#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice

[mettleborn]

Continued from x with @wrathfulmercy

“Sam? You gotta be joking.” Rick replied with his hand nervously tapping against the wooden table they were sitting on while Carlson couldn’t stop grinning about the tea he apparently just spilled. “I’m telling you! Thought he was the cunt kinda guy as well but… we all gotta make mistakes don’t we?” The way Carlson said it wasn’t actually homophobic or so Rick hoped but his damn stupid smirk before he drowned his whiskey wasn’t actually bringing any ease to Rick’s mind right now. No, he was pissed because he knew exactly that if these rumors were true and Sam was seeing someone - a guy - then it was serious. He tried to keep it cool but probably looked like someone just shit on his face, his scoff obviously an annoyed one he tried to overplay with a fake smile.

“Yeah, mistakes. We all make them.” Rick mumbled, thinking how he probably made the biggest one by falling for a man again and starting to trust him. In shame he hid behind his glass of bourbon as he suddenly noticed Sam coming into that same damn bar they were sitting in. This had to be a fucking joke, right? “Oh fuck me.” Rick cussed and added “Do we have an annual employee of the year meeting tonight or what?”

“Oh fuck he’s coming here, don’t mention it Grimes. You know how these stories need to stay a secret when it’s personal. I’m gonna head over to the bar, that chick over there looks just about right for me tonight.” Carlson got up and wasn’t only in a hurry cause he was scared to miss a new opportunity to fill his sheets tonight, but because he was probably scared that Sam would knock his teeth out if he found out about him spilling some facts. “Yeah, have fun.” Rick murmured more to himself and in that moment Sam had already reached his table with that damn adorable smile while Carlson was long gone.

“You here? Alone?” Rick asked as Sam sat down next to him, gaining nothing but a confused glare back. No, he couldn’t take it. Not tonight and not ever. Instead of letting the other man speak, Rick just waved him off and drowned the rest of his drink in an angry matter. “You know what? Just talk to someone else. Maybe to that sweet little lover you got yourself cause one is obviously not enough for the poor starving man you actually are.” In a provocative manner Rick smashed the glass on the table and got up, grabbing his coat from the chair to hide within its black fabric so he could disappear in the darkness not only the club but night provided outside.

He needed to breathe, ball his fists within his pockets before anybody would see this. This was fucking ridiculous. First he ran into fucking Carlson who was just another former partner he used to share a mission with, but then fucking Sam. Coming in looking gorgeous as ever and as if he just has the best fuck of his life that made him a little too happy for Rick’s taste. Fuck how much he hated that. Why did that man look so good? Why did he smile that way? Why the fuck did he have the audacity to come up to Rick as if he couldn’t wait to tell him about his new favorite lover? To hell with him.

“Mistake.” Rick cussed to himself in a teasing manner while he walked around the dark corner that led straight to his hotel room for the night. Man, this night should have looked different than that. Maybe he should start seeing other people too again? But what if he didn’t want to? Lost in thoughts and with eyes that suddenly started burning as if he was about to fucking cry over a man who should have been known to be a mistake, he didn’t realize as he suddenly bumped into another frame and only as he looked up to apologize firmly, he recognized the eyes that were staring at him still with the same confusion and maybe now filled with anger. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Rick rolled his eyes and stepped back, his hands secretly fiddling with nails digging into the flesh of his inner palm out of nervousness. “What do you want, Sam? Do you not have another fucking idiot to play with tonight?”

==========================

They hadn’t exactly agreed to meet tonight, but with Sam in the same city as Rick for once, he had figured he would follow him from his hotel to a nearby bar to surprise him for a drink. He’d play it off casual; act like it was mere coincidence and hopefully not appear too much like a fucking stalker.

The reception he receives isn’t the kind he expected, what the hell is Rick going on about? What ‘little lover’? Admittedly Sam is so shocked by the unexpected outburst that when he finally moves to speak, Rick’s already leaving. Moving to pursue Rick out onto the street, it’s then he spots him - Carlson…that fucker. Immediately striding over to him, Sam’s hand shoots out like a viper to grab Carlson by the throat, neatly backing him up against the wall until they’re face to face.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Samuel’s words are growled through gritted teeth. He can feel the tense movement of Carlson’s Adam’s apple as the man struggles to swallow against Sam’s harsh grip. Easing slightly, he uses the hold to smack Carlson’s head back against the wall with insistence.

“Talk.”

“Nothing, fuck, I didn’t say shit Sam.” Carlson gargles back, clearly calculating whether he should strike back or continue to remain subdued. “Let him go back to his hotel, bang some chick and get it out of his system.”

There’s a moment that Sam sees red, where he can think of nothing more than beating Carlson unconscious but that frantic fury soon begins to subside as he finally notices the rest of the bar are now watching in hushed silence and the bartender is likely calling the cops. “Fuck you.” He finally spits in Carlson’s face, releasing the man and allowing him to drop to the floor before making a speedy exit, eager to get out of there before things get any more heated - not something he can afford when he has a mission to complete tomorrow morning.

Rounding the corner, back towards Rick’s hotel, Sam hastily turns down a deserted backstreet and softly collides directly into Rick, just in time to hear him utter a word that immediately causes Sam’s chest to ache.

“What do you mean, mistake? What the hell has gotten into you?” A large part of Sam wants to pull Rick into his embrace, to reassure him, comfort and soothe him and yet there still remains that self-protective instinct; the one warning him not to get too close, not to risk so much – this could be the rejection he’s been fearing all along.

“Little lover?” The words are still stuck at the forefront of Sam’s mind and the insinuation they represent is enough to make his blood boil.

“Is that it huh? You think I’m what, some kind of slut? Just sleeping around with any man I pair up with…” He huffs out a tense breath making clear he’s not yet finished. “…and that makes you what, just one in a long list, just another causal lay to pass the time? Maybe you’d prefer that huh…just meaningless…just a fucking mistake.”

