering ye rosebuds and sucking out all the marrow of life.

[inkandarsenic]

911 8x15 Lab Rats reactions, as written out in my notes as I had them SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

ugh. the bitch. I really hate Moira guys

She just HAD a Stanley cup full of ice???

Oh. She took roz’s tumbler and bag. RUDE

“It could be hours” THANK YOU ROZ. NOT HELPFUL

THE FUCKING FBI???? Oh they’re not gonna do shit either. God why is the government so fucking USELESS

Athena stopping Buck with a word. THATS HIS MOMMA

“You know how you get when things get personal” Bobby has Athena CLOCKED

Athena and Buck Shenanigans time!! mother and son breaking the law together

Who is Williams again? I forget

maddieeeee. my girl has been through so much

HEN YOU ANGEL.

Not Bobby deciding to play chemist. Oh I love my little macgyvering team

“You’re a man waiting in the car” aw Buck was so excited to go undercover

Athena baby you are not the best actress. But it worked so go you I guess

“You stole the crime scene photos.” “They can make more.” I love them

CHEMISTRY CLASS 118 I love this so much ngl

RAVI???

RAVI????

“I transferred custody” girl you stole them

THEYRE RUNNING OHR OF AIR???

Bobby. Bobby. Bobby please don’t take off your mask

ok seriously what is Moira’s obsession with stealing roz’s shit

moiras like an ARSONIST. this is so criminal minds coded

girl. the super strain YOU FUCKING CRWATED???

“No one has that.” “They’re about to” oh I hate you

FOR THE BABY. I FORGOR THEYRE HAVING A GUCKKNG BABY AND HES DYING

please I can’t do a 118 heart to heart right nowwww

Buck wouldn’t leave Maddie alone either Chim

THEYRE THE BEST TJING HES EVER DOEN FUCK THIS SHOW I AM CRYING

STOPPPP

BOBBY FACETIMED MADDIE SO SHE COULD TALK TO CHIM????

CHIM?!

What is HAPPENING???

THW BLOOD IS JUST A FUCKING. FLOW??? FROM HIS NOSE????

TOU CAN BLEED OUT THROUGH TOUR NOSE???

HIS NOSE CAPILLARIES ARE DISSOLVING???? THATS A THING????

“I swear I thought the pastries were for everyone” you fucking BITCH

girl you were not slick

up? Buck. Buck what is your plan

DID HE CALL FUCKING TOMMY

he did.

You know what points to Tommy for this. I still don’t like him but he’s really coming in clutch here

HEN. DONT MESS WITH THE TUBE KEEPING YOU ALIVE

oh thank god for hen.

ok now how is Athena gonna get the cure into the lab??

Buck. Can we not do this right now.

Oh yeah I forgot Tommy is technically friends with chimney

Oh fuck off army man

hey. hey Tommy? hey please don’t risk lives here

I hate the fucking army. Why are they so intent on letting Chim die

wait. wait Athena isn’t even there is she??

YESSSSS

KAREN COMING IN CLUTCH

I love roz and Allen they are my favorite scientists here

Ok so they got the cure!!!

Athena getting arrested. smh

There are still twelve minutes so it’s just them having cute slice of life right??

“Athena! You’re under arrest too?” Lol. Try to sound less excited Buck.

No warrant? Cmon fbi tighten up. Or don’t. We still hate you

girl you are insane is what you are

well. Glad this nightmare is over

ROZ AND ALLENS LITTLW FIST BUMP AS CRAZY MOIRA GETS ARRESTED PLS I LOVE THEM

“You guys would not believe the day I had” Buck says as he walks into the lab where all four of his team spent the day nearly dying. I love him

hey where’s Bobby

CHIM ADOPTED THE RAT???? “I thought Jee yun could use a pet”

Bobby. Bobby. What??

BOBBY. WHAT THE FUCK

NO

NO YOU ARE FUCKJNG WITH ME

BOBBY????

“You’re gonna be okay Buck.” STOP IT RIGHT NOW.

I LOVE YOU KID????

I LOVE YOU KID?????????

