#this is the same thing that happened when i considered marvin a few years back

[arthyritis]

Was beginning to get attached to a new name and thought about adding it to my hoard, then tried to picture people calling me it and realised it didn't actually suit/appeal to me, I'm simply that: attached.

[crazyunsexycool]

Unbreakable

Chapter 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: bit of fluff I guess

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: we finally have the next chapter. Bit dialogue heavy but reader gets a friend

Series masterlist

Ch. 2

The little bell above the door rang, again. Every time it did you looked up hoping to see your new friend walk through. After another few minutes you see Lisa scanning the dining area. Her eyes light up when she sees you and a warm smile grazes her lips as she gets closer. She gave off cool aunt vibes with her up to date clothes and accessories. Her honey blonde hair falling just about her shoulders and the confidence that just shone through as she walked further into the space.

“Hi, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” She said once she sat down.

“Not at all. I got here a little early.”

“Have you been here before?” Lisa asks as she looks at the menu.

“A few times. They’ve never given me trouble for having Marvin. Some other places have been a bit of a pain.”

Lisa leans to the side to see Marvin sitting calmly at your side. She smiles as she straightens back up.

“He’s gorgeous. Is he a service dog or a support dog?”

“Service. My therapist thought it would be a good idea to help with my ptsd and anxiety. I’ve had him for a few months now and he’s done wonders.”

“That’s good to hear.” She replies before the server takes both of your orders and then leaves. “And how long have you been going to the group?”

“A few weeks, I really didn’t want to at first but it’s helped knowing that there are other people that have gone through similar experiences. That I don’t have to feel ashamed about it. How about you?”

“Well I don’t go as regularly as I used to. What I went through happened about ten years ago. I’ve healed and I’ve moved on but sometimes I’ll have a nightmare or if I have an argument with my new partner I get anxious so going to a meeting helps.”

“Oh,” that piqued your interest. “So you’re seeing someone?”

“Yes, my partner and I have been together for three years now. She’s wonderful and so understanding. Do you think you’ll ever see yourself dating again?”

You shake your head and sigh.

“Don’t worry, I used to think the same thing. Actually my girlfriend and I started out as friends and it developed into something more.”

“That’s lovely. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to be in a relationship again but I’m not closing myself off to the possibility.”

“That’s all you can do.” She smiles.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.” Lisa says.

“Was your last partner also a woman?”

“Yes, a lot of people have a difficult time accepting that women can also be abusive. It didn’t help that she was also extremely manipulative.”

You just nod in acknowledgment as the server shows up and places your food down.

For the next few minutes you ate and just learned a few things about each other, like what you did for a living and about your families. The more the conversation flowed the more you realized you had in common.

“You know something that helped me get control of my life back was learning how to defend myself.” She said after taking a sip of her drink.

“How so?”

“Well I learned how to handle and shoot a gun. Maybe you should look into it.”

“I don’t think I could ever shoot a gun.”

“It doesn’t have to be a gun. Maybe some form of karate or boxing. If you know how to defend yourself, you’ll be more comfortable around people. You could even have a friend go with you. Do you have friends?” She asks softly. “If not, I'm more than happy to go with you to a few classes.”

Would you consider Steve as a friend? Maybe. He was, however, an Avenger. Maybe he would be willing to give you a few lessons.

“I have a friend, kind of.”

“What does ‘kind of’ mean?” She leans forward.

“I’m still getting to know him, so I haven’t fully decided but maybe if he is willing to do this with me that means I can start to really trust him.”

“Who is this friend?”

“His name is Steve.” You mutter and she smiles.

“That’s all I get, his name? What does he do?”

“Uh-“ you blank for a second, unsure of how to answer. “He used to be in the military. He’s a security guard of sorts. He’s very nice. I actually met him when I sat in at a wrong group meeting.”

“Hhmm, he sounds interesting. Is he cute?”

You choke on your drink and cough.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lisa says with a laugh.

“Uh I have noticed that he is attractive and very… fit.”

“Do you like him?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Not like that. I couldn’t.”

“Ok, I believe you. But still, ask him if he’d be willing to go with you and then let me know.”

You nod and you each place money down for your meal. Outside Lisa asks if it’s ok to give you a hug which you accept. It’s the first hug you’ve received in at least a year and a half. It made you realize how much you craved being close to someone.

After finally reaching your apartment, Marvin jumps up on the couch and gets comfortable. His eyes follow you around, when he can’t see you his head shoots up. He relaxes once again when you walk back out in sweats and a t-shirt.

You scratched Marvin behind his ear with one hand as you stared at your phone in the other.

“What do you think Marv, should I call or text him? I don’t even know what I would talk about though.”

Your phone vibrates in your hand and you jump, dropping the phone in the process. Marvin huffs as you scramble to grab it only to be surprised at seeing Steve’s name on the screen?”

“Hello?” You answer.

“Hey Y/N, it's Steve.”

“I know.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles to himself. “Don’t mind me, I'm just tired.”

“Oh, any particular reason?”

“I just got back from a two day mission. It wasn’t great.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know. So what’s up?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.” He says after a moment of quiet. “I don’t want to dump anything on you, I’d just like to think about something else, if that’s ok.”

“It’s more than ok.”

“Did you do anything fun today?”

“I actually did. I had lunch with someone from my group. I think we’ll be good friends. She’s really nice.”

“That’s good. It’s good to have friends that you can rely on.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you like a friend to rely on?” You asked softly. Already aware that two of his closest friends were gone. That he was as lonely as you were, maybe even more because people turned their backs on him for not saving everyone.

“I would like that very much.”

“Dog park in 20?”

“I’ll see you there.”

It was a bit chilly even with the sun still out. You opted for wearing something warm, there was no need to impress Steve. Marvin was running around chasing the ball you had thrown from your place on the blanket you had laid on the ground. Steve shows up a few minutes late with two bags in his hands and a cup holder. He smiles as he sits down but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, thanks again for the invite.” He says as he grabs a cup and holds it out for you. “Hot chocolate.”

You hesitate for a moment but take it. It was nice of him to get you a warm drink and you had to remind yourself that not everyone was trying to hurt you.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Where is Marvin? I got him something if that’s ok.”

You nod before taking a sip of the drink. Marvin comes running back with the ball you’d thrown in his mouth. Panting and happy. He lets go of the ball when he sees Steve and takes a few steps in his direction. Marvin sniffs around Steve before bumping his head against the latter’s chest. He does it again and Steve looks from him to you confused.

“Is everything ok Steve?” You asked as Marvin whined.

“Yeah, what is going on with Marv?”

“You’re very anxious and he’s trying to get you to interact in order to help you calm down. So go on and pet him.”

You push your glasses up as you wait for Steve to do as you ask. He sighs and starts to scratch Marvin behind the ears, it’s slow until he’s fully petting Marvin. You can see his shoulders relax and a small smile appear after a while.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I just saw someone that reminded me of my friend.”

“Sam or Bucky?”

“Sam.”

“Tell me something about him.” You say quietly.

“Let’s see, I met him six years ago while I was working in D.C. he used to work helping veterans with PTSD. He’s funny and laid back.”

“Are you trying to set me up on a date with him? Because if you are, count me in.”

Steve smiled in your direction.

“We used to go running together in the mornings. Even if I outran him, he didn’t care. When I couldn’t trust anyone he opened his home up to me, no questions asked. We had this routine where he wrote out a list of must watch movies that I’d missed and we would watch them together. He really is funny and very compassionate. Even when he has his own problems he finds a way to help others. Sam is a good man and I just fucking miss him.” Steve sniffled and then cleared his throat.

“He sounds great.”

Steve just nodded. “Anyways, I got Marvin a puppuccino and a dog toy.” He took the lid off the extra cup and held it out for Marvin, who immediately accepted it.

Once he was done he took out a frisbee and threw it giving Marvin a perfect reason to run off. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, then you started talking about nothing important but still entertaining. Before you realized it, it was time to leave. Marvin had made his way over to you and didn’t fuss when you put on his vest and leash on again. Steve, always the gentleman, helped you up.

“Um Steve?”

“Yeah?” His gaze is fixed on you. It’s still amazed you how he seemed intimidating and even scary but right now with the gentleness in his demeanor he looked as vulnerable as you felt. You had been thinking about it since he talked about Sam and if you ever wanted to move past the abuse you lived you had to take a first step. Steve had always made you feel safe enough to want to take a step in the right direction.

“Do you still have that list?”

“I do.” A tiny glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes and you knew you were making the right decision.

“I thought that maybe you’d like to cross one off the list. With me�� and Marvin of course.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot actually.” He smiles at you. It was different this time, hopeful.

“Ok. Does Friday work for you?”

“I’m free on Friday.”

You nod once and smile shyly up at Steve.

“I’ll see you Friday then.”

“See you then.”

You say your goodbyes and you leave with Marvin happily leading the way. Both of you anxiously waiting for Friday.

Ch. 4

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Series masterlist:

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[possessionisamyth]

previous anon about Carlos should have been in here: there is a few things about RE2R that I wish wasn't left out was Chris having anything to acknowledge why he didn't tell Claire himself he'll be "taking time off" and she had to hear it in the midst of the world ending from Marvin (in OG2 we find a file saying can't tell Claire I'm being watched and she would want to come with me to guard my back... does that get addressed in OG code veronica? i don't remember much all I remember is Chris "I always keep my promises"... hi call back in Village Mia in the cells says something like "you promised you would keep us safe") and Jill already being there and suffering/tying up loose ends (she had a planned time to leave its on her calendar and suffering is the pills on her bedside table and that letter "barely eating/ barely sleeping") the only people she had with her is Carlos and Tyrell and they were ubcs

the only form of "jealousy" i want to see from Chris when it comes to Carlos is none (maybe a little angst about Carlos did something Chris didn't which is get to Jill in time). Chris is in a horrible situation with Jill AND more importantly Claire who we barely get to see him interact with (he couldn't even try to reach for her when they were in neighbouring cells?) and then we throw in Carlos? who went through so much helping Jill (does Carlos know that giving the "vaccine" to Jill is what made Wesker want her- that her blood had the t virus specifically modified for the Nemesis and the vaccine?)

i enjoyed the film... the one time i watched. it any time I rewatch my enjoyment will be because i am watching it with my sister (after her first time watching it obviously) and we start making fun of it

(next and only time I want to see Leon again is when he is getting dragged by a horse. watch trick riding then watch that motobike scene in vendetta as to why)

Welcome back! There was a lot in the first paragraph, so I spent the day rereading and poking at what events you're talking about. I know after reading the rest of this ask that there's something I need to state.

I don't know what train of canon these movies are going for post-RE2 Remake (2019). Vendetta dropped in 2017 the same year as RE7 and as far as we know follows the canon timeline of all the games prior aka RE0-RE6. But after this? Infinite Darkness and Death Island? Entirely up in the air. With all the changes they're shifting to make things more realistic they could be going from the remakes, but Infinite Darkness dropped before the RE4 Remake and takes place after those events. Other than hard dates for what movie or game happens when, I'm genuinely adverse even considering touching which canon trail the movies and animated series are following from 2021 forward. The best I can do is say the original games are one canon, the remakes are another, and they're not supposed to be interchangeable, but Capcom is trying to shove them into one box for???? reasons??? (Money. The reason is money.)

I always try to compare them as separate trails just to see what the remakes try to pull from the original games based on inspiration and improvements. One of the most notable changes they make for the remakes is how important information is delivered to the player.

In the original games they make you read a lot. There are tons of documents and files sprinkled all over the area, in desks, behind paintings, on the ground, in lockers, on doors, in windows, in safes, under chairs, on the stairs, buy my wares, it's all over the place! And it's overwhelming! Especially because you don't even need half of the information you find to progress. It's good for people who want to know lore, but if you're a seasoned player, you can filter out the lore from the "this has a hint or keycode I need to unlock the next area". So you won't read what you don't care to read meaning character beats like Chris' notes can be skipped with no consequence other than losing some of the story. By having a different character voice this information to the player, you can't skip it. You are getting vital information that helps enrich the backstory and the nuance of the characters and the world around you in those same bites of time.

The best example of this is the changes they did for Luis from Resident Evil 4. In the original, you learn all of his information, his backstory, his motives, everything about him through a fuck ton of notes and letters that are very easy to skip or miss. From a storytelling perspective, there's no value in that. If you miss most of this information, he's just some guy the entire time, who's kinda sexist, and gives you bullets and healing items. In the remake, he's telling you and showing you who he is through his actions. You the player get to see his motivations and character through cut scenes with Ada and Leon with minimal sleuthing with a couple pictures and a singular journal you find that may or may not relate to him. And the last edges of the truth come out in just a couple documents in his lab before the final boss fight. It's not through this 20 page lore dump that's supposed to inspire sympathy at the end of the game. This change worked because everyone wants to fuck Luis now.

So it's small, but I do appreciate Marvin being the one to tell Claire about Chris. It highlights that Chris trusted Marvin adding a little more sadness to his death because maybe they were friends. It let's the audience know that Chris talks about Claire at work enough that Marvin knows how important she is therefore telling the player Chris cares about her a lot. It also lets Claire and the player receive this information very painlessly because not everyone is a completionist who needs to play the game 50 times and wring everything out of it.

As for Chris being in a bad situation with Claire and Jill, I really don't think that's the case. I know Chris drops the ball sometimes, but it's not on purpose, and it's never out of malicious intent. He tries, and he beats himself up when he fails. He's his own biggest critic because he's lost so many people, and it hurts him to see others doing what stupid shit he does, because he doesn't want them to get hurt. He wants the people he cares about to be better than him.

Chris did blame himself for not being there for Claire in Raccoon City, and he apologized to her in Code Veronica. As for not holding Claire's hand through the bars, I don't know how he would've done that.

Look at Jill's hand and how she grasps one of the bars of the cell. The gaps are very narrow, and Chris has huge arms. Maybe Claire could squeeze a limb through, but she'd have to bend her arm very awkwardly for Chris to make that reassuring contact unless they both sat on the floor. I know he very much did want to hold her hand, and I do blame the directors for not giving us a single Redfield hug. But I don't think it was a matter of Chris not wanting to make sure she's okay. He does love Claire. This movie was terrible about showing that kind of care between literally everyone in the cast.

As for Chris being on bad terms with Jill, I can't say that's true either. This movie takes place 6 years after Wesker is finally dead. Presumably that means this is Jill's first year back on the field since her traumatic event. Chris isn't going to leave her on radio silence after all they've been through together. She's not Leon. I like to believe Chris was there for her through a lot of her recovery and probably endorsed her return to the BSAA because she wanted to come back. It's a small moment, but when Chris first approaches her in the shooting range, Jill tells him not to worry about her and passes him a water bottle. There's an understanding here. Their friendship isn't gone nor diminished, but Jill is putting herself under a lot of pressure, and Chris doesn't know how to take that weight from her shoulders. That's why their conversation deteriorated the way it did.

As for Carlos, I think he'd have mixed feelings on knowing him helping Jill survive was a boon for Wesker, but I don't think he'd beat himself up for it. At the time, there were only two options which were save Jill or let Jill die. He's no scientist that could synthesize an alternate cure, and he cares about Jill as deeply as she cares about him. In any variation of the events of 1998, he wouldn't have let her die if he had the power to prevent it. He also knows if their roles were reversed, she would do the same for him. Yes, it's awful that Wesker manipulated Jill for a fact of her body she had no control over, but I'm sure Jill and Carlos would've had a long talk about not playing the blame game if the conversation came up between them. Capcom had to get rid of Carlos (and Sheva) because he actually has decent communication skills, and that doesn't work for their half-assed written angst dynamics.

Also don't get me started on RE7 and RE8 because I have a bazillion words about the Winters family and Chris. Like...too many...

But I'm happy you're having fun making fun of the film! I'll be doing that myself during my rewatches as I write out my rewrite with Carlos.

[delicatebluebirdruins]

https://www.tumblr.com/delicatebluebirdruins/735327686108561408/whistling

Your comments were disabled for this post, but I just couldn’t let this go. I’m fascinated by this. RE3R was made by an out-of-house team, while RE2R was in-house. The two teams were largely disconnected from each other, only coming together to ask questions about the game engine. Where did your information come from? Was it actually listed in the credits? And if so, I wonder how the two games could be so widely different from each other then. I know RE2R cut some content, but it wasn’t nearly on the same level as RE3R.

1 i rarely remember how to disable post things so i have no idea what happened there sorry

2 RE2R and RE3R were developed by different teams at the same time as you said chatting to keep their timelines as straight as possible (with the RE2R's team decision to leave it up in the air with who got to RPD first and how similar the campaigns ran like Birkin and Annette dying twice further confusing things with Marvins knife in re4r)

3 with the cut content the makers of the game themselves (quite a few working on the orginal Nemesis including the main director Kiyohiko Sakata making his debut for RE3R) wanted to make it streamlined to make it a straight run through bascially keeping the ongoing main story points and being cut throat with other things (those things were probably going to end up as DLC because Carlos did pick up a extra pouch during the siege, Tyrell did get into trouble by someting other than zombies considering how he looked when he got to the hospital and something broke that wall in the RPD, and you cannot tell me were not going to get a Marvin DLC somewhere in there and I almost forgot Nicholai how did he get off the train? how did he get to the courtyard in time to see Jills battle with Nemesis where was he in proximity to see that fight and Nemesis infecting her.)

(yeah RE3R is slightly more action orientated then 2 its almost as if she's a trained veteran part of an elite team or anything)

my only thought when reading that silly comment was oh yeah like this guy who actually fucking worked on RE3R and then went on to RE4R

there is not a lot of information about M Two studios but here is one thing https://www.gamesindustry.biz/tatsuya-minami-reportedly-starts-new-capcom-backed-studio-m-two-inc

"So RE2 started [development] first," said Fabiano in a recent GameSpot interview. "But one thing to clarify is that when we decided it was the right time to work on that game, we knew that we wanted to remake RE3 as well because it would essentially tie up the trilogy. We had already brought back the RE1 Remake with the remaster, and we were working on RE2, so we knew we wanted to have RE3, too. So it's not like it just came out after one year RE2 was done, and then suddenly you had RE3. It was planned."

he commented further: "But just to be clear, they didn't start development at the same time."

Simultaneous development should come as no surprise to those familiar with the industry's creative pipeline process. Fabiano explained that RE3 was in active development for three years, and had some overlap with RE2's development. In fact, what the RE2 team was doing with Mr. X helped inform the RE3 team's work on Nemesis, the towering tyrant-like pursuer pursuing Jill in that game.

"We saw what [the RE2 team] were doing with Mr. X, and he kind of upped the ante in their reimagined version of that game," said Fabiano. "And so when the RE3 director saw that, he was like, 'Okay, well I need to take Nemesis to the next level.' And I think that comes out in what players will see."

[if Nemesis was exactly like the Tyrant in RE2R people would be bitching because Nemesis in the remake is a cat he is toying with us he can come into small rooms like the safe room where you get the bolt cutters]

I think i shared this article before but here it is again for this quote

Fabiano: We had members of the original team working on the game so they were extremely excited to completely rebuild their vision for what Raccoon City should look like, as well as being able to tell a fully fleshed out narrative with today’s technology. We were also pleased to be able to tie the stories of Resident Evil 2 and 3 together more than in the originals. It’s always a challenge to figure out what to include and what to change or adapt but we’re happy that we were able to stay on target and realize our vision. (this particular interview was June 1st 2020 and its Peter Fabiano announcing RE3R and I suppose by default RE2R are finished projects)

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tftaws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Eleven (final chapter)

chapter ten - Chapter Eleven: Safe Haven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Bucky enjoy their time off in Brooklyn and make decisions about their future.

Warnings: FLUFF, very little angst for once, talk of torture, reference to suicide, open ended plot twist that I'm not sorry for...all the fluff, seriously...

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: Here we are...part of the journey is the end, and we've arrived. Even though there's another a/n at the bottom (with an important announcement so don't tap out too soon) I want to iterate just how thankful I am for the response I got on this series. I had the most amazing time writing it and loved getting to meet and connect with so many of you through it. ENJOY!!

----

It had taken all the strength Bucky had in his soul to knock three times on Yori’s door. He didn’t know what reserve he had had to tap into to actually make his long-hidden confession but once the words had fallen from his lips, he felt both freed and all the more burdened. Watching his friend’s eyes become overtaken by heartbreak, the desperate, confused utterance of ‘why…?’ By the end, Yori wouldn’t even look at Bucky. Bucky didn’t blame him, he was surprised that the man wasn’t yelling him out of his apartment. Instead, he calmly told Bucky to leave, surely holding back the majority of his emotions until he was by himself. The door shut on their friendship and Bucky was by himself on the other side of the door once again, drawing the shaky breath he’d held while he was inside Yori’s place. Out of every person he’d gone to see, every heart he’d had to crush, this one had hurt the most. In the dauntingly long hallway, his eyes sought out the gift the universe had given him, so undeservingly.

His guiding light.

Bathed in the blue light that flooded through the dirty windows of the aged building, Y/n stared down at her feet as she paced. For as open as they’d become with one another, Bucky found himself unable to ask her to accompany him to his last opportunity to make amends. The two of them had become so skilled at reading each other that with one look in his saddened eyes, Y/n had squeezed her phone into the pocket of her jeans and stood by the door waiting for him to ready himself. Bucky was starting to make peace with his past, but he still didn’t know what he had done in his wretched life to have such an angel in his life.

“Hey,” she greeted soothingly, turning to face Bucky as he approached her, “How’d it go?” Bucky wasn’t ready to speak yet, he wasn’t even sure how he could describe what had just transpired. He simply sighed and allowed Y/n to wrap him in her arms in the embrace that was quickly becoming his favorite place to be.

——

As I woke with a groan, stretching my arms over my head, I was immediately aware that one side of the bed was cold. I blindly reached a hand over and felt around for Bucky’s missing body, sitting up when my search was unsuccessful. I blearily scanned the bedroom, our suits laying in a pile that had been kicked to the corner of the desolately furnished room. The few articles of clothing I had gone to the nearest department store and purchased for my impromptu stay in New York still lay folded on top of Bucky’s dresser. It didn’t dawn on me until that moment that I was beginning to spread across Bucky’s apartment without even trying.

It had been four days since the Flag Smasher’s final stand and while the world may have been spinning, mine had never been more steady. Bucky and I hadn’t left his apartment for more than running necessary errands. Other than that we’d spent the time enjoying our slice of domestic heaven learning about one another. I had discovered that Bucky was a good cook but only when it came to breakfast food. He had found out that I needed to sleep with the windows opened slightly for background noise. I had learned that his Spotify consisted strictly of music from the ’40’s and nothing else, contrary to what he’d told Sam about diving into Marvin Gaye’s discography. He’d learned that I got cold easily which led to both me stealing his hoodies and being on the receiving end of many bear hugs. We could tell what the other would do in combat or how they’d handle a concerning matter, but it was finding out the little things about James Buchanan Barnes that made me fall a little bit harder for him with each revelation.

The unlocking and opening of the door followed by quiet footsteps alerted me to his presence. I heard a few muffled noises before the floorboards outside the bedroom creaked, the door opening directly after. Bucky was careful and nearly silent as he came into the room until he saw that my eyes were open. We shared a lazy smile as he approached the bed.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

I shook my head in reply, he came to kneel at my side of the bed and pulled the hand he’d hidden behind his back out revealing a bouquet of daisies. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter,” I chuckled, reaching out to grab the bouquet, “I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers.”

“That’s a crime,” Bucky said as he stood up, shedding his leather jacket as he walked around the bed, “In my time, you always brought a girl flowers on the first date. It was just what you did.”

“I guess we can consider my little extended stay a first date,” I dipped my nose down to smell the flowers, “Although I’m pretty sure in your time you wouldn’t allow a girl into your bed so soon.” Bucky snickered to himself, “A gentleman would never let a lady sleep on the floor. And selfishly,” he tugged his second layer, a grey long sleeved shirt off over his head, and looked down on me lovingly, “I sleep better with you here.”

It was true. He’d told me how he’d only used the bed once since he’d moved in, having slept on the floor instead. I was familiar with the phenomenon, Sam had gone through the same thing when he’d returned from the service. I’d told him that if he had a nightmare and needed to move out to his living room, I’d join him with no hesitations. Shockingly, it hadn’t happened yet and we’d slept in a peaceful tangle of limbs each night that I’d been with him.

Kicking off his boots, he slipped under the duvet and sat up against the headboard, looking over at me and patting his jean clad thigh. I set the flowers down and crawled over to him, sinking down onto his lap and sliding my hands around his neck.

“I like this,” he complimented me with a smirk, tugging at the material of his henley that I was wearing, “Looks better on you than it ever would on me.” “Clearly you’ve never seen you,” I scoffed, I’d also learned that the man had no idea just how attractive he was, “What were you off doing?” “Grocery store,” Bucky answered, gesturing to the sidelined bouquet, “Florist. Dr. Raynor’s office…” “Oh, I didn’t know you had a session this morning.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his hands firmly secured around my waist and his thumbs rubbing at my hips. “I didn’t,” he answered, “I, uh, I crossed off all the names in my book. Thought I’d drop by and let her know.” I gave a breathy laugh, “All of them?” He nodded, “All of them.” Surprised and proud, I placed my hands on his cheeks and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I never doubted you for a second” I said softly, our lips almost touching, “I’m proud of you.”

Bucky gave a small smile, not yet ready to take as much pride as I could in his recovery. I could tell that he was lighter, while his personality was silent and stoic there wasn’t as much sadness lurking beneath it. To those who knew him, the difference in his behavior was visible. The days that I’d been in New York were the happiest I’d seen Bucky since I’d known him.

“So…” I sighed, my hands sliding down to his shoulders, “No more therapy sessions, no more battles to be fought…What do we do now?”

The dreaded question that we’d been avoiding since we’d isolated ourselves from the outside world. There was no doubt as to whether or not I wanted to make it work between Bucky and I, but we hadn’t even discussed what “it” was. What should have unfolded over the course of a couple months had happened as a crash course over two weeks. I didn’t regret it, I just needed to know where Bucky’s head was at regarding our future. “Look,” Bucky averted his gaze downwards, “I’m not…I haven’t done this in a long time and I can’t promise that I’m gonna be good at it. I can’t even promise that I’ll know what I’m doing some of the time. But,” he shyly raised his eyes to meet mine, “I want this. I want you.”

His earnestness was so genuine, I thought my heart might burst from the emotion in his ocean blue eyes. “Bucky, I don’t want perfect,” I said, “And I’m pretty sure that a 106 year old with a robotic arm and a girl who can fly using blue energy from inside her wouldn’t even know what to do with perfect,” I earned a single laugh out of him, “Whatever we have right now, that’s what I want. I want to fight with you by my side and make a difference in the world, then I want to come home with you and teach you to cook something other than pancakes.”