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Assassin verse #[Rick x Sam: would you die for me?] #Rick Grimes #Umbra #wrathfulmercy #((I had to reply to this...love a good fight! XD)) #((I been storing up my drafts to get them all done but just had to post this after reading that meme response XD))

[mettleborn-a]

Continued from x

@justacomedy​ said: 

A passionate kiss shared between the two bought them here: Samuel resting his forehead against Arthur’s as both men take a moment of silence to regain their breath, chests rising and falling in sync with one another’s and Arthur has never felt so connected to another human being like he does right now. Their shared compassion wasn’t spoken as much as it was shown, silent gestures to replace the words they can hardly gather and it was as if they had their own language. One of which no one else could understand; a language filled with so much raw emotion that they could spend their entire lives without uttering another word and yet they’d understand the exact message being sent between one another. In this moment, Arthur believes that their hearts are beating in complete unison. The time feels like it’s passing them slowly and their silence was far from empty.  Arthur couldn’t ask for a better moment: nothing was better than his time spent here, with Samuel.

— He catches himself overcome with joy; it’s been happening more and more lately and the feeling was still so new to him. It was almost funny to him to think that his life finally left an opening for him to actually feel happiness; to actually enjoy something in life. The thought brought his smile to widen, thin lips parting just enough to reveal a glance at his teeth. How did he ever get so lucky? “Have I ever told you that you feel like home to me?” he spoke up. Even living in his own apartment hardly felt like home. It was Penny’s home and he was simply residing in it. He never feels happy there. But here, he feels happy. Loved. He could be anywhere with Samuel and feel like he’s at home. And he wishes they could leave this place, find somewhere better to live than a city infested with super rats filled with nothing but misery. “Sometimes, I wish we could just run away together.” he admitted wistfully. If it weren’t for his mother, maybe he would. He couldn’t move her even if he did have the money to; she’s rooted here. Tied not only to the hospital for her medical problems, but also by her obsession of Thomas Wayne. She’d never agree to leave this place and he couldn’t just leave her. He didn’t have he heart to. But no matter; his poor finances has him tied down regardless. — “Wouldn’t that be nice?” he mused aloud, eyes fluttering closed as he let himself slip into his imagination for a moment; the two of them together, strolling along the shore of a beach together as the tide graced their feet. Fingers intertwined and they wouldn’t have a worry in the world. He’d always dreamt of living near a beach; but this was the first time he’s envisioned it with Samuel. He’s never been to one, but he always painted a nice picture of what life would be like there and the thought of Samuel there with him made it even better. “Do you like the beach?” Arthur would settle anywhere with him; here, the beach- any other place that Sam may desire. He didn’t care, he would be happy.

==============================

That smile…that smile is everything to Sam, truthfully that is the thing he takes the most pride in, the most joy in; in making Arthur’s smile. It is not that awkward smile either, the one Fleck often shows in public, the one that is meant to put others at ease, that is meant to disguise the way Arthur truly feels. No; this smile is real and shamelessly joyful and meant all for Sam and Sam alone and that is what makes it so truly special – the sheer intimacy of it.  

Home…that’s exactly what Samuel wants to be to Arthur; a safe haven, a port in a storm, offering a place he can come to escape his mother, to escape a world that cares little about either of them and has demonstrated nothing but cruelty and neglect. Is it any wonder they have chosen to find hope within each other when the world has failed to allow them even the briefest glimpse of it?

“I would like that.” Admittedly there is nothing Samuel would want more; for Arthur to be free, to escape his verbally abusive mother, a woman whose chooses words that seems deliberately cruel and callous in the face of all of Arthur’s tender and loving care. She doesn’t deserve him; no one else does.

Reaching over, Sam slowly combs his fingers through locks of Arthur’s limp brown hair as he considers the proposition; it has been years since he visited the beach, though he knows there is one to be found if you travel far enough out of Gotham, towards the West.  

“I’ve always wanted to visit Shell Beach.” He confirms, glancing up towards the ceiling to clearly imagine it. As far as he knows, it is a man-made beach, where huge concrete walls frame clean golden sands, that stretch out to the sea. He’s only really seen postcards of the place, but the image is clear to him regardless; especially of the small pier, which he would adore to walk along with Arthur, holding hands in the bright, warm daylight.  

“We could go swimming.” He has no idea if Arthur actually knows how to swim, but it is of little consequence, it’s highly unlikely Sam has the money or Arthur the time to travel so far and visit the beach, but it’s still nice to think about he supposes. So often Sam feels trapped in this city, but with Arthur he feels free.

Shifting up off the mattress, Sam slips on top of Arthur, but uses his own strength to hold himself up, not wishing to press too hard against Arthur’s body which is much frailer than his own. Bowing his head, he gently plants a row of kisses along Fleck’s jutting collar bone before briefly tracing the curvature of taut skin with the sharp tip of his tongue. Even in moments like this, where they are fantasising about escaping off somewhere together, it’s important for him to show Arthur that’s he’s beautiful to Sam and desirable.

“We could get a hotel room, with a clean, crisp white sheets and a sea view…” He ventures, allowing his warm palm to drift up Arthur’s torso, as he considers how he could make such a thing possible for them both. Could he steal the money to go, would Arthur travel with him then, even if just for a few days.

“It would be nice to get out of the city a while together.”

#Arthur Fleck #justacomedy #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Gotham verse #Isn’t it rich – are we a pair – me here on the ground – you in mid-air #((This is so sweet I'm actually dead - they killed me XD))

[mettleborn]

Mr & Mrs Smith - closed starter for @xgoldxnhour

The questions asked aren’t extremely intrusive but they are strangely specific; ranging from favourite foods, books, films and clothing brands, to more personal themes of sexual attraction and previous failed relationships. Throughout it all Samuel answers honestly, eyes fixed on the blinking red light ahead, the only indication that the computer system in front of him is observing and most likely monitoring the quality of both his answers and his physical reactions. It’s a surreal process, devoid of any human interaction and in truth, it is only when the machine through which his potential employer is communicating, asks if he is willing to relocate, that Sam is forced to pause. Admittedly he likes living in Seattle and can’t imagine living anywhere else, but if he is going to make the most of this opportunity, he knows he needs to be flexible. Living elsewhere at least avoids the complexity of bumping into family or friends and being forced to lie about his work, his life and his new wife - that is the only part of this process which he is confident about from his texts with the organisation; he won’t be working alone. From what he understands, if selected, he’ll be in deep cover with a partner, one he hopes has a decent kill count and sense enough to keep them both from getting in over their heads.

