#Gunmen rob

[tracknews1]

Gunmen rob, kill businessman in Bayelsa

**The businessman, who was simply identified as Cletus, was said to have been trailed to his office in the early hours of Monday. Gunmen, suspected to be armed robbers, on Monday robbed and killed a businessman in his office, opposite Ekeki Motor Park, Yenagoa. The businessman, who was simply identified as Cletus, was said to have been trailed to his office in the early hours and stabbed several…

[ao3-anonymous]

Fastest Growing Fandoms on AO3 This Week (05/07/2024)

Every week I pull data on how many fics are in each fandom and compare to the previous week, then calculate the percentage increase to determine fastest growing fandoms.  Since this naturally skews towards smaller fandoms, I have included the same data filtered to Over 1k, 5k, & 10k fics.

Overall:

Over 1,000 Fics:

Over 5,000 Fics:

Over 10,000 Fics:

Source: AO3 Fandom Dashboard

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"The district recreation club was the social center for the slum boys what the Y. M. C. A. was to their fellows at a slightly higher level of the social structure. At the age of fourteen, Williams was as tall and strong as most boys of sixteen or eighteen; and because of his fistic powers and general toughness was soon on terms of intimacy with members of the notorious Tanner Smith mob, which was then staging its last fight for control of the district (they lost out to the equally notorious Madden mob, which still controls that and other districts of the city). With other members of the mob, Williams took part in the various gangster activities; robbing freight cars, wharves, warehouses; exacting financial tributes from local store owners whom they terrorized with threats of bombing and other atrocities; but mainly in voting illegally and terrorizing non-Tammany voters on election day; and at other times terrorizing strikers or their employers (whichever side paid the most), and fighting with and raiding the headquarters of the Madden mob. Williams proved a valuable recruit and was soon as dangerous and skillful with a knife, club, or gun as he was with his clever fists.

Gradually he began going in with other gangsters for the more remunerative crimes (pay-roll robberies, safe-cracking, hold-ups, and the like); and before he was eighteen Williams was "keeping" a girl in a Broadway apartment and getting initiated into the night life of the city. His mother and sisters remained at the old home on West 49th Street, but Williams did not neglect them. He had long ago dropped even the pretence of legitimate work; but he contributed regularly and generously to the support of his mother and sisters and visited them almost daily.

Before he was twenty, Williams had been arrested a dozen times as a suspect in the various gangster killings and other activities of the city; but never did he serve a day in prison after appearing in court. The usual procedure (which the gangsters themselves preferred to formal arraignment and trial) was as follows: after a killing or robbery, the detectives would arrest and bring to headquarters any gangsters whom they could find, subject them to an intensive third degree (often beating them unmercifully), and then turn them loose when the beatings had failed to elicit evidence connecting them with the crime in question.

This was all a part of the regular routine of Williams's life; and while he took it as a matter of course, he had seen so much of corruption among detectives, district attorneys, and even judges that he came to have a strong hatred for representatives of law and order. Wise to the ways of the under-world, a shrewd and clever criminal who never worked except after laying carefully-thought-out plans, it was not until Williams tried to operate in a strange city, with gangsters he did not know, that he got into serious trouble.

In 1918, at the age of twenty, he was asked to come to Boston with three other gangsters to steal the pay roll of a large corporation. It was to be the Christmas pay roll, estimated at $60,000. Through some carelessness of the local tipsters, the information was inaccurate; so that Williams got only a comparatively small pay roll of $15,000, in the seizing of which he shot an armed guard who attempted to draw his gun. Because of the shooting (although the guard did not die for two years) and because of the prestige of the corporation, there was a great hue and cry about the crime. One of the Boston gangsters was arrested on suspicion.

Fearing a long prison term for himself, he implicated Williams and three other men. In spite of this, it is doubtful that Williams could have been convicted. The books of a New York firm of longshoremen showed that Williams and his pals had been working in New York on the day of the robbery! Thus did Williams plan his crimes before he went to work. But the man who had implicated him was persuaded to turn state's evidence; so, in spite of the efforts of a former district attorney, who had been paid a retainer of $3,000 to "fix" the case, Williams and his pals were given ten to fifteen-year terms in the state prison (the crooked ex-district attorney, by the way, was later disbarred and sent to prison at the time when two other district attorneys were disbarred and removed from office). The informer, as it happens, was killed within a few months.