SOMEBODY FUCKING SEDATE ME I CANT DO THIS

I LOVE YOU KID?????? BOBBY.

HES WALKING AWAY SO BUCK DOESNT HAVE TO WATVH HIM DIE????

PLEASE WE WERE SO CLOSE

PLEASE. TIM DONT DO THIS TO ME

BOBBY.

HE WANTS SOME TIME ALONE WITH HIS WIFE I’M GONNA. I HATE THIS

HE DOESNT WANNA GOOOOO

SEASON ONE BOBBY JUST WANTED TO DJW BUT SEASON EUGHT BOBBY WANTS TO LIVEEE FUCK

HE STARTED TO LIVE AGAIN WHEN ATHENA SAID YES TO DINNER????

And then I was crying too hard to keep typing through the end

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re constantly confronted with a deceptive projection of your own mind when you start noticing a certain profiler with pretty eyes in unexpected places and people. The diagnosis is simple — you’re losing your mind.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reader x diva!chemist reader, takes place somewhere before the vegas fic, diva’s pov, alcohol consumption, count how many times she mentioned his hands lmao, reader hooks up with a random guy, i’d say she’s ovulating but maybe it’s just typical spencer reid withdrawal symptoms idk

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.3k

𝐚/𝐧: request | i was planning to write this time a fic outside the series, but this request really spoke to me and i couldnt resist <3

Your attention was split three ways.

To your left came the quiet sound of music, soft enough to allow for conversation over pool or beer, lyrics that passed through your head and immediately left it again, not forcing your foot or the hands resting on the bar to move to its rhythm. Every single day, every word you say, every game you play, every night you stay…

In front of you, ice was slowly melting in a glass. Finely crushed, not cubes.

To your right...

A voice — gentle but engaged. Engaged in what it was saying, threads occasionally interrupted by a swallowed throat, a short pause after which he returned to the topic with ease. It was a book. At first, you were focused. You realized that the two of you had never actually talked about your literary tastes. That is, sometimes you mentioned titles. You backed your arguments in discussions with specific works, even compared yourselves in your verbal sparring to unbearable characters, but not once had you simply shared what you genuinely liked. What you reached for for pleasure, what had kept you up all night.

So yes, at first you were focused, and although you didn’t show it, you were also pleased. But it was evening, and at some point he rested his tired head — more precisely, his chin — in the palm of his hand. While speaking, he unintentionally applied pressure to his throat, to his vocal cords, and it seemed as though each of his words carried a slight vibration. It dispersed into the space around you, but because of how close you were sitting, it reached you. The small distortions gave his voice a pleasant murmur. You wondered how it would sound if he suddenly lowered it to a whisper. He’d probably have to come even closer for you to understand the words. Before them would come his scent, the movement of his lips near your ear, possibly brushing it by accident — which would make him freeze in embarrassment and glance sideways at your profile, uncertain, checking if you noticed.

Depending on your mood and the level of his awkwardness, you’d either point it out or let it pass in silence. That level would have to be perfectly balanced. Not too high for him to pull away. You wanted him to respond — to respond with a snort filled with fake nonchalance, but also to barely perceptible stumble over his words. You’d gone through this pattern dozens of times. Still, you found it satisfying.

A shadow of a smile formed on your lips when you realized your own analysis. How predictable he was when you broke it down into smaller parts over your drink, and yet so often surprising when you had a spontaneous, face-to-face conversation.

Speaking of the drink, you reached for it. But instead of touching the glass, you touched someone’s skin. A brief accidental brush — the man who had just been planning to grab his own quickly pulled his hand back. A hand. An unfamiliar pattern of veins on its back. An unfamiliar hand.

You turned your head sharply in his direction — the man with brown hair but green eyes, just tinged with brown at the right angle, gave you an apologetic smile.

You didn’t return it. What’s more, you didn’t take another sip that evening, deciding that maybe you’d had enough. Instead, you shook your head slightly, in disbelief at yourself. 

Fatigue. It was probably the fatigue.

*

The next time, the music was much louder.