He furrowed his brow, “What do you got against my pancakes?”

“My point is,” I giggled, my hands drifting back up to each side of his neck, “I want you exactly as you are. I haven’t done this in a long time either, I thought that after my dad died I was too broken to ever let myself be happy like this and you know that I’m coming in with more baggage than before. You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing. But there’s nobody else I’d rather figure this out with than you.”

The long stare he gave me was reminiscent of the first moment we’d been alone together, standing before the 200 foot drop in Munich. It was the first moment I’d appreciated his beauty, maybe it was the first seed planted in what was now a full-blown relationship in the making. This time, instead of sassing me with those hardened, slightly amused eyes, he surged forward and kissed me, cradling the back of my head in his Vibranium palm. I returned the kiss with just as much fervor, gripping the tight blue t-shirt tightly in my fists. Unlike the kisses we’d shared at 1AM in the kitchen of my house, this one carried a different weight. It was a promise of a future. Movie nights introducing Bucky to the classics that he’d missed. Lazy mornings in bed turned passionate as our bodies surrendered to one another. Protecting each other on whatever battlefields we’d inevitably end up on. Frustrating fights over something we’d inevitably admit was stupid to argue over. Whispering soothing affirmations to help Bucky come down from a violent nightmare. I could taste it all, the good and the bad, in that one kiss and I wanted every bit of it.

“Two weeks…” I said after we’d parted, shaking my head in amazement and laughing, “That’s all it took.” “Crazier things have happened,” Bucky reassured me with a smile, running his hands up and down my back, “My folks always said they knew in a week and they were together for almost forty years.” I bushed my lips against his softly, basking in the euphoria of knowing that the two of us belonged wholly to one another. To think that I’d been willing to throw all of it away mere days ago, I was ready to deprive myself and Bucky of the love we’d craved all our lives. I thanked God that my resolve to stay away had weakened long enough to let Bucky in because now, wrapped in his strong arms with his lips begging for a deeper kiss, I knew that I had something truly spectacular in my hands.

“Well, since this is official,” Bucky said, a little breathless, “There’s something you should have.” He took his hands off of my body and reached behind his neck, pulling off one of his dog tags. Understanding what he was doing and the significance of it, I moved my head to allow him to place the necklace over it, the cold metal of the ball chain settling against my neck. The tag fell between my breasts, I picked it up and read Bucky’s name, his service number, the name of his sister, their address and his birth place. He’d given me, a part of his future, a piece of his history.

“Bucky…” I whispered, not trusting my voice enough to come out steady.

“A lot of soldiers gave one of them to their girls before they shipped out,” he recalled, watching me examine the piece of metal, “At least I know if I ever do ship out anywhere, you’ll be with me.” I bit my lip and smiled, looking up at him with misty eyes. When the first tear fell down my cheek, Bucky was quick to wipe it away and did so with a smile of his own. After all the pain we’d both suffered through in life, we were finally allowed tenderness. Our hearts were scarred, our bodies worn, but no amount of trauma could lay a hand on the way we felt about one another. There’d be many more fights, some with forces bigger than the ones we’d spent the last two weeks taking a stand against. But at the end of the day, I had Bucky, my safe haven to come back to.

“It’s getting late,” I observed after a few minutes of sweet silence, the morning hours were slipping away from us, “Are you hungry? I can make us something.” “Yeah, but,” Bucky’s hands found my arms and he rubbed his palms against them, “Let’s stay here just a little while longer…”

A grin spread across my face, one that I was finding only Bucky could bring out in me. “Okay,” I replied, settling my face in the crook of his neck and resting against his chest, the only place I wanted to be.

——

A FEW DAYS LATER

“You ready, Barnes?” “I’m ready.” “This is the most dangerous mission we’re ever going to face.” “I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle it.” “Then why are you sweating?” “I’m not…sweating.” “Well, at least I know you’ll never lie to me. You suck at it,” I smirked just before smoothing out the shoulders of his jacket, “Follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

Bucky blew out a breath, his cheeks loosing their puff as he exhaled, “Here goes nothing…” I gave three sharp knocks on the door before entering, seeing the familiar face waiting in a chair by the window. “Hey, Mama…” My mother smiled deeply at the sight of her daughter, alive before her. “Baby,” she whispered as she slowly rose to embrace me, “Oh, you’re here.” “I’m here,” I smiled, trying to fight the tears threatening to fill my eyes. My mother had been my first call after the battle in New York, realizing that my face was flashing across every news channel in the country alongside Sam and Bucky. This was the first time I’d seen her since before I’d left Louisiana with Sam.

“And you brought someone?” she asked over my shoulder, pulling away to wipe her cheeks.

“I did,” I turned around and looped my arm through Bucky’s, who was looking vaguely nauseous, “Mom, this is James.”

Bucky stuck out his gloved hand towards my mother, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/l/n.”

“Wonderful to meet you too, James,” she responded, shaking his hand and looking over to me, “I’ve been waiting a long time for Y/n to bring somebody home.” I forced a chuckle, “Thanks, Mom…” “Well, I’m honored that I’m the one she chose,” Bucky beamed, his bright eyes seeking mine out.

“Well, sit down,” my mom gestured to the two free chairs in the room, “I want to hear all about how you two met.”

Bucky and I exchanged a nervous look as we pulled up our seats to join her by the window. How were you supposed to explain that you’d fallen for a 106 year old who just happened to have once been the world’s deadliest assassin? “Um…James is one of Sam’s friends from the military. He came with us to Munich and things just sort of,” I slipped my hand into one of Bucky’s that sat in his lap, “Happened from there.” “We didn’t like each other much at first, but,” Bucky chimed in, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand, “She definitely snuck up on me.”

“Oh my,” she looked at me amusedly, “How’s Sam taking this? Has he threatened you yet, Bucky?” “Yeah, I, uh, got a text from him the other day, and it read something like ‘I’ve got access to government weapons, don’t make me use them.’”

I covered my mouth and snorted as my mother got a good laugh herself, “You didn’t tell me that.” Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips, Sam and him had been getting along swimmingly since his last visit to Louisiana. But no friendship could eclipse Sam’s overprotective nature when it came to his family, it was only a matter of time until Bucky was on the receiving end of its ugly side.

“Truth is,” Bucky turned his gaze to my mother while keeping a soft grip on my hand, I could feel his nerves radiating through his touch, “I’m crazy about your daughter, ma’am, I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

Mom sighed, an ear-to-ear grin painted across her face. It was the same one I’d seen when my sister had first brought her now husband home to meet us. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear that, James,” she replied, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you more.” “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” I questioned, “It’s been so long since the whole family was together.” “I wish, but I’m a little too tired to make the trip there,” Mom answered, settling into her seat a little more, “You don’t need an old lady there slowing you down.” “That’s ridiculous,” I gently pushed back, “But since Sam and I are back home for a while, we’ll make sure to bring everybody up one of the weekends.” “I’d like that,” she smiled. A phone buzzing interrupted the conversation, Bucky let go of my hand to reach into his jacket pocket. “It’s Sam, probably wants an ETA,” he announced, rising from his seat and looking between both me and my mother, “Sorry.”

Both of us shooed him out of the room to take the call, turning back to one another once he was gone with shining smiles. “Honey…” “I know…” I tried to hold back a giddy laugh threatening to erupt.

“He seems wonderful…” I shook my head, semi in disbelief that things had turned out the way they had. “You don’t even know the half of it, he’s just…I’m crazy about him.” “That much is obvious,” Mom gestured to my face, “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked through that door. I’ve never seen you this happy. Just one thing…” I furrowed my brows as her smile turned to a knowing smirk, “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know who he is?” I sighed, leaning forward in my seat and propping my elbows on my knees. “We weren't trying to hide it, he just doesn’t like to advertise it. Once people know, they usually can’t look past what he was. But, Mom, we’ve been glued at the hip for the last two weeks and I can promise you, what you’re seeing is what you’re getting. I wouldn’t be with him if I thought there was any chance he could hurt me. He saved my life and so many others last week...” “Sweetie, you don’t have to try and sell me on him,” Mom said soothingly, reaching out to touch my knee, “I trust your judgement and I also know what happened to him, it was tragic. The fact that he has a second chance at his life makes me happy, especially since it’s with you. Watching the two of you, how at ease he is with you…And those eyes,” she stopped to chuckle, “The way he looks at you is something special, it’s something magical. The two of you fit.”

Eventually I would tell her the whole story of how Bucky and I came to be, but it was better saved for another day. If she only knew how challenging it had been to get to something so simple and how Bucky and I valued each other all the more for it. “He fought for me, Mama,” I said with tears brimming, letting out a laugh, “Literally and metaphorically. And I just couldn’t let him go, he’s everything I’ve wanted but what I thought I could never have.” Mom placed a hand on my cheek, “You deserve him, my love. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve happiness.” And for the first time, I believed her. I believed that through my suffering, I had played a small part in helping Bucky through his. We deserved something more than what had happened to us and we had found it in one another.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Mom said, her face flashing with a different emotion than joy for a brief second. “I’m not sure about that…” I mumbled, dodging her eyes in favor of staring down at my hands, a different reaction than I’d ever had when talking about my father.

“Sweetie,” she coaxed me, tapping at my hands until I looked back up at her, “Do you…do you know something?” My heartbeat started to quicken as I struggled to contain the information I was withholding from my mother. It was taking everything I had not to tell her that her husband had been a part of one of the cruelest organizations the world had ever seen. The pain must have reflected in my expression. “Yeah,” she whispered, biting her lip and closing her eyes, “You know…” “Mom?”

She sighed, sitting back in her chair and supporting her head in her hand. “I didn’t know anything about that part of your father’s life when I married him, he didn’t like to talk about his time in the ‘service’ and I never pushed it…It wasn’t until the night that he died, before he left the house, that he sat me down and confessed it all.” “He…” I moved to the edge of my seat, “He told you?” “Mmhmm,” she nodded, a distant look in her eyes like she was transported back in time to that very moment, “I didn’t know how to process any of it, how could I? This man who I’d shared my life with and he’d made his living off of inflicting pain on innocent people. Hours later, he was gone and any chance to delve deeper into it was gone too. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with everything, but I made it. You’re free to draw your own conclusions, Y/n, I’m not telling you how to feel. All I’ll say is this,” Mom drew a breath before continuing, “Your father’s guilt over what he did, to Bucky specifically, overwhelmed him. He told me how HYDRA manipulated him, a young and ambitious man, into coming to work for them, lying and telling him they were creating a better world with their work. He thought he was fighting for what was right…I’m not making excuses for him, believe me, I’m simply telling you what he told me. Do you remember when he’d wake up from a nightmare?” I nodded grimly, the shrieks of my father’s always strained vocal cords still haunted me decades later. “Do you remember what he used to cry when he woke up?” Mom asked.

I silently shook my head in reply, when I’d be awoken by my fathers blood curdling screams as a child, I’d always bury my head under my pillow in an effort to block it out, shedding tears at knowing I couldn’t help him. “Soldat…”

My head perked up, the word was familiar to me after hearing Zemo call Bucky the same thing when we were undercover in Madripoor. “Of course by the time that your James was free, your father had been dead for over a decade but,” Mom paused, looking out the window as memories hit her, “Your father’s guilt over what he did ate away at him every day. As far as you went, he told me that the reason he wanted to keep your powers hidden was because he was afraid HYDRA would come for you. It’s the reason I moved us to Delacroix after he died, I didn’t want to take the chance of somebody finding you. Dad didn’t want them to make you a weapon the same way they made one of James. But honey,” she took my hand, “He believed you could do great things, truly. One of the last things he said to me was that our family was the one good thing he’d done in life.”

Everything that I’d thought and everything I’d never thought had been revealed to me. My father’s crimes could never be erased, but some part of me felt satisfied knowing that he knew what he did was wrong. He’d been haunted day and night by Bucky, the man who I was completely head over heels for. In some way, it felt poetic that Bucky and I had ended up together. I couldn’t magically heal his trauma, but for every bit of torture my dad and countless others inflicted upon him, I was now there to shower him in the love and safety he deserved.

“Have you…forgiven him for what he did?” I hesitantly asked.

“You know, after all these years, I’m still not sure what forgiveness looks like in a situation like this,” she admitted with a small shrug, “We weren’t affected, yet his past put us in danger, especially you. And now, seeing the man that he was paid to hurt and how much joy he brings you, it’s bringing up a lot of emotions I thought I’d buried. I know he regretted what he’d done with his whole being and I believe that, but I still question why he didn’t leave sooner. I wish I could give you a better answer but-“ “Mama,” I squeezed her hand and pushed back my tears to help her, “I’ve had this information for a week and I’m still spinning, I can’t imagine what it’s like to sit on it silently for this long. I was hellbent on keeping this from you but I’m actually relieved that I don’t have to hide it…” I took a trembling breath, “Dad did a lot of things wrong in his life, but I have a chance to do a lot of good. I’ve talked to Sam and I’m going to keep working with him, I’m done living with my hands tucked under my legs. I want to make the difference in the world that Dad thought he was making.” “I think you’re off to a pretty good start,” my mother replied, “I was terrified watching you fly around New York, but I’d also never been prouder of you.” A knock on the door followed by Bucky sticking his head through it broke us from the topic. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes widened slightly as he worried. “Not at all,” my mom said cheerily as she slowly rose from her seat, “I don’t want to keep you two any longer when you’ve got somewhere to be.”

I tightly embraced her and placed a kiss on her cheek, “Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, gesturing afterwards to Bucky who made his way over to her and allowed himself to be hugged by her, “Take care of my girl, James.” “I will,” Bucky promised, pulling back to give a nod full of conviction.

Once the two of us had shut my mom’s door and were back out in the hallway of the nursing home, Bucky noticed the slight puffiness of my eyes. “Happy tears or sad tears?” he asked as we walked down the hall.

“‘I don’t know’ tears,” I replied with a small smile, weaving my fingers between his gloved metal ones. “But well done, Sergeant. I’d consider that a successful mission,” I finished, receiving the laugh I loved so much and a kiss to the side of my head. I pressed my lips to the place on his shoulder where I knew underneath his layers Vibranium met his skin, one of his favorite places to be kissed. My phone went off then, alerting me to a text, I pulled it out of the pocket. “Bucky…” I muttered, stopping in the middle of the hall. “What is it?” he asked as he stepped back to join me, I held my phone out for both of us to read the ominous words displayed.

The world’s seen what you can do, come to Madripoor when you decide to use those hands for something worthwhile.

- The Power Broker

“How did they get my number?” I asked in surprise, letting Bucky take my phone to examine it closer as if he could find something I couldn’t. “I don’t know,” he answered, handing the device back to me, “But we’re changing it immediately, you need to show this to Sam soon as we get to the house.” “They’re not actually threatening me, seems more like a job offer than anything else that’s only going to be declined. Plus, they’re all the way in Madripoor,” I stuck the phone back in my pocket, “I’m not going to let this ruin our day.” Bucky frowned down at me as I took his arm once again, “You’re a little too relaxed about this.” “I’m a mutant who can make things move with her mind with Captain America for a brother and a Super Soldier for a boyfriend, I’d love to see the Power Broker try to mess with that.”

——

The dock was exactly how I loved to see it, packed and filled with joy.

Sam and Sarah had invited the whole town to the celebratory cookout, people of all ages flooding our corner of the bayou as Bucky and I pulled up. Sam had loaned us his truck for the duration of our stay and I was having the time of my life showing Bucky around Louisiana and there was nothing more Louisiana than a cookout with the entire community.

Bucky parked near the end of the dock and hopped out, carrying the ice cream cake that we’d picked up on our way. He crossed around the front of the truck to open the door for me, taking one of my hands and helping me hop out of the passenger side. After a dozen more reassurances during the drive that the text I’d received wasn’t worth freaking out about, he’d begun to relax. For once, he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions. I could see it plain as day on his face, he was genuinely excited to be back in Delacroix and even more excited when the familiar sounds of AJ and Cass hit our ears.

“Oh! There he is!” Bucky greeted as the boys ran up to us and began throwing fake punches at my boyfriend who willingly played along, dramatically dodging their imaginary hits. He raised up the hand that held the cake over Cass’ head and yelled to which I quickly threw an energy shield underneath his arm to protect the overly expensive dessert.

“Aunt Y/n! Can you make us fly?” AJ came up to my side and begged.

Cass backed his brother up, “Yeah, can we? Please?” “No,” I replied, retaking Bucky’s hand and letting him lead us through the crowd, “But you can follow us with your two perfectly functional legs.” My nephews both groaned and laughed as they fell in step behind Bucky and I. “Where is everybody?” he asked as he set the cake down on one of the picnic tables set out and removed his sunglasses.

“Uncle Sam’s taking pictures with people, Mom’s cooking and Aunt Mel’s at one of the tables,” Cass answered, his face lighting up as he got a good luck at the dessert.

“After dinner,” I said, quickly having switched back into aunt mode, “Now lead the way.”

I extended my hand toward the boys and raised them up a few inches above the ground, receiving laughter and praises in return as I moved them ahead of us and through the crowd. Along the way people kept patting me on the back or sneaking in quick hugs, they shook Bucky’s hand and thanked us both for what we’d done in New York. The only thing that confused me was how people weren’t calling me by name. By the time we made it to Sarah, I had questions.

“There they are, America’s Power Couple,” she announced, coming out from behind the booth where she’d been chopping to hug us both. I pulled back to lower the boys back to the ground, “Do you know why people I’ve known almost all my life are suddenly calling me ‘Sapphire?’”

“Did you not check the internet at all when you were in Brooklyn?” she raised an eyebrow before pulling out her phone from her back pocket and pulling up Instagram, “Ever since the night of the fight, people have been referring to you as Sapphire. People are posting pictures of you, trying to get interviews with you, kids are even dressing up like you!” “Oh my gosh,” I mumbled as I scrolled through the hashtag containing the name, seeing all the proof of Sarah’s words before my eyes. Dozens and dozens of various types of photos displayed my signature shade of blue, “Bucky, look!” He took the phone out of my hand, a smile spreading across his face soon after. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly, handing the phone back to Sarah.

“You wanted the superhero life, you got it,” my sister laughed before returning to what she was doing, “Sam’s doing pictures and there’s already been people asking if you were gonna be here so I imagine they’re gonna want some with you.”

Bucky grabbed my hand and led me around to where a line had formed, spotting Sam as the destination. As soon as he caught a glimpse of us, he held up a finger to the crowd and broke away from them. The three of us exchanged hugs, me internally laughing to myself at the fact that two weeks after saying they never wanted to see one another again, they were now brothers in arms. Sam took my hand and tugged me towards where everyone was gathered, “Lotta people have been waiting for you, Sapphire,” he smirked.

As the day went on, the three of us did meet and greets with nearly everybody. At one point I found Bucky casually talking to Sarah with AJ, Cass and other neighborhood kids hanging off his vibranium arm. People had gathered around me as well asking to levitate them, something that provided entertainment for everyone. We ate, we laughed, at one point I caught Sam and Bucky watching the sun set over the Louisiana waters. I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak in between the two and was received with an arm around each of my sides. We’d fought a shared battle along with our own separate three and now that they’d all been put to rest, we could take a minute to enjoy the freedom we’d worked so hard for. The future was unknown, but I knew that if we’d made it through the mess of a week we’d had together, there wasn’t a whole lot that we couldn’t make it through.

——

When the sky darkened, the dock lights went on and the party kept going. Someone had brought out a Bluetooth speaker and there was now a section of the dock that acted as a makeshift dance floor. I was seated at a table with Melanie watching the show, baby Alexandria fast asleep in her arms. “So…Bucky,” my sister said teasingly teased.

I let out a loud sigh, “Bucky.” “He’s perfect for you,” she smiled, “I’m glad you brought him home.” “Me too,” I scanned the dock until I spotted my boyfriend, engrossed in a conversation with Sam, “He fits right into the family.” “I’ll say, the kids love him. Max and Sophia have been following him around all day, I’ve never been able to get the baby to sleep as fast as when he held her…” I chuckled, “Yeah, just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, you stuck a baby in his arms.” Mel snickered at my reaction, “Yeah, pretty sure every woman on the dock snapped a picture of that.” The two of us burst into laughter before hushing ourselves as to not wake the sleeping infant. “Hey, Sapphire,” she nudged my shin with her foot, “I’m proud of you.” “Well, that’s a far cry from how you felt last week,” I commented, remembering the fear in my sister’s voice from our phone calls in Riga.

“I’m always going to worry about you, but once I actually saw you do your thing,” she breathed, “I was just in awe of how you would risk your life to save all those people. It would be a waste to not put your gift to good use.” I leaned my head against hers and brushed a finger over Alexandria’s thinly haired head, appreciating the sweetness of the moment. Once a slow song came on the speakers, I watched as Bucky stepped away from Sam and made his way over to our table. “Can I steal your sister away for a dance?” he asked Mel. “Steal? You can keep her,” I shot my sister a faux smile while she watched on with a grin as I took Bucky’s outstretched hand and let him lead me away. “Gonna show me some more Madripoor moves?” I jested as we walked across the dock. “That was not dancing, although I did enjoy it,” Bucky replied, giving me a wink that could have melted me into a puddle, “I’ll show you what real dancing is.” I recognized the song as a version of ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ and realized Bucky waited until now to show off any moves in his arsenal because it was probably the first song he recognized on the playlist. He encircled my waist with his flesh arm and took my hand in his Vibranium one, pulling me so close that there wasn’t any space left between us. He began to sway us slowly to the beat of the song. I rested my cheek against his, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the bayou evening air. As far as I was concerned, dancing in the arms of the man I was somehow lucky enough to call my own in the place I loved most in the world was the perfect end to a perfect day.

“Alright, I give…” I relented softly, close enough to his ear that I barley had to speak louder than a whisper for him to hear me, “Your version of dancing is better.” He gave a gentle laugh, the sweetest sound, and rubbed at my waist, “It’s more about the partner than it is the actual dance, think I’ve got the best one.”

“You certainly know how to make a girl blush, Sergeant Barnes,” I replied just before he spun me out of his arms and back into his body, “When’s your flight back to Brooklyn?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, “Already tired of me?”

“Never,” I shook my head with a genuine smile, “Just trying to soak in all the time I can with you before you go back.” “About that…” he trailed off, turning his gaze to the various other couples dancing around us, “I was thinking of maybe extending my stay. I mean the scenery’s nice, good food,” he looked back to me, “Decent people.” The grin that I was fighting was starting to make itself very apparent, “What are you saying?” “Well,” Bucky shrugged and looked away again, “I mean, I’d need to find a place, hopefully nothing too expensive or else I’d have to find a roommate and even then, it’d be hard to find someone I like enough to live with…”

“Bucky…” I’d ceased our movements to show just how serious I was, searching his face to try and tell if he was joking or not. “What do you say, doll? You think you can put up with me a little while longer?” he asked with a smirk. I exhaled happily and pulled him down to my lips, kissing him with all the excitement that filled my veins at the prospect of him staying. When we finally pulled away, I cradled his cheek in my hand. “I will put up with you for as long as you want,” I beamed, pecking his lips once more. “I’m glad,” Bucky kissed my temple, “It was either telling you this or the other thing…” “What’s the other thing?” I asked, thinning my eyes at him in expectancy of another surprise.

Bucky drew a breath, taking a few seconds to steady himself for whatever he was planning to say. “Well, I was going to tell you that I love you but,” he clicked his teeth, “Now that I think about it, it’s probably better saved for another time,” The earth ceased to move and spin at a dizzying pace all at once, his blue eyes never more truthful than they were in that moment. “I think you’re right,” I said over the lump in my throat, holding back the tears that had come all to quickly, “Best to save that for another day, wouldn’t want to make a hasty declaration or anything...” “That’s what I was thinking,” Bucky replied plainly, continuing our charade. I gave him a watery smile, bringing one of my hands up to run through the hairs at the base of his neck. “I love you too,” I whispered.

Both of Bucky’s arms wrapped around my waist, clutching me as tight as he could without actually injuring me as our lips met. I encircled his neck and relaxed into him completely, feeing aglow with the love that I could finally admit to feeling. Both of us smiled into the kiss, feeding off of the mutual joy of what was unfolding before us. Was it crazy to commit in the ways I was committing to a man I’d known for only two weeks? To some, yes. But ‘some’ hadn’t formed the bond that Bucky and I had over the short span of time it had taken for me to fall in love with him. We had seen the best and the worst of each other, rising and falling with one another’s waves and learning what made the other tick. I wanted every part of him, the good, the bad, the traumatic and the pure. The quick decisions that would raise eyebrows made sense to us, and that was more than enough reason for me to see each one through.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” Bucky said softly after we’d parted, pulling back to admire me. “Thanks for not letting me give you up,” I returned, staring up into the eyes that had first captured me. The eyes that I’d get to stare into each and every day.

Since the night we’d connected on the jet ride to Berlin, there was some way Bucky had made me feel that I couldn’t put a name to. Something I couldn’t understand at the time but I was fully aware of now. Bucky felt like home. And with our bright future ahead of us, wrapped in his arms dancing underneath the Louisiana stars, I’d never felt more at home.

----

A/N: I'm not crying, you're crying. GUYS. IT'S OVER. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY TIME NOW? I want to thank every single person who liked, commented, reblogged, sent messages and asks and supported this silly little fic I thought up one day after watching TFATWS. As someone who is super insecure about their writing, seeing it well received was a boost to my confidence to keep running with this. I've loved getting to write this and give it to you all and can't wait to write more for you. I'm adding my new taglist link for anyone who would like to be added, it's separated by the characters I write for and you can choose which ones you'd like to follow. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES AGAIN. I LOVE YOU ALL 3000!!

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15 @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @patdsinner33 @rosebucketbarnes @tylard-blog1

[st4rlabsforever]

post-episode 3 fix-it

words: 2.9k

notes: i started a long fic based on this post after watching ep 3. i cannibalized some snippets from another fic i wrote last week so if you see similar scenes, that’s why. i think this will end up being 12-15k words endgame sambucky by the end, but i refuse to post on ao3 until it’s complete. this is the first 3 scenes. feel free to comment and message me your thoughts since i’m still very much in the writing phase :)

summary: “It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.”

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

The thing is, Sam is unreadable when it really matters. He offers words of comfort where needed – in Germany, after seeing Walker with the shield that wasn’t his, knowing that it had affected Bucky just as much as himself; in Madripoor, Bucky’s hand on the throat of some henchman or other, Sam’s hand on his when the Soldier’s memories threatened to overtake him; even in Riga, when Bucky’s guilt over releasing T’Chaka’s killer bubbled to the surface and Sam had checked in with him even though he couldn’t have possibly known about Bucky’s meeting with Ayo. Sam speaks with his eyes, always a searching look that leaves Bucky raw and feeling like he’s been x-rayed. I see you, is what those eyes say.