Williams, as I came to know him in the prison, was in many ways a fine character. He was entirely reliable and honest with his friends, deceitful and treacherous with his enemies, and utterly without fear. He would never steal or harm poor people; he would select his victims solely from among the moneyed classes. From one point of view I have always found certain gangsters to be, on the whole, the very highest type of criminal. Although there are many hangers-on of a much lower grade in gang circles, the real gangster is in many ways a fellow who lives strictly up to a stern though predatory code of his own. I liked Williams, personally, better than any other criminal I have ever known.

But he was definitely antisocial in his attitude toward law and order and reformation. While he would admit the theoretical necessity of laws and policemen, he had seen so much of corruption in the ranks of law-enforcement officials that he knew himself to be no worse than many of these, and far better than some. He took the cynical attitude. "What the hell," he would say. "Everybody's out for the money. Get it, long as you don't have to take it from some poor bastard that can't afford to lose it. But get it. Once you've got it, nobody cares ---- where you got it."

When he left prison, after serving a little more than nine years, he merely became more cautious, going in for the bootleg and night-club racketeering which had developed during his years in prison. I met him in New York in the autumn of 1931. We were discussing the state of affairs in regard to unemployment and the slackness in racketeering profits. "It's pretty tough," said Williams. "I've got my apartment and my mother's home to keep up. My two sisters are married and their husbands haven't had work for months. There's not much money in the rackets, the way things are nowadays." I asked him, in view of this, how he was able to keep up his own establishment and his mother's and also help his sisters keep alive during the current depression.

"There's only one thing to do," said Williams. "I'm doing it, and so is almost every one I know. Grab a gun and go out and steal!" In his various attitudes and general character, Williams was typical of his kind of criminal.

- Victor F. Nelson, Prison Days and Nights. Second edition. With an introduction by Abraham Myerson, M.D. Garden City: Garden City Publishing Co., 1936. p. 85-88.

[catoslvt]

Ben Hargreeves x Reader

I would've married you if you'd stuck around🐙

sorta s4 spoilers? but nobody takes the Marigold and lived their life.

plus I'm changing things because... yeah.

I walk into the birthday party for little Grace, who is one of Diego and Lila's children with her birthday present in my hand. It's just a silly child's keyboard because what the fuck do you get a six year old?

I make my way through the swarm of running and screaming children, the part of me that never grew up hurting because that's the childhood I always wished to have, yknow, running about, screaming my head off with all my friends but no, at the age of six I was learning how to disarm gunmen and learning how to control my powers.

God my life has gotten so much better without them.

Once I'm out the swarm of children, my eyes instantly fall on Sloane, Luther, and Ben, and I feel a slight shiver go down my spine at the sight of ben, I mean it's weird to think he has the face of the boy I used to love when we were like thirteen, but he's not the boy I love, I think anyway, I mean okay I sorta have feelings for this Ben, but I don't want him to think it's because he has the face of my old Ben, its confusing isn't it?

"y/n hi!" Sloane exclaims, waving me over with her hands, and I put on a wide smile as I make my way over to her, setting my present for Grace on the table beside her before she wraps me into a tight hug, which I return with an awkward laugh.

"I heard you're a firefighter now? that's sick." I say, turning to Luther with a smile and he just nods.

"we brought the Umbrella Academy, we're currently renovating it, I'd love for you to come stay some time." He tells me, and I widen my eyes, pretending to be interested as I make small 'oo' noises.

I hate when our family gather together, I mean Luther is married with a child, Diego is married with kids, I don't know what the fuck is going on with Allison, weve hardly spoken since we got to this time line and its not exactly that i dont want to talk to her, i just dont know what id say, Klaus doesn't need love, Five is technically married to a piece of plastic, Ben's just out of prison, Viktor has basically dated every girl in his town and I'm just.. there, I end up feeling extremely left out at the family gatherings when they start talking about issues with their kids or relationship problems because the only relationship problem was the fact Ben died on me.

"How was prison?" I ask ben, my eyes lighting up slightly as I turn to face him, all my attention now on him.

"I can't exactly say I enjoyed it." He tells me, raising a bottle of beer to his lips and taking a sip, and I just know his parole officer is gonna be pissed so I just let out a quiet laugh.

"So where are you staying then? I can't imagine your parole officer would let you live far." I then go onto ask, and he groans slightly, pointing at Luther and Sloane who are now talking to Diego.

"but I'm seriously debating robbing a bank just to get thrown back in." He then adds, looking around and I can't help but laugh a little louder.

"You're staying with them?" I scoff, turning to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"hardly by choice, I just needed a permanent address." He sighs, and I laugh again.

"Fresh out prison, and you're gonna be turned into a painter, electrician, plumber and babysitter. good luck." I tell him and he lets out a small chuckle before taking another drink from his beer.

"How have you been then?" Ben asks, and I shrug slightly.