In fact, it was bombarding your mind, not letting a single thought occupy your head for more than a second. You didn’t see that as a flaw. Wasn’t that the whole point? You couldn’t hear your own thoughts, let alone the words of the guy sitting across from you. You wanted to dance and have fun that night at the club, not focus on whatever it was he was trying to say to you.

You regretted that the friend you’d come with was currently a little occupied — in the arms of some woman in a sparkly skirt. She was much better company and a much better dancer. You didn’t intend to cling desperately to someone’s side — you never did — but something made you pause. And no, it wasn’t the guy right in front of you, more like a strange feeling that suddenly came over your body. A feeling that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, a feeling that carried the trace of someone’s longing gaze.

Well, you were so used to those — especially in places like this — that it almost escaped your notice. Almost—because it was too strong for that.

You turned your gaze in that direction. It took effort to find it. The eyes that sent it were constantly being obscured by moving bodies, yet somehow the look never broke.

Your hips suddenly slowed their fluid motion — you couldn’t stop scanning the crowd, even though you wanted to. A certain suspicion crept in, a theory that almost forced you to confirm it. You gave yourself one last chance to suppress that need. One last chance — wasted the moment you were sure you’d seen a familiar face.

You scoffed in disbelief. Many hours later, you would scoff again — that time calling yourself an idiot for not even asking the obvious question first what the hell would he even be doing there? The last person to voluntarily step foot in a club.

But in that moment, you didn’t consider any of that — you slipped easily through the gaps between strangers’ limbs, not quickly, but with purpose.

But it was like trying to catch smoke between your fingers.

The comparison came to mind as you watched the cigarette loosely dangling from your friend Olivia’s lips, shifting slightly whenever she cursed under her breath, rummaging through her microscopic, bright pink purse in search of a lighter.

You were standing outside, the night air acting not only as a refreshment but also as a sobering agent. Which you definitely needed.

“I swear it was here…” she muttered in frustration, still digging. Determined girl — she’d always been that way. Suddenly, she caught your gaze. “By the way, why did you want to come out so badly? Something wrong?”

With your arms crossed over your chest and one hip pushed out, without hesitation, like a doctor giving a diagnosis, you answered:

 “I’m losing my sanity.”

Taking it as a joke, she twisted her lips into a smile.

“Your sanity’s always been questionable,” she snorted. She stomped her foot, pulling the cigarette from between her lips. “Fuck! It must’ve fallen out somewhere…”

“Need a lighter?”

Right on cue, a voice appeared between the two of you. Or rather, an offer. But the first thing you noticed was a hand, holding out a metal lighter toward your friend.

Your forehead tightened, and driven by some mysterious impulse, your gaze immediately travelled up toward the man’s face. You immediately recognized him as the guy you’d danced with for a moment—the one who’d tried to hit on you. Blatantly assessing, you dropped your gaze back down to his hand, then to the friendly smile on his lips as Olivia accepted the lighter. Again. The hand, the face.

He seemed…cute. 

Not a compliment, just an observation you could’ve made at first glance. There was a lot more you could say about him later. Though, far less about his personality, and much more about his build—shoulders harder than you liked, hair too short to properly thread your fingers through.

The hair thing really disappointed you, but oh well.

Aside from that, there were plenty of things you could simply fill in yourself. A solution loudly approved by the dim light in the bedroom, the kind that fixed all the details that didn’t matter anyway.

[piratefalls]

another long list, except it's a day early because this is how i give thanks.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five.

No Sense or Sensibility by inexplicablymine

“When and where was your first kiss.” Oh shit. The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened. ____________________ Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

I'm Rememberin' I Promised (to Forget you Now) by Angelwithwingsoffire

It's been six years since Alex Claremont-Diaz graduated law school. And he's made a good life for himself, working with a firm he enjoys and making a difference in the world. Until a part of his past he'd thought he'd gotten over seven years ago walked back into his office asking for his help. To get a divorce. Which Alex has never done before. But he's never been able to say no, and he's willing to put his heart back under the bus for the chance at one more smile.