===================

It is less than a week later that he arrives in front of a large town house in Manhattan. It’s a big place, clearly expensive, most likely a family home – certainly a significant departure from his average rent bachelor pad in Seattle. Entering with the key that was couriered to him, Sam finds himself creeping slowly inside despite the fact it is obvious no one else is here. Carefully placing his bags down onto the freshly polished wooden floors, he takes the opportunity to have a quick look around. For a new home, the place feels strangely lived in – the bookshelves are filled with some of his favourite authors and the fridge is stocked with many of his favourite foods and soda. Noticing a case of his preferred brand of beer, Sam makes a mental note to return for one after he’s finished unpacking.

Walking through from the kitchen to the large living area, which looks ideal for entertaining company, he notices another set of bags set down beside the sofa, left stranded similarly to his own. Hearing a small scuffle Samuel turns swiftly to see a small ginger cat begin to rub its face against the side of the sofa before moving towards him, clearly seeking some attention. Bending, Sam rubs his palm along the length of its back, watching as it arches in response, the action causing a soft smile; weird, it must have come with the house.

Moving through the rooms, Sam discovers a door with a discreet fingerprint locking mechanism, pressing his thumb to it expectantly, it immediately opens, allowing him access. Upon entering, he finds himself face to face with a stranger, presumably his new housemate, or should he say wife. Oh, she’s pretty, the kind of pretty that looks like butter wouldn’t melt in fact, certainly not the kind of woman who looks like she is an accomplished assassin or mercenary of some kind; that is a strength of course; to disguise her threat so naturally - no one would see her coming, not even Sam himself.

“Hi, I’m…” Pausing for a second, Sam suddenly realises that to use his real name in a situation like this would probably be foolhardy. “I’m John, John Smith…and you must be…Jane.”

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Mr & Mrs Smith verse #xgoldxnhour #Eloise #Closed Starter #((This was a great idea! Hope this starter works for you!)) #Modern assassin verse

[mettleborn]

Lack of sleep starters

@wrathfulmercy sent: It's 4am. You need sleep. (For Sam)

4am already? In truth Sam hadn’t realised how many hours had passed since he shifted silently from the bed, moving up the iron fire escape to sit on the rooftop of the apartment complex. The place they rented for this mission is small and lacks air conditioning, something that feels fairly crucial on a warm night like this. The humidity in Greece is not something he’s used to, but that’s not what’s kept him awake. No, he’s not been able to sleep because he knows that after they’ve completed this mission, they will go their separate ways once again and frankly Sam can’t stand the thought.

“I know.” He replies softly, flicking the rest of his cigarette off the rooftop. Feeling Rick shift up behind him to wrap his arms closely around him, Sam tilts his head slowly to rest it against Rick’s arm, eyes slowly closing as he enjoys this rare moment of quiet intimacy; he feels safe in his embrace, in truth, nowhere feels safer than being wrapped tightly in Rick’s arms. That is what makes all this such a head fuck, they’re not just rough and needy with each other, they’re tender sometimes too, even when they know it only makes things all the more complicated. It’s like they can’t help themselves. Is this real or is it play pretend; are they simply supplementing their lack of someone significant in their lives with each other or have they somehow unwittingly become the someone significant in each other’s lives? Sam’s beginning to think it may be the latter, at least on his part. He certainly isn’t pretending, Rick isn’t some placeholder, he’s more than that, much more – more than Samuel can even bear sometimes, especially when they’re apart. No one ever told him that it hurts so much to love.

“I…” He doesn’t quite know what to say, peaceful moments like this feel beautiful to him, he doesn’t want to spoil it with words, but he has to speak, has to say something that will help shift the heavy weight he feels in his chest and convey to Rick that it isn’t just the heat keeping him awake at night.  

“I wish I could fall asleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning.” He finally admits, his honesty so blunt, so loaded with desperate longing and regret, that at first, he can barely believe they are actually his words. Words that feel like a hand grenade, one that might spectacularly explode in his face at any moment if Rick finds his confession in any way concerning. What the hell was he thinking? How could he be so fucking naive, what if that isn't what Rick wants at all? Shit - time for some damage control.

“…but I get it, that’s not us, it can never be…us.”

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #[Rick x Sam: would you die for me?] #Rick Grimes #wrathfulmercy #Answered ask #((Okay now I'm a mess ha ha...this ship has me in choke hold and I love it. XD ))

[mettleborn]

❝  i don’t like the way they keep staring at you.   ❞ (for Sam)

“I don’t like the way he keeps staring at you.” 

In truth, Sam had been hoping Rick wouldn’t clock it; a ridiculous hope really considering his fellow assassin is as astute to subtleties as Sam himself is; a curse of their shared profession. Posing as waiters, they’re supposed to be executing a Russian diplomat in this back room in a few minutes but instead their attention has turned to the man who has clearly been trying to catch Sam’s eye all night.

“Look, he’s ex-KGB…and ex…well…” Sam swallows hard, clearly finding it uncomfortable to admit. “It was a one-time thing, few years ago, meaningless.” Meaningless maybe, but Sam’s problem is that he’s always had it bad for possessive men and possessive men generally don’t like being ghosted. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam realises he’s confirmed it – he’s been identified, potentially putting them both in peril, but it only gets worse. “So look, I may have bombed his apartment when he set light to my motorcycle, but he fucking started it.” Way to look like a hot mess Sam.