In contrast, Bucky’s words of comfort feel hollow. He knows that Isaiah is still a live wire for Sam, checks in with him after Madripoor when he can tell the conversation with Nagel weighs heavy on his mind. But he doesn’t see the way Sam does. He knows he’d missed something important because that conversation had ended in an argument and a threat from Sam to destroy the shield.

He never gets a chance to ask Sam what he’s getting at, because Torres signals to them that they’re at the drop point before all hell breaks loose.

***

In the end, after Karli and the Power Broker and whoever else decides to show their head from the emporium of supervillains are dealt with and they finally have a moment of peace, Bucky says, “The shield looks good on you.”

Sam freezes a few paces ahead of Bucky, the shield strapped loosely to his wrist.

“We make a good team,” Bucky says softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for Sam to whirl around suddenly. The look of barely restrained fury is enough to nearly knock Bucky off he’s feet. They fight without ever really fighting all the time, squabbles over who went left and who went right and who was supposed to lead and who was supposed to follow, but never has he seen Sam look like this before. The fury verges on hurt and it’s so fucking visceral that Bucky can barely breathe.

“You don’t get to say that,” Sam says quietly. His voice shakes and he closes his eyes like he’s steadying himself.

“I said I’d squash it until the mission was over, and I did. But you know what? I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Sam–”

“You don’t get to tell me what a good team is. Not after all the shit we just went through. You invited yourself to Munich, and I thought, ‘Fine. I could use the extra set of hands.’ We went through it together against Thanos and I respected that.”

Sam shakes his head. “But then you went off on some lone wolf woe-is-me bullshit, and look at where it got us. You broke Zemo out without even asking if I was down with that. You knew I wasn’t and you forced my hand. Now I’m an accomplice.”

“He was our only lead–”

“Bullshit. That field trip to Madripoor led us right back to Karli. Torres ended up tracking them to Riga anyway.”

“But the Power Broker–”

“–showed his ugly face in the end. All we got out of Madripoor was you digging up your trauma and us getting our faces plastered all over the internet. I promised Sharon one goddamn thing and I can’t even deliver on that now.”

“But I went along with it, fine,” Sam continues. “I knew it couldn’t have been easy reaching back into that headspace, doing what you did to Selby’s men.” The memory blindsides Bucky. “So I tabled it.” Sam taps out a tally with his fingers. 

“And back in Baltimore, you’d been too keyed up about Steve being wrong about you to even listen to what I had to say. Again, I tabled it.” Another tally. 

“I’ve been meeting you halfway this entire time, man, and I’ve gotten near nothing in return. You kept Isaiah a secret from me, and at first I thought you were just clueless about how damn significant it would’ve been for me to know about him.” Sam shakes his head. 

“But then we met him. You saw what they did to him. The one Black supersoldier – a fucking hero – and look what they did to him. You saw it with your own eyes and you still sat there and lectured me about what you thought I should’ve done with that goddamn shield.” 

“There’s precedent for it, you know,” Sam says. It takes Bucky a moment to realize Sam is expecting an answer.

Bucky doesn’t know, is the thing. He feels like he’s all of five years old again, put on the spot. He’s reminded of when Zemo just had to let him know about the African American experience; he’d felt chastised and embarrassed enough to pretend like he’d had any clue what themes lurked in Marvin Gaye’s work. Sam just searches him with those eyes, searches Bucky for something yet unfathomable and decides he hasn’t found it. That hurts more than anything else; Bucky wishes he could sink into the ground, make himself as small as possible. Sam doesn’t notice, or else doesn’t care, and just plows on with a scoff. 

“You don’t even know the true history of the country you’re living in. Figures.” He shakes his head. “You’re not ever going to be able to separate the shield from the history Black folks have endured at the hands of this country. Not now, not ever.”

Sam doesn’t even look angry anymore. Angry, Bucky can deal with. It would be a relief, even. 

Instead, Sam looks at him with a disappointment that somehow surpasses what Steve could have ever accomplished.

“Whatever. I tabled that, too,” Sam says. “And then after Madripoor, after we heard that doctor go on and on about Isaiah’s blood like he wasn’t even a real human-being? I said my piece and all you did was throw that shield bullshit back in my face.”

“Sam–” Bucky tries again. He’s mortified to hear the crack in his own voice.

“It’s honestly breathtaking,” Sam says with something that might be akin to genuine wonder, or maybe even morbid curiosity in his voice. “We saw the same things in Baltimore and Madripoor, but your head was so far up your own ass that you never once stopped to think all of it was just proof to me. That the shield in the hands of a Black man wouldn’t make any damn sense.”

It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.

Sam’s not even done yet. “And that’s another thing. Stealing the shield from Walker…” Sam rolls his eyes at the memory. “You want to run around with that giant frisbee, fine. That’s your business. But then you forced it on me–”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky says immediately. Desperately. “You didn’t have to accept it.”

“The whole damn country was watching,” Sam says hotly. “It was either accept it, or shit all over Steve fucking Rogers’s legacy and make myself into the villain half the country was already hoping I’d turn out to be.”

“You were dead wrong for that,” Sam says. “I stuck around until we took down Karli because it was the right thing to do. After Munich, though, this little adventure was all you. Zemo, Madripoor, the shield.”

Sam shoves the shield into Bucky’s arms, the impact so sudden that it forces him back a step.

“Since you’re so obsessed with this thing, it’s yours. Congrats,” Sam says sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ll do it proud.”

Bucky lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam says, “Steve might not have understood everything about me. But in Vienna, when it came time to sign the accords? He was considering it. I put my foot down first and he listened.”

Sam shrugs. “Whatever you thought we were, it's not a team.”

Bucky knows where to drive the knife in to kill a man in as few twists of the wrist as possible – a brutal economy of movement and technique. But Sam...it pales in comparison to what Sam’s capable of. His weapons aren’t knives and his targets may not be made of flesh and blood, but he knows exactly where he needs to strike to rip Bucky open raw. Bucky feels like he’s been flayed alive.

“How about that long vacation?” Sam says, and claps Bucky on the shoulder. 

And we’ll never have to see each other ever again goes unsaid.

Fuck.

***

The thing about ignoring Sam’s texts was that Bucky responded if they were actually important. It just so happened that most of the nonsense Sam sent was inane prattling about his day, about his job, his sister, his nephews. Now that he’s on the receiving end of it, though, it feels awful.

3/25/21, 2:58 AM

I’m sorry.

Delivered

3/28/21, 1:51 AM

Can we talk?

Delivered

3/31/21, 3:05 AM

Let me know what to do and I’ll do it.

Read 3:34 AM

4/1/21, 12:42 AM

Or if there’s anything you need.

Read 1:05 AM

Yesterday, 1:00 AM

I’m available if you need another body for a mission.

Read 1:02 AM

A week into the admittedly one-sided exchange, Sam turns his damn read receipts on. It’s ridiculous and it’s fucking asinine and it gets under Bucky’s skin immediately. It’s a form of twenty-first century psychological warfare that he’s unfamiliar with and already can’t stand. Mainly, he hates that it makes him seem desperate (he’s not), needy (he might be, especially when he realizes with horror that he actually misses Sam’s rambling texts), and ridiculous (he definitely is, because he’s letting petty mind games get to him).

Normally, Sam would send him nearly daily updates on his comings and goings – whether he’d been in New York, D.C., or New Orleans. The radio silence is unsettling. Bucky wonders if Sam made good on his promise to take a long vacation. And then....

The thing about apologies is that Bucky isn’t sure he’s ever done a proper one in his entire life, at least nothing beyond a rote “I’m sorry” with the “let’s move on” part left unspoken. But it stands to reason, Bucky thinks, that a proper apology can’t be given if he’s not completely certain what he’s dealing with. That’s all well and good because he’s got the world at the tips of his fingers, is what Yori always said. And when he grows frustrated with reading on his tiny phone screen, the New York Public Library is only a train ride away.

Sam had mentioned precedent, so Bucky’s first search is for medical experimentation. He knows for a fact he was good at this once, a memory of Steve whining about him being too good at exams coming up unbidden. He reads voraciously. Anything and everything that might offer a clue on what he’d missed. And it doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for. 

He reads with dawning horror. The Tuskegee syphilis experiments. Eugenics. God, the fucking Nazis had even modeled their race science on the American school of thought. The things that the history books left out. Some of it was even happening under his nose in the 30s, he’d just been blissfully unaware. He somehow ends up down a rabbit hole where words like `prison industrial complex’ and `school-to-prison pipeline’ make increasingly more persistent appearances. New Jim Crow. COINTELPRO. War on drugs. The way all of these horrors reached their long arms into the twenty-first century.

Bucky’s going to be sick. The memories come up one after another.

Just give him your ID so we can leave.

You think you can wake up one day and decide who you want to be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.

So you’re telling me that there was a Black supersoldier decades ago and nobody knew about it.

This is what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to come here in your over-extended life and tell me about my rights.

The shield wasn’t yours to give away.

He spends the next week in his downtime reading. With the mission being over and his parole in jeopardy, his downtime mostly coincides with every day of the week.

Had Steve known?

No, he thinks. Steve was compassionate, but he wouldn’t have known because he’d taken one look at the problems of twenty-first century America and decided he’d had enough. Then he’d ran back to the 40s to live out some fantasy that simply didn’t – couldn’t – exist anymore. Had he eventually become aware of all the issues plaguing this country that they’d been able to ignore as starry-eyed kids in Brooklyn? Bucky hopes not, because that would mean he’d...no. 

A part of Bucky thinks he’s so surprised because he’d thought things – race relations, civil rights, not things, his brain amends – had been getting better in the 40s. Deep down, though, he knows that’s a lie. A 2 AM read through Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States confirms it. Shady politicians. Klansmen who went back to their day jobs as cops, judges, firefighters. Mass incarceration taking its place as the new king on the throne of segregation. Evidently, 

There had been plenty of folks – white folks – raising an uproar about these hidden horrors back then. The seeds of those movements had even been there in the 30s. Bucky tells himself that he’d been raised during the Great Depression, that his family had been too focused on putting food on the table to focus on social movements, but that, too, ends up being a lie. The poorest and working class whites – some, at least – in movement and solidarity with civil rights. Not him, though. Apparently he’d had his head up his ass back then, too.

Bucky can see the bigger picture a tiny bit more clearly, now. 

Fine. So he’s been disarmed of the little lies he’d used as shields, and he also owes Sam one hell of an apology.

Somehow, he doesn’t think “I’m sorry, I was ignorant then but I read some books and now I know better” is going to cut it. Maybe a commitment to do better would work? Perhaps after Baltimore, but not now. That ship had long since sailed. Some grand act of service, then? He’s sure he can think of something Sam needs in this post-Blip world that he can provide. He vaguely remembers Sarah mentioning something about a ship and bank loan. That could be a starting point.

It doesn’t take much time to find the public records on the Wilson family business and then the not-so-public records on the denied bank loan. It wouldn’t take much for him to pry a little, not when seedy bankers were astonishingly amenable to the threat of violence. But he’s reminded of Zemo and figures that he ought not to do anything so drastic that could jeopardize Sam’s family situation further.

He snorts. Did growth that came several months late still count?

In the end, he decides to rip the bandage off quickly, which is how he finds himself in the sticky Louisiana heat with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring back at an incredulous Sam through his open door.

“I did some reading recently,” Bucky says. 

“Hmm.”

It’s not outright refusal, so Bucky continues.

“About, um, the things you mentioned last time. Precedent.”

“Huh.”

For someone who’s normally so expressive with his language, Sam’s one-word answers as nerve-wracking as anything.

“I didn’t fully appreciate the situation that you were in. That you’re still in,” Bucky amends.

Sam shrugs. “It’s cool,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound like he really believes it. Bucky wonders if this is a test; he feels just as lost as he did on that plane a week ago.

“Let’s do this outside,” Sam says, closing the door behind him and ushering Bucky away from it. “Walk with me.” 

They head down to the pier mostly in silence until Bucky breaks it. “I’m sorry for making it all about me,” he says.

Sam stares at him. It’s true Bucky might stare a little too much on occasion, but Sam’s stares are utterly unnerving in the way he seems to see right through Bucky when he really wants to, like he’s already mapped out all there is to know.

[1littleshippergirl1]

Something Odd

There was something odd about her neighbors.

Gladys Barlowe prided herself on knowing just about everything that went on within the bounds of the neighborhood. Why, Mrs. Keperna, who lived just down the road, was getting up there in age and yet none of her children made much of an effort to visit. But those girls had been a bad sort; they'd gotten into much trouble in their youth. She'd told Ingrid it was a bad idea to let them go out to that dancing club. It was bound to corrupt them and it did, rest assured.

Oh, and the Irmagards next door were having marriage troubles. Yes, indeed, it was quite a shocking revolution. She'd overheard shouting going on between them and glass shattering. Why, she had jumped a mile in the air when that happened! It was a toss up whether or not they would stay together or file for divorce. Privately, she'd said to the other ladies of the neighborhood came for a visit to sip on tea and enjoy some freshly baked biscuits, if it were her and her husband, they would never have been so inconsiderate to everyone else and aired their dirty laundry for all to hear. Had they no decency?

Her husband, Mervin, was less enthusiastic whenever she relayed anything she'd found out to him. Yes, Dear, he'd say. Or, mhm. Or, that's nice. She'd huff in frustration whenever that happened. So caught up in the sports section newspaper or television, he was! He had the nerve of wagging his finger at her once, insinuating her to be a gossip fiend. She was hardly such; they'd lived in the neighborhood ever since they'd gotten married, watched as people passed on, moved on and new faces appeared. They were one of the longest remaining home owners there. She had a right to know who was living nearby. Besides, what was the harm?

But, back to her neighbors.

She couldn't put her finger on it on what made them stand out to her. They didn't look that different than any of the other families that were around. It started out as a feeling, one she couldn't shove to the side and forget about, no matter how many times Marvin told her she was being paranoid. She wasn't. This was real, that feeling. She just knew it. She only had to prove it.

So, she did the reasonable thing and began to subtly watch them.

It was the house that was directly across the street from her, the one with the rather unflattering paint job and the red-headed man with his two daughters. They'd been there for about thirteen years now, back when it was originally just the man, his wife and only one of their children. She wondered whatever happened to that wife of his-Andria? Alana? Audrey, perhaps. Oh, yes, that must have been it. Gladys distinctly remembered a woman with blonde hair living in the house at one point and then she just disappeared! Their marriage must have soured. Poor thing. They were quite young, by the looks of it

(Marvin had told her it was none of her business when she'd planned on bringing over a casserole, with the intention of asking about it).

That woman, Audrey, was a little more cold then her husband was and the way she dressed was just plain awful. Those colors and her complexion-just what had she been thinking? Well, Gladys wasn't completely up to date on fashion these days either but still. Even she knew there were just certain things you kept in the back of your closet after turning thirty. She wasn't judging, of course.

Her husband, on the other hand, was much more friendly. Always smiling and waving to her when they happened to be outside at the same time. That wasn't an issue. She and the ladies from her book club agreed he was such a nice man. There were just occasions where she saw strange things; like that one time when she witnessed him throwing a cape over his shoulders when it snowed and a pointy hat, like a witch would wear.

It threw her for a bit of a loop, it did, at first. He might have been into that fad all the teenagers and young adults were into, where they dressed up as fictional people and used the convention center for all of them to get together. What a strange thing to do with one's time. Did he go to those events held at the local convention center, too? Oh, they were outrageously expensive, according to the flyers she'd seen posted on a bulletin board at the grocer's. Not to mention, he was raising two growing girls, who had needs that should've come before a silly hobby.

And speaking of his girls..

They were quite pretty. One of them, the oldest she reckoned, had taken right after her father. She was his spitting image, right down to the dreary clothes and atrocious looking glasses. The other was more so of her mother, appearance wise. She, too, wore glasses that were slightly big on her face and dressed without any fashion sense.

Like she said, they were pretty, but they could've looked magnificent if she just had a few minutes with them.

Those two weren't around very often, peculiarly enough. She saw them in the summertime and on occasion, if she looked out her window and if the curtains were open, they were home for Christmas but not any other time. That began shortly after they'd turned eleven. It started out as the oldest leaving and the younger one was still there but then it was both of them!

Just where did they go? Well, they weren't attending the local secondary school, that was for sure She'd casually asked Mrs. Thorp, who had a son going there, if she'd seen them around but they weren't there. That was odd. Unless they didn't go there because they were going to some exclusive school for gifted children. That must be it, wasn't it? What other explanation could there be? Truthfully, she never would've guessed those two would be prodigies. They never struck out to her like that. Weren't prodigies supposed to be all quiet and depressed? Those girls were rather lively from what she'd seen of them. Of course, they might just be an exception.

A thought crossed her mind and she wondered what the red-headed man did for a living. She hardly ever saw him leave the house. He didn't even have a car, for crying out loud! How did he get anywhere? Did he wake up in the early hours of the morning to walk back and forth to work? He couldn't have been poor; these houses cost a pretty penny. The few times she did see him, he wore casual, comfy clothes that gave no clue to his occupation, whatever that may be.

What if he was in some sort of governmental work that was highly confidential? Or perhaps he and his daughters were in the witness protection program! That made a great amount of sense. Why hadn't she considered that before? It might provide an explanation as to where that Audrey woman had gone. Oh, what if she'd been killed? Had she and the red-headed man gotten caught up in gang activity prior to the birth of their daughters and one of those members had found her and finished her off? Oh, the man must have been devastated! And now he was left to raise his girls on his own. What a terrible thing.

Didn't he have any family help? She was sure he did. She'd seen some red-headed folks in his living room once-she'd been outside watering her garden when a man standing in front of the window caught her attention. He was younger than the man who lived there by a few years and oh it was just awful, he was missing an ear! Her hand had flown up to her mouth, the hose dropping to the ground. What on earth had happened to him? A work related accident? An animal attack?

There were a couple non red-heads that came over to the house as well. A man with unkempt black hair had come around. He had the strangest looking scar, she'd noticed with curiosity as he stepped out of an old, beat up car. And then there were two separate women as well on occasion. One with hair that reminded Gladys of a rat's nest while the rest of her seemed well put together. The other had such nice hair. A cross between silver and blonde. It must have been from a box. It certainly didn't look natural. She'd assumed one of those women had to have been involved with the man. Why else would they have come to him? She dearly hoped he wasn't seeing them both at the same time. He wasn't that kind of man, was he? And to do that with children around. Very disgraceful if he was.

Gladys sat at the kitchen table of her home, sipping delicately on a cup of tea with slightly pursed lips. In all her years of knowing of the man, she had not yet once had a proper conversation with him. She didn't even know his name. And her curiosity was getting the better of her; she had several questions needing to be answered that couldn't be done by a simple, quick chat. No, she would need a reasonable reason to go over there.

She supposed she could bring over a late housewarming present. A batch of cookies, perhaps. Yes, that sounded splendid. The children would enjoy them and she could get the man to talk. Surely he wouldn't be so rude as to merely take the cookies and push her out of the house?

"How do you think this looks?" She asked her husband, presenting him with the china that contained the cookies. She'd put a red bow on top for decoration.

Mervin was doing a crossword puzzle. His eyes barely even lifted up. "It looks nice, dear."

"Oh," she scowled, "you didn't even see it!"

He did look up this time, unimpressed. "It looks the same as any other time-what's with the bow? Did you take it out of the Christmas container?"

"So what if I did?" She straightened herself up. "I want it to look nice."

"For who, exactly?"

"Our neighbors," she said. "The ones across the street. You know, the red-headed man and his daughters."

"Gladys," Mervin said warningly. "You leave those people alone."

She shot him a look, miffed. "I'm bringing them cookies."

"You're being nosy is what you're doing," he pointed a finger at her accusingly. "I know what you're up to."

She made a noise from her throat. "I'm not up to anything!"

"Oh, yes you are," he got up out of his chair. "You're going to go over there and use the cookies to get information. I'm telling you, Gladys, leave the man alone."

"You're not the least bit curious about him?" She said, taking a quick glance in the direction of the window. "I've never seen him speak to anyone in all the years he's lived over there."

"No," he said flatly. "If he wanted to speak to us, he would have by now. He doesn't need you going over there to bother him. You remember what happened with the Kremps, don't you? You remember being tossed out of the house and Mrs. Kremp threatening to hit you with that pan of hers?"

Gladys adjusted her dress primly. She vaguely recalled it. But it hadn't been her fault. The woman had simply overreacted to an innocent question. How was she supposed to have known that the ugly vase on the mantel contained the ashes of her father?

Mervin folded his arms across his chest, sighing heavily. "Don't go causing any more trouble."

"I'm doing no such thing," she was offended he thought so little of her. "I'm just going to ask a few questions."

"Gladys-"

"Don't you ever wonder what happened to that wife of his?" She cut him off.

"No. But they likely got divorced, if anything."

"Not divorced. Murdered," she revealed.

His eyes widened in surprise. It was about time he finally reacted, She thought with satisfaction "She was murdered?" he said in disbelief.

"Well," she shifted and his expression turned into a glare, "I can't say for sure that's what happened, but I have reason to believe the man and his daughters are in the witness protection program."

He inhaled, shutting his eyes as if praying that he was given more strength. "What?"

"Now just listen," she advised. "No one really knows much about them, do they? They don't talk to people and we don't even know his name. His wife was around and suddenly she disappeared! Now, I think they must have been involved in some illegal gang activity and one of those gang members must have come back to finish her off!"

"Do you know how mad you sound right now?" Mervin snapped.

"I'm not mad, I'm serious."

"And that's what scares me," Mervin muttered. Louder, he said, "I don't want you going over there, do you hear me? You're not going to say a word of that nonsense to him!"

"It's not nonsense-"

"Oh, you're right. It's worse," he scowled. "When is this all going to stop, hmm? When am I going to get peace?"

She harrumphed. "You're not even listening to me!"

"I'm the one not listening? You're the one not listening to me! I'm trying to save you from getting your lights knocked out. I'm warning you, Gladys. Don't do it." He gave her one last look. "Now I'm going back to my puzzle and I'm keeping an eye on that door!"

"Yes, dear," she said pleasantly. She stayed put like he asked, until he went to the bathroom that is. Then she quickly grabbed the cookies and bounded out the door and across the road. When she came to a stop on his front porch, she smoothed down her hair and dress.

Hmm, she noticed his door was ajar. Did he know? Perhaps not. Well, there was no harm in going in a bit. "Hello?" She said cheerfully. "Is anyone home?"

No one responded but someone was there. She heard noises coming from inside. There were people talking. Three in fact. The man and his daughters, she realized she had never heard their voices before.

"Can I show you, please?"

"I said no, Molly. You know the rules."

"It'll be quick! And no one'll know. I won't tell anyone."

Tell anyone what? She frowned.

"And what if someone sees?"

"I told you he'd say no."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Girls, stop arguing."

"Please, Dad? Please!"

"I already told you no. Especially with the windows open. What if someone saw you? I'm in no mood to deal with it today. The department has enough reports already."

What department? What reports? What did he not want to deal with? She stuck her ear in as far as she could.

"Don't worry, if someone sees, we'll just call Uncle Harry. He can take care of them."

She gulped. Take care of them? Surely she didn't...she didn't mean that kind of take care of. She couldn't have. No. That was preposterous.

Oh, my. What if...what if the man was still involved in the gang? What if they were doing illegal activity in the house? Were the girls involved too? Was that what she wanted to show him and he was afraid of getting caught?

There was a pause.

"Quickly. And don't think you'll be doing this all the time."

She decided on going in. She had to see what was going on. For the good of the neighborhood, of course. She had to know. Inhaling, she braced herself and burst into the home and came to a halt in front of the kitchen.

Just as a textbook magically turned into a chicken. And the girl! She...she was holding a stick-

The man and his daughters froze. Gladys stammered, pointing a shaky finger at them.

"You...that..."

She fell flat on her back in a faint.

/

Molly stood over her body, peering down at it through her glasses. "Is she dead?"

Percy rubbed at his face tiredly. "No, honey. She's just fainted."

"That's good," Lucy said from where she sat on the countertop. "What was she doing here anyway?"

"I have no idea," he shook his head.

Molly was still peering down at her. "Dad, can I take a picture? I've never seen a muggle faint before."

"No, Molly."

Percy sighed and began to write a letter to the Accidental Muggle Reverse Squad.

[plotting-against-you]

Will It Ever Be the Same (Part 1)

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew, Ace, Bess Marvin, George Fan, Ned 'Nick' Nickerson

Prompt(s): This is based on two prompts. One of those prompts is from Alicia, who asked: "Could you do one where Nancy is 13 instead, has blonde hair like Lucy, and blue eyes like Ryan? She goes to his place like in 1x17 to get help for the ritual and on the way out she gets dizzy because she's been working herself to exhaustion. In that moment Ryan notices how similar she looks to Lucy and himself but decides not to say anything but also knows Nancy is his. She eventually tells him before doing the ritual. They go back to his place and he just says 'I know it's you'. She gets overwhelmed, almost passes out, and he just sits with her and tells her to rest."

This is also for @nancydrewcentral's week 2 hiatus prompt: Time Period AU.

Warnings: Panic/Anxiety attacks, mentions of anxiety and coping mechanisms, mentions of character deaths (past and present), mentions of suicide

Nancy wrapped her arms around herself as she bent over, heaving shallow breaths into the air. The sky grew lighter now, as she’d been running for most of the night, and she found herself unsure what to do or where to go next.

“You’re DNA wasn’t a match for the female hair.”

“It’s a mother-daughter match for Lucy Sable.”

“She’s me. The baby is me.”

She couldn’t believe the information she had just found out, and she wished she were older. She thought that if she were older, she might have had more experience in life to handle this sort of life-shattering revelation, but being only fourteen years old, all she felt was betrayal.

And heartbreak.

And panic.

So maybe she felt a lot of things, Nancy admitted to herself, but she felt she had the right to do so. Her whole life had been turned upside-down in a matter of a few hours, and she wasn’t sure what to do now.

She’d been told stories of how hard freshman year in high school could be, but she was positive her friends hadn’t meant this.

She saw headlights approaching and ducked behind a tree, holding her breath as they passed. Though she knew it could be dangerous for someone as young as her to be out alone all night, she was in no mood to face her father. Besides, it wasn’t like she was inexperienced.

She was Nancy Drew, after all.

Or was she?

She let herself plop onto her butt in the grass as she contemplated what to do next. She couldn’t face Carson—for calling him ‘Dad’ now was too hard—but she couldn’t stay out there for too much longer. She’d left her jacket as she climbed out her bedroom window and had started to shiver as soon as she had stopped running.