Rogue's Gallery by OrchidScript

Loathe as Alex was to admit it, Henry Fox was going to be a legend someday. He already was in the bureau depending on who was answering. Tied to art theft, jewel theft, one or two little sweet confidence schemes, and an alleged counterfeit Super Bowl ring, but caught on three counts of art forgery, the blond Brit had run circles around the Art Crimes division for six years. He was quick, smarter than the average bear, and more detail-oriented than a nuclear chemist. He had a penchant for nice suits, silk ties, and gin tonics with lime. He wrote letters to agents in taunting poetry, tucking them under windshield wipers or posting them to the office directly. Once, he managed to drop one directly into the pocket of a plainclothes officer without them seeing his face. _____________________ Henry Fox is a famous art forger, and Alex is the FBI agent who caught him three years ago. When one of Henry's aliases comes up attached to a new case, can the two put aside their cat-and-mouse past to put the copycat away?

Queer little ducks hold a special place in my heart. by anarchyat4am

Henry’s at a local Hispanic Heritage Month event browsing the art stalls when his gaze catches on a kid looking around with both purpose and nervousness. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt with one hand while she bites the nails of the other one, eyes alert and searching. Lost, then. And oh, Henry recognises her. She’s a regular at his bookstore, even at only six years old, and is there at least weekly with her dad—Alex, who she’d introduced to Henry as her papi—or various aunties and uncles, most of whom Henry doesn’t think are actually related to her. Keeping one eye on her, he lets his gaze sweep the vicinity but doesn’t see anyone else he even remotely recognises. Shit. He has to do something. “Sirena?” he calls gently. * Henry... is more than a bit useless around hot guys. So when he finds the lost kid of the gorgeous dad who frequents his bookstore, he pulls himself together until they reunite, only to then be devastated by the revelation that the man thinks Henry hates him. And, well... courage always rises, and all that.

just say you won't let go by viciouslyqueer

After dancing around each other for months, Alex and Henry finally get together. The morning after comes with a slight misunderstanding and comforting words.

We were supposed to find this by kiwiana

Still, half an hour after shaking Prince Henry’s hand for the first time, he finds himself back in his hotel room with one shoe and sock hurriedly tugged off and his right foot resting on his left knee. Just to check. Just in case Alex is somehow, by some miracle, about to become the first documented case of Surprise! You Can Totally Have A Different Soulmate, We Fucked Up And Your One Kind Of Sucks. No such luck. The words are the same as they’ve always been, etched into his skin in a careful, calligraphic font. The kind of handwriting someone might have if, for example, they came from the sort of family that valued tradition and etiquette far higher than letting their children write like normal human beings.

Sit. Down. Please Stay. by politics_and_prose

Alex adopts a dog he found abandoned on the side of the road. She's nervous and he wants to make sure he knows how to give her the best life possible. Enter Henry Fox and his beagle David.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by clottedcreamfudge

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that care should be taken, given the Mountchristens' local influence?" Liam nods. "Sir." Luna then turns to Alex. "Do not piss anyone in that family off." Alex throws his hands in the air. "So many aspersions have been cast on my good character this morning that I could start a fucking farm. An aspersions farm." Luna narrows his eyes. "Correction," he says, "have another coffee and then do not piss anyone in that family off. Don't make me regret fast-tracking you through the ICI Development Programme." * After getting shot in the line of duty back in Texas, June forces Alex into a change of scenery. Because how much can really be going on in the quaint little English county of Midsomer?

something that feels like forever by dearestalez

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Alex choked on a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I’m just-” he sniffed, holding her so delicately Henry felt herself melt into the touch. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” — alex and henry are so in love it makes me want to rip out my heart and stomp on it but slash pos

behind brick walls by weather_stained

After Henry and Alex move in together, it takes quite a while for them to fully adjust to their newfound freedom. Alex very much enjoys watching Henry grow more comfortable in his own skin after a lifetime of looking over his shoulder.