“I mean, I’m not that guy, I don’t just go around planting explosives every time…” He stops, suddenly aware he is straying far from the point.

“Basically, if we’re gonna to do this…” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “…we’ll need to take him out too.”

#[Rick x Sam: would you die for me?] #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Assassin verse #ask meme #answered ask #Rick Grimes #Umbra #wrathfulmercy #((Okay I'm laughing at Sam trying to explain he's not the psycho-boyfriend type XD))

[mettleborn]

Closed starter for @lovelylostminds (for Kassandra)

A deep breath, a steady hand and a firm squeeze of the trigger; that’s all it takes, even at this distance, but patience is difficult to maintain when you have waited for three days for your target to arrive. In truth, Samuel was about to leave when the Senator’s car pulled up outside the adjacent hotel.

Watching as the politician makes his way through the palatial hotel suite to sit himself down in the centre of a chaise longues, Samuel takes a deep breath, steadies his hand and…

“Shit.”

The armed woman who enters the room is known to Samuel but clearly not to the Senator, who, in his urgent attempt to escape from her, seemingly falls over his own feet. As he lands harshly on the floor Samuel can only watch as the woman delivers a single solitary fatal shot, instantly taking out the target and Samuel’s well-earned pay day. This is the second time this has happened this month; he won’t tolerate it this time, this was his contract.  

“Oh, no you don’t.”

He mutters to himself as he takes aim, but as he fires through his open window, piercing the glass of the hotel window, miraculously she somehow manages to leap out of the way of the shot, escaping unscathed. He’ll have to get his hands dirty with this one it seems.

Quickly packing up his sniper gun, Sam hastily escapes the apartment, dumping his belongings down a nearby garbage chute, but keeping hold of a pistol and an extra clip. Something tells him he’s going to need it. Running out of the apartment, into the street, he heads off after her in hot pursuit.

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Assassin verse #lovelylostminds #kassandra

[mettleborn]

Closed starter for @kit-just-kit

“I hear they’re sending in some city slicker from the big smoke…criminal profiler of some sort.”

“Well I hope the guy does a better job than those useless FBI agents.” The Sheriff replies with a frustrated huff, continuing to stare down at the grisly contents of the file on his desk. This is the third young woman to lose her life in just under a month – more death than his town has seen in the last decade. The victims appear unrelated, but each crime contains similar telltale signs; they’re all brunette, all in their early twenties and post mortem indicators suggest this was likely the same perpetrator, acting alone.

Redwood is a quiet place, the kind of small American town that would have been expanded out into a sprawling conurbation many years ago if not for the residents’ refusal to allow big business and commercial industry to corrupt it. It’s a friendly place mostly, people are welcoming, in the main, though tend to keep to themselves. It’s a sleepy town really, the kind where Sam, as the Sheriff, knows all the junkies and drunks by name. In truth, nothing really happens in Redwood without Samual knowing. Now, however, the whole place has been thrown into chaos and disarray and Samuel’s days and nights have been spent trying to solve these murder cases, right up until the point they were taken out of his jurisdiction and placed into the hands of the FBI. It’s not a decision Sam agrees with, but it is one he can’t argue against; the only homicide he ever investigated turned out to be a moose goring; that hardly counts as extensive experience.

Solving these murders may no longer be his responsibility, but that doesn’t mean Sam’s been able to sleep at night or stop thinking about the case since the first girl disappeared. When the first murder occurred, people started locking their doors at night. After the second, they bought security systems and firearms and now, after a third, well, people have just stopped leaving their homes altogether. Some parents aren’t even sending their kids to school.  The shock of these murders has left Redwood looking like a ghost town, like one of those prospector towns in Colorado that died when all the silver ran out.

“FBI want you to meet with them this afternoon, give ‘em a tour of the town. Giver ‘em the local lowdown.”

“Sure, stick it in the diary.” Still, Sam doesn’t look up from the file on this desk – there’s something missing, some part of the puzzle he’s just not seeing, but what the hell is it?

Morning comes and goes extremely quickly; too much coffee, too many cigarettes and far too many media enquiries. At this point the tragic recounting of these women and how each met their cruel end is seared in Sam’s brain to the point where the words themselves have become simply sounds…bound…blood…laceration, asphyxiation...it is going to be another sleepless night, he’s sure.

When 3pm finally arrives, the small Sheriff’s office has reached an uncomfortable heat in the midday sun. Shifting out of the door to sit on the wooden steps, Sam reaches for a piece of nicotine gum, then quickly ops for a cigarette instead; it’s been that kind of day…week…month. Hearing the sound of a car kicking up dirt as it slowly approaches up Main Street, Sam dusts himself off and moves to stand; this must be the profiler his Deputy was talking about.

#Closed starter #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #kit just kit #Kit Prince #Redwood verse #((Here we go! Excited!)) #//murder #Queue

[mettleborn]

Closed starter for @xgoldxnhour (TWD verse)

It had been a quiet day, much like any other. Sam had been toiling in the fields, attempting to save some crops of tomatoes, while Eloise had been helping out at the small make-shift school building established to teach the children living in Alexandria. Their daughter, Aurora, had spent most of the day sleeping in a crib in the corner of the classroom, deep enough in slumber not to be bothered by the repeated reciting of timetables.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, dizzy from the full heat of the midday sun and likely suffering a touch of sunstroke by this point, Sam had washed his hands and left the planting field to join the pair of them for lunch, before returning to pull out the last of the diseased plants. With darkness starting to fall, sensibly he had decided to call it a night and so he had started back towards the house. One moment the night air had been still and calm, with only the sound of chirping crickets to be heard, the next, all hell had broken loose.