Her heart ached for the only woman she’d ever known as mother, Kate Drew, and her feelings were mixed there. She didn’t want to be bad at her…whatever she was to her now. Kate had died only a year earlier, and coming to terms with the fact that she’d lied to her hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Then she shivered again and realized she had to find somewhere to take shelter.

She could go to The Claw, she knew. She and her friends had picked up summer jobs working there for cash—under the table of course and no pun intended—and Dawn had always said they could go there whenever they needed. But her friends wouldn’t be there for a few hours yet, and Nancy wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to explain her new parentage to them yet.

As the rush of memories from the night prior filled her head, she picked out one statement that kept replaying itself.

“Ryan Hudson is my biological father.”

She’d seen Ryan Hudson in many different ways over the last few months. For fourteen years, she’d known him as the rich, arrogant hill topper who only graced their town when it was convenient for him or his business dealings.

Then his wife had died during her shift at The Claw, and they’d all been thrown into what she thought would be the weirdest time in her life. Being a murder suspect at fourteen wasn’t what any of her friends had expected for their lives, but it had happened. It was while she was trying to solve that case that she started to see a different side to the man.

Then she’d found out everything regarding his painful loss of Lucy Sable, and her heart broke for him.

Though she’d wanted to help him and Lucy’s ghost in some way, she was forced to put her feelings on pause as even crazier things came to pass—it would be just their luck to call to a sea spirit that wanted them dead—and she’d had to change her list of priorities.

Now all she could think about was how she knew the difficulty in trying to reconcile something in your brain that you had no control over and no knowledge of, no matter how hard you tried.

Standing from her spot in the damp grass, she took a deep breath and started walking again.

This time she knew exactly where she was going.

…

Her phone rang just as she was approaching Ryan’s house.

Groaning as she assumed it was her…Carson, again, she lifted it to hang up but stopped when she saw that it was Ace instead.

He’d been at The Claw with her the night before when she’d read the DNA match on John Sanders’ laptop. So far, he was the only one to know her secret outside of herself and Carson, and she’d only let him stay because he refused to leave her side.

Though he was usually more ‘chill’ than that, he could be a very protective boyfriend when he wanted to be.

She knew that he would be worried about her, especially considering he knew her better than anyone else in her life. So, deciding it would be a good idea to at least tell him she was alive and not eaten by a bear or killed by the Aglaeca, she answered and lifted it to her ear.

“Ace.” She breathed his name out like he was the life raft she needed to save her from drowning.

“Nancy.” She could hear the concern in his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Your dad called my parents and said that you ran away.”

She bit her lip. “Carson told me the truth after I confronted him.”

“Oh, Nance…” He used her nickname, and it squeezed at her heart.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Her voice was thick with tears as she felt them rush to her eyes. “I can’t be around him right now.”

Ace’s voice was soft as if he were calming a scared animal. “You could have come to me.”

She shook her head, though she knew rationally that he couldn’t see her. She had the brief thought that maybe he had hacked a satellite and could possibly see her. When they’d started dating, he promised he would do anything he could to keep her happy and safe.

“I’m sorry. If I had come there, your parents would have told Carson, and I just….”

“I get it.” His voice was equal parts comforting and protective. “Just tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She sniffed.

“Good. Because I know you’re dealing with a lot, but uh, George’s mom says the Aglaeca’s coming after us.” He said it quickly as if ripping off a band-aid.

This stopped her in her tracks, and she paid no mind to the fact that she stood on the side of a dangerously curved road in the middle of nowhere.

In her silence, he continued. “Nick, Bess, George…we’ve all gotten these really weird visions. Portents. Have you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. “I vomited up a seaweed wreath yesterday morning.”

“I would say that qualifies.” He said lightly.

“When I went to look for it later, it had turned to sand. Are you saying the Aglaeca did that?” She hadn’t believed in the supernatural before Tiffany Hudson’s murder, but she wholeheartedly believed in it now.

“Yeah.” Ace hesitated. “Apparently, it’s like a bloodhound. And because the Aglaeca responded to your call for Lucy’s bones, you’re acting as its gateway.”

“What, Ace? What aren’t you telling me?” Nancy knew her boyfriend well, and he was holding something back from her.

“Uh…well, that also means you’re the one that’s capable of stopping it.”

“You don’t sound hopeful about that.” Her heart lurched in sudden anxiety. “Do you not trust me to do it?”

“No!” He said quickly before correcting himself. “I mean, yes. Obviously, I trust you. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Well, George’s mom says that you can throw it off your trail by mixing your blood with somebody else’s. Disguising yourself so that, you know, the curse can’t find you, because if it can’t find you, it can’t find any of us.

“Uh, but…the ritual has to be done with a relative. Your blood relative.”

There was the catch and the reason for his earlier hesitation. “Well, that’s a problem, because…you saw the test results last night. My closest relative is not my blood relative.”

“But Ryan Hudson is.” He sighed again. “Listen, I know that poses certain challenges, and don’t worry. You know your secret is safe with me. But…”

“I, uh…” She started walking again and let the gears in her head turn. “I think I have a plan.”

“Nancy, babe, what are you going to do?” His voice held concern again, but also admiration.

He constantly made sure she knew how in awe he was at her detective skills and her ability to make the best of even the worst situations.

“I’ll meet you guys at Bess’ aunt’s party, okay?”

“Can you at least tell me the plan?” Ace was quick with his words, knowing full well that she could hang up at any moment.

“I have to talk to my father.”

…

Ryan crouched on the ground, frozen in place as he looked at the papers scattered in front of him. He’d been up nearly all night searching for any clue as to why Lucy hadn’t talked to him before taking her own life.

Then he’d picked up on the clues she’d written in her journal, and his mind had stopped.

Stroking his finger over Lucy’s baby picture he’d found in her yearbook, he allowed his mind to wander to every what-if scenario that came at him

What if Lucy had been pregnant? Were either of them ready to be parents at eighteen?

What if she’d told him about the baby? Would it have made a difference?

What if she’d lived? Could they have raised their baby together?

What if his parents found out? Is that why they threatened her?

Ryan was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his front door opening and whipped his head up to make sure it wasn’t either of the elder Hudsons coming in. He couldn’t have them knowing what he knew—they could react any number of ways. If he did have a child out there, he didn’t want them anywhere near his parents.

Then he caught sight of Nancy and sighed. “What, did you break-in? Figured you and your dad would be celebrating by now.”

Nancy remembered how Ryan had thanked them after the hearing had adjourned. He’d been upset by everything that happened but also grateful that they’d found out the truth of what happened with Lucy.

She felt horrible for having to go back on those things and hurt him again.

She wondered how she was supposed to once again break the heart of this man who had been through so much. He was only thirty-two and had lost the love of his life and his wife. Now, after twenty-four hours of thinking he knew exactly what had happened, Nancy was supposed to add more to his plate? It was causing her heart rate to spike, and she knew a panic attack was coming.

She saw the hopeful look in his eye and couldn’t do it. She wasn’t going to be the one to deal another blow to his fragile mental health.

“I need your help.”

“Uh, sorry, I can’t today. I have to get over to the free clinic in Trenton.” He was still crouched on the ground as he spoke.

Her face scrunched in confusion, and something shifted in his brain that he couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t you have rich people health insurance?” She questioned him as she moved over to the counter.

He rolled his eyes at her teenage sarcasm. “It’s not for me, okay? I’m trying to get answers on Lucy. The court clerk gave me a copy of her journal.”

Her already accelerated heart rate sped up as she turned to him. “Why?”

“Why?” He sounded appalled by the question and stood. “Because my dad threatened her! I wanted to make sure he wasn’t being physically violent. I didn’t see anything in her journal about that, but I did find some other helpful things.”

Every time he spoke, he made her anxiety worse, not that he was aware of it. “Like what?”

“I mean, you’re still young, so I don’t want to read some of it to you, but in early spring of 2000, she was writing stuff that makes me think….” He trailed off, unsure if he should tell her what he found.

She was only fourteen, after all. He didn’t know what she knew or if she was even comfortable with the subject.

“Go on.” She looked at the back of the papers in his hand, not being able to meet his eye. “I’m not a child.”

Ryan sighed. “I think she might have been pregnant.”

Nancy fought to keep the gray from edging into her eyesight as she swallowed down the rising panic within her. She knew if she didn’t give into the feelings soon, or at least do some techniques that she’d been taught, she’d pass out or worse. But she didn’t want to give away her secret to him just yet—if ever—so she shook her head.

“And you think the baby was yours?”

He scoffed. “Of course, it would have been mine! Lucy and I were…dating…around New Year’s, and so yeah. Mine.”

“You mean you were sleeping together around then.” She corrected for him and rolled her eyes at the shocked and slightly horrified look on his face. “Oh, stop that. I’m in high school now. I know these things.”

Then she caught the new look on his face and froze. He no longer looked shocked or horrified by her words but stared at her as if he was looking right through her. She felt her throat tighten and took a step back.

Ryan stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Whatever had shifted in his head minutes earlier when she’d scrunched her face had returned the moment she rolled her eyes at him, and all the puzzle pieces had come together.

Both of those faces were exact replicas of his and Lucy’s expressions respectfully, and suddenly he was seeing what he hadn’t through their entire “working” relationship.

Besides the fact that Lucy had been haunting both of them, the young detective had told him she was allergic to wasps’ stings, and so was he. In addition to that, he remembered seeing her bite her lip when she was nervous, a trait that Lucy had right up until the day she died.

Then there were her looks. Her blonde hair may have been turning redder every day, but it was undoubtedly Lucy’s, as were her blue eyes his. She was the perfect combination of them, and he knew the truth in his heart.

Lucy had been pregnant. And Nancy was their daughter.

Then his surroundings came back to him, and he saw how she looked at that moment.

Her usually snarky yet confident expression had turned to fear, eyes wide and pale skin merging together to make her look gaunt. Ryan saw her throat moving quickly and knew she was trying to either swallow down tears or suck in air. Her hand, which now gripped the papers he’d handed her, shook enough to be visible, and she looked utterly exhausted.

He knew a panic attack when he saw one and knew that she also knew the truth.

Not wanting to push her, he told himself he wouldn’t bring it up to her. But, still, he had to make sure she was okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hospitalized because she was panicking over this added thing in her life.

“Nancy?” He kept his voice even, though he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay?”

As he said the words in the same way Ace had said earlier, she told her brain that it was her boyfriend’s voice she was hearing and forced herself to relax. “I…”

“Can I get you some water?” Ryan moved away from her, walking to the sink. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I, uh…didn’t get any sleep last night.” She forced herself to take some deep breaths while his back was turned and felt a bit more stable when he brought her the glass. “Counteroffer…I’ll help you find out if Lucy was pregnant if you do me a favor after.”

He’d do anything she asked of him, he realized, even if it meant doing her favors or playing along with something she clearly didn’t know he knew. “Deal. Do you need to call your dad?”

He saw the way she cringed at the word ‘dad’ and confirmed his theory that she wasn’t doing as well with the news as he was.

“Uh, nope. I’m good. He’s probably at work anyway.”

He didn’t call her out on the lie, instead holding the front door open to follow her to his car. He’d find out more about that situation later.

…

She’d lied to him. She’d looked him right in the face and lied to him.

They’d taken the trip to Trenton, and acting like a spoiled, entitled rich guy had made Ryan realize just how shitty of a person he probably was in everyone’s eyes. After Nancy had insisted on speaking to the doctor herself, he stood in the waiting room and thought about it.

He knew that he was different from everyone else in Horseshoe Bay, but until he was pretending to threaten to shut down the clinic, he had never realized how those people might see him. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that you had been an asshole for thirty-two years of your life, but Ryan had decided at that moment there wouldn’t be another.

He was going to change for Nancy, even if she never knew it was for her. He never wanted to see the look on her face as he had when she’d shut him up or told him a flat-out lie after leaving the clinic.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, he thought about the story she’d spun for him, telling him that Lucy had been pregnant but had died with her child still inside her womb. He had done the math and had figured out that Nancy had been born weeks earlier than her due date, and she must have too.

Her knowledge of life and her ability to spin a tale baffled him.

“So, are you going to like…tell me why we’re going to Diana Marvin’s house?” He questioned, not wanting to sit in silence any more than they had.

Nancy huffed. “It’s Bess and her cousin Owen’s house, too.”

Owen Marvin was quite unlike the rest of his family. Being their age and having so few family members that were, he sometimes joined Bess at The Claw during her shift to hang out with their group. Of course, they all knew that he primarily came to flirt with Nancy but had been sweet enough to stop once her relationship with Ace had come out.

“I know, but still. You know that I’m like persona non grata, so you want to tell me what this favor is or what?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Can I ask you something?” Nancy had shifted her head lazily on the headrest so that she could look at him.

She still looked slightly pale, something the doctor had also noticed when they walked in, but her breathing seemed to be better, and she looked less like crying.

“Yeah, sure.”

She opened and closed her mouth only once before speaking. “What would it have meant, if-if you’d had the…the baby? Do you think you were ready to be a dad at eighteen?”

He should have known this question was coming. Even so, he answered honestly as he figured she’d be able to tell if he was lying. Besides, she looked too vulnerable as she stared at him.

“At eighteen? No…” He chuckled slightly. “No, hell no. A kid like me, I was dumb and spoiled, and I had horrible parental role models, as you know, so no. That would have been a disaster.”

He thought of his parents again and internally cringed, promising himself he’d do everything in his power to keep them away from Nancy.

“Do you think…do you think that you would have tried to…?” He saw her tuck a strand of hair out of the corner of his eye before she froze and started pulling at her hair. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, you okay?” He glanced at her now, then nearly hit the breaks as she started choking. “Hey. Hey, h-hold on.”

He swerved dangerously to the side of the road and brought the car to a park. Nancy was throwing herself out of the car the second they were stopped, and he followed her actions, panic welling up inside of him.

He wasn’t sure if she was having a panic attack again, but it looked different than it had before back at his house. When he finally got around to her side of the car, she was breathing again. He reached her side the second she slammed the door shut and watched in confusion as she stared at her reflection in the tinted windows.

“Hey, what…what, are you having a panic attack?” He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but it scared him.

Then he saw her look at her hand and the pile of sand that sat in it that had definitely not been there a moment prior. “No, no, uh…it was a portent.”

“A portent?” How did she even know what that word meant? He sure didn’t at fourteen. “What, you mean from Lucy?”

“No. From something completely different.” She looked scared now, but differently from before.

This had nothing to do with their familial relationship, and that seemed to worry him even more. He wondered if her whole life would worry him, as she seemed always to be ingrained in some dangerous happenstance.

“This is the favor that I had to ask you, actually.” She sounded upset, tears threatening to fall. “A few days ago, I did something unusual to get the evidence to exonerate my…to exonerate Carson. Uh, my friends and I did this ritual to call to this sea spirit.”

He was completely confused but tried to keep up. “Sea spirit. Like…like dolphins?”

She shook her head as she sat on the ledge overlooking the sea. “Stay with me. It’s a local legend. Uh, and it worked. The Aglaeca answered my call. But the problem is…is I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain.

“The…the Aglaeca wanted Owen Marvin’s blood. All of it. So we couldn’t go through with it, and now we triggered this, uh, curse, and I have to fix it. And in order to do that, I need to do another ritual to make sure that the spirit doesn’t lock onto its target, and…and that’s where you come in.”

She hated having to get someone else involved, but she was desperate for anything that might save the lives of her and her friends.

Though he wanted to wrap his arms around her and whisk her away to be somewhere safe from all this nonsense, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d seen enough of Lucy’s ghost to know that supernatural creatures existed, and if his daughter was tangled up with one, he couldn’t let her down.

“Why me?” He was genuinely curious and hoped it didn’t come off as a refusal. “I mean, unless this Aglaeca takes cash, then I’m….”

“It’s not about your money this time, Ryan.” She snapped at him now, and he could see the panic setting back in. “It’s about you specifically, because….”

He froze, watching her face carefully, and wondered if this was the moment she would reveal that she knew she was his daughter.

Then he watched as she hesitated and shook her head. “It’s a long story, uh, and one of which you don’t need to know all the details. But if you just come with me….”

He nodded immediately. “Yeah, no, of course. I mean, it sounds urgent.”

They stared at each other for a second, and he watched as Nancy tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. He felt his resolve breaking before taking a deep breath and deciding to take a leap of faith.

“Do you need me because I’m your father?”

Part 2

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Together

A Stitched Story (END)

JSE Fanfic

Man...this is it. The last one. That’s...wow. This was an AU three years in the writing, and with this, it’s over. I just...wow. I’m gonna need to just think about that for a second. Maybe wait a bit before starting something new. Anyway, this is basically wrapping everything up, taking care of all the final plot points and loose ends. There are emotional moments, including one big one, but...wow. I just have to keep saying that over and over again, it’s all I feel. The boys are settling down. Finally. Man, they’ve earned it. 

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read the whole story: Stitched Together | Season One | Season Two | Torn Apart | Tales to Tell | Threads | Twice Bitten, Never Shy | Two of Souls | The Tower | Time to End

Taglist (finally): @bupine @violet--majesty @ari-trash

It was surprisingly sunny, for an autumn day. Busy, too. Cars rushed through the streets, and pedestrians populated the pavement. Jameson shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare as he peered around a street corner and saw their destination. We’re almost there. One more block, he said, tapping the message out in Morse code on a nearby lamppost.

“Good, I hope we are not late,” Schneep replied. “What time is it?”

JJ checked the clock on his phone. 1:25. Do you think it’s already over?

“Possibly. In any case, it would be better to be early.” Schneep turned the corner, speeding up, running his cane over the sidewalk to check for cracks. JJ hurried to catch up. “Chase would be upset if we are not there.”

He’ll be fine, JJ said reassuringly, now tapping the message on Schneep’s arm. But I suppose we can make haste.

The two of them soon arrived at their destination, turning into the hospital parking lot and walking towards the building’s front entrance. “Oh! I think he is here, yes?” Schneep said.

Yes, I can see him. JJ waved. Chase was standing outside the glass doors, bouncing on his feet and scanning the area. He had his usual bandanna and cap, but was wearing a new sweater, one that the others had given him as a group birthday present to make up for missing it a few months ago, and an old backpack Stacy had lent him. Once he saw JJ waving he smiled, and waved back.

“Ha! Knew it. I am getting good at this,” Schneep said proudly. “If only sensing souls could help with telling apart the toothpaste and burn cream.”

JJ laughed, muffled as usual, and the two of them hurried across the parking lot. Chase ran up to meet them at the edge of the sidewalk. “Hey guys!” he said. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” Schneep said lightheartedly. “Well, well? Did everything go fine?”

“Oh, uh, mostly.” Chase rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. He wasn’t wearing his wristbands. Instead, there were white bandages. “She managed to get the ones on my wrists off, but said she didn’t want to risk messing with the one on my neck. It’s close to an artery or something? I don’t know, it was some complicated medical stuff.”

“Ah. That is too bad,” Schneep said sadly. Jameson shook his head sympathetically. “But it is glad to hear some of the stitches are gone. I told you that Darla was good. Trustworthy, too. She will not tell anyone.”

“If you say so, doc.” Pulling his sleeves down, Chase turned to JJ. “Are you sure you don’t want to try? I mean, it’s a lot more inconvenient for you than it is for me.”

JJ hesitated, then nodded. I am fine, he signed. I’ve gotten used to it, and yes, there are many downsides, but considering what happened last week, I think it is good enough.

“Man. If you’re really sure,” Chase said reluctantly. “They’re already a bit looser, right? Maybe whatever magic’s making them hard to cut through will fade over time.”

“Wait, Jameson, did you bring up last week?” Schneep whacked JJ’s legs with his cane. “I said that you should not try yourself! Things could go wrong!” He paused. “But everything is fine, right?”

Yes, it was a shallow cut, JJ said. Your scissors are pretty sharp.

“I know. They are not normal, and I am starting to think they were always supposed to be weapons.” Schneep sighed. “Well, I am putting them away soon.”

JJ and Chase exchanged a significant look. “You’re gonna put them away?” Chase repeated.

Schneep nodded. “If I need them again, it won’t be hard to pull them out.”

In the month since they’d finally gotten rid of the strings, Schneep had kept carrying the scissors around. Just in case, he’d said. Just in case those glowing green strands of black magic managed to worm their way back into the world. But the past month had been quiet. Busy in other ways, but nothing had appeared to attack any of them. So maybe ‘just in case’ wasn’t going to come. Maybe it would be fine to leave them at home. Or, well, in whatever pocket dimension they came from.

“If you’re sure, doc,” Chase said. “A-anyway, it’s a bit past 1:30. We should hurry, or we’ll be late to meet up with the others. You guys walked here? C’mon, there’s a bus stop across the street.”

We’d definitely be on time if you drove us, JJ said teasingly.

“Hey, I can’t be blamed for not having a car.”

Ask Stacy.

“Nah, it’s fine. I should practice a bit before I do any serious driving, anyway. It’s been a while.”

“You took the bus here?” Schneep asked, puzzled. “But what about people sitting next to you?”

“It’s okay, I just put the backpack next to me. And it’s alright if it’s you guys.” Chase stepped off the sidewalk curb and onto the parking lot asphalt. “Now let’s go.”

The bus ride was short, and soon the three of them were getting off at a stop outside a small restaurant—or, more of a cafe, really. Despite being near lunchtime, the place was almost empty when they walked in. Soft piano music was playing over a speaker system, and a chalk signboard near the front entrance read “Please Seat Yourselves” with a hand-drawn smiley face. Chase read the sign out loud, and the three of them spotted the rest of the group, sitting at a table in the corner of the dining area, right by a window.

Jack had looked up at the sound of the bell chiming when the door opened. “Hey, they’re here,” he said to the other two sitting at the table.

“Huh? Oh, good.” Jackie was turning the menu over and over, listening to the sound of the laminated paper against the air. Marvin didn’t say anything. His head was leaning against the glass of the window, eyes closed, a pair of earbuds blocking out most sound. But he did make a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Hey guys.” Chase arrived first, taking the chair across from Marvin, next to the wall. Schneep and JJ took the next two. “Did you already order?”

“No, I told the waiter that we were waiting for people,” Jack explained. “But, more importantly, how’d it go? Are they gone?”

“Wrists are.” Chase once again pulled back his sleeves. For a moment, Jackie glanced at the bandages on his wrists, then bit his lip and looked away. “Apparently the neck stitches are too close to an artery or something. She didn’t want to mess with it.”

“Shit. Well, two out of three’s not bad,” Jack said.

“Jack, my friend, how are the repairs going?” Schneep asked.

“Pretty good, I think. The walls just got repainted, and the living room has new chairs and stuff. Still a long way to go.” Jack laughed. “Honestly I’m just glad that the water and Internet didn’t go out.”

Are the police still talking to you? JJ asked.

“No, not really. You guys?”

The other three all shook their heads. Dealing with the police had been...complicated. They had to, of course. They couldn’t just go back to their old lives without people asking “what the hell happened to you?!”JJ had it the easiest, in a way. Nobody had reported him missing, which was a bit sad when he thought about it, and all the regular patrons of his shop had assumed it closed down. Jack and Chase had more difficulty, since they were pretty public figures. The moment Jack had uploaded a video explaining he was back, the Internet had gone up in flames wondering where he’d been.

In the end, they all decided on the same story. It was pretty lame, as Chase often said, but it worked. They all just lied and said they didn’t remember anything. Weird stitches on Chase’s wrists and neck? Nope. Scars all over Jack’s body? Don’t know what happened there. Schneep losing an entire sense and gaining weird scars that looked like tears dripping from his eyes? No idea, officer. The police had prodded them, but eventually given up, essentially leaving the case unsolved and concluding it was a strange psychological phenomenon. The case would go down in history, but nobody would know the truth.

Of course, when it came to Marvin and Jackie coming back to life, things were going to be a bit difficult. Fortunately, they had magic on their side.

“Have any of you heard from Yvonne?” Jack asked, sliding each of them a menu.

“Dude, why would she talk to me? I’m the least magical person here,” Chase said.

Not since she offered to help, JJ added.

Schneep merely shook his head and picked up the menu. “Oh! They actually have—”

“Yeah, I explained the situation when the waiter came over and he gave me a Braille copy,” Jack explained. “Anyway, she called me the other day. Says that the records should be all fixed now.”

“I still say that can’t be legal,” Chase muttered.

“It’s not.” Everyone jumped, a bit surprised to hear Marvin talk. He didn’t move from his position against the window or open his eyes, but he did continue. “She’s not really into stuff being legal, you know. Normal laws or magic laws. Always thought they got in the way, that...that...her. That...name.”

“Yvonne.” Jackie gently bumped Marvin’s shoulder with his own.

“Right.”

Jack gave the others a meaningful look. Memory issues. One of the lingering side effects Marvin and Jackie were dealing with. They could forget something in seconds. Jackie had taken to writing things down, if not with an actual pen and paper, then by finger-spelling it on his hand over and over. Marvin just sort of let it happen, only writing down the really important stuff. “Anyway, it’s all fixed,” Jack continued, looking back over at the other two. “You guys can...y’know, start doing stuff again. When you want. Move out, if you feel like it.”

“Thanks,” Jackie said. He sounded oddly reluctant. Marvin didn’t even bother to answer.

Chase cleared his throat. “Speaking of moving out, Schneep, did you get your apartment back yet?”

Schneep scowled. “I am so close. The stupid building owner is still insisting on keeping it all preserved, and I say, ‘for what?!’ You are clearly not going to sell it, if everything is still how it is when I was living there. So just let me live in! The police do not care anymore, anyway, so there is no crime scene!”

He probably liked the idea of having a flat where someone who disappeared lived, JJ suggested. It lends a bit of mystery and gives the building a reputation. People might want to move in because of that.

“Well he will still have it! I will just be actually there!” Schneep folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Ugh. Jamie, I like you, but your guest room is tiny.”

JJ gave a huff of a laugh. Sorry, Hen. I’d never really needed one before so I didn’t hear any complaints. 

“Oh, Chase, what about you? How’s the house search coming?” Jack asked.

“Fine.” Chase shrugged. “I got a few to look at. Y’know Stacy doesn’t seem to mind me staying over. I was surprised, given how she, um...wanted to move out so much a few years ago.”

“Well, things change,” Jack said cheerfully.

“Yeah. I guess that’s an upside of this, we’re, like...friends.” Chase said the word in a tone of bewildered, but welcomed, happiness. The way someone would react to hearing good news that they’d thought was no longer an option. “Again, I mean. A-and I don’t think it’s gonna go further, but...still.”

“That’s great, my friend.” Schneep patted the back of Chase’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s great!” Jackie repeated, suddenly enthusiastic. “So, like, we should order food, right?”

“Oh right.” Jack nodded. “Hang on.” He stood up, looking towards the back of the restaurant where the door to the kitchen was. A waiter was walking out at that moment, and caught sight of the group, quickly indicating he’d be right there. “Oh, nice. I was confused, really, if like this was the type of place where people would come over or if we had to go up there.” Jack sat back down and picked up the menu. “We should go all out. This is a celebration.”