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis

5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by affectionatelyrs

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper

"How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way." OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

Au Naturel by cmere

The French doors leading to the office are thrown open, so he has a moment to take in the scene in front of him: Alex, lying on his stomach on the floor, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle, surrounded by books, papers, and two open laptops. None of that, however, catches Henry's attention as much as Alex's hair, secured in a small, messy knot on top of his head with nothing but a single wooden chopstick. Henry blinks rapidly several times. "Alex," Henry says, somehow hoarse. Alex's head whirls around. There's a single, perfectly curled tendril over the apple of his cheek; his scruff has hit the mystical, magical point where it's more soft beard than prickly shadow; his reading glasses sit atop his adorable nose; and Henry realizes with sudden gravity that he's not entirely in control of his physical responses anymore—something has to give. Alex hasn't really been bothering with some of his usual upkeep, and Henry is kind of extremely into it.

You deserve my love by whateveridk

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me to." Henry had turned towards him, stealing himself, sticking his chin out, and said “leave.” Alex has been picking up the pieces ever since. Two years later, living with Nora and June in NYC, it still haunts him, but it's fine. Whatever, he is fine. And then... Breaking News: Prince Henry comes out as gay So it's not fine, Alex is not fine.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.“Excuse me?”“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

More Than A Makeover by everwitch

The Fab Five—Alex, June, Nora, Liam and Spencer—descend on a New York based shelter for disenfranchised queer youth to give the place a much needed makeover. As the week progresses, sparks start to fly between Alex, the culinary representative of the queertastic quintet, and Henry, the sweetly charming founder of the shelter. It’s a deeply emotional week full of unexpected realizations, and certainly a week that strengthens Henry’s friendship with Pez in ways that neither of them quite knew they needed. As the week comes to a close and the Queer Eye team say their goodbyes, it remains to be seen what will become of the warm connection between Alex and Henry. Will it last, or was it too much of a perfect miracle to ever grow into something real?

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY OF WALES AND MR ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course.  Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr. Claremont-Diaz's parents.  The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace. 

A Toast to the Night by allmylovesatonce

Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit. “Uh, hi,” the man says. “Hi.” “Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor

The bartender slides Alex the whiskey and shot of water before turning her attention to the person behind him. He turns around at the same time as the person speaks, “Gin and tonic” in all rounded vowels, a distinct English accent shining through, and he swears his heart stops. “Holy shit,” Alex says before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. “Henry?” When Alex is celebrating June and Nora's bachelorette party in Vegas, the last person he expects to see is his ex-boyfriend Henry, who moved back to London nearly a year ago. Waking up next to him the following morning, naked and sated with a marriage certificate poking out of his pocket, he starts to wonder if he's truly over Henry.

hang on 'til the chaos is through by ShyAudacity

David is lounging on his spot at the foot of the bed when Alex comes in. He opts not to turn on the light, not wanting to disturb Henry, but then quickly finds that the light is on in their bathroom. Henry must still be getting cleaned up before bed; Alex can say hello and check on Henry when he steps out. It’s weird that he’s still up. Henry was awake well before Alex was this morning and… come to think of it, Alex can’t remember him ever coming to bed last night. Alex has only made it through the top three buttons on his dress shirt when he hears a terrifying crash come from the bathroom. Clutching his chest, he steps towards their shared bathroom, afraid to see what’s on the other side. “Henry? …H, what was-.” Alex stops short in the doorway, startled to find the love of his life in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor.

Sad Again (Don't Tell My Boyfriend) by lucy_in_the_sky

After proposing to Alex, Henry writes a letter to his father reflecting on all the moments he’ll never get to share with him. AKA Alex comforts a mourning Henry and promises to be there for him, forever and always.

monster mash by matherine

None of Henry’s answers to “Who are you supposed to be?” are particularly funny to anyone but him, especially in his inebriated state, so he’s completely given up on making any sense when the latest person asks him, someone who he assumes is yet another sorority girl in a skimpy costume from the glimpse of a cheerleading skirt he gets while they brush past him to open the fridge. “George Villiers,” he offers. “Deep cut, England,” a decidedly male voice snorts, and Henry can’t help the way his head snaps up, eyes wide.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“Henry,” Alex rasps wonderingly, sounding almost entranced, “I want to eat your ass.” Henry’s train of thought screeches to a halt with such force that for a moment, he thinks he might’ve had a stroke.