It is the petrol bomb that Sam sees first, a ball of flame that arches through the air before shattering against the roof of a wooden shed, one that instantly catches light and begins to furiously burn. It is then he hears it; the jeering and shouting, wild like animals – Wolves. Turning in the direction of the sound, he watches in horror as a group of feral looking men hastily scale the walls of Alexandria and immediately begin hacking and stabbing at anyone they find. He stands in abject shock as he watches one of their attackers kneel to begin carving something in the forehead of one of the murdered men, noting that they fully intend for him to resurrect and continue the killing. In only a few seconds this quiet night has turned into one of utter chaos. Only one thought is on Sam’s mind; to protect his family. Running to the nearest house, Sam accepts a shotgun from one of his neighbours before telling them to get inside and lock the doors. If these men are going to act like animals, Sam will take them down like animals. Finding Carol, he asks her to take the women and their children to safety, he can think of no one better to lead their escape. In truth, all he wants to do is go with her to find El and Aurora and keep them safe but the best defence in a situation like this is offence and he needs to neutralise this threat before it gets anywhere near his wife or child.

Rallying with some of the other men and women, they move through Alexandria together, taking down the Wolves, helping the injured and giving mercy to the murdered. At first it seems as if they might be able to contain this threat and take these men down – they have the numbers, but as a section of the wall begins to collapse, opening Alexandria up to the dead masses drawn by firelight and sound of gunfire, Sam realises this is it - Alexandria is going to fall – he won’t have his family fall with it.

“Hurry!” Leading a party forward he moves to the fence to deal with the oncoming masses, firing indiscriminately into the dead, as panic begins to fill his heart. Has Carol got them to safety, will the Wolves pursue them through the forest? No; he can’t focus on that now, El is strong, sensible, smart and above all, she's a survivor. As they begin to push the panel upwards, attempting to repair the perimeter fence, suddenly Sam feels someone move closely behind him, but before he’s had time to react, the air is pushed from his lungs as a knife is thrust deeply into his side. Shooting his attacker, upwards through the chin, spraying himself in cartilage, gore and blood, Samuel stumbles backwards as he pulls the dull blade from his flesh. There’s no time to deal with his injury, no time to stop the bleeding - they have to keep out the dead, that's what matters most.

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #TWD verse #xgoldxnhour #El #((Here we go - utter chaos!)) #Closed starter #Queue

[mettleborn]

Closed starter for @etxrnaleclipse (Nigel Stones)

“Saw Marina checking you out at the bar last night.”

“Hm.” Barely entertaining the notion, the Sheriff continues to sip his coffee as he stares out of the window, watching as the town of Redwood slowly begins to wake up in the early morning sun. Shop owners are sweeping their porches and the local produce store is stacking fresh fruits and veg, ready for the day’s trade; a day like any other.

“I mean you’re gonna be what, 50 soon, surely one little date couldn’t hurt, right Sam?”

Narrowing his eyes at the younger deputy, Samuel can’t help but smile. “I’m gonna be 45 Ned…45, not God Damn 50…now, hey, stop obsessing over my love life and get me the Peterson file, will you? Son of a bitch skipped parole last night.”

Watching his deputy turn and leave, a deep sigh escapes Sheriff Silas as he once again swallows down the words he has refused to speak to anyone for well over a year now. Truth is, he has little interest in dating, or in finding love, not because its his choice to be alone but rather because he’s still suffering from a broken heart; one that still feels like an open wound that refuses to heal. The worst thing of course is that no one knows, no one even suspects it in fact, because the relationship he’s mourning was one he could never tell anyone about, not if he wanted to keep his job.

Receiving the file, he gives Ned a nod and sits down at his desk to go over the details.

“I hear Stones is back in town…”

“What?” Immediately Sam looks up at Ned, a shocked expression now on his face that his deputy can’t possibly understand. Surely it can’t be? After all this time? Has the former Sheriff really returned? The man who gave up on his job, this town and Sam, all on the same day?

“…got himself a job at the bank, workin’ security I think.”

“You’re sure it was him, have you seen him?”

“Been in town for a couple of days I think…hey, where you going?”

“To the bank.”  

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

As Sam hastily makes his way along the street, he can feel his heart pumping hard in his chest as he tries to cope with a rush of adrenaline that has caused him to feel both furious and nauseous in equal measure. Has Nigel really returned without a fucking word? All this time without a single call, text or even a letter and he just comes waltzing back to town?

Stopping in front of a clothing store window, Sam quickly straightens his uniform and smooths down his hair. He knows he shouldn’t care how he looks, but old habits die hard and he always tried to look his best for Nigel when they were…you know what, he doesn’t even have a word for it anymore - they weren’t dating, it wasn’t a relationship, it was a secret, more like an affair, but calling it an affair feels dirty, transient even, and it was more than that, so much more. A deputy shouldn’t sleep with his Sherrif and certainly should never fall in love with him and yet, over the course of many months, that was exactly what had happened, until the night that changed everything. Breathing out a sharp breath, Sam tries to steady himself, remembering that it was the trauma of the job that changed Nigel, not their relationship, though its hard sometimes to separate the two - the only reason Sam is Sheriff now is because Nigel resigned the position.

Reaching the bank, Sam glances through the window glass, but can’t see anyone inside. The place isn’t due to be open to customers for another hour, perhaps he made a mistake coming here so early in the day. It is then he sees him in the reflection behind him, standing a few paces back…that same face, the one that haunts Sam on sleepless nights, the one that just caused his stomach to lurch.  

Turning to face Nigel, Sam struggles for a moment, unsure what to say, not because he hasn’t got anything to say but rather because he has too much; too many thoughts, too many arguments with Nigel that he’s constructed and re-constructed over in his head during all this time apart. It’s a strange feeling; the simultaneous need to hold someone close and at the same time punch them straight in the face.

“When were you gonna tell me?”

The question is accusatory but spoken softly, loaded with the kind of hurt Sam no longer has the strength to hide. It doesn't matter how many times you play a moment like this over in your mind, you're never quite prepared for the harsh reality of it.

"When?"

#Closed Starter #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Redwood verse variation #Nigel Stones #etxrnaleclipse #((okay so after our discussion today I couldn't help but write this immediately)) #((It got a bit long scene setting XDD))

[mettleborn]

Open Starter

Muse: Samuel (Sam) Silas

Verse: Assassin Verse (Modern)

“I work alone.”