"I mean, yeah, I've been.. living." I answer with a laugh, and he nods in agreement.

"Why don't we go get you a drink, we can sit at a table at the very back, and you can let it all out." He offers and I rapidly nod.

I sit at the table with Ben, taking a small sip from my beer before clearing my throat.

"I'm a child psychologist now." I tell him, and he nods slightly.

"I mean, it just felt right, yknow? I want to help kids so they don't end up with a childhood that we had. Well, I mean, without the powers, the robotic mom, the alien dad, you get what I mean." I tell him with a small wave of my hand, and he continues to nod, a small smile on his face.

"I get it." He tells me, and we both fall into a comfortable silence before he breaks it right as I take a mouthful of beer.

"don't you miss your powers?"

that question almost makes me spit my beer everywhere, my eyes widening as I stare at him.

"God, no, I don't miss them in this time line Nobody knows who I am, nobody takes a double take or gawks at me waiting to see my powers in use, I can be whatever I want to be in this timeline and I plan on using that to my hearts content." I tell him, and he just looks at me.

"You don't miss them? not even a little bit?" He asks, and I shake my head, which causes him to shrug slightly.

"I miss my powers, I feel.. ordinary without them." He tells me, and I furrow my eyebrows slightly.

"No offence, but I'm glad you don't have your powers. You died because of them in my original timeline, and it's good to see what my ben would've looked like grown up." I tell him, and he gives me a sad smile before we fall quiet yet again.

"and i think it's good to feel ordinary, I spent my whole childhood wanting to be normal to fit in, and now I do." I then add, and he scoffs.

"There's nothing ordinary about us y/n. Apart from the Umbrella Academy and the Sparrow Academy, nobody in the world has gone through even a fraction of what we have, and you've technically went through more than me because the Umbrellas ended the world in 2019, just to then go and do it again back in the 60s, to come back for it to end in 2019 again.." Ben says, and I just scoff, but I can't help but laugh and nod.

"and both times was technically Viktors fault." I argue, and we both smile before Five appears from under a slide somewhere and nods, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"it was Viktors fault both times. Actually, she's not making that up." He tells ben as he makes his way over to our table, dragging a chair along behind him, and ben just raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly pissed off our conversation had been distributed by Five, who still looks like a kid.

"Well, isn't this just a sad table of losers who feel out of place at their nieces birthday party with all the married couples and kids." Five says as he sits his beer down on our table with a large clink.

"I don't feel out of place, I could easily find someone I could marry and have kids with. you couldn't because you look like you're 18." I argue, and five leans back in his seat and crosses his arms slightly, mouthing ben so subtly so that ben can't see.

"Wait, y/n, did you ever even move on after your ben died?" My other Ben asks, and I look at him, my eyes wide as I try to muster an answer.

I try to muster up and answer, but none suitable come to my mind because the truth is I didn't even try to move on, I felt like there was no point, my whole childhood my heart was set on the fact that I'd be marrying Ben, I wanted to at the time despite how young we were and the fact we didn't fully understand the whole concept of marrige and he said he wanted to aswell. when he died I just blamed myself, I thought it was my fault he had died and I convinced myself everyone I love will die because of me, as a sort of reminder that my powers were a curse. obviously, that fact was proven false because my powers are gone. but even now, I'm still cautious to open myself back up to love, but when I'm with this ben, I feel myself slowly opening up again.

"I tried, but nobody stuck around." I lie, and Five shoots me a knowing glare, and Ben just nods, yet another comfortable silence falling over us as I take a large drink from my beer, staring down at my hands before Five starts a conversation with Ben and I can't help but sigh a sigh of relief.

somehow, Luther and Sloane have convinced me to come to theirs to stay the night.

"I think it'll have beneficial effects on releasing your childhood trauma y/n." Luther tells me as I sit in the back of his car, ben at the other side as sloane sits in the front and stares out the window.

"I'm the child psychologist Luther. You just stick to putting out fires." I state, crossing my arms slightly as I stare out the car window, watching the world go by the single frame of glass, trying to hide my smile as I hear Ben laugh at my comment.

"Do you ever sit and look at people and just laugh to yourself because you've saved their asses from the end of the world three times now?" I ask to Luther mainly due to the fact the Sparrow Academy have only had to save the world once, which ended up in all but two of them dying and he just shrugs as he continues to drive.

"Imagine how Viktor feels, knowing he almost killed them twice." Ben says, and that causes me to laugh, slapping a hand over my mouth as I try to stop it.

"That's nasty! the first time wasn't fully his fault. He just discovered his powers and didn't know how to stop them." I tell him, leaning over to gently slap his arm, but I'm still laughing.