I think I can get a drink, JJ signed slowly.

“Really?” Jack asked, surprised.

Yes, I think the stitches have loosened up enough for that, JJ said more confidently. A small straw or a bit of liquid. Just so long as nobody’s looking when I take off my mask.

“Awesome, man,” Chase said cheerfully. “Honestly, this place looked good on the website. We should get a lot.”

“Celebration,” Schneep repeated, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, that sounds wonderful. Celebration lunch.”

And for most of them, it was just that, wonderful. They were meeting up again, the last of their troubles were ending. Things were looking up.

But a corner of the table was a bit gloomier. Jackie and Marvin were pretty quiet all throughout the lunch. Neither of them ate that much. Marvin kept his eyes closed or looking down at his plate, and Jackie paid more attention to the salt and pepper shakers than anything else. Once the lunch was over and after everyone said their goodbyes, they followed Jack back to his apartment, where they were staying, and drifted off to separate activities. A book for Marvin, an old laptop for Jackie.

They never once said anything to each other.

— — — — — — —

Ignisa: a spell to conjure fire.

Marvin read the simple command word over and over, repeating it mentally. Ignisa. Ignisa. It was one of the simplest spells out there, and one of the first ones he learned. He could visualize the page of the book he read it in. He remembered it. Really, he did. Most of the time. For the occasions that he didn’t he’d written down the command and what it did on a spare bit of paper.

“Ignisa,” he whispered, staring down at his hands, cupped as if to hold water. He sat in the center of the floor in the spare bedroom, as far away from furniture as possible. “Ignisa. Ig-NI-sa. IG-ni-sa. Ig-ni-SA.” Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, no matter how he pronounced it or how loud he spoke it, no matter how much he concentrated on the feeling of fire bursting forth in his hands...there wasn’t even a spark.

“Fuck.” Marvin gave up, burying his face in his hands. He squeezed his eyes to contain tears of frustration, but he still let one or two sobs slip out. Why couldn’t he do anything? No fire, no lights, no telekinesis. All the magic he remembered was useless. The only spell that sort of worked was teleportation, in fact he actually found it easier now than it used to be, but he couldn’t quite control it. If he was lucky, he’d end up close to where he wanted to be, and if he was unlucky, he teleported to the middle of the sky twenty miles away. That...hadn’t been a fun evening.

There were only a few spells that worked perfectly for him. Taking a few deep breaths, Marvin lifted his head up, and pressed his hands close together, palm to palm. Slowly, he pulled them away from each other. In the space between them were blue glowing threads of magic, which got longer the farther apart his hands got. If he wanted, he could use these strings like a weapon, grabbing things, pinning them to the wall, and maybe with practice he could use them to swing, like some sort of discount magical Spider-Man. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with these. Scowling, Marvin brushed his hands together, and the strings disappeared.

Someone knocked on the door, and Marvin yelped in surprise. He quickly got to his feet. “Wh-who is it?”

“It’s Jack,” a voice said. “Can I come in?”

“Um...sure.”

Jack opened the door, poking his head in through the gap. “Hey Jackie’s making noodles for dinner. Do you want any?”

Did he? Marvin wasn’t really hungry. He didn’t really feel hungry that often anymore. Or maybe he did, and just couldn’t recognize the feeling. Jackie was the same way, but that didn’t stop him from trying to eat. After a bit, Marvin decided it would probably be better safe than sorry. “...Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jack hesitated. “Do you...want anything? Need anything?”

Marvin hesitated. He glanced over at Jack before looking away. Wait, why was one of Jack’s eyes a slightly different shade of blue? When had that—oh. Right. “No.”

“Alright...if you’re sure,” Jack said reluctantly. “Come out whenever you’re ready.” And with that, he left.

Just in time, too. Marvin backed up until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Immediately, he fell back onto the mattress, pressing his hands against his eyes. “Stop thinking about it,” he said to himself. “Stop thinking about it, stop it, stop.” That only seemed to make it worse. Images flashed in his head, leftover memories that weren’t his, but also were, and were also Jackie’s and someone else’s. The others called him Anti. Anti’s memories. They would pop up whenever something triggered them, and that ‘something’ was usually one of the others. Right now, the memories were about Jack, about what happened to his eye. Marvin could hear himself—no, Anti—laughing.

Shaking, Marvin slowly stood up again, staggering across the room to the door. Why was it that sometimes, his balance just didn’t work? Why was he so clumsy now? He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t open it, just pressing his forehead into the wood. These were the consequences for his actions. The memories, the problems with his magic, the lack of balance. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t gotten into his head that trying the transference spell would be fine, that not telling Jackie wouldn’t cause any problems...It hadn’t even been about helping people, like how Jackie probably wanted to, he just wanted to see if he could do it, to see if he could increase his power. And he caused everything. So this was his punishment. Served him right.

— — — — — — —

“Marvin says he wants dinner,” Jack said, leaning into the kitchen/dining room.

“Okay,” Jackie said cheerfully, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet. It was easy, since that particular cabinet was missing its door. It would probably stay that way for a while, too, since with all the other repairs the apartment required it wasn’t a high enough priority. Jackie set the bowl on the counter next to two others, then looked over at the pot of water. It wasn’t steaming or boiling. Did he forget to turn the heat on? He tapped the edge of the burner under the pot.

“Jackie!” Jack gasped.

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s not on,” Jackie assured him. “I was just checking.”

“You mean you didn’t know if it was on?!”

“It probably wasn’t.” Jackie looked up to see the dial hadn’t been turned. Oh. He probably could have looked at the dial before touching the burner. Well, whatever. He reached over and turned the dial to the 7 mark.

“Please be careful,” Jack said, looking nervous. “You could get hurt.”

“I am being careful,” Jackie said. It didn’t really matter, anyway. He was having trouble feeling pain lately. Or...most things, actually. It was weird, he was a bit numb. Not by too much, but enough to be noticeable, to know that he hadn’t been like that before. Marvin was just the opposite, nowadays he was constantly being overwhelmed with the texture and feel of things. But he was always more sensitive to sensations than the rest of them.

“Well, be even more careful,” Jack insisted. He backed out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna, uh, hang out in the living room. Tell me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Jackie nodded. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Alright.” Jack hesitated for a second before turning away and leaving.

Everything was fine. Jack really didn’t need to worry, Jackie had everything covered. Making food was easy, really. It was something that he did all the time. The process was automatic, especially for making pasta. Just wait for a bit, occasionally stirring, then drain the water. It was all good. This was a normal thing that normal people did. Things were normal.

Of course, Jackie knew that every single thing he’d just thought to himself was a lie. But it was easier to pretend. Sometimes he pretended so hard that it felt like he was watching a movie filmed in the first-person, instead of actually existing in this body.

Oh, it was happening now, actually. Jackie watched as his hand pulled open the cutlery drawer and took out a long spoon. Then the hand started stirring the pasta in the pot. It was starting to get hot now. There was steam. How hot was it? The other hand reached forward and—

“Shit!” Jackie snapped back to reality, pulling his hand away from the side of the metal pot. “Ah. Fuck.” He looked down. The skin of his fingers was a bit red and tender. He opened and closed his fist a few times to help the leftover burning feeling fade away.

“Is everything okay?” Jack was back, apparently having heard Jackie shout. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just brushed against the side,” Jackie explained.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Well...okay, then.” Jack reluctantly backed out of view.

Everything was fine. Oh look, the pasta was suddenly done. Time had just flown past. Jackie poured the pasta into the strainer and then scooped it into the bowls. Marvin showed up, and then Jack, and they all ate in silence, after which Jack excused himself to go back to his recording room to do some editing. The moment he’d replaced all the broken computer parts, he’d gone back to making videos, though not nearly as frequently as before. That was...nice. Nice that he could do that.

Jackie wondered what he was supposed to do now. Not just for the rest of the day, but...for the rest of ever. He wanted things to be fine, to be normal, and he was pretty good at pretending they were. But they. Just. Weren’t. He couldn’t find the energy to start looking for a job, or for a new apartment, or even for new clothes. But at the same time, he didn’t want to keep borrowing from Jack. He didn’t want to just stay in place, but he couldn’t move forward.

At one point, he’d thought about going back out onto the streets. He didn’t know what happened to his old super suit, but he could make a new one. Then that train of thought had immediately crashed to a halt with a flash of memory. Not his, but also his. Anti’s. A memory with so much pain in it, and feeling glad at that pain. Somehow triumphantly vindicated to see suffering. No. Someone like that couldn’t be a hero.

So things continued. The same things. Every day.

Everything was fine.

— — — — — — —

Time passed. Autumn progressed, and it became cooler as September blended into October. Jack kept fixing up the apartment, and it was beginning to look good as new. Schneep finally convinced the building owner to let him back into his place, and so he moved out of JJ’s building. Chase was still having trouble finding a house, but he was glad to spend more time with Lily and Moira, absolutely doting on the two of them. Business at JJ’s shop started to pick up again, though he had to get used to carrying around a notepad since most customers didn’t know sign language.

Jackie and Marvin stayed where they were.

One night, a storm rolled over the city. Rain pounded the ground, thunder rumbled in the distance, and nobody went out of their houses. That night, Marvin went into the apartment’s bathroom and pressed his face against the small window to watch the storm. There wasn’t much to see. The glass was cloudy for privacy. But there was water running down the other side, droplets racing each other to the bottom.

Then there was a flash, and a fork of lightning split the window in half. A second later came the thunder. Marvin heard someone gasp, and jumped, spinning around to see Jackie standing in the open bathroom doorway. “Oh. Sorry,” Jackie muttered. “I just saw the lights on in here and—nevermind.”

Marvin just looked at him for a bit, then turned back to the window. Jackie stood there for a moment, then started to turn away.

“Jackie?”

He stopped at the sound of Marvin’s quiet voice. “Yeah?”

“Are we...bad people?”

Jackie didn’t answer, and that was an answer on its own.

“Should we...be here?”

“What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

Marvin started pulling at his fingers. “Just...what if something...happens?”

Jackie paled. “I-it’ll be okay. It’s all okay.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them moved. Then, quietly, Jackie admitted something. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You don’t?” Marvin finally turned around.

“I don’t think I should,” Jackie whispered. “Just...everyone is nice to us. But we...hurt them. Or, kind of us. I mean, he was still us, right?”

Marvin nodded. “I remember doing it.”

“Me too.”

“He can’t come back, though. Right?”

“I mean...no,” Jackie said slowly. “But what if we...what if something happens?” He echoed Marvin’s own words back at him.

Marvin was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be here, either.”

“Should we leave?”

“What would we do?”

“I don’t know.” Jackie glanced down the hall, towards Jack’s bedroom. “But they’re...good people. And we’re.... We don’t...” He trailed off.

Another crack of thunder.

“Should we leave a note?” Marvin asked.

“No. They can figure it out. Should we stay together?”

“Maybe at first.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, the power in the apartment building went out. Jack left his bedroom, holding a flashlight. “Hey guys? The storm knocked the lights out. You okay?”

No answer. Not surprising, Jackie and Marvin could be pretty quiet. So Jack went to look for them.

But...they weren’t there. Not in the spare bedroom, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. “Guys?” he called, voice rising in worry. “Guys?!”

Still no answer. Swearing under his breath, Jack went back to his bedroom and picked up his phone from where he’d left it. He opened up the group chat and sent a message.

Jackie and Marvin are gone. I think they’ve left.

— — — — — — —

It was still storming when they got off the bus to look around. With the rain pouring down, it was hard to make out details of anything. There were the vague, tall shapes of buildings, the long stretches of clear roads and sidewalks...but everything else was a bit cloudy. “We should’ve brought an umbrella,” Marvin said, trying to shield himself from the rain by covering his head with his arms. It didn’t work.

“I didn’t think he had one,” Jackie said, peering through the falling water. “Do you want my jacket?”

“No, I’m fine.” Marvin shivered.

“I...okay, if you’re sure you’re alright,” Jackie said reluctantly. “Here, there’s a street sign over on that corner.” He walked up to the sign, Marvin trailing after him. “Uh...Everwood Lane. I...I don’t remember where that is. Do you?”

“No,” Marvin admitted. They hadn’t really had much of a plan, had they? Just up and left, trusting they’d figure it out in the moment. Saw a bus stopping at a nearby station, and hopped aboard, pretending to swipe bus passes so the driver, who wasn’t really paying any attention, wouldn’t notice. Then they’d gotten off at random, once they realized they’d been sitting in the bus for a while and they had to be far away by then. Why had they thought any of that would be a good idea? Why had he just gone along with it? 

“Well, uh. Let’s get inside.” Jackie pressed on, now walking up to the entrance of the nearest building. “Maybe we can ask someone in there, and it’ll be dry.” See? This would work out.

Luckily, that building turned out to be open, and they stepped into a front hall. It looked nice, but was completely empty. The only things of note were the pair of elevators, the door labelled ‘Stairwell,’ another unlabelled door, and a directory on a sign attached to the wall.

“No one’s here,” Marvin muttered.

“Someone has to be here, everything’s on.” Jackie scanned the directory. The building was nine floors tall, plus the ground floor, and every floor was listed as belonging to some business, each with operating hours attached. “Uh...what time is it?”

“...I don’t remember,” Marvin said. “And there’s no clock here. And we don’t have phones.”

“It’s fine, we’ll—we’ll just check around,” Jackie said optimistically. He walked over to the unmarked door and grabbed the handle, starting to push it open. Only to stop short when the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. Okay. That was fine. There were more options. Jackie turned around. “C’mon, we’ll take the lifts.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marvin nodded, following him to the elevators.

The elevator arrived, doors sliding open, and the two of them stepped in. “Right, we’ll just start with the first floor,” Jackie said, pressing the button. He waited for a few seconds, but the elevator wasn’t moving. The button hadn’t lit up. “Um...” He pressed it again. Then a couple more times. Then he tried the other buttons, pushing them hard.

“There’s a card reader attached,” Marvin pointed out, nodding towards a black box mounted on the elevator’s panel. “I don’t think it’ll work without the right card.”

“Oh.” Jackie was momentarily at a loss, but then he recovered. They just had to keep moving. That’s all. “I guess we’ll take the stairs, then.”

The stairwell was tall, white, and empty, metal stairs spiralling upwards with only a railing keeping the people walking up and down from falling off. Jackie led the way, climbing up the stairs quickly with Marvin a bit behind. But there was no luck. All the doors that led into the floors were blocked by the same card readers as in the elevators. Just in case, Jackie still tried to open them, both pushing and pulling, but to no avail. So they just kept climbing, stopping at every story so Jackie could try the doors with increasing desperation, while Marvin watched him with increasing annoyance.

Until finally, they reached the last door, this one labelled ‘Roof Access.’ Surprisingly, this one didn’t have a card reader. Jackie hesitated, then pushed it open, letting in a spray of rain from the storm outside. 

“Okay, this was useless,” Marvin said. “Let’s—”

“Well, maybe there’s someone outside,” Jackie suggested.

“In the rain?”

But Jackie was already heading out, pulling on his hood as he stepped into the storm.

Of course there wasn’t anyone there. Disregarding the misery of the weather, it was hard to see anything, including the railing that marked the edge of the roof. It would be dangerous to be up there. But Jackie still walked forward, looking around, until he eventually found that railing along the edge, grabbing the rain-slicked metal to orient himself.

“No one’s here!” Marvin shouted over a clap of thunder. He’d followed Jackie out onto the roof and was now standing about an arm’s length behind him, looking extremely unhappy about the whole situation. “Let’s go!”

“Right.” Jackie nodded. “We’ll just—just try another building, and ask where we are.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll—we’ll get a hotel.”

“How will we pay for it?”

“Uh...okay, not a hotel. We’ll...find our way to someone’s house, o-or something, and ask if we can stay.”

“What if no one lets us in?”

“We’ll—we’ll find an empty building.” Jackie grasped desperately at a way to salvage this situation, a way that wouldn’t involve them going back. He wasn’t even sure he could find his way back; he’d forgotten Jack’s address somewhere on the way. “Yeah. And then we’ll go to sleep, and in the morning, figure out a better plan. Yeah! It’s fine. Everything will be fi—”

“Everything will not be fucking fine, Jackie!” Marvin suddenly burst out. “This was a terrible idea! Why did we think to do this?! Why did I go along with it?! It’s raining, there’s lightning, we’re lost, my clothes are wet which I hate more than murder, and you’re being delusional!”

“I—I am being optimistic!” Jackie spluttered, letting go of the railing so he could face Marvin head-on. “I am trying to make the best of a difficult situation—”

“We shouldn’t even be out here!” Marvin interrupted. Another crack of thunder rang throughout the sky, even louder than before. “You suggested this! Why’d you suggest it?”

“Well, why did you ask if we should’ve been staying with the others if you weren’t prepared to leave?” Jackie countered. “You didn’t have to come with me! You didn’t have to go out at all!”

“Oh yeah, what was I going to do, tell Jack and the others, ‘sorry, I don’t know where they went, they said they were leaving and I thought that was alright’? No!”

“You could’ve convinced me to stay!” Jackie shouted. “You could’ve shot it down when I said it! But you went along, so you must have wanted to leave, too!”

“I—yeah, but it was more of a vague thing!” Marvin protested. “A what-if! I didn’t expect us to go right then!”

Jackie grabbed Marvin by the shirt. “Then why did you leave?! Why did we leave?! Why did we want to leave?!”

The sky lit up a brilliant white, electricity crashing. A bolt of lightning had hit a lightning rod attached to the building’s roof, only a room’s width away from the two of them. Sparks flew. Marvin screamed. Jackie instinctively covered him, hugging him tight to his chest and bending over. The sound was deafening, thunder right next to their heads, and even after it faded their ears echoed with the remains of it.

“Holy shit!” Jackie gasped, blinking the brilliant light from his eyes. His eyes...which were now glowing. The left was bright green, the right an equally bright red. Marvin’s were also glowing, though his right eye was the green one, and the other one was blue. “That was—oh my god. Marvin, are you okay?”

Marvin didn’t answer for a moment. He just stared at the lightning rod, still faintly glowing from being struck. And then...he let out a quiet sob.

“M...Marvin?” Jackie took a closer look at him, and realized his face wasn’t just wet from the rain. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not,” Marvin cried. “All I could think about while we were walking up those stairs—all I could think about were the memories, the—you know the ones, the—I wasn’t even there, I was somewhere else. I hate this. I hate this! I hate what’s happened to me! I hate that it’s my fault!”

“Your fault?!” Jackie repeated.

“My stupid fucking selfish spell,” Marvin sobbed. “It’s all because of that! Everything happened because of that! Of course I should’ve realized, if the things I did after the spell were—were like that, then of course! Of course I’m a horrible fucking person that wouldn’t care about what that spell might do!”

“Marvin—”

“And you’re just going around acting like everything is alright!” Marvin said, jabbing a finger into Jackie’s chest. “You just like—like nothing happened, you keep saying everything is fine, it might be for you, but it’s not for me! No it’s fine, it doesn’t matter!”

“I just want everything to move on, Marvin!” Jackie said, grasping Marvin’s upper arms and pulling him close. “Everything has to be fine, but it’s not, so I have to pretend it is! Because if I stop pretending, all I can think about is what I’ve done. Every time I look at the others, I remember how I hurt them! Every time I look at you, I remember how I killed you!”

Silence, and the sound of rain.

“I didn’t...didn’t know you felt that way,” Marvin said, barely audible.

“I didn’t know you did, either,” Jackie whispered.

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” Marvin commented dully. “Aren’t we connected now? Aren’t our souls all...mixed up with each other?”

“Yeah...” Jackie nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of them stared at each other. Eyes wide, hearts pounding, breathing heavy. Letting themselves be rained on. Until—

The door to the rooftop burst open, and a couple flashlight beams fell onto the two of them.

“Marv!”

“Jackie!”

“My friends!”

It was the others. All of them. Chase was in front with Jack close behind, then Schneep in the back holding onto Jameson’s arm for extra support. “Are you two okay?!” Chase asked.

“What happened?!” Jack added.

Is everything alright? JJ signed.

“Why did you go?” Schneep said.

Jackie took a step backwards, letting go of Marvin, who was too in shock to even notice. “You guys...h-how’d you find us?”

“JJ did,” Chase explained.

Luckily the tracking spell still works, JJ said. How did you two even get here? It’s the other side of town!

“I...we took the bus,” Jackie said numbly. “How—why are you here?”

“We came to find you, of course!” Schneep said, as if it was obvious.

“Why?” Marvin asked quietly.

“What?! Because you’re our friends!” Chase said, gaping. “If you leave to go out with no note, no anything, in the middle of a thunderstorm—” Thunder rumbled in the distance as if to prove his point. “—and without any way for anyone to contact you, anything could have happened! We were so fucking worried!”

“...why?” Marvin repeated.

“You’re our friends,” Jack reiterated. “We care about you. What if you got hurt? That would be—fuck. I-I don’t even want to think about it.”

Jackie felt tears in his eyes, and he let them slip out, hidden by the rain. “But—but it was going to be better this way.”

“Better? Better?!” Schneep repeated incredulously. “No no no no no no, we went through so much to see you again. You cannot just disappear! And less expect us to be fine with it!”

“But...w-we—I—I hurt you!” Jackie blurted out. “So much! I mean, look at yourselves! You still have the scars!”

“That wasn’t you,” Chase said gently, slowly approaching. “That was Anti.”

“Well, Anti was us.”

“Anti was two parts you guys and, like, seventeen parts black magic,” Chase said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it,” Marvin muttered. “You’d say the same if you remembered doing it.”

“What if something happens?” Jackie said, his voice hushed. “What if we...while we’re around you guys, what if we...hurt you? Th-there’s a possibility, right? As long as we’re around.”

Jack’s next question was soft, almost unheard through the rain. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, right?”

“No!” Jackie said, aghast. Marvin shook his head furiously.

“Then you won’t,” Jack said firmly. “I mean, sure, there will be accidents. But you can’t run from everyone because you’re afraid you might hurt them. A life like that would be so lonely. We trust you. Both of you. And you trust us. That’s what friendship’s built on, isn’t it? Trust.”

Jackie fell silent. The four of them stood firm, agreeing with Jack’s sentiment. Did they...really want them to stay?

“We don’t—” Marvin stammered. “I-I-I don’t—we’re—I’m—not...the type of person...who should have friends.”

“What?” Jack asked, shocked.

“You’re all so nice, a-and good,” Marvin said. “We...I don’t...deserve you.”

“That is ridiculous,” Schneep said. “Marvin, and Jackie, you are both some of the best friends I ever had, and the same goes for everyone else.”

“We’re not...good people,” Marvin said desperately. “If we were Anti, we can’t have been. Good people wouldn’t become...that. A-and you’re all just saying it ‘cause you’re friends.”

Can I say something? JJ, who’d been waiting on the sidelines, finally spoke up. Look, I barely know either of you. I’m new to all this. But I can tell that neither of you are bad people. Flawed, yes, but so is everyone. Chase said that Anti was mostly black magic, and he’s right. You can’t be blamed for what that entity did; its perception was warped and broken. You two are nice, you seem smart, you’re friendly to others. You are not bad people.

“Look, I know, it’s hard to accept that you deserve nice things,” Chase jumped in. “But you do. You want to step away from friends and good things because you think you’re not worthy. It’s gonna be hard to accept that you are. But that’s why we’re here, okay? To help you accept that.”

“And to point out when you need something,” Schneep added. “Something that you think is above you. I swear, I will fight every single bad thought you have, anything that tells you that you do not deserve all the care and love that you do.”

Jack laughed a bit. “Yeah. We all will.”

Both of them were crying, and despite the falling rain, it was quite obvious. Marvin reached over and grabbed Jackie’s hand, pulling him close. “I...I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Jackie nodded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rasping. “I...we should...I’m going to go back. Are you going to?”

“Yeah. I’m going back, too.”

Jackie nodded again, then let go of Marvin’s hand. He took a deep breath, and walked over to join the others.

Marvin shivered. The rain was starting to feel even colder than it had before. But as he carefully stepped towards the group, it felt a bit warmer.

The moment the two were close, the remaining four huddled around them. Hands were held and tears were shed, slowly joining together in a tight group hug. Everyone kept saying how proud they were of them, how happy they were to have them back, how much they loved them. And more tears leaked out, though of a different sort of emotion altogether. They were so caught up in the moment that they didn’t even notice the rain until they headed back down the stairs.

And as the six headed home, the storm started to lessen.

— — — — — — —

“Can’t believe it’s actually snowing,” Jack muttered, brushing white flakes off his coat. “It never snows here.”

“I like it.” Jackie looked around, taking in the white blanket covering the park, then up at the sky. “Everything looks all clean. I like how the snow is all smooth.”

“Mm. Won’t be for long.” Jack pointed. The two of them were content to sit at a picnic table, sheltered from the snowfall by a nearby tree. But some ways away, two girls were running through the snow, pelting their dad with snowballs. Chase was laughing. It was good to see. Lily tripped over something in the snow, and he bent over to help her up. “There’s gonna be so many footprints when they’re done with it.”

“Aw.” Jackie frowned, pulling his coat closer. He didn’t really feel the cold, but it still affected him, so he had to make sure to dress appropriately for any weather. “Hey...when will the others be here? Do you think they forgot we were going to meet up?”

“I don’t—wait.” Jack paused. “Nope, there they are.”

A car pulled into the nearby lot, and three people stepped out. JJ recently got his license, so he and Chase had become the chauffeurs of the group. He looked around, then waved at the others, turning back to point them out to Marvin and Schneep. The three headed over, and Jack and Jackie made room for them at the table.

“It is so cold!” Schneep immediately started complaining. “There is going to be so much ice later, it is awful!”

“Oh shush, you like having cold weather so you can have warm drinks and stuff,” Marvin said.

“Okay, yes, but that is inside, where I cannot risk the chance of slipping,” Schneep griped.

JJ laughed. Speaking of warm drinks. He pulled his backpack off and rifled through it, taking out a couple thermoses. I thought if we were going to be meeting up out here, we should keep hot.

“Oh nice!” Jack grabbed one with his name written on the side in sharpie. “What’s this?”

Tea and coffee. And hot chocolate for the kids, JJ explained.

“Sweet,” Jackie said, leaning over to grab one as well.

“So, uh...” Jack cleared his throat, and turned to Marvin. “How’d it go?”

Marvin leaned back, rocking slightly on the picnic bench. “Good, I think. I mean, it’s just the first session, but...it was a good sign, I guess.”

“Hey, uh, Marv?” Jackie said. “I...forgot the address.”