how did a middle-class divorcé do it? by Time_Sequence

Not really concerned, Alex watched the typing bubble appear – disappear – appear again, like Henry couldn’t quite find the words to say what it was he was thinking. Most likely, he was trying to find the perfect sarcastic quip in response. What came through made him genuinely pause. HRH Prince Dickhead💩: You complete and utter moron Then, HRH Prince Dickhead💩: Royalty can’t marry divorcees If Alex had been having a good time before, he definitely wasn’t now. - When a joking interview reveals that Alex and Nora drunkenly married ten years ago, suddenly Alex's upcoming wedding to Prince Henry is jeopardised.

discreet packaging by demigodbeautiies

“Please, please, please explain to me,” Zahra says, finally, sounding more than a little bit long-suffering. “Why I had to have the head of the Secret Service sit me down and tell me to give you a talk about avoiding bomb scares with unidentifiable packaging.”

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202

"Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”  His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him.   Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.   He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back.  Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty

Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot. Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

Let Loose Your Glow by athousandrooms

“Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense. So, Alex makes an impulsive decision. Whatever happens, this is going to be fun. *** Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Things I Cannot Accept by SprigsofViolets

In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election. In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

How well you play...that's up to you by happinessofthepursuit

Treacherous (adjective) guilty of or involving betrayal or deception; (of ground, water, conditions, etc.) hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers. Or, how to describe surgical residency in a single word. A Grey's Anatomy inspired AU.

In Accord by absoluteaudacity

Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

A Heart Even More Your Own by chaa_kiao

“Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go." Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. “I love you.” “Alex—” “I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.” _______ Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by alasse

Five times Alex and Henry have important conversations in houses, and one time they have a very important conversation in a castle.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all. Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems? OR Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

Let Them Eat Cake by rohruh

“I wanna eat you out,” Alex’s voice comes out raspy and intrepid through the phone pressed against Henry’s ear. Henry lets out a soft whine at the admission, his breath up-ticking in synchrony with his hips as he thrusts up into his hand. “I’d like that,” he tells Alex eagerly, cradling the phone in his palm as though he could materialize Alex right there in front of him if he presses it against his ear firmly enough. “I’ve never done it to a guy before,” Alex confesses. “Is it… different from eating out a girl? I bet you’d taste so good, baby. Fuck.”

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes

After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually. They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why. or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

All for a Taste of the Honey by chamel

“So you’re telling me you’re not in favor of this plan,” Henry says eventually. “No, I’m fucking not,” Alex huffs, glaring at him. “It’s stupid and dangerous and unnecessary.” Henry cocks one perfect eyebrow at him. “You have another idea for how to get access to the room where he does his deals? The one that only ever admits Vega, his associates, and the strippers who entertain them?” (Or, an FBI agent!Stripper!Henry fic. Henry goes undercover at a strip club, and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.)

in the mood for... by carzla

Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex. So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

something good and right and real by HypnosTheory

“This is pretty expensive for a high school trinket.” “Everything is bigger in Texas,” Alex jokes. Henry looks up at Alex, who’s standing with his shoulders relaxed for the first time since October. The relief of his mother’s victory has made him loose-limbed and calm, his smile easy and lovely. Henry looks down at the crown in his hands and back at Alex. He imagines the gold half-buried in Alex’s hair, heavy on the man’s brow, decadent and royal. Henry swallows, face heating, and holds the crown out to Alex. “Put it on.” -- After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

In His Wildest Dreams by myheartalive

Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him. “So… that happened again.” Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.” There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?” “Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description. “No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.” “It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.” — Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process — Mind the tags, y'all. That particular tag features prominently and it’s a major plot point, so if that’s not your jam, just hit the back button.

until next time!

[cogitxtio]

You can have it, if you like. There's a startling amount trying to make its way into the ventilation system.

Was anyone going to tell me that Thorns took over the Engineering department's east hallway for an experiment today, or was I just supposed to find out by getting a faceful of sand?