Sam’s words are spoken as politely as is possible through teeth gritted harshly in opposition; he isn’t in the habit of upsetting his clients, but on this occasion, this one really is taking liberties.

Glancing at his counterpart, positioned at the oppose side of the room, Samuel’s gaze slowly returns to the client, watching as she slowly lights a cigarette, the motion immediately causing Sam to throw back a piece of nicotine gum with unconcealed envy.

“The rate is the rate.” He asserts as a rare concession, signalling he will only entertain the suggestion if it pays well, very well in fact; Politicians always cost more.

“Both your rates have been secured.” She assures flatly, rising from her seat to shift closer, the click-clack of her heels resonating loudly against the concrete floor. “It will take two.” She assures, tossing the target’s file onto the table before laying a featherlight hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Today, you work together.”

Tearing himself away from her searching gaze, Sam’s eyes rise to meet those of his new, albeit reluctantly accepted, partner.

“Something to say for yourself?"

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Modern Assassin Verse #((take any character really or add a new one...like I said just something to try and get my writing again)) #Open Starter

[mettleborn]

For you I would rp meme

@xgoldxnhour sent: [ 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 ] : sender and receiver are finally about to kiss, but are interrupted. (mr and mrs smith)

Together they lie on the floor surrounded by smashed glass and splintered wood. Under Sam’s back is what remains of the collapsed coffee table. Smoke is still rising from the device used to taser him and his hair is soaked with bourbon from when he was struck with a bottle, he can still feel the glass; little shards stuck in his skin, sharp like tiny cat’s teeth. Thick claret coloured blood is dripping from a wound on his head and his leg feels sprained.

Jane, he assumes, is in an equal state considering neither of them can be bothered getting up off the floor to tend to their respective injuries. The four mercenaries who tried to take them out are admittedly in a far worse state; the state of being stone cold dead. Glancing over at Jane, he runs his thumb over her eyebrow to collect a drip of blood before it falls into her eye before taking a moment to look over her to ensure she isn't seriously bleeding.  

“You were magnificent.” He admits fondly, with an exhausted gasp as his hand shifts across the floor, through broken glass and shattered wood to take hold of her own, ignoring the resulting pain. He points over at the huge beast of a man in the corner who has two steak knives jutting out of his throat. “I swear I thought he was going to push me through that window, I’d have fallen twenty stories.” He smiles, glancing over at her gratefully. “When that guy grabbed your hair…” he pauses, rage now evident in his tone. In truth, he can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting Jane, though he’s well aware she doesn’t need his protection.

With a pained groan, he slowly moves over onto his side to face her; what a mess they both are, in truth she’s never looked more beautiful.  

“We make a good team.” He finally states softly, as if lost in thought as his gaze carelessly drifts towards her lips which are faintly blushed from exertion. They are man and wife, officially, and yet, they have never even kissed. Right now, in this moment, it is truly all he can think about – claiming Jane's mouth, pledging himself to her with a all-consuming kiss. Perhaps it's the adrenaline still pumping through his system, but somehow, right now, it just feels right. Gently easing forward, his eyeline meeting her own, seeking reassurance, he tilts his head to finally make a move.  

“Motherfucker…” a body groans from the corner, instantly causing the two to turn. Not dead, not in the least, what great fucking timing...asshole. Achingly rising to his feet, Sam limps over to a nearby drawer to retrieve a loaded gun, glass fragments falling from him with every step. Moving to the side of the sofa, he dispassionately shoots a single bullet straight into the man’s brain, instantly silencing him.

Turning back towards her, surveying the room and noticing the complete disarray all around them, he realises there’s no way to make this hotel room look any better. Their best bet would be to leave and do so before the authorities are notified. Moving over to Jane, Sam offers her his hand, to help pull her up from the floor.

“Time to check out darling.”

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Mr and Mrs Smith verse #xgoldxnhour #El #Jane and John Smith #((This just felt so right for their nearly first kiss ha ha!))

[mettleborn]

@wrathfulmercy

Sitting by the fire, listening to the wood logs crackle and pop as the flames flicker, casting dancing shadows across the cabin, Samuel glances over at the collar and lead in the corner.

“You got a dog?”

“No.” comes the answer from the kitchen, as direct as it is concise. Listening closely, Samuel hears his friend bring a sharp cleaver down to cut some large slices of venison. Living out here, in a place like this, Samuel ventures the man most probably has a whole cold store full of the stuff to tide him over this frigid winter.  

When he finally joins Samuel, he offers him a cigarette. Sam’s first instinct is to refuse it, but in truth he’s fallen off the wagon when it comes to stopping smoking. Admittedly, there really seems little point in denying himself when every time he meets up with Rick, he ends up smoking like a chimney.

“Thanks.” Taking the cigarette, he lights it, before draining the rest of his whiskey, immediately receiving a fresh top-up from his host. If there’s one thing that doesn’t appear to be in short supply here, it’s alcohol; the kind to drink and the kind to treat wounds.

“How’s business?” his friend asks in a knowing tone that instantly prompts a smile from Samuel.

“Business is good.” He confirms vaguely, though he knows that’s not exactly what he’s being asked. “I have a partner now.”

“A partner? You always told me you work alone…with that one exception. What do you think of them?”

Sam knows what the old assassin is referring to; the night they partnered up to take down most of a gang lord’s army, though that was over five years ago and long before his old friend officially retired. Mind you, judging from the impressive array of weaponry littered around this cabin, Sam’s not sure if the man’s retirement has necessarily been a peaceful one.

“He’s…” Sam pauses for a moment; his tongue may have been loosened a little by liquor but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely comfortable taking to others about Rick. “He’s a good guy…good focus…dependable…” Catching himself looking away as he answers, it is only when he meets his friend’s gaze that he realises he’s being closely watched…analysed.

“You like him.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I said.” Sam shrugs with deflection, looking down at his glass.