“Oh. Right. It’s uh...Hang on a moment.” Marvin pulled out his phone, opening up the notes. “547 Norwich, on the east side. You can’t miss it, there’s a big sign with ‘Riverwood Counseling” on the front. You’re, uh...going soon?”

“Next week.” Jackie copied the address into his own phone. “‘M a bit nervous,” he mumbled.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” Schneep said encouragingly. “They are very good, very reputable. And if things are not working, they will transfer you to someone new without any charge.”

Jackie smiled a bit. “Well, I guess if you guys trust them.”

At that moment, Chase and the girls got tired of their snowball fight and came over to the table. “Hi!” Lily said brightly. “Ooooh, what’s that?”

“It’s a thermos,” Moira explained to her sister. “They’re for hot things like soup. And hot chocolate.”

“Well, would you look at that? There are two with your names on them,” Chase said brightly. “Here you go. JJ, you brought them, right?”

JJ nodded. Cocoa for them. And this one has some tea for you.

“Oh sweet! Thanks, Jays.”

It had been a few months, and the group had decided to meet up for some casual catching up. Chase had finally gotten a new house, just a rental but he hoped to find one for himself eventually. Schneep had started taking online classes. Since he couldn’t exactly continue his surgeon profession he decided to go back and find something else to do. He was particularly interested in physics, and he was convinced that it could explain how his new magic worked. Jack’s apartment was almost entirely repaired, and the Internet had finally settled down about his disappearance. JJ’s shop was picking up business again.

And Marvin and Jackie? Well, they’d found themselves a new place. A small townhouse, just big enough for both of them, part of a row of houses with connected walls. At first, they’d debated whether or not to continue living together or to live separately, but eventually decided on the former. After all, they still had problems, with memory and movement, and more, and decided it would be easier to live with someone who could help out. They were still working on finding new jobs. Jackie wanted something active, and Marvin wanted something quiet. The search was slow going, but they were making do. Jackie had been particularly bored at night, but didn’t want to go out and try being a vigilante again. Maybe eventually. Marvin was still relearning how to use his magic, and was teaching Jackie how to, as well, given Jackie’s new abilities.

The group had been talking for about half an hour when suddenly Moira tugged on the edge of Chase’s coat. “Dad? Who’s that? She’s been staring at us.”

Chase looked over towards where Moira was pointing, and his eyes widened. “Guys. Look who it is,” he said quietly.

The others all glanced in the same direction. “Shi—oh no,” Jack muttered. “It’s that—that magician. Delyth.”

JJ sighed. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time.

“Who?” Marvin asked.

“She’s with the, uh, the magic police,” Jack explained.

“Oh fu—” Marvin quickly ducked his head, deliberately not looking over to where Delyth was standing, casually leaning against a tree.

“Should we talk to her?” Chase asked.

“I think so,” Schneep said. He paused, then stood up. “I will.”

“Wait, no, she’s coming over here!” Jackie gasped.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as the group tried to act casually, pretending they hadn’t seen her and weren’t keeping an eye on her as she walked over. Until eventually, they couldn’t pretend any longer.

Delyth stopped next to the table. “So...it is you,” she said slowly. “You know, you gave us one hell of a scare when you disappeared.”

“Hey, language,” Chase said, indicating the two small girls sitting next to him.

“Oh. Sorry.” Delyth paused. “We were looking for you, but it was like you all just...disappeared. Correct me if I’m wrong, but was a certain other magician helping with that?” Nobody answered. They weren’t about to throw Yvonne under the bus. Delyth shook her head. “Never should’ve given her access to ABIM systems,” she muttered.

“Did you want something?” Schneep asked.

“Hmm...well, no, not really.” Delyth looked them over, making eye contact with each. “You know, the ABIM is pretty busy. If a case hasn’t been active for two months, it’s deemed low priority, provided there’s no significant danger. If four months pass, we have to permanently shelve it, until there’s evidence for it becoming active again. Marked as unsolved, and people tend to forget about it.” She looked down at her watch. “Well, I have to go. It’s been nice seeing you all again. It’s been, what, five months?” After a moment, she nodded towards Jackie and Marvin. “Glad to see it all worked out. Goodbye.”

 The group remained mostly silent as she left, though Jack muttered a quiet “goodbye” and JJ waved as Delyth disappeared into a car in the parking lot and drove away. Then, once she was gone, Chase turned to the others. “What was that about?”

I think that was her saying the magicians won’t bother us, JJ signed, a bit in awe.

“Oh thank god,” Marvin breathed. “I don’t want to be on their bad side anymore. No more magic police, thank you very much.”

“She could have been a bit more direct with it, though,” Jackie added.

Jack just laughed. “Wow. So, I guess that’s the last we’ll see of her, then?”

“Provided nothing else strange happens to us,” Schneep pointed out.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. I’ve had enough strangeness for my entire life.”

So...is it over, then? JJ asked slowly.

“Dad, what was that about?” Lily asked. “Who was that? What did she mean?” Moira nodded, agreeing with all the questions.

“Oh, it’s a bit complicated.” Chase pulled his daughter close and gave her a quick hug. “But it’s nothing to worry about anymore. I’ll explain when you’re older.”

“I guess it’s over,” Jackie repeated.

“Yeah...guess so,” Jack agreed.

Time went on, as it always does. The group ended their get-together shortly after, parting ways for a short while. After a few more months, the strange disappearances faded into local legend, with people speculating what happened but nobody getting close to the truth that was only known to a small group of six friends. Magic remained, side effects lingered, but they settled back into their place, becoming the new normal.

Still, none of them forgot what happened to them for those three years. It would be hard not to. They had scars to prove it, and some memories would never fade. But the past was the past. And together, they moved on, looking forward to the future.

[radiojamming]

Can you tell us anything more about John Hartnell's time on the Voltage?

Hell yeah, I can! I have some pictures from the log books I can post later, too. I legit sat for H O U R S reading tiny handwriting from the master’s logs. Most of the logs were lists of chores, punishments, notes on the weather, and any major events. John’s time on the Volage can be divided pretty neatly in half, between the ship’s North American tour, and its Irish Sea patrol, all between 1841-45. 

The North American part was probably pretty exciting for him, considering that he’d been a shoemaker since he was thirteen years old. Compared to what his brother had been up to on the Volage (the Aden Expedition, Battle of Chuenpi, etc.), it focused less on military ventures and more on transportation and patrol. The first major thing it did was in December of 1841, when it accompanied the HMS Warspite and HMS Thalia in taking the King of Prussia, Frederick William IV to England to attend the christening of the Prince of Wales. After that, it scurried over to Plymouth to get new fittings, and then took off for the Caribbean. 

A lot happened in the Caribbean, and reading through the log books (always written in very non-emotional language, but still entertaining) paints a very eclectic picture of their activities. The Volage went to Jamaica first, awaiting orders until they were ordered to go to Saint Martha to pick up... $800,000 in gold. Legit, that sat on the Volage for two months until they dropped it off in Port Royal. By then, half the crew was incredibly ill with a mix of diseases including what might have been dysentery. Amazingly, for all of John’s terrible luck, he doesn’t appear on the sick list, even as one of the lieutenant’s eventually died as well as the clerk. 

They scurried back and forth across the Caribbean from January of 1842 until they departed for Halifax, Nova Scotia later that summer. (Land of @theiceandbones!) In all honesty, the Volage didn’t get up to much during it’s time in Halifax. They didn’t necessarily have a mission, but it does make for some really entertaining reading! There was a lot of shore leave, for instance. Here are some of the notes I wrote on my read-through between the Caribbean and Halifax (which is from ADM 54/312):

Mondays and Fridays are mandatory clothes-washing days.

8th of July 1842 - “Punished Michael Logan with 48 [!] lashes for Disobedience of Orders and Insolence”

12th of July 1842, 6pm - “Committed to the deep the Body of Samuel Marvin (AB) Deceased.” / “Departed this life William Baillie (boy) - Buried at sea on the 13th.”

18th of July 1842, 10:50 pm - “Heard the report of several Guns from the North” [in Halifax]

20th of July 1842 - Halifax Citadel visit and the burial of Robert Webb (boy), Samuel Gibbon, John Barnes, and Samuel Brummage (carpenter’s mate) on shore

Godden reports that several warm nights, sailors were permitted to use their hammocks and sleep on the beach! (I put a smiley face next to my note here!)

Most of their Halifax mooring was spent cleaning. Lots of repainting, holystoning, repairing, etc.

Multiple discharges for “uselessness” and “disgrace”. 

The latter note is really interesting, considering that none other than Charles Dickens visited Halifax that same year, and made note of sailors making total idiots out of themselves on oysters and champagne. Indeed, there are plenty of punishments recorded for that summer for drunkenness, insubordination, and desertion, again sometimes up to 48 lashes. (I’ll post a picture of the log just to confirm that.) On a high note, John Hartnell wasn’t punished once! And believe me, I looked!

They did have to have some repair work done to fix a leak in October before scurrying back down south with the “Squadron”. Godden makes some pretty boring notes about looking at the United States coast (as in essentially saying, “Yep, there it is!”) before they hang tight to the coast of Mexico. 

The Volage appears to have been outfitted for doing survey work, which is part of what they did for the next few months. Between that, mooring for absolutely nothing, and hanging out with slave ship hunters (I like to think they high-fived the HMS Racer at some point) their zig-zag order of ports of call are:

Barbados > Puerto Rico > Grenada > St. Vincent > Jamaica > St. Lucie > Antigua > Jamaica (long-term Port Royal mooring) > Haiti 

By early 1843, the Volage was headed back home. They docked in Plymouth for a time before getting their next orders for the Admiralty for the apparently much-maligned Irish Sea duty. At this point, Captain William Dickson had a temporary replacement for the deceased Lt. Davey, but eventually, that lieutenant had to leave as well. Captain Dickson did get a note from the Admiralty that he was to get his replacement at the Cove of Cork, and according to the sudden burst of tiny handwriting at the bottom of the page on Tuesday, August 29th, 1843, Captain Dickson totally forgot about that. Literally, the note for the day is kind of falling off the page from squeezing it in, but reads: “Read the Commission of Lieut J Irving”.

Because Lieutenant John Irving hopped on board as a new replacement, thus using those sweet, sweet letters of his to describe the next few months. He was absolutely meticulous about dating his letters, and having them on hand in his memoir made it easy to line up with Godden’s notes in the master’s log, confirming everything between the two of them. This time, Irish patrol got kind of exciting.

First, here’s Irving talking about joining the Volage, saying much nicer things about Capt. Dickson considering the captain was probably going, “Oh shit right I forgot we were doing this.”

“To my great joy I found the ‘Volage’ at anchor here. I was afraid she might have gone somewhere else. I went on board direct from the steamer, and was introduced to Sir William Dickson, the Captain; rigged myself in a blue coat and a pair of epaulettes; the hands were turned up, and the Captain read my commission appointing me lieutenant of the ship to the ship’s company. There are three of us. I am the second in seniority. Our mess consists of seven--viz., three lieutenants, one master, surgeon, a lieutenant of marines. They are all very good fellows. I was three years messmate of one of them in a former ship, so am comfortable in that respect.”

Irving noted that the officers were frequently invited to parties in Cork (”I could be at parties every day if I liked;”), and Godden does say that the rest of the crew were given shore leave fairly frequently, even though they didn’t have enough officers to allow them to leave as often. 

For the next four months, the Volage remained at Cork, doing patrol with several other man-of-war’s. On land, there were frequent clashes between the Protestants and the Catholics, but more importantly, there were the Repealers following Daniel O’Connell’s urging to repeal the Acts of the Union and re-establish the independent Kingdom of Ireland. Between Irving and Godden, the image of this time from the perspective of the Volage is one of a lot of bloody rumors and high tension (a Protestant curate was killed, houses were being burned down). However, O’Connell’s followers were very civil to the sailors and actually invited some of the Volage officers to visit their homes. Irving called their hospitality “quite Highland”. 

The Volage was temporarily relieved of its patrol in December, and returned to Plymouth by January of 1844 for refitting and repair work after shearing off part of her keel. Godden and Irving both noted that sailors and officers were boarded on a hulk, or a non-sailing ship. Godden also noted that several sailors were permitted leave to go visiting nearby. (John Hartnell did have family in Plymouth, and Thomas Hartnell may have been visiting the area at the same time, if a pet theory of mine holds up.) 

They were back in the Cove of Cork by February, with the Volage now as the flagship. During a period between February and June, the Volage frequently made trips between Cork and the town of Bantry, after further pro-Repealer agitation began to raise tensions once more. Godden’s log doesn’t say much on the subject aside from weather reports and notes on officers leaving the ship to attend parties, major gatherings in town (there’s a really interesting bit from Irving on scaring the bejeezus out of a group of paraders and stealing the Waterford city flag), and switching out officers. However, the tensions once again didn’t amount to much more than far-off reports of violence and a few observations of pissed-off “pisantry”. The Volage did return to Plymouth for Christmas before returning for a short turn in Cork, and then being paid off completely. The log for that topic shows that John Hartnell was paid off on February 1st, 1845.

As far as what life would have been like for John Hartnell on the Volage, it’s hard to say for sure since, once again, Godden’s logs are impersonal. However, he was responsible for recording all punishments, injuries, illnesses, and deaths, of which there was no lack. He also kept meticulous note of what chores were to be done on particular days, as well as drills. I noticed there was a lot of repetition in the chore schedule, and there was a slight uptick in sailors suddenly taking ill with “unknown” illnesses about two and a half years in, especially on days that had chores requiring a little more elbow grease.

But I think, as I said, this would have been very exciting for someone like John. After all, he voluntarily signed up for the Erebus four months after signing off on the Volage. Unfortunately, we don’t have any letters to or from him that might hint to how he felt during this time, so we have to take it from his actions rather than his words. I like to think he enjoyed himself.

[tuff-and-fluff-archives]

Okay I am hyperfixating HARD on Tom and Jerry and all my emotions from childhood have FLOODED forth, so now that I’ve finished watching (almost) all 161 original theatrical Tom and Jerry shorts from 1940 to 1967, I would like to force you all to endure my insane ramblings about this franchise. Although before I begin, I’d like to share where I’ve been watching all these! Here’s a Dailymotion playlist of all 161 shorts, put into the correct order by yours truly :3 OKAY NOW THE INSANITY BEGINS 💖💖💖

1) The Messy Formative Years: Shorts 001-017 (1940-1944)

So obviously, when a series is first created, especially an animated series, the first few episodes will always be a bit odd as the directors and writers find their footing and establish the rules of their own universe, and Tom and Jerry is no exception! In fact, these episodes can be a bit weird and even jarring to watch because the designs of the titular characters are so drastically different from how they look even ten years afterwards. In fact, in the very first episode, they don’t even have their official names yet and are instead named “Jasper and Jinx.” Also, there’s a LOT of talking in these beginning shorts before they decided to make Tom and Jerry almost entirely mute. Shorts 010 and 013 stand out the most, as they feature characters regularly speaking full sentences and it’s just... ohhh it’s SO weird to watch and it feels almost wrong 😅 Of course that’s not to say these shorts are bad, far from it actually! They’re still super fun and fascinating to watch and I think it’s quite interesting to see how such an iconic franchise got its start!

2) The Golden Years: Shorts 018-097 (1945-1955)

Oh. My. GOD. THESE ARE THE ABSOLUTE BEST. I guarantee that when you just think about Tom and Jerry, THESE are the shorts that come to mind. By now William Hanna & Joseph Barbara fully had their formula down and were just pumping out hit after hit afTER HIT HHHHH I LOVE THESE SO MUCH. I’m not kidding when I say that these shorts still make me laugh really hard and I absolutely adore nearly every aspect of them: the fluid and extremely expressive animation, the excellently timed music paired with each short, and the humor that’s constant and lands almost every time. My absolute favorite ones are around 040-080 but really all of these are just sooooo good. I know that this is stating the obvious but one thing that I especially love is just how VIOLENT these cartoons are, even more than the Looney Tunes shorts that were coming out at the same time. Characters are constantly picking up knives or axes or straight up GUNS and ngl I feel like half of the humor comes from that shock factor of the insane absurdity of that violence. Okay I’m starting to sound rly dumb, I know explaining the joke is never fun, but the directing and animation just NAILS every joke; I think the secret behind it is that there’s always a buildup and anticipation before the impact, and that buildup just makes the impact all the more intense! I was going to list my top 5 favorites but it’s impossible to choose so lemme just recommend a random five out of all of them: 026 - Solid Serenade, 048 - Saturday Evening Puss, 067 - Triplet Trouble, 069 - Fit to Be Tied, and 076 - That’s My Pup!

Also, I don’t know where else to mention this so I’ll just say it here: there’s a gradual change that Tom’s design goes through where he’s slowly drawn to be less and less fuzzy. At first his outline was drawn with a lot of points to emphasize his fur, but over time they abandoned doing that, my guess is because it was harder to animate. I’d say that they fully transitioned to Smooth Tom around short 030. That’s just a little detail I noticed and wanted to share! ^-^

3) The Slow Decay: Shorts 098-114 (1956-1958)

*heavy sigh* Well... a good thing can’t last forever. What’s kinda strange is that I can’t really nail down a specific reason caused a decline in quality after 1955; short 096 was the last to be produced by Fred Quimby, with Hanna & Barbara being given the producer credit as well as director credit for the remaining 18 shorts, and MGM animation studios had major budget cuts in the late 50′s and was shut down in 1957, and perhaps the studio shutting down had also taken the joy out of the crew, which would certainly have an effect on the cartoons. Now that doesn’t mean that these last 16 shorts are bad- they’re still quite entertaining, but they just don’t have the same energy as the shorts made in the Golden Years. They’re also nowhere near as cartoonishly violent as the past shorts had been; weapons are almost never used anymore and there are barely any efforts from Tom and Jerry to straight up kill each other, and more often than not they’re working together and even acting like close friends. I think that’s pretty fair evidence that even if these later shorts were much tamer and friendlier, that meant that they were lacking the same chaotic energy that made the other shorts so hilarious. 

Also I just need to vent this here cuz this era also contains the two most absolutely infuriating shorts in the Hanna-Barbera era, that being 100 - Busy Buddies and 114 - Tot Watchers. These two shorts consist of Tom and Jerry attempting to stop a baby from accidentally dying cuz it’s just a dumb baby that doesn’t know anything, while the babysitter is just totally ignorant to everything happening. Now I can’t quite explain why and I’m probably just making myself look like an asshole but these shorts are just... so frustrating to me??? Like its bad enough that this stupid baby whose face NEVER changes from that stupid little smile just keeps wandering into dangerous situations (in Tot Watchers it straight up crawls into a CONSTRUCTION ZONE) but every time Tom rescues the little bastard and puts it back in its crib, the babysitter thinks he’s “bothering” the baby (probably because of that one myth about cats laying on babies and stealing their breath) and so poor Tom is just punished for doing literally nothing wrong!! It’s just... very frustrating to me for some reason I’m sorry... (Although I have to admit that it is interesting and kinda cute that Tom knows how to change a diaper, like wif the safety pins and everything. Why does he know that...?)

4) The Gene Deitch Shit Shorts: 115-127 (1961-1962)

OOOH BOY. I don’t think... that I can really describe how purely and utterly I dislike the Deitch shorts. Okay so, to explain, in 1961 MGM decided they wanted to revive the Tom and Jerry franchise, so they contracted an animation studio based in Czechoslovakia to create 13 new original shorts. All of these shorts were directed by Gene Deitch, who before being commissioned for these cartoons, was open about his disdain for the original Hanna-Barbera shorts that he described as “needlessly violent.” After he was assigned to the series, he did come around to somewhat realize that the violence was intended to be overly cartoonish and humorous, but his initial opinion still had an influence on his directing decisions. In addition to these facts, the foreign team behind this series had only collectively seen a handful of the original cartoons, and each short was given a budget of only $10,000, compared to the $50,000 that the Hanna-Barbera shorts had all been given.

SO. To recap, these 13 new shorts were being made by a foreign team who had barely seen any of the source material, directed by a man who had disliked the original cartoons, and being made on 1/5 of the budget that the Hanna-Barbera shorts were given. Needless to say, the end results were a DISASTER. I’m not kidding when I say that watching these shorts feels almost like a fever dream with how completely baffling and surreal they are. I honestly don’t think they could be any more different from the original series; the music and sound effects are extremely minimalist and usually completely absent, the animation is so jerky and totally lacking the fluidity of the originals, and the character design is also drastically different and, in my opinion, kinda ugly too. These are universally considered to be the worst of the theatrical shorts, and Deitch himself has even stated that he and his team “hardly had a chance to succeed” and he fully understands the negativity directed towards the shorts he directed. I have to confess that when I rewatched all the theatrical shorts, I only got through two of these before outright skipping the rest of them. These 13 shorts are a complete disgrace to the majesty of the Hanna-Barbera series, and while I don’t hold anything against the people behind them, I can’t lie when I say that I hate these shorts. 

5) The Chuck Jones Era: 128-161 (1963-1967)

I have an odd love-hate relationship with these shorts. I don’t think I need to explain to you the legacy of the great Chuck Jones, the creator of Marvin the Martian, Pepe Le Pew, and the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote whose name is nearly synonymous with the Looney Tunes cartoons of the 30′s, 40′s, and 50′s. He’s an absolute legend in the animation industry, and yet... the Tom and Jerry shorts that he directed are still significantly weaker than the original series. Let me start with the things I like though! The slight changes in the character design to match Chuck Jones’ signature style are super appealing (I especially like how at times, Tom will almost resemble Jones’ design for the Grinch) and the animation is of course very well done and a joy to watch, but despite these positives, the humor is sadly lacking. There are still quite a few jokes that land, but they’re more restrained and just don’t have the same high-energy oomph! of the impactful gunshot sound effects and violent screams of the original cartoon. I’ll always have an appreciation for this era of shorts and the man behind them, but they sadly didn’t even come halfway close to the Hanna-Barbera series.

WELL. ANYWAY, THAT’S MY RANT!!! Thanks for reading this far, all two people that did. It just felt good to get this outta my system! 💖💖

[crazyunsexycool]

Unbreakable

Chapter 3

Pairing: steve rogers x reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: talk of past abuse, bit angsty, bit of fluff

A/N: this is a bit dialogue heavy! Reader makes. A friend

Series masterlist

Ch 2

The little bell above the door rang, again. Every time it did you looked up hoping to see your new friend walk through. After another few minutes you see Lisa scanning the dining area. Her eyes light up when she sees you and a warm smile grazes her lips as she gets closer. She gave off cool aunt vibes with her up to date clothes and accessories. Her honey blonde hair falling just about her shoulders and the confidence that just shone through as she walked further into the space.

“Hi, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” She said once she sat down.

“Not at all. I got here a little early.”

“Have you been here before?” Lisa asks as she looks at the menu.

“A few times. They’ve never given me trouble for having Marvin. Some other places have been a bit of a pain.”

Lisa leans to the side to see Marvin sitting calmly at your side. She smiles as she straightens back up.

“He’s gorgeous. Is he a service dog or a support dog?”

“Service. My therapist thought it would be a good idea to help with my ptsd and anxiety. I’ve had him for a few months now and he’s done wonders.”

“That’s good to hear.” She replies before the server takes both of your orders and then leaves. “And how long have you been going to the group?”

“A few weeks, I really didn’t want to at first but it’s helped knowing that there are other people that have gone through similar experiences. That I don’t have to feel ashamed about it. How about you?”

“Well I don’t go as regularly as I used to. What I went through happened about ten years ago. I’ve healed and I’ve moved on but sometimes I’ll have a nightmare or if I have an argument with my new partner I get anxious so going to a meeting helps.”

“Oh,” that piqued your interest. “So you’re seeing someone?”

“Yes, my partner and I have been together for three years now. She’s wonderful and so understanding. Do you think you’ll ever see yourself dating again?”

You shake your head and sigh.

“Don’t worry, I used to think the same thing. Actually my girlfriend and I started out as friends and it developed into something more.”

“That’s lovely. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to be in a relationship again but I’m not closing myself off to the possibility.”

“That’s all you can do.” She smiles.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.” Lisa says.

“Was your last partner also a woman?”

“Yes, a lot of people have a difficult time accepting that women can also be abusive. It didn’t help that she was also extremely manipulative.”

You just nod in acknowledgment as the server shows up and places your food down.

For the next few minutes you ate and just learned a few things about each other, like what you did for a living and about your families. The more the conversation flowed the more you realized you had in common.

“You know something that helped me get control of my life back was learning how to defend myself.” She said after taking a sip of her drink.

“How so?”

“Well I learned how to handle and shoot a gun. Maybe you should look into it.”

“I don’t think I could ever shoot a gun.”

“It doesn’t have to be a gun. Maybe some form of karate or boxing. If you know how to defend yourself, you’ll be more comfortable around people. You could even have a friend go with you. Do you have friends?” She asks softly. “If not, I'm more than happy to go with you to a few classes.”

Would you consider Steve as a friend? Maybe. He was, however, an Avenger. Maybe he would be willing to give you a few lessons.

“I have a friend, kind of.”

“What does ‘kind of’ mean?” She leans forward.

“I’m still getting to know him, so I haven’t fully decided but maybe if he is willing to do this with me that means I can start to really trust him.”

“Who is this friend?”

“His name is Steve.” You mutter and she smiles.

“That’s all I get, his name? What does he do?”

“Uh-“ you blank for a second, unsure of how to answer. “He used to be in the military. He’s a security guard of sorts. He’s very nice. I actually met him when I sat in at a wrong group meeting.”

“Hhmm, he sounds interesting. Is he cute?”

You choke on your drink and cough.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lisa says with a laugh.

“Uh I have noticed that he is attractive and very… fit.”

“Do you like him?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Not like that. I couldn’t.”

“Ok, I believe you. But still, ask him if he’d be willing to go with you and then let me know.”

You nod and you each place money down for your meal. Outside Lisa asks if it’s ok to give you a hug which you accept. It’s the first hug you’ve received in at least a year and a half. It made you realize how much you craved being close to someone.

After finally reaching your apartment, Marvin jumps up on the couch and gets comfortable. His eyes follow you around, when he can’t see you his head shoots up. He relaxes once again when you walk back out in sweats and a t-shirt.

You scratched Marvin behind his ear with one hand as you stared at your phone in the other.

“What do you think Marv, should I call or text him? I don’t even know what I would talk about though.”

Your phone vibrates in your hand and you jump, dropping the phone in the process. Marvin huffs as you scramble to grab it only to be surprised at seeing Steve’s name on the screen?”

“Hello?” You answer.

“Hey Y/N, it's Steve.”

“I know.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles to himself. “Don’t mind me, I'm just tired.”

“Oh, any particular reason?”

“I just got back from a two day mission. It wasn’t great.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know. So what’s up?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.” He says after a moment of quiet. “I don’t want to dump anything on you, I’d just like to think about something else, if that’s ok.”