"Plus, it's also semi Luther fault for locking him in this weird, safe thing." I add, and Luther groans, muttering something under his breath, leaving me to smile proudly.

"Let's just sit in silence till we get home." Luther suggests, and nobody says a single word to protest and I guess it would be sorta rude if I did seeing as I'm staying at his house tonight.

I sit in my old room, looking around at how empty it is because the Umbrella Academy doesn't exist in this timeline, meaning this room is just a room where I just so happened to share all of my good childhood memories, or atleast the handful I can call good.

"Why would you actually agree to come back here?" Ben asks with a laugh as he stands at the doorframe, staring down at me with questioning eyes.

"I think it's actually partly to do with what Luther said, I think it's good for myself to come see the place and realise that everything that happened back in my time line is just memories now, I dont know I guess I'm trying to give myself some closure." I answer with a shrug as ben walks further into the room, now sitting beside me on the bed.

"What were we like? in your timeline anyway?" ben asks, and I feel my heart stop for a second as I look at him for a brief moment.

"Really young but you -" I cut myself off. Is it wrong to address this ben as my Ben? because it is the same person, but it's not at the same time.

"we understood each other, he- *you* were one of the only people at the Umbrella Academy who showed me love despite our age. if we were doing paired work, we'd always be together, at meals we'd always pass notes, during training we always went easy on each other, during missions we always had a close eye on each other, we'd always spend time in my room. yeah, we were really young, but we still loved each other." I tell him, and he just looks at me, a sad smile on his face.

"we were convinced we were gonna get married, and in all honesty, I would've married you if you stuck around." I then add, looking away as I get an unbearable feeling of sadness.

"I would've married you if you came to the Sparrow Academy timeline earlier." Ben tells me, and I almost choke on my spit as I look at him, my eyes wide.

"What?" I ask, shaking my head slightly.

"I felt myself changing slightly the minute I looked at you when our academies met, but I was too.." He trails off trying to find the words.

"stuck up? full of yourself?" I begin listing and he rolls his eyes but he smiles slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I was too stuck up to actually allow myself to change for you, and also, I was too scared because I know im nothing like your ben so I didn't want to cause a disappointment as though you lost him again." Ben admits, and I just stare at him.

"Ben, you are my ben." I state, my eyes not leaving his face, not even when his eyes light up slightly, not even when he turns to look at me.

"I didn't want to tell you in case you thought I'm just using you because of what happened with Umbrella Ben, but I promise you that is not the case. You are my ben." I then add, and I see his eyes softening as a small smile appears on the edge of his lips.

"so it's safe to say we like each other then?" He asks after a moment of us just staring at each other.

"I guess so." I jokingly groan, but I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, just savouring the feeling of ben in my arms, my ben as one of his arms wrap around my waist, the other one coming up to reach into my hair, pressing the back of my head closer into him.

"I can't believe you went to prison, you asshole! I was gonna tell you I had feelings for you once we all settled into the new timeline, and then you went to prison."I scoff, and he pulls away from the embrace slightly and looks at me.

"You could've always written a letter or something." He tells me, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I would've been better using a carrier pigeon. No chance was I gonna have a prison pen pal." I scoff, rolling my eyes, but I did write, and then I wrote again, and again, and guess what? I wrote again.

"I did write to you, over and over again, I just never had the courage to send them, because imagine you got one of the letters, wrote back but it didn't send to me?" I ask, a shiver going down my spine at the thought of never knowing if he felt the same way.

"Well, I would've rewrote the same letter every day and sent it to you until you got it." Ben says, a slight hint of promise in his words, and with that, I press a kiss to his lips, and he instantly returns it, his hand on my waist tightening, gently pushing my head closer to his as he depends the kiss and we continue in our kissing embrace got a few moments, before we hear a:

"When I said coming here would help to release your childhood trauma, I didn't mean by doing.. this." Luther says, and I just pull away laughing.

[xf-cases-solved]

i wrote a fic inspired by this post i made, about how william should have been a girl named samantha and how i will die on that hill with honor. see below, or click this link to be directed to my ao3, if you so desire

Title: the bitter and the sweet

Rating: Gen

Word Count: ~2400

Back on the vineyard, before Samantha had been taken and the four of them had approximated something approaching a family unit, Mulder's mother would make homemade bread on Sunday afternoons.

The process had always fascinated him—the way she could parse out units of flour, sugar, water, and yeast and combine them together into something that, only hours later, would have the whole house smelling of an artisanal bakery, the atmosphere somehow made warm and inviting by the wafting scent of baking bread. When he was really little—when the biggest unexplained phenomenon to him was the Tooth Fairy—baking seemed like magic to him, and his mother was its wielder. 