“No, you like-like him.”

“Like-like? What are we, teenagers?” Sam blusters with an awkward laugh. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. A betraying blush is now crawling up both sides of his throat all the way to the tips of his ears, far too fast to blame the fire.

“Ahh…I see. You want to fuck him, or you’re fucking him which is it?”

“Fuck off.” Samuel laughs, shaking his head, though ultimately he knows it’s useless resisting. “The latter…the former…both. It’s…” Cracking his fingers, Sam lets out a tense huff, fully conceding defeat, there’s no way of fooling a man like Duncan Vizla, an assassin with deduction skills far superior to his own. “…it’s complicated.”

“I bet it is.” Duncan nods, grinding out his cigarette and immediately lighting another. In truth it is good to see Samuel form an honest bond with someone else, but something about his friend’s hesitant demeanour tells him this may be more than just a repeated one-night stand.  “Is it serious?”

“Good question.” Sam answers, hinting that he may be quite unsure of the truth himself, hoping Vizla will leave it there.   

“You didn’t answer the question, Samuel.”

“Okay, It’s getting serious alright? I mean, it feels serious to me.”

“Not to him?”

“I dunno, fuck…I really don’t know…it’s, it’s a fucking mess. We have these moments, right, these really fucking intense moments, where it feels like it means everything, to both of us, and then suddenly there’s just these bouts of nothing, where we ghost each other, as if we’re both living double lives and they can never meet. Dropping his burned-out cigarette into a nearby ashtray, Samuel rubs his hands down his face with obvious frustration.

“You love him.”

“Duncan!” Sam chastises, taken back by Vizla’s blatant bluntness.  

“You do, even if you haven’t realised it yet.”

“What does it matter, what does any of it matter, if he doesn’t feel the same way, huh?” Admittedly, that’s one of the things Samuel fears most; pushing too hard and facing rejection because of it.

“Have you asked him?”

“No.”

“You won’t know until you ask him.”

“…and if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Then you move on with your life Samuel, simple. The more critical question is, what if he does feel the same way.”

A thick silence fills the wooden walls of the large cabin as Samuel considers the undeniable truth Vizla has just illuminated so effortlessly. All this time Sam’s been so focussed on trying to act casual around Rick, like this thing is no big deal, terrified to suggest it’s anything more and it’s never occurred to him that Rick might be doing the same thing. Does Rick wake up too in the middle of the night, stomach gnawing, chest heavy with a longing that can’t be put into words. Does he too, reach for him in the middle of the night, only to draw his hand back with regret when he realises the bed is empty? You know you’ve got it bad when every love song you hear leads straight back to the same person.

“I guess I really should find out huh?” Sam replies quietly as he turns to regard the firelight.

“Yes. Good.” Duncan responds with a resolute nod of the head, clearly pleased with himself. He has pointed out the road to resolution for his friend, now Samuel must choose to walk down it. “I’ll go make a start on dinner.”

Watching Duncan leave, Sam pulls out his cell phone and looks up Rick’s number to begin typing a text message.

Text: [I need to see you when I return from Montana. We need to talk. There’s something I need to tell you.]

Instantly Sam feels his stomach swirl with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Somehow, no message he has ever sent, feels as important as this one. Is this what it feels like to be in love?

#((So you remember you wrote me that little drabble about Rick and his friend - I really wanted to do the same kind of thing)) #((So here's a wee drabble for you that I couldn't get out of my head)) #((enjoy!)) #[Sam x Rick: would you die for me?] #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Rick Grimes #wrathfulmercy #Drabble #((also if you've seen the film - you'll get the thing about the dog XD ))

[mettleborn]

“A bold move to show your face here in the shadows of night.”  (For Sam)

“A bold move to show your face here in the shadows of night.”

The wind whips as Sam stares out at the vast array of lit buildings beyond them, Manhattan at night, a beast that never sleeps. Cautiously moving to peer over the edge of the rooftop, watching as yellow taxis justle for position in the slick, wet streets below, Sam takes a firm, sensible step back. Making the most of the fact the rain has now turned to thin drizzle, he takes the opportunity to light two cigarettes. Handing one to Rick as a peace token, he keeps the other for himself.

“You sound like Batman.” He replies casually, clearly withholding a laugh. “Is that what you’re doing up here? Tending to the Bat signal?” A mirthless chuckle leaves him, one that is tainted with a little bitterness - they haven’t seen each other since that huge fight in Madrid where Sam screwed up a mission and nearly got himself killed. Glancing down at the gun bag at Rick’s feet, Silas shakes his shoulders; the bullet wound may have healed some time ago, but he can feel it most now; in the company of the man who gave it to him. “Business, not pleasure I see.”

Flicking his cigarette over the side of the building, he finally looks Rick directly in the eye and it’s as painful as he thought it might be; the longing hasn’t faded, if anything it’s only grown stronger in Rick’s absence. Time to cut to the chase.

“You think they gave us the same target so we’d make amends, or do you think they were hoping we’d kill each other up here?”

#[Rick x Sam: would you die for me?] #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Assassin verse #Rick Grimes #Umbra #wrathfulmercy #((What can I say #This ship will be the death of me and I love it XD)) #memes #ask memes #answered asks

[mettleborn]

send ★ to pin my muse to the wall

@wrathfulmercy sent ★ to pin Sam.

“You’re reckless…”  The words are blustered, spoken furiously enough to be heard over the sound of rushing wind and hard, driving rain. As they walk away from the smouldering wreck of their car, Sam takes a quick glance back to ensure they aren’t being followed as they hastily make their way through the dark back streets of Vienna. Briefly checking his gun, he is dismayed to find the clip nearly empty.