“It’s more than ok.”

“Did you do anything fun today?”

“I actually did. I had lunch with someone from my group. I think we’ll be good friends. She’s really nice.”

“That’s good. It’s good to have friends that you can rely on.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you like a friend to rely on?” You asked softly. Already aware that two of his closest friends were gone. That he was as lonely as you were, maybe even more because people turned their backs on him for not saving everyone.

“I would like that very much.”

“Dog park in 20?”

“I’ll see you there.”

It was a bit chilly even with the sun still out. You opted for wearing something warm, there was no need to impress Steve. Marvin was running around chasing the ball you had thrown from your place on the blanket you had laid on the ground. Steve shows up a few minutes late with two bags in his hands and a cup holder. He smiles as he sits down but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, thanks again for the invite.” He says as he grabs a cup and holds it out for you. “Hot chocolate.”

You hesitate for a moment but take it. It was nice of him to get you a warm drink and you had to remind yourself that not everyone was trying to hurt you.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Where is Marvin? I got him something if that’s ok.”

You nod before taking a sip of the drink. Marvin comes running back with the ball you’d thrown in his mouth. Panting and happy. He lets go of the ball when he sees Steve and takes a few steps in his direction. Marvin sniffs around Steve before bumping his head against the latter’s chest. He does it again and Steve looks from him to you confused.

“Is everything ok Steve?” You asked as Marvin whined.

“Yeah, what is going on with Marv?”

“You’re very anxious and he’s trying to get you to interact in order to help you calm down. So go on and pet him.”

You push your glasses up as you wait for Steve to do as you ask. He sighs and starts to scratch Marvin behind the ears, it’s slow until he’s fully petting Marvin. You can see his shoulders relax and a small smile appear after a while.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I just saw someone that reminded me of my friend.”

“Sam or Bucky?”

“Sam.”

“Tell me something about him.” You say quietly.

“Let’s see, I met him six years ago while I was working in D.C. he used to work helping veterans with PTSD. He’s funny and laid back.”

“Are you trying to set me up on a date with him? Because if you are, count me in.”

Steve smiled in your direction.

“We used to go running together in the mornings. Even if I outran him, he didn’t care. When I couldn’t trust anyone he opened his home up to me, no questions asked. We had this routine where he wrote out a list of must watch movies that I’d missed and we would watch them together. He really is funny and very compassionate. Even when he has his own problems he finds a way to help others. Sam is a good man and I just fucking miss him.” Steve sniffled and then cleared his throat.

“He sounds great.”

Steve just nodded. “Anyways, I got Marvin a puppuccino and a dog toy.” He took the lid off the extra cup and held it out for Marvin, who immediately accepted it.

Once he was done he took out a frisbee and threw it giving Marvin a perfect reason to run off. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, then you started talking about nothing important but still entertaining. Before you realized it, it was time to leave. Marvin had made his way over to you and didn’t fuss when you put on his vest and leash on again. Steve, always the gentleman, helped you up.

“Um Steve?”

“Yeah?” His gaze is fixed on you. It’s still amazed you how he seemed intimidating and even scary but right now with the gentleness in his demeanor he looked as vulnerable as you felt. You had been thinking about it since he talked about Sam and if you ever wanted to move past the abuse you lived you had to take a first step. Steve had always made you feel safe enough to want to take a step in the right direction.

“Do you still have that list?”

“I do.” A tiny glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes and you knew you were making the right decision.

“I thought that maybe you’d like to cross one off the list. With me… and Marvin of course.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot actually.” He smiles at you. It was different this time, hopeful.

“Ok. Does Friday work for you?”

“I’m free on Friday.”

You nod once and smile shyly up at Steve.

“I’ll see you Friday then.”

“See you then.”

You say your goodbyes and you leave with Marvin happily leading the way. Both of you anxiously waiting for Friday.

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Series taglist:

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[lakesideamusement-archive]

Chreon headcanons

i haven’t thought much about their dynamic before, but i tried my best! i hope this is okay, @solulater :)

Leon fell for Chris long before Chris fell for him. they met not long after Claire and Chris came back from Antarctica, since Leon was the one who’d tipped him off on his sister’s location. the oldest Redfield never found a way to properly thank him for that, but he had bought Leon a drink. the two of them shared horror stories from the mansion and Raccoon and Leon felt a sort of connection with him that he couldn’t explain. it wasn’t for a while longer until he realized he was attracted to men. even longer for him to recognize his feelings for Chris, specifically.

The two of them often spent time together in a group with Claire and Jill, but never one on one. this made things doubly difficult for Leon, who has never been great at expressing how he feels. more than anything, he was terrified of opening up and being rejected, his own emotions causing him to lose the friendship of the person he cared about most. even after the Arias incident he never said a word, crawling back to a bar to drown his sorrows. he was older now and had missed his chance, he was sure. Leon wished that as a younger man he’d had more consideration for his future; in a million years he wouldn’t have considered that Chris was at home thinking the exact same thing.

In a perfect world, none of these things would have happened. Leon makes the drive into Raccoon City and is amazed by how beautiful the police station is. he has his orientation and is shown his new desk by Marvin. a few members of s.t.a.r.s. come down to meet the rookie, which is where Leon first meets Chris Redfield. he’s flustered at best, turning bright red when Chris gives him a welcoming pat on the shoulder. when the s.t.a.r.s. have to head back to work, Jill gives the rookie a knowing wink.

Chris is the one who makes the first move. he invites Leon downtown for drinks and dinner, but Leon doesn’t even realize it’s a date until halfway through. he stumbles over his words as he tries to make sense of the situation, since his little work crush had apparently been caught. Chris only smiled, rolling the straw of his drink around in his mouth. it was slightly awkward for the rest of the meal, but on the walk home, Leon carefully reached out to Chris’ hand. he smiled to himself when Chris squeezed it tightly in his own.

[viostormcaller]

Stringbound Chapter 3

A/N: I really really hope this works... sorry if it’s formatted a bit weird! EDIT: ohmygod I forgot the fucking taglist I am so sorry XD EDIT 2: I forgot amidst my frustration of trying to post this here that I was supposed to edit in all the italics. So I did that. Whoops!

[TW: nausea/vomiting mention, blood, death mention]

Chapter 2

The first thing Marvin noticed behind the darkness of his eyelids was the headache, its ever-persistent pounding and squeezing against his skull as agonizing as it had been since the fight, if not more so. Next was the stomachache, not enough yet to be nauseating, mostly just sore for the time being. Third was the heat; he could tell blankets had been piled on him again -- the same ones from before, no doubt -- and despite how much he was sweating, he also found himself shivering. It was harder to breathe, as well, though it wasn't because of the blankets. However, he didn't feel the need to worry -- he could feel a mask against his mouth and nose and felt significantly cooler air entering his body when he inhaled. Henrik must have put him on an oxygen machine. He also felt that one of his arms was outside of the blankets, and while he couldn't feel it he could tell by the way his arm was positioned that there was an IV there. He could tell he was on the couch instead of in a hospital bed, and he could hear soft murmuring close by. After he felt like he'd done enough assessing of the situation, Marvin slowly opened his eyes, squinting and letting out a quiet, pained groan as the bright daylight entering the room agitated his headache further.

At the noise he heard, Henrik quickly turned around from the crouched position by the couch that he had placed himself in, eyes wide and curious. "Marvin?" he prompted. "Are you awake?"

"Y-yeah…" Marvin got out. "Yes, I'm awake…"

"How do you feel?"

"Awful," Marvin stated plainly. It had been years since he'd felt this sick.

"What symptoms are you having?" Henrik then asked, grabbing the notepad and pen from off the table.

"Headache, chills… I feel warm and cold at the same time. And it's still a bit hard to breathe."

"Any lightheadedness?"

"No."

"Dizziness?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Are you having any pains in the chest at all?"

"No. Aside from it feeling a bit tight, of course, but it doesn't hurt."

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"No, not… not yet, anyway. I'm unsure if I'll be feeling sick later, though…"

"Hm, alright… I will keep the eye on it, and the bucket will be close by, just in case." Henrik proceeded to write all of Marvin's answers down on a piece of paper. He would transfer them to a proper document later, but this will do for now. Actually, while they were on the subject…

"Oh, Marvin?" Henrik spoke up, not looking up from his paper quite yet.

"Mmh?"

"I have some more questions for you, about your reaction to the medicine, yes? Would you mind if I asked them now, or do you want to answer them later, when you are feeling a bit better?"

"We can…" Marvin took a moment to think. It didn't take long to come to a decision. "We can answer them now, but… can you dim the light in the room a bit? It's… making my head ache horribly…"

"Oh! Oh, of course! I apologize, I did not even consider that! Jackie, do you think--?"

"Yup, one step ahead of you," cheerfully replied Jackie, who had been standing by this whole time. He pulled all the curtains closed and dimmed the kitchen light some. "How's this? This good?" he called to Marvin.

Marvin fully opened his eyes, finally able to see without painfully squinting. His headache hadn't gone away, but this was definitely an improvement. "Much better," he sighed. "Thank you."

"No problem, just doin' my job."

Henrik just chuckled, shaking his head as a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Then he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, refocusing himself. "Right, yes. The symptoms. What did you notice after you had taken that medicine?"

Marvin hummed, thinking for a moment. "I remember feeling… nauseous first. The ironic part about that is, after you injected me, it actually helped to ease the nausea. However, when I was talking with Chase, it… came back. The headache followed."

Henrik nodded, writing this down. "Alright, what else?"

"While I was, er… being sick, I remember looking up and the room was spinning. Everything was blurry -- I couldn't tell you if I was seeing triple or more than that. And then I found it harder and harder to breathe in, and from there I began to experience what I can only describe as delirium…"

"Ah, yes," Henrik interjected, looking up. "I remember you mumbling nonsense at me. Do you remember what it was you were saying? Or, well… trying to say?"

Marvin just shook his head. "My guess would be just as good as yours. I haven't a single idea. Heh, I am at the very least grateful I wasn't mumbling any spells. That could have made things a bit… chaotic."

Henrik hummed in agreement, nodding, before continuing. "The only thing I did understand was when you said you felt as if you were going to pass out."

"Ah. Yes, I remember saying that," Marvin confirmed. "I felt very lightheaded seemingly out of nowhere and I was almost positive that I would pass out. Though in my half-conscious state, I couldn't tell if my warning was in my mind or if I'd spoken it aloud. I'm grateful it was the latter."

"Was that all you felt?" Henrik inquired, looking up from his notes once more.

"No, there is one more thing I remember… every vein in my body seemed to ache not long after those first symptoms appeared. At the time I'd no clue what was happening to me, but looking back it could have only been a side effect of the medicine."

Henrik nodded, continuing his furious scribbling on the paper. Finally he let out a breath and put the pen and notepad down on the coffee table. "I thank you for your help, Marvin. One, for being so cooperative, and two, for being my unintentional test subject. I am glad we did not give this to any patients… I am not sure a higher dose of this would be very safe."

"So… does that mean our original plan is a no-go?" Jackie spoke up, a concerned look in his eye.

"I am afraid so," Henrik replied sadly, turning back towards the hero. "The dose I gave Marvin was small, and you can see what it had done to him. In a higher quantity, it could potentially kill someone, and we are trying to avoid that, yes?"

Jackie muttered a curse under his breath, looking away.

"What are you going to do now?" Marvin asked, glancing between them both.

"When Chase returns, we are going to talk more deeply about this. We need a new plan."

Marvin's eyebrows furrowed. "Chase is out? Where did he go?"

"Oh, just to pick up some supplies. Non-perishable food items, medicine… that sort of thing. Is good to be stocked up, yes? Especially now that we have a new person on board."

Marvin slowly nodded in understanding. Yes, that was a smart move. He then looked up, seeing Jackie nearing closer with a grin on his face. Uh oh.

"Hope you didn't lose one of your "nine lives" while you were fighting the effects of the medicine, because we're gonna need you for this. You think you're up for it?"

Marvin just narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you always this utterly idiotic?"

"Hey, be nice!" Jackie protested, placing a hand on his chest and feigning hurt. "I'm the one who saved your life, remember? You'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for me! You better be grateful I stayed home, too, Sourpuss. Had I gone on patrols, there'd be no one to carry Schneep's medical equipment up to you. So there!"

Marvin rolled his eyes and looked away. He'd cross his arms, but one of them had the IV sticking out of it, so that wouldn't be the best idea. Henrik could only laugh to himself, shaking his head. It was easy to forget how much of a child Jackie still was, until they had moments like this.

"Do you need anything, Marvin?" Henrik asked, pulling himself from his thoughts.

"A… a cloth over my head would be appreciated," Marvin admitted.

"I'll get it!" Jackie announced.

"No, I will get it," Henrik quickly interjected, rising from his spot on the floor. "You have bothered Marvin enough for one day, I feel."

As Henrik turned to stretch, Jackie stuck his tongue out at him when he wasn't looking.

Just then, the door swung open, startling everyone in the room. It was no other than Chase, of course, carrying a few bags of groceries, but… he was covered in splatters of… blood?

"Before you ask, no, the blood isn't mine," Chase spoke up, gently kicking the door shut behind him and setting the plastic grocery bags down on the floor.

"Holy shit, what happened?!" Jackie exclaimed.

"Dude, it's like a war zone out there!" Chase said. "Have you seen the news? God, there's fuckin' people everywhere! All scramblin' around tryin' to stock up. He's got his puppets on the loose. I was fuckin' lucky to get outta there alive…"

Jackie let out a curse, quickly snatching up the remote sitting on the coffee table and turning on the TV, switching it to the news channel. The four of them watched as the woman on the TV explained the scene unfolding downtown, showing an aerial view of what was going on. There weren't that many puppets, but just enough to cause havoc.

"I gotta go," Jackie got out, tossing the remote down and already heading for the door. He was grateful that he was already suited up.

"Jackie, wait," Chase called, reaching a hand out to him.

Jackie paused in his tracks, turning to face Chase with a hum. The determination and urgency in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Are you… sure it's safe to go out there? Like… alone, I mean?"

Jackie just huffed, almost like he'd laughed. "I mean, it's not, but who else is gonna do it, if not me? Marvin's out of commission, and you know as well as I do that the police do fuck-all."

Chase just looked away with a thoughtful hum. Jackie had a point, he couldn't deny that.

"I gotta go. See you in a few hours, alright?"

"Stay safe, Jackie," Henrik said.

"Yeah, man… be careful out there. Shit's a mess." Chase agreed.

Jackie huffed, a smile growing on his face. "No need to worry, guys. I'll be fine, trust me." And with that, he was out the door.

Henrik turned the news off with a sigh, recalling his ever-present fear of watching the news on a late night only to hear that the city's famed vigilante, Jackieboy Man, was dead. Every time he left the house, he mentally prepared himself for that day, and every time he hoped it never came.

"Well…" Chase spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence. "I'm gonna go shower. Gotta get this blood off me."

"Yes, good… good idea," Henrik nodded, clearly preoccupied.

"Um, Chase, if you don't mind my asking, how did you get blood on you in the first place?" Marvin asked.

Chase looked to Marvin with saddened eyes. "Had to witness a puppet killing someone… was too close when it happened. I'm never gonna forget that… the look on their face… the way they screamed…" Chase could only sigh, hugging himself. He shook his head, turning towards the stairs. "I… I need to be alone for a while…" With that, he left to go grab some clean clothes and a towel from his room so he could get cleaned up.

There was a heavy silence lingering in the room after Chase left, thick as the blankets covering Marvin and twice as suffocating. Finally, letting out a breath as if to push away some of the fog-like tension to give himself a little breathing room, Henrik turned away from the TV and headed towards the closet under the stairs. "Marvin, you said you wanted a cloth for the head, yes?"

Marvin perked up at his name, looking towards Henrik. "Er, y-yes, uh… yes, that would… help…"

Henrik nodded, fetching a small washcloth and heading towards the kitchen sink. He turned on the faucet and let the water run over his hand, adjusting the temperature between hot and cold until he was sure that it was cool and not cold. He then grabbed a spare bowl, filled it with the water, and headed back over to the couch. He took great care in dipping the folded washcloth in the water, wringing it out, and placing it over Marvin's forehead, though Marvin expected nothing less from a doctor.

"How does that feel? Good?"

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate it," Marvin answered with a nod.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No, not at all. Thank you, though." His answer was honest, but even if he did need something, he wouldn't dare ask. Not right now.

With a simple nod, Henrik rose, heading for the basement. He wasn't gone for very long, but when he came back up, Marvin noticed that he was now wearing gloves. He watched with intrigue as Henrik went about setting down some paper towels on the kitchen floor. Then, Henrik began to set the grocery bags on the paper towels, carrying as many over as he could at one time until all the bags were moved. It was only then that Marvin was able to see the blood splattered on some of the plastic bags. He'd been previously confused, but now what Henrik was doing made sense. He continued to silently watch as Henrik took off the gloves and set them aside, grabbed a new pair from his pocket, and put them on. He began to sort the groceries, putting away the food items and setting aside the medicines and Band-Aids and the like to be stored downstairs with the first-aid supplies.

Once the food was put away and the medicine separated, Henrik grabbed as many medicines as he could in his arms and headed for the basement stairs. It took him two trips to get everything down, though when he came back up he brought with him a biohazard bin. All the plastic bags, paper towels, and the first pair of gloves were tossed in. He then grabbed some more paper towels and a bottle of some sort of cleanser Marvin didn't recognize right away and began to spray and wipe down the area by the door where Chase had dropped the bags. Once everything was clean and put away, he headed back downstairs with the bin, and when he came up he was empty-handed and no longer wearing his gloves. He settled himself into the armchair with a sigh, letting himself get lost in his thoughts. Not a word was spoken between him and Marvin. Eventually the pair heard Chase come out of the bathroom, the opening and closing of one door, and then the opening and closing of another. Chase didn't come back downstairs after that. Eventually Henrik, too, excused himself, mentioning he was going back downstairs to check on Jack for a bit, leaving Marvin alone in the living room.

That thick duvet of silence never truly left, but as the number of people within the room dwindled, it grew ever heavier, threatening to swallow everything that remained there, Marvin included. With a heavy, tired sigh, however, he decided he wouldn't let it, instead allowing his mind to wander, to silently fill the space with his own muted noise. And he simply waited, waited for Henrik to return, for Chase to come back downstairs. For Jackie to come home.

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[ugdigital]

DEE ROZE: A RESURGENCE LIKE NO OTHER

Depending on who you ask, many will agree that R&B music has been at a disadvantage for quite some time. A lot of the formula many had grown used to throughout the years has been lost in the process. Most will agree that you just don’t get a lot of the same quality anymore when it comes to the new projects we see. Surely, a lot of that has much to do with the “microwave society” that has resulted within the music industry. It no longer takes as much work to put together a project and get it out to music fans. Most artists are handling the entire process of recording, producing, so on and so forth, so they don’t have producers and engineers and A&R in their ears, saying this is good and this is bad. It’s mostly up to the artist now to make all the decisions when it comes to what the fans get, and unfortunately, the industry has suffered as a whole. 

It’s always a joy when I come across an artist who actually gets it, and lives by the process that existed some time ago and we had all become used to. With this feature, we’re thrilled to introduce you R&B Singer & Songwriter Dee Roze. He’s worked steady over the past few years at building a solid reputation and following for himself as a new artist. His recently collaboration with the ladies of June’s Diary has definitely broadened his reach with music fans, and many are now anticipating music from him. Currently working on his debut album, he’s tiding fans over with his remake of R. Kelly’s classic album 12 Play. We recently had some time to talk about that undertaking, as well as the process of recording and organizing his official debut to the world. 

Dee Roze: I wanted to say it’s a privilege to be on the call with you brother. I really appreciate it. 

James: No problem at all. As I listened to your music, and listened to some of the songs you’ve remade, like R. Kelly’s and Part Time Lover from H-Town. You make mention of the people who have come before you. Who were some of the people you came up listening to when building your own style?  

Dee Roze: I go back as far as James Brown, Luther, Donnie Hathaway, and down the line to Stevie, R. Kelly, and Babyface. I pattern my writing after them because they had a blueprint of what works. That genre of music - I’ve been on tour with those guys and I see the money that comes in from it. People get sidetracked with the rap because that’s what gets pushed to the commercial outlets, but R&B and Soul makes a lot of money. You and I see that these guys are selling out. 

James: I think the reason this genre good, especially artists like Keith Sweat, and so on, they offered so much substance. You can see the difference when yo stand it up against what comes out today. It’s not to put anyone down, but the facts are there to see. There was a song you were doing on YouTube, and while I can’t remember the name of it, I could hear the passion in your voice. You remind me of the greats of the nineties like K-Ci and JoJo. It’s a good thing that you have more of an old soul. What goes into putting together your music?

Dee Roze: I definitely like to piggyback off K-Ci, because he’s my closest brother in this industry, and Fantasia would be my closest sister in this. He’s a king for allowing me to do that. In my process, I don’t write down anything. I turn the music on and it just pours out. I’ll reveal it all when we start moving around more. Music speaks to me in a different language. Just like on one of June’s Diary’s songs, I didn’t write. Sometimes I don’t even have a track - I just go. 

James: I certainly get it man. I think there’s a lot of people like you and I who just get it. For a lot of artists, this is all just a hustle, versus it being “life” for you. It’s in your heart. Where does your inspiration come from?

Dee Roze: I think Kristal and I have talked about it. I had to come to the conclusion and be humble that I was chosen for this. And God is using me as a vessel. It’s my purpose. It’s what I was put here to do. I don’t go through infidelity or drama, but I can look at everyone else’s life and put it out like I’m actually going through it. I have to be able to display that. It’s just like the song “Black Man”, I wasn’t even going to do it. I did a project called “12 Play Again”, which was based on R. Kelly’s album. Bad Man was not going to be remade, but there was a kid who was killed in Philly by the police. That night, I was recording something else. Kristal came in and told me about that, and it just came to me to rewrite Bad Man and we did the video the next day. I always allow God to use me. To people’s defense, if they’re not on that beat, they don’t understand what’s going on, or how this dude sound this good. I’m sure the greats like Marvin Gaye went through their trials, but I keep going and trusting God. Don’t get it wrong, I am a street guy, but I roll with God. 

James: I get it man. A lot of us have both sides to offer, and it just shows who you are. The track stood out to me vocally. Obviously you’re still growing, but I felt the track was good. On the YouTube video, you were explaining how you specifically wanted to do twenty-one tracks for your album. Why was that?

Dee Roze: I wanted like a two-sided album. I wanted up-tempos, the club joints, and then the more old school side. I put certain R&B joints on there with hip-hop joints. 

James: I think it’s good to have your album in this way, especially when it allows you to perform it LIVE with a band. What’s the album timeline?

Dee Roze: I have a few songs that’s out. Right now, considering I was in a group for a while, I’m building a brand as a solo artist. Thank God my cousin Cam came along. He really hit the ground running with building my brand. Thank God I received the placement with June’s Diary. I have a few other collaborations that will be coming out. I’m just building my brand. 

James: This is great man. You’re humble, and you’re doing the groundwork. The placement with June’s Diary is perfect because your journey mirrors there. You both have worked hard to get to where you are. 

Dee Roze: Right. I’ve never been the type to piggyback off my wife. I get a lot of throwback saying I’m holding her back, and so forth. I stay out of her business, but when she rings that bell, I show up and show out for my baby. Kristal is a bold lady. She can stand on her own. She handles her business, and we have a mutual agreement of trust and honor in our relationship. 

James: I think you’re doing amazing things. You have a great product. In the past I’ve been pretty critical with rising artists, and I can see where you’ve put in the work. I think you’ll go very far. What do you want people to get from your album?

Dee Roze: I want people to love again, make love, and start a new generation of a different thought process. I want people to be in love and have joy. My music is for everybody. I haven’t even gotten into the process of what it’s going to be. I listen to Bruno Mars; I listen to The Weeknd, but you hit it dead on the nail on the head with R. Kelly. It took me redoing 12 Play to realize I wasn’t tripping. I was re-recording the greatest artist of all times. I saw the LIVE show for two years and we started building a relationship. We had the same manager, and then we started playing ball together. We were going to the studio together until everything started happening. I’m praying for that brother and everybody involved. 

James: I think it’s great again man. Where can people find you online?

Dee Roze: Well again, my name is Dee Roze. If you just google my name, my music is on all platforms. I also have a website that’s being worked on, and it’ll be back up in a few weeks, and I’m on Instagram. Cam is great. He literally left his house in North Carolina and came to Atlanta with me. 

James: I get it man. It’s all part of the hustle and the journey. Not many people will do that, so it’s great you have him. He was willing to take that leap, and honestly those are usually the ones who make it first. He’s taking that sacrifice, and it’ll definitely help your career. You have the perfect persona for this industry and I believe you’ll do well. I’m so appreciative for you guys. Are there any type of final comments?

Dee Roze: Please continue to support my beautiful wife Kristal and her group June’s Diary, my uncle Frank, who has given me a lifeline of opportunity, and I’m blessed to help these ladies continue fulfilling their dreams. We’re off to the races man! It’s a blessing!

[the-wintershade]

— just like oil on my hands 

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: you and sam having a myriad of bonding moments and the thought of falling for him becomes nearly unbearable, but, just when things get serious, there’s always something in the way. wc: 6.5k+  genre: flirting, good banter, heat, awkwardness and tension

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 04

Sam makes sure to bring you to everything now. It’s as him disclosing his place of complete secrecy has opened up another side of him that you’ve never seen before. Dancing is more exciting, you laugh consistently when you’re together, and you meet up when class isn’t in session.

It’s as if the almost kiss was erased wholly from your memory. 

You find out about his obsession with Marvin Gaye and the Trouble Man soundtrack. He’s got the whole album and listens to it almost everyday, but it took you a little bit to pry that slightly embarrassing detail from him. 

“Oh, you must really like him.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good.” He laughs into his coffee as you sit at the table you’ve officially decided to co-parent.

“To have over 300 listens to the same songs is pretty impressive considering that you only recently bought the whole album.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he tries his best to keep a straight face, sputtering into his drink. You grin at his momentary lapse in restraint.

“Well, like I said, Marvin Gaye is the best.” He watches you with a mirthful gaze and you squint your eyes at him, knowing there’s a part he’s not telling you.

“Well, Rachel knows that that’s only partially true.” You lean your head down and pretend that she’s agreeing with you, nodding your head enthusiastically. “That’s exactly right Rachel, he’s hiding something from us. He doesn’t love you like I do, Rachel.”

“Rachel, don’t listen to that. You know that I’ve been coming here consistently these past few weeks and we’ve been listening to the soundtrack together.” He folds his arms and leans back as if he’s won this battle. Ha.

“Everytime, huh?” You nonchalantly take a sip.

“Yep.” He purses his lips in triumph.