How else, he'd figured, could she be able to take all those separate ingredients—banal and basic on their own—and turn them into something incredible?

Tonight, Mulder's feeling a little like how he did when his mother would make bread, only on a much, much grander scale. 

He's finding himself believing in magic, and this time, Scully is its wielder. It's no great surprise to him that she's powerful—he's known that from the start—but it wasn't until he'd found her drenched in sweat, tear tracks down her cheeks, blood staining the insides of her thighs, and a tiny child cradled protectively against her heaving chest that he'd learned that she was a magician, too. 

Out of two ingredients, Dana Scully has made a person.

Mulder has seen things in his lifetime that go far beyond the laws of nature. He's seen ghosts and ghouls; monsters, both bestial and human alike; he's seen proof of life outside this planet time and time again; he has died, his body buried six feet beneath the ground for months, and he's come back to life.

And yet, somehow none of that compares to witnessing the miracle of the most basic, fundamental tenet of existence: Reproduction. Something so innate—the instinctive need to replicate oneself so that one's lineage may live on in perpetuity. Hundreds of thousands of human babies are born a day; if he had known, like really known, how remarkable that is, maybe he would have decided that anything beyond it was simply above his pay grade and given up trying to understand the Universe long ago.

He hears the front door click shut as the Gunmen show themselves out, and yet he doesn't move just yet. He has to take a breath first—has to give himself a moment to shake his head in awe. On the other side of this doorway is his brand new life, and it's daunting to know you're about to walk into a fresh existence.

But no amount of anxiety can outmatch his need to see her. To see them. 

He'd had such little time with them before, and there had been so much chaos going on around them that he hadn't been able to appreciate what he did get, and he's trying not to feel resentful about it. The baby's healthy, Scully's healthy, and in the end, that's what matters most, but still, he can't help but feel robbed on Scully's behalf. On his own behalf, too, if he's being honest. 

After everything she has gone through—after the multitudes of hellfires she's walked through since the day she first stepped into his office—Scully deserved a beautiful pregnancy, with an equally beautiful birth. After everything he's gone through—after every chance he's lost to show the breadth of his love to the people who own his heart—he deserved to care for her, from week one to week forty, and to be by her side as she performed magic in a clean delivery room, with freshly laundered receiving blankets on hand, and the reassurance of trained professionals nearby should something go wrong. Something so precious should have never been shrouded in so much trauma.

It should have been different. They had earned different. 

But he's not going to dwell on it, at least not right now. Maybe in a quiet moment, when his family (his family!) is asleep and peaceful, he'll grant himself the space to feel the bitter in this sweet. 

But that's for later. 

Right now, he has to go to them; he can feel their thrall like the arrow of a compass being pulled north by the Earth's magnetic core, and this hallway suddenly feels a lightyear away from where he's meant to be, the space between them and himself a wormhole, where on his end there's the life he's led until now, and on the other side lies a brand new world he can't even begin to fathom the extent of just yet.

So he walks through the doorway, bending time, stepping out of one reality and into the next. He doesn't mourn what he's left behind—everything that matters now exists inside this room.

"How's everybody doing?" he asks, and if she can hear the thread of anxiety rumbling through his words like a shockwave beneath a tectonic plate, she doesn't mention it—merely smiles widely at him, the corners of her tired eyes crinkling. She's already so tiny, but the giant swaddling of blankets and baby in her arms covers half her torso, making her look even smaller. 

Small, but so incredibly, incredibly strong.

"We're doin' just fine," she says, standing up from the edge of the bed, a hand gently patting the baby's back through the cushion of blankets. As she approaches, he knows his face must look ridiculous—his head shaking in disbelief, his mouth slightly ajar, even as his lips are turned up into a smile, and eyes laser focused on them as though if he so much as blinks they'll disappear—but he can't help it. He's witnessing magic; of course he's awed. 

The baby snuffles grumpily at being jostled, as Scully moves the whole bundle into his expectant arms.

"Hey now," he mutters to the child. "None of that."

He gets the baby's head settled into the crook of his elbow, and the amount of protectiveness that swells within him is so sudden and intense that it almost takes his breath away. 

Words fail him; there isn't a language, on this planet or the next, that could ever properly convey the weight of his thoughts, so he just smiles at Scully and breaths a shaky, "Hi," before turning back to the baby, his body rocking to-and-fro gently on its own accord, and that's something, isn't it? That he instinctively knows how to soothe.

He surveys the baby's face with the focus one would use to parse out a magic-eye poster. He's searching for familiar features, and memorizing all the shapes and slopes and colors that have come together to create the breathtaking picture before him. A long time ago, he remembers calling his eidetic memory a curse, and at the time it had felt true, because in his line of work he saw so many horrible, wretched things, and it would have been a mercy to be able to forget them.

He doesn't consider it a curse now. He thinks that, maybe, he was actually bestowed a blessing, and he just hadn't realized it because it had always been meant for this exact moment in time.

This is... this is a lot. 

A lot, a lot, a lot.

Mulder has always known that he has a tendency to love at a magnitude so severe it is almost to his detriment; he knows that his heart has always been his biggest strength and biggest weakness in equal measure. Once, not long after a bullet had cracked his skull, he had found his way to Antarctica, armed with a vial of antidote, an unreliable compass, and a decent coat, and through the force of his love, he had brought Scully home with a clean bill of health, say for a bit of freezer burn on her cheeks. His love is so mighty, it is almost a type of magic in itself.

But he has never felt love like this before.

He's not even sure if it is love, the feeling so foreign and all-consuming.

He wants to cry with the might of it—feels so full of emotion that he could stand in the center of a field and scream it at the sky until his voice goes hoarse, and even then the precarious glass of his heart would still be dangerously close to overflowing. For all the things he's believed in his life, the hardest thing for him to wrap his head around is the idea that he is capable of loving this big.

"What are you going to call her?" he finds the words to ask. 

Her.

Somehow, the simple use of a pronoun tilts the world on its axis. He thinks it has to do with abstractions. Since he returned from the dead, they've only spoken about her in the abstract. "The baby." "This child." A nameless, faceless, sexless concept that they knew would come into existence one day, but they couldn't quite understand what that existence would mean. 

But she exists now, and she's a she. 

Boy, girl, both, neither—he'd had no preferences nor expectations, but the concreteness of the identifier has his pulse thudding wildly. Scully—the magician and, until very, very recently, the greatest love of his life—has done the impossible and created a person and that person is his... well, they haven't discussed that yet, have they? What he's entitled to referring to her as.

But then she says, "With your blessing"—she's quiet and shy about this, but still meets his eyes with her usual amount of confidence—"I wanted to name her Samantha." 

In some magazine a million years ago, Mulder had read about the art of human suspension. It originates as a spiritual practice that is thousands of years old, wherein people suspend themselves in the air by hooks embedded beneath their skin, and at the time he had been, of course, open and respectful of the concept, but did not particularly see the appeal. While he understood it in theory, without experiencing it, he couldn't quite see how one could endure such intense pain and be grateful for it. To feel revived by it. To feel complete. 

There are no hooks in his skin—he's not hanging from any banisters, trying to reach enlightenment—but he definitely has a better grasp on the practice now. In six words, Scully has taught him how to feel honored by pain. 

This is, he thinks, the utter definition of bittersweet, because god, it's so bitter, but god, nothing has ever been so sweet.

His instinct is to make a joke, because that's what he does when he gets overwhelmed. Maybe make a quip about seeing some of Walter Skinner in this little girl's face, is there something she wants to tell him...? But, unfortunately, it seems that his throat is closing up, so no jokes today, he supposes. Nothing to cover the rawness of his emotion as he blinks the tears out of his vision so that he can see his daughter clearly.

Because that's what she is—Scully just said as much. This is his daughter, named after an aunt she'll never get to meet, but whose memory will live on through her. 

"She deserved so much better than the short time she got," Scully is saying, and although he wants to look at her, he can't because that would mean looking away from his daughter, and that's not possible at the moment. "Mulder, every step we've taken that has gotten us to this point has been because of your love for her. Your search, your passion—everything that brought us together—it's because of her. And through you, I've grown to love her, too. She had no choice in making her sacrifice, but I want to acknowledge it anyway. I want... Mulder, I want our daughter to carry a name that symbolizes enduring strength, and unimaginable bravery, and, more than anything else, infallible, everlasting love." Her hand comes to rest on his wrist. "But only with your blessing, Mulder."

Mulder closes his eyes, a teardrop or two escaping and sliding down the bridge of his nose as he leans forward and presses his forehead gently against his daughter's. He breathes in deep, centering himself and righting his world with the scent of baby powder. Scully waits patiently, her thumb tracing small circles around the circumference of his wrist joint. Finally, he straightens himself out and looks at her.

Once again, language leaves him wanting. 

He settles on a whispered, shaky, "Thank you," that cracks his voice. 

He's thanking her for the in memoriam, certainly, but for so much more than that as well. 

Thank you, he means, for your magic that brought her into this world.

Thank you, for granting me entry into your body so that I could help you make this child, as much as I could.

Thank you, for saving my life, again and again and again and again, so that I can be here to experience true bliss for the first time.

Thank you, for stepping into my office the better part of a decade ago and, against all good judgment and reason, staying by my side ever since.

Thank you, for letting me love you.

Thank you, for loving me in return.

Scully gives a half smile and a nod; he has no doubt that she hears everything he doesn't say, because while all other languages are limited, they have long since created their own mode of communication that only the two of them speak.

There are conversations they need to have. The trauma of Samantha's birth is still shrouded in mystery; the fact that she wasn't taken from them has created more questions than it has provided answers, and that needs to be acknowledged. 

They have to talk about what happens next. What are their roles now? To the world. To their daughter. To each other.

That can all be discussed later, though, when language doesn't feel so useless, and his heart does feel so bruised and battered from all the bitter and all the sweet.

He does the only thing he could possibly do in this moment, and that's lean down and press his lips to hers. She kisses back, one hand holding him by the elbow, Samantha bracketed by their bodies, keeping her safe.

Since he was twelve years old, Samantha has been his driving force.

Today, she still is, but in a different form. A different life.

Mulder loves his baby sister.

Mulder loves his baby daughter.

He thinks he might go into the kitchen tomorrow, and bake Scully a loaf of bread.

[actual-changeling]

hello and welcome back to angst time with alex, the series where i, alex, (hopefully) cause everyone severe emotional pain for funsies!

have a pre-arcadia ficlet because "you're making this personal" has been bouncing around my brain like a screensaver all day.

tagging @today-in-fic

———

You're making this personal.

Did she make it personal? Did she really? Even more than three weeks later, she still cannot answer her own question.

It had been personal, that much she knows for certain, no matter how much Mulder might try to deny it; the past is not what is spinning a web in her mind. 'Making' implies it hadn't been personal before, and Scully thinks about love confessions surrounded by chlorine and disinfectant, high school reunions, and a Christmas filled with ghosts.

If none of that had been personal, if all of it had been, what, professional? The mere idea feels like nails scratching on a chalkboard, fundamentally wrong and against everything she knows—everything she thought she knew, anyway. Doubts are infecting her heart and festering within her blood, a poison that can only be purged the same way it was injected.

Fault lines are tearing apart the ground underneath her feet, and in the aftermath of the earthquakes they lived through, she is still waiting for new tremors to appear. Meanwhile, Mulder is flipping through their newly assigned Arcadia files and cracking sunflower seeds between his teeth.

Every discarded shell is another foot of earth breaking away, another inch of dark nothingness added to the ever-growing chasm separating them.

You're making this personal.

Maybe she did, just like he did in the hallway right outside his apartment, and her skin itches with the need to get up to try to run away and away and away. 

Simply to see if he will let her disappear this time. If he will grab her wrist and make it personal again. If he will force her to listen to a door slam shut behind her back as she questions the last six years of their partnership.

Another sunflower seed cracks open, another imperceptible flinch runs through her fingertips.

A matching set of rings is glinting between them on the desk, fitted to their hands, and, somehow, she knows Mulder will make it more than personal. He never not made it personal, not when he started all the way back in Bellefleur, not almost a month ago, surrounded by the Lone Gunmen and despair.

Scully feels the weight of his gaze and resists the urge to snap at him; she can practically hear him attempt to profile her. She doubts he will get it right any time soon.

"How about Rob and Laura?"

A day of fake names and faker marriage stories flung across the office, a day of heavy silence and jokes she left hanging in the air. She considers throwing the file in his face and going home. She considers starting a fight and pushing his buttons until he gets angry enough to be mean to her. Again. Until one of them slips up and speaks the name that's dangling above them like the blade of their personal guillotine.

Until he tries to make it personal, because it isn't—not anymore, not the way it was, and they both know it.

Instead, she flips to the next page and crosses her legs; she is wearing too much black and hasn't touched a skirt in two weeks. Familiar armour made of fabric and shadows, of heels, frantic sidesteps to avoid his touch, and the refusal to meet his eyes.

Mulder jokes and pushes because that's who he is. Scully lets him because the ghost of them refuses to dissipate, lingering in the corners of every room they're in.

Because the true lie of personal interest is all they have left.

"Sure, fine." Her voice sounds faint and hollow, and another sunflower seed shell hits the desk like a gunshot. "Whatever."

[verdemoun]

Ok you made like one post about an au where Kieran survives and that is not ok. We need much more than that.

assuming you mean this kieran survives au!

kieran is in a bad way. like - he's been through blessed are the peacemakers but he was already underweight. completely delirious with fever, rambling apologies while his eyes dart back and fourth but completely clouded and not dilatating. chalk white with black, purple and blue bruises that heal to a sickly yellow. there are cuts towards his eyes, completely macerating his face, but it was heat and smoke and physical trauma to his eyes. he would be considered legally blind, night blindness and light sensitivity but can actually see things as blurry shapes and colors.

a lot of his injuries are more personal than arthur's gunshot wound. chest adorned in both deep and shallow cuts like they were planning to carve him up for serving. injuries that were clearly just fists or blunt weapons being used over and over. his left knee, specifically, is shattered. how he managed to get up on branwen and actually stay on almost all the way to shady belle is a miracle

he's so starved he throws up the first bowl of watered down stew they give him and it clicks this is going to be a long, long process.

hosea immediately gives up his room, because they need to keep him inside and warm in a clean environment to stop any more infection

arthur, being a good doting son, immediately insists that hosea take his room and he'll be fine sleeping on the floor in the main living area. little changes --

because, well, now hosea is just down the hall from dutch. and with how stressed he is and how 'demanding' molly is, who would blame dutch for taking comfort in the presence (and bed) of his longest companion?

whole time micah is whining because they're back to robbing coaches and doing small jobs until they figure out a new plan, because admittedly most of their best gunmen are distracted by ensuring there is always someone there taking care of kieran. they thought they buried him. they mourned him, and regretted how they treated him. getting him back, even in that state, seems like the first kindness the gang have experienced in a while

also who the fuck was the headless guy the o'driscolls sent into camp. did they really kill a random guy with a similar build to kieran assuming he died after escaping just to fuck with the gang??

no one ever calls kieran 'o'driscoll' again. when he starts getting his strength back, and of course desperately wants to see the horses, almost the entire gang are discreetly trying to follow him like ducklings in case he needs help.

mary-beth is constantly having to tell them to back off because it's overwhelming all these people who seemed apathetic to him suddenly doting on him and kieran is too soft to remind them he needs space. the gang joke she's been hanging out with sadie too much but mary-beth is constantly reminding them she fended for herself for a long time before the vdls picked her up, is a very accomplished thief and con artist and she will cut a bitch

dutch, with hosea back in one ear and micah still whispering in the other, gives micah his blessing to head back to blackwater and try to get that money back. and surprise surprise, micah gets killed barely a quarter mile across the border. oops

molly has her 'i loved you, you goddamned bastard' breakdown at shady belle, calling bullshit on dutch and hosea's affair when dutch had once said he loved her and completely brainwashed her. with no mention of pinkertons, dutch gave her enough money from the lockbox for a ticket and told her to fuck off back to ireland if she meant something there

dutch sucks and hosea reminds him he sucks and dutch swears he will do better but the gang need to move they've already pushed it being so close to saint denis too long.

dues-ex-kieran duffy. in his timid way, he suggests going back out west since everyone constantly talks about wanting to go west but he knows a whole list of abandoned o'driscoll camps and a rough but doable north-west route around west elizabeth that the o'driscolls used to avoid blackwater after the VDL disaster.

the gang make it out west. they stop to shoot up hanging dog ranch, colm included, along the way. the pinkertons lose their trail. arthur still gets diagnosed with tb, but he's somewhere warm and dry and without the physical and psychological strain of guarma they reckon he has plenty of time left.

the gang naturally disperses. the marstons decide to find their own fortune, uncle and javier in tow. uncle escuella might be sleeping with his dad but jack deserves multiple father figures and javier will always take jack fishing or actually ask about his books even if it is just to complain about the english language. abigail is content living the this is my ugly ass groom john and his boyfriend javier. i hate them both but affectionately.

charles leaves to help the wapiti people only to return the second he hears that arthur has a slow but terminal illness, and they have many years of blissful domesticity together. lenny goes off to school and somehow lives darragh macguire's life as both outlaw and politician. he keeps a photo of sean in his dad's pocket watch. hosea and dutch admittedly return to running cons and robberies because they feel like they're too old to change but it's smaller-scale with less mouths to feed and they get away with it the rest of their natural lives.

bill of all people ends up being the one who went with charles because as problematic as he is robbing the military sounded fun after they fucking booted him, only to end up falling in love with captain monroe and going off on a rainbow-filled adventure of fleeing from the government, the military, and awkwardly helping people out along the way. monroe calls him out on racist bullshit and bill just immediately apologises because wants to be better for his man

grimshaw, who needs to be taking care of people to feel self-worth, takes karen