“You’re fucking reckless and you’re going to get us both kill…” Sam doesn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Rick is upon him, tattooed hands harshly grasping the labels of his suit jacket to drive him back, deeper, down into the small side street until his back roughly collides with damp stone wall. Instantly Sam reacts, in truth it’s more muscle memory than logic; all logic was knocked the fuck out of him when their car overturned. “Get…” He’s struggling to get the words out through his gritted teeth as he wrestles with Rick, they’re so evenly matched, it’s difficult for either to get the upper hand without badly injuring the other and they’re both slowly becoming winded by the struggle. When Sam finally gets one arm free, he uses it to punch Rick square in the jaw, the motion only seeming to incur Rick’s immediate wrath as Sam momentarily finds himself urgently overpowered and pressed back against the wall, Rick’s palms pushing his arms hard into the concrete to immobilise him. It’s a vulnerable position, one Sam clearly isn’t used to and as he fights against it, he quickly realises he’s been rendered immobile. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so pissed.

“You…” He can’t get the words out, too taken by the sight of Rick spitting fresh blood into the wet gutter below. “You fucking…” Briefly catching Rick’s eye, expecting a silencing headbutt, Sam instead receives something far more visceral – a kiss, a biting, violent affair of a thing that in its unexpected brutality seduces him to return it with equal, if not harsher force. The instant peak in arousal prompts him to push forward to press his rain-soaked body fully against Ricks with an eagerness Sam simply lacks the strength to hide. As his tongue rakes over the sharp edges of Rick’s own, tasting the copper tang of Rick’s blood in his mouth, Sam only pauses to take a short, desperate gasp for air - it is then he sees it; a flash of blue lights glistening across the sodden cobbled streets below; police.

“Go.” He breathes urgently against Rick’s swollen lips, before they both break into a rapid run.  

#[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Modern assassin verse #Rick Grimes #Umbra #[Sam x Rick: would you die for me?] #answered ask #((I absolutely couldn't help myself XD)) #wrathfulmercy

[mettleborn]

​❝ i’m sorry, what was that? i didn’t hear you. ❞ (for Sam)

“I said don’t step on the…ahh fuck.” Even through the radio, Sam can hear it, the unmistakable sound of Rick triggering the directional fragmentation antipersonnel mine, an incendiary device capable obliterating the assassin completely if it is remotely detonated by the enemy.

“Don’t…don’t fucking move, I’m coming to get you.” Bursting out of the surveillance van, Sam moves swiftly to the wasteland at the back of the warehouse, nearly setting off a tripwire as he quickly moves past large industrial bins, always on the lookout for the enemy.  Reaching the edge of the wasteland he slowly takes large steps across the grass, ensuring that he doesn’t end up in a similar position to his partner. They’ll probably laugh about this tomorrow, compare it to that scene in Lethal weapon where the guy is stuck on the toilet. Right now, however, Sam can barely crack a smile and he’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t in his throat.

“You okay?” He’s unable to force the shake out of his voice. It’s a stupid question really, of course Rick’s not o-fucking-kay, but then it’s difficult to know what to say to someone who could explode at any moment, both figuratively and literally.

Quickly dropping to his knees, Sam holds his breath as he removes a small device from his pocket, one that is capable of scrambling the signal to the bomb, blocking anyone who might seek to detonate it remotely. It is then he gets to work, shifting Rick’s balance slightly to allow access to the thing in order to disarm it. It doesn’t take long for him however, to realise it can’t be disarmed and that is when he hears it - the whirring sound that signals the thing is charging, the sound indicating that they’re out of time. Jumping to his feet, Sam shoves Rick in the chest, pushing him hard to ground, before reaching down to grab the fucking thing and hurl it as far away from them as he can. When it hits the ground, some feet away it instantly, spectacularly explodes, covering the pair in a thin spray of burnt grass and charred mud.

“Thought I was going to lose you there.” Sam laughs mirthlessly, getting up onto his feet and dusting himself down. His tone is causal but it’s only because the truth and potential pain of that statement hasn’t really hit him yet and probably won’t until they’ve left this Godawful place and he’s had a chance to decompress. That is when it will hit him; the fear of losing a partner he never wanted in the first place, the fear of losing Rick, the only person who has ever truly been able to understand him, because Rick understands what it means to take a life, many lives, at the expense of your own. It’s a potential co-dependence that scares the living shit out of Sam and yet, never-the-less, he can’t imagine doing this without Rick now, in fact, he doesn’t ever want to.  

#Answered ask #ask memes #[samuel silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Rick Grimes #Umbra #wrathfulmercy #((hope you like it - just a wee snapshot))

[mettleborn]

A Comprehensive List of Scenarios - Meme (accepting)

@manhattanopus said: INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am.

In truth it feels strange to have someone else sleeping in his cabin, made all the stranger really by his wolfhound Seamus’ absence. He can hear the young dog pacing back and forth in the hallway, when usually he is curled up on Sam’s bed, fast asleep at this time of the morning.

Breathing quietly, Sam listens as he hears the unmistakable sound of cups rattling in the kitchen and the kettle being softly settled down on the stove top. 3am and it seems Mayven is making tea; perhaps she’s having trouble sleeping. He supposes this situation must be equally strange for her; to find herself sleeping in the local Sheriff's guest room. Still, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice; most of the people living in her part of town have been evacuated because of the forest fires, leaving the local rec centre, guest houses and motel packed with displaced residents. Regardless, it would have been rude of Sam not to offer, the two have grown closer these past few weeks after all, especially with all the trouble up at the school after a group of kids smashed up all the windows. He’s grown pretty fond of the school teacher truth be told though he still can’t escape the thought she’s hiding something, the kind of something that he suspects may be eating away at her, the kind of thing it’s difficult to swallow down.

Shifting out of bed, Sam grabs his robe to tightly wrap it around himself before slipping from the bedroom, his bare feet padding gently across polished wooden floors as he briefly bends to give Seamus a reassuring pat on the head. Catching Mayven’s eye, he offers her an understanding smile.

“Trouble sleepin’?”

#Mayven #manhattanopus #[Samuel Silas] blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice #Redwood - Modern verse #Scenario meme #((Went with this picking up from our last Redwood thread))