“Sounds like this is an everyday occurrence.”

“‘Cause it is.” He retorts and you point directly at him. He sputters through his drink, realizing he’s been caught, trying to scramble for a response.

“Ah—the truth finally comes out. He is legally insane.” You spread your arms in victory, sweet sweet victory. “He’s completely addicted to the soundtrack and cannot go a day without listening to it. Your honor, this case is officially closed; you have all of the evidence  you need to convict this man.”

“You can’t prove that.” He chuckles, snatching his phone back to put it safely back in his pocket.

“If you were in love with Marvin Gaye, Sam, all you had to do was say the word.” You take a sip while grinning and he fakes annoyance and rolls his eyes before breaking down in laughter. You follow closely behind him.

…

He also takes you rollerskating. He tries to talk you through it and reassures you that it’s pretty easy. He just wasn’t aware that you used to hit the rink every Friday as a kid and although it’s been a while since you’ve gotten back on the rink, you used to be a pro.

This was going to be easy, but it wouldn’t be that hard to play a little prank on him.

He’d helped you lace your skates up tight enough that your ankles wouldn’t roll and you let him, pretending to be all dainty and unaware of the roller skating experience. You did enjoy taking his hands again as he hoisted you to your feet and held most of your weight, making sure you kept your balance.

He was extremely careful, walking you through the steps as you wobbled and shook heavily on phoney weak and unpracticed legs. His hands were strong and steady, a calming pulse about as soothing as his warm voice guiding you how to weave one foot in and out to create some speed. 

“There you go, you got it.” His encouraging voice made you smile, a genuine display of teeth. Of course, it wasn’t because you were making small, fake steps of progress, but because he was willing to be patient with you as you moved through the steps. It made your heart soften and a warmth of pure adoration erupt in your core.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this.” Your legs shook violently and you pretended to stumble. He caught you, his hands gripping your forearms determinedly, not allowing you to even think of falling, drawing you into his strong chest. 

He breathed a little slower, looking down at you with concern and laughter. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, laying your performance thick. “Let me try again.”

You stood up straight again and gently tugged against his hands. “I want to see if I can do it without you.”

“Okay, just be careful.” He didn’t look convinced that you could do it, but he slowly let go of you, keeping his hands out just in case you needed the security of them again. He made sure to stay close and you allowed yourself a small smirk at his protectiveness and concern.

You winked at him and spun around, taking off around the circle of the rink, sure that your legs and previous experience would be more than capable of supporting your own weight. You even ignored the stopper on the front and slowed your speed by dragging the side of your wheel. 

His mouth hung open as you drifted right next to him, turning around to skate backwards. Then he let out a huff in disbelief. “You lied to me.”

“I thought it’d be a great opportunity to find out how good of a teacher you were.” You shrugged in false innocence and made sure to stay slightly out of his reach, even when he started to drift closer.

“And after I laced up your shoes, after I took all this time to walk you through all of the steps.”

“It was a nice added benefit.” You laughed.

“Oh, okay. I see how you wanna play this.” His eyes turned to something darker, losing the bright light they held and morphing into a deeper expression of humor and resolve.

You wasted no time in turning around and taking off, squealing as he rode fast on your heels. Giggles escaped you as his fingertips brushed against your clothing now and again. He eventually gained enough speed to pull you right next to him, forcing you to slow down and face him. 

The vestiges of your laughter died down while you looked at him. He wasn’t mad at all. His chest heaved up and down, his teeth spread into a huge grin. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

The ensuing roller skating dance battle was epic.

…

“Keep up, Coffee girl. I saw the way you moved on those skates!” He called over his shoulder as he lapped you, the tall tower near the Lincoln Memorial loomed in the distance as you tried to catch up to him near the reflecting pool. 

You huffed, your lungs squeezing with flame, and you struggled to take in air, your mouth crumbly and dry. You’d sweated through your exercise shirt and were about three seconds from passing out. 

You should have expected this. Sam was in the military after all and it made sense that the regimen never really goes away that easily, but you hadn’t expected to get ran into the next century. Sure, you could move your way around roller skates, but the wheels did a lot more for you than you actually did for the skates. The running shoes you wore right now weren’t going to assist in keeping your pace. This was all manual labor.

And you hadn’t tried to run in years. Middle school P.E. was likely the last time you ever tried to pace yourself through a measly mile.

You saw him make his way around the halfway point and came to a stop, placing your hands tightly on your knees and taking in as much air as you possibly could in the moment. You closed your eyes, feeling the sweat creating small rivets down your neck and back, clinging to your hair and your clothes. You felt dirty, in deep need of a hot shower and three healthy gallons of water.

“On your left.” Sam huffed past you, but you kept your eyes closed and took in more air until you could feel like you would be able to form a response.

When you opened them, Sam was watching you with that mixture of mirth and worry. “You alright there?”

“Yeah,” You could barely speak the words, the syllables filled with air instead of the ringing of your vocal chords. “I’m okay. Just need a minute.” You closed your eyes again and took deep breaths until you could get your breathing under control. 

You heard Sam tread over to you and crouch down in front of you. “Hey.” Your eyes peeled open slowly, and he was right there with a soft smile on his face. “Let’s take it slow.”

You nodded and stood up straight, ignoring the stabs of pain shooting through your side. Sam took his place beside you and started on what was undoubtedly a slow jog for him, but was a manageable pace for you. You ignored the pain, fighting to stay moving. 

Sam didn’t treat you with pity or that you would crumble. He stayed right next to you, bringing up topics that you could bicker over or discuss to a deep enough degree to keep your mind off your jog. He was kind and supportive. He took breaks with you when you needed to stop and would slow your pace if you were beginning to struggle again.

He showed you time and time again that he was everything Bucky was not. He was giving you so many reasons why he was better. Why you should choose him. 

And everytime, you thought you didn’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve someone caught up in a relationship with someone else. The longer you dwelled on these thoughts, the sadder you became. A hole opened up, eating through your thoughts of him.

Because you wanted to be that supporting shoulder that he was for you, but you weren’t sure that would ever happen. By the time you got out, it might be too late for Sam. Besides, you had to prove that you weren’t boring, that you could be exciting too. That you could keep a man interested. 

Sam picked up on your change in mood and slowed your pace even more. “What’s going on? Thinking about him, again?”

“No.” You shook your head and gave a sad smile. “Something else that’s more important.”

He nodded and smiled. “Well get your head out of the clouds, Coffee Girl. We got three more laps to do.”

You huffed in frustration and gave a sad attempt at a laugh. “People must really call you Falcon for good reason. You just fly around those corners don’t you?”

“You have no idea.” 

...

Another day, another dance class. Sam spins you around as usual and dips you down, supporting you as you grab onto his arms. He whips you up and around with a flourish before pulling you back in, the both of you back to swaying to the beat. You let off a giggle as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You’ve all been learning choreography for the main dance that will take place pretty soon after the first dances. It’s been fun so far and everyone is picking everything up fast. It’s nice to feel like you’re part of something important. 

It will all suck when he finally gets a replacement and he’ll get to dance with some other, more impressive girl. You just try to enjoy it all while you’re still here with him and he’s still willing to entertain your mess of a social life.

You and Natasha spin around each other, changing partners. Clint keeps you at a respectable distance while making sure you get your timing and steps right. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” He grins as he spins you.

“Not at all.” You huff, twirling back to him as you glide around the dance floor. “I trust you and Natasha are having a good time?”

“As always.” He smirks and you dance in a good silence before it’s time to change partners again. “Have fun.” He wishes you with a subcurrent of intentional enthusiasm. You just laugh as he passes you back, Natasha’s red hair becoming a blur. You catch her eyes mid-turn and she winks at you. You grin back.

Sam catches you easily and pulls you back in, making sure you're comfortable before moving. You didn’t notice how close you normally stand while dancing, but the apparent gap between you and Clint made it that more clear. You’re nearly touching his chest and your toes are just a breath apart. 

But it wasn’t unusual to you before. It’s comfortable, easy. You don’t bother to change it now, because you like it this way.

You shouldn’t. 

But you do.

The instructor moves closer to you. “Great form. You make excellent partners.” She claps in excitement and you both grin abashedly at the direct attention. “I’ll bet you’ll be the next ones to get married.”

Your blood runs cold and your eyes widen involuntarily. The statement carries more weight than she probably intended, but the fact that you’re technically still bound to Bucky brings the world back into focus. Until you can get the current boyfriend situation figured out, there couldn’t be a you and Sam. Not permanently.

No matter what your heart wanted.

No matter how much that statement, as much as it took you off guard, excited you.

Sam sobered as much as you did and stopped moving entirely. He looked to you to gauge your reaction and when he saw your face open in shock, his own frowned, his light dying slightly. Then he steeled himself. “Depends on who catches the bouquet.”

She laughed and gestured for you to continue. You took a deep breath and looked up to him. You both didn’t say anything to each other, but you shared a look of deep understanding of how serious a statement like that was.

…

You step out at a beautiful building with glass doors and racks on racks of differing pants and shirts, ties and cuffs. It’s even more impressive inside. Sam waits for you in a chair outside of the dressing room. 

“Hey.” You breathe watching him get to his feet and walk over to you. 

“Thanks for coming.” He nods and glances over your outfit. It’s a casual glance, but it sparks a hum of electricity down your spine.

“Yeah, well, the bridesmaid’s were having a fitting and I’m not technically invited so it’s probably a good thing I’m here.” You shrugged, flipping your hair over your shoulder and he laughed richly, rolling his eyes at your show.

Sam shows you to your seat just inside the dressing room, leading you to a place with a good deal of mirrors and a pedestal for the model to stand on. You take a seat on the plush chair and scroll through some ambient notifications, catching up on social media, and sending a few text messages. 

Sam asked you a few days ago if you’d come be “quality control” over his choice for a suit. The only stipulation that Steve put on his groomsmen is that the suit needs to be white. It seemed oddly out of character for a man that appeared traditional and old fashioned, but you welcomed the change. You’d heard the bridesmaid dresses were going to be red instead of the pale pink that was usually encouraged. But then again, Peggy did rock a red lip better than anyone else you knew; you had no doubt that her lip color of choice influenced her decision.

Why Sam really needed your help, eluded you. He was a perfectly capable man that was more than equipped to make his own choices and could definitely shop for himself, but you weren’t complaining. He was getting you out of a ridiculous dinner date with Bucky and whatever other work friend he was so hellbent on impressing. Not being there gave you all the energy you needed to focus.

When Sam steps out, your breath catches in your throat. He waves his arms out, letting you see the white suit in action as he spins around. He adjusts his red tie in the mirror before looking back at you. “What do you think?”

You can’t form words. Your brain is having a hard time catching up to what’s going through your mind. How handsome he looks, how the suit is fitted perfectly, how he looks outstanding and beautiful. It’s like you’re back at the boardwalk again. 

The white stands out starkly against his chocolate skin and makes it even more heavenly. It’s like white was his color. The only one he should wear for the rest of his life.

“It looks fantastic on you…” Your mouth still hangs open as you speak and it takes effort to control your eyes, keeping them at a normal wideness. You know your tone is dreamy and slightly slurred, but you can’t help it. “You-You look amazing.”

Sam just stares. 

“You like?” The tailor flutters around him, adjusting his suit jacket and his pants. It wouldn’t matter if the suit was ill-fitted. He’d still look fantastic and your breath would still have suddenly disappeared from your body.

You nodded absentmindedly, drifting closer to get a good inspection of him. Your fingers reached for his tie, fiddling with it in your grasp and feeling the soft, silken texture. He froze completely now, just watching you adjust his slightly crooked tie. You straightened it.

“Well, good thing quality control was here to fix it for you.” You breathed out, softly chuckling at the end. It helped cover up some of your nerves. Your fingers shook as you kept your hands closed.

His smile was delayed by a good few seconds, but it was followed by a timid laugh, shallow and not a deep as you were used to. He must have felt the same jittery anxiety that you were. 

You knew the reasons that you felt this way, but his were even more muddy and less clear.

“You know how these things work, Coffee Girl?” His voice was low, but took on a light and joking tone as he gestured to the tie.

You shook your head with a smirk. “Yes, bell bottoms, I know how to tie a tie properly.”

His following laugh was covered in nerves. He then lowered his eyes so that they were almost leveled with yours, all dark and warming. A fire ignited someone near your core at his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about my tie so much.”

You cleared your throat and turned him around, letting him get a good observation of himself in the mirror. You let your hands linger on his shoulders for a second longer than necessary, feeling the strength of his arms underneath his suit.

The tailor hums in approval. “Yes. Very good. Doesn’t he look good to you?”

The question was a bit more direct than you were prepared for and you sputtered for a second, Sam’s eyes catching yours in the mirror and sending another wave of fresh nervousness pulsing through your system. “Uh, yeah. I guess.” You want to slam your head into the nearest wall. What was that response?

You scratch the back of your head and step out of the way of his continuing adjustments. “No need for bashfulness. I can see the way you look at him.” He flashes a dazzling smile your way as you pointedly duck Sam’s inquiring eyes.

There’s not a response in the world that would be able to fix the conversation or steer it onto a path that would allow you to be honest while ignoring the feelings inside of your chest. You’re really in it now. 

You just settle for an, “oh”, as you turn and resume your place on the chair, far out of the reach of touching Sam and away from the tailor’s focused stare. 

It’s not the answer that the tailor was expecting and he must have picked up on the growing tension and awkwardness in the room. He weaves around the lapse in conversation like it’s nothing, quickly asking another slightly personal question that’s only that much harder to answer with certainty.

“You two are going to the wedding together, right?” Sam catches your eyes in the mirror and the pressure of a response once again falls on you. You have no idea how to answer this question correctly. It doesn’t seem like Sam has anyone else in mind, but your spot hasn’t been solidified for sure.

Plus, Sam’s looking like he wants you to say yes. Like he knows that there’s no one else, but he wants you to agree, to confirm that you’d be willing to go with him.

You try somewhere in the middle, hoping to not to give anything away.

“We’re dance partners right now, at least until his date can step in.” Sam’s face falls half an inch and he looks away. The tailor doesn’t notice, nor does he catch how instantly you deflate.

He just hums and pauses, watching Sam for a reaction. 

Sam shrugs, turning his focus all on the business of tailoring his suit. “More or less.” He concedes. 

“The woman that comes to see the tuxedo is always the one that goes to the wedding.” The tailor winks and returns to adding pins where the suit needs material eliminated. Your face still feels heavy and you feel guilty, like you gave a wrong answer on a test.

You stand then, determined to find something else to do to take your mind off of overanalyzing the situation at hand. “I’ll be over here.” You point at the racks near the back of the store full of dress shirts. 

You meet Sam’s eyes in the mirror and see all traces of hurt or disappointment are gone. He just smirks at you and nods. You return it the best you can, going over to see what shirts would look good on Bucky, but your heart isn’t in it. It probably wasn’t in it for some time now.

But if you could just prove to Buckty that you could be interesting, then maybe you’d finally be interesting enough for someone else. Maybe you would be good enough for Sam.

You shook your head sadly to yourself. 

You could live millions of lifetimes and still never deserve him. He needed someone that wasn’t caught up with someone else or preoccupied with improving herself. He needed someone that knew who she was. You weren’t there yet.

…

“Thank you.” He brushes against your shoulder as he says it. It could be written off as accidental, you do have to be close together on the sidewalk to avoid getting pushed over, but it’s a bit too firm for that to really be the case. His tone is low and courteous. “I’m sorry the tailor was so curious. He likes to keep the conversation going so that it doesn’t become awkward. He has a habit of asking personal questions.”

You smile to yourself and try to ignore how easy it would be to reach out and take his hand. These thoughts are fickle and dangerous. It’s becoming harder and harder not to do the thing you shouldn’t be doing. “It’s not a big deal, Sam, really.”

He cocks his head to the side at your use of Sam. He doesn’t comment on it though and you walk side by side through the streets. At times, he gets a little ahead of you to warn off some of the people that are beginning to get too close for his liking. It’s like he’s creating a path for you.

Then his walk changes; it carries an agitation that it didn’t before. Something’s weighing on his mind. “What’s wrong?” You ask nonchalantly, but know that he’ll recognize you picked up on his subtle changes in body language.

He looks down as you come to a pause at a red light. He searches around the street before he looks at you, taking a deep breath. Your anxiety raises at his hesitation. “I have a preposition for you, Coffee Girl.”

He looks straight at you now and that responding jolt spreads through you again, like it always does now. You try to ignore it as you look right back at him. “Shoot.” You step near him and narrow your eyes, like he’s a criminal spilling his master plan.

He laughs and you breathe a bit better. It’s not too bad if he’s willing to crack a smile at your approach. “What if...I never got a date to replace you? What if you went with me?”

His eyes look so pure and pleading now, it’s hard to look away. But you take a few steps back because you shouldn’t be so excited at the notion of going with him at all. This electricity is wrong, but it’s still happening, regardless of what’s going on in your life right now.

Sam sees the war happening all on your face and tries to backpedal. “Sorry if that was abrupt. If you’re uncomfortable, I can find someone else...”

“No, I want to go.” You fire back the response fast and his shoulders stop climbing, like a weight has been lifted off of them. “I just think I should talk to Bucky first.” And you should, he doesn’t know that he didn’t get another partner and Bucky is your significant other. If you’re going to a wedding with another man, it would be right to let him know about it.

“Okay, so,” He leans in a bit further than necessary, but you let him. You like being in his space. You like being close to him. “If that conversation goes well, you’ll come with me?” His eyes twinkle with hope and you blush at how open it all is. He’s letting you see that, whether he wanted you to or not.

You pretend to think about it, raising your hand dramatically to your chin and stroking it with finesse and refinement. You tilt your nose to sky to emphasize the deepness and complexity of thought that should be going through your mind right now. The pro and cons, the good parts and bad parts of the conversation that you’re going to have to have with Bucky, but it’s all absent. You already know your answer. You knew when he asked.

“Yes, bell bottoms, I’ll go with you.”

…

A day later, you’re knocking on Sam’s door, standing outside pacing to yourself after getting a cryptic text message about getting some extra practice before the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. You don’t really know what’s going through his head, your moves are fine and you’ve both got the steps down to a science, extra practice shouldn’t really be a problem.

But you knew what jitters felt like and you could understand wanting to do it one more time to calm your nerves. Your heart rate flew and a tingling sensation lingered in your fingers and your stomach. 

Sam swings the door open, a pleasant smile on his face and a glimmer wafting behind his chocolate eyes.“Come on in.” 

His living room is illuminated by soft candle light and the golden glow from a floor lamp. Another Marvin Gaye song echoes gently around the space, its place of origin a boombox on his countertop. You wonder if this is a passtime or if this was something more special. You hope it’s more special.

“Woah, you didn’t tell me you were an interior decorator, bell bottoms.” You’re so in awe of your surroundings, you missed that he’s standing right next to you.

“Are you ever going to let the teasing over the Trouble Man album go?” You smirk at him as you turn, eyes squinted and goading.

“Where do you think the bell bottoms nick-name came from?” You bump his shoulder with yours, but he doesn’t move away or create space when you do; he makes sure to stay just close enough to keep your arms in contact. 

“Uh huh.” He hums deep from the core. It sends a buzz through you and you fight down a blush. Then he moves, spreading his arms and taking a few steps back. “Shall we or is this too old-fashioned for your liking?”

You roll your eyes and place your hand firmly in his, putting your trust in him once again, knowing that he won’t let you down. He draws you in, your breath thinning out at the proximity. It’s becoming more tolerable now and doesn’t throw you off as much as it used to, losing your breathing rhythm around him. It calms you down, helps you focus.

He’s eyes are dark and alluring as he watches you, adjusting his positioning until he’s satisfied that you’re comfortable. “Are we going to be letting Mr. Gaye sing us through this one?” You inquire in faux innocence and watch as his face twists into a humorous disdain. 

“You, Ms. (last name), need exposure to real music.” He takes a step which you take with him, already knowing where he’s going from here as you begin the spins at a slightly faster pace than you’re used to in order to keep up with the beat. 

“Real music, huh?” He spins you outward before drawing you back close in again, another jolt shooting through your blood.

“Yes.” He says it with a seriousness that silences you, but then he’s all smiles and smirks again and you wonder what you were expecting from a man with the nickname of Falcon. “Now just listen.”

“I’ll try.” You sway together, waiting for your cue before the next performance of turns and spins occur. You like this. You like his warm hands and eyes and glowing personality. How you can relax around him and not feel like you have to watch everything you say. How you fit together, like two halves of a charm that only fit around each other.

You close your eyes and listen, catching a few lines before you’re twirling away from him in a mix of gold and brown. 

Yeah, darling you're not wasting my time What I see baby is so hard to find

…

A lightheadedness from all the dancing put a pause on your swaying session and giggle marathon. There were numerous times that you had to completely redo moves from laughing so hard. You almost fell over each other at times.

A funny spasm moved through your chest as you leaned your neck against the back of his sofa, trying to cool off while Sam brought water over. He placed the glass in your hand, a stark contrast from the warmth that he always pulsed into your skin.

You thanked him before drinking a bit, nodding along to another soft Marvin Gaye song in the background. You felt him watching you as he sat next to you, downing half of his glass. “Never met someone who likes Marvin Gaye so much for a person who claims they don’t like old music.” He smirked knowing over at you.

You shooed him with your hand. “I never said I didn’t like old music; I just mention and frequently tease you about your addiction to the music from the 70s. That’s got nothing to do with the quality of the music.”

Sam grins widely as he goes to get another sip of water before setting the glass down and smiling. You cup your drink in your hand, letting the coolness of the glass keep your body temperature lowered. 

He leans back, sighing with happiness and you can’t help the small smile of happiness that spreads across your cheeks at his contentment. He’s infectious. “You know, I haven’t had this much fun in a while, thank you for coming.”

You let your head roll back as you look over to him. “Me neither. Thanks for being such a gracious host.” 

His grins at your goofy head angle and weirdly moving eyebrows. Then he looks down and sobers up, his face losing some of the glow it already had. You sit up. Something’s coming, you can feel it.

You set your glass down and lean forward. “Did you ask him yet?” He doesn’t look at you, even when you stare at him for a minute before responding. You wish he would. You just need him to look so you can know what he’s feeling.

You hate putting him here. You hate that Bucky’s such a problem between you two.

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair, angling your body away from him. You don’t want him to feel like you’re pressuring him to accept the response you’re going to give him. “No. He’s out of town right now. He has been for a day or two.”

Sam narrows his eyes and fixes you with a hard stare, his tone ice compared to his smooth and gentle character. “He’s gone a lot for someone who loves to watch your every move.”

“Oh, he’s cheating. But then again it was never really official to begin with.” Sam’s eyes bug out of his head, but you know better than to take that at face value. He already knew. He’s just trying to act shocked for your sake. 

“He what?” His voice sounds dumbstruck, but it’s still not enough to fool you.

“You don’t have to pretend to be surprised. I know you know.” You reached down to take another sip of your drink and let the liquid cool you down, slow down your brain so you could give clear answers that weren’t riddled with anger.

Sam sits for a moment watching you. He sighs, looks away, and then turns towards you. His jaw works and no words come out so you fill the silence.

“I’m just waiting. I think this will go away at some point. I’m just trying to be more interesting and exciting. I think that’s why I lost him the last time.” You fiddle with your pants to keep from facing Sam’s pointed stare.

“So dancing with me is just to be more interesting?” He sounds hurt and starts to turn away, but you catch him. 

“No.” You make sure that’s firm and look directly at him as you say the word. He freezes in place and has to look away. “I’m dancing with you because that was genuinely something I was interested in doing. That had nothing with trying to make him jealous or trying to get him back, that was completely my own choosing.”

He had to understand, this whole thing had nothing to do with Bucky. It had everything to do with your choice and what you wanted to do. It wasn’t something you felt like you had to do to win Bucky back. You wanted this. 

Sam doesn’t seem completely convinced. You scoot closer and place a delicate hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to get him to look at you. His eyes cut, but you’re determined to make him understand. To make him believe you. “Do you think I would still be here if I didn’t choose this. If this was my strategy, obviously it’s doing nothing to get him back and it would be in my best interest to leave, right? Why am I still going to classes and hanging with you if I didn’t want to be here?”

He nods and you breathe out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. You start to let your hand fall from his shoulder, but he catches it, pulling it closer to his chest and drawing your eyes to his sad and pleading gaze. “You deserve better.” He utters it softly and an emotional wall breaks at his words.

You feel tears start to form near your eyes. It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone tell you that you’re worth more than what you’re in. You have to look away, too caught in his eyes and the way that walls are starting to come down.

You take a breath and when you’re sure that there are no traces of sadness or pain, you gently draw your hand and it hurts. You don’t want to pull back, but you have to do the right thing. You have to do what’s right, even when it’s the most painful thing you could do.

“I think I should go,” You stand and Sam jumps up inhumanly fast before you, slightly blocking a straight shot to the door. You don’t feel trapped, more like he doesn’t want you to leave. “I don’t want you to feel any worse about the situation.”

“Wait.” He says in a soft whisper. He takes your hand again, slowly, curling your fingers together delicately. “Just one more dance.”

Sam doesn’t let your hand go as he clicks to another song, a sweet and simple guitar and vocal combination filling the room. He rests his hand on your hip, his warmth bleeding through the fabric of your shirt, tucks you close to him, and sets you to a sway. 

You don’t perform any of the moves you’ve learned in class, no waltzes or spins, just you and him and a beat.

Eventually, from enough courage and fatigue catching up with you, you lean your head against his chest, wrapping your free arm around his torso and listening to his fast but steady heartbeat. You feel his head dip down to lean where your head lays, a hand splaying on your back to curl you into him. The tears almost well up again, but you just close your eyes and feel him, concentrating on his closeness and the caring way he responds to you.

Just like a song in my heart

A hand on your cheek pulls you back and your gaze flashes up to his, a deep fire simmering in your chest reflected in his eyes. You can feel the kiss coming this time and you know you’re not strong enough to resist it. You close your eyes and tense, waiting for his lips to meet yours.

But they never do. 

Instead, a soft kiss presses against your temple and lingers.

When you open your eyes, your heart almost breaks from his open eyes and the adoration and sorrow in them. You hope he can see how sorry you are. Maybe in another place in a different time. It’s the only thing you can trust to do, silent communication. Anything else, and you’ll completely crumble.

Sam presses an invitation into your hand. Come, his eyes say and you smile and tuck it into your pocket for safekeeping.

The song ends bittersweetly and Sam walks you to the door, still holding your hand tightly in his. You stand on your tippy toes, the kiss still warm and pulsing from your forehead. He begins to lean down, knowing what’s coming and eager to make it easier for you. Just when you’re about to give him another kiss on the cheek, you get a text.

Bucky: It’s done. I broke up with her. You’re the one for me

Just like oil on my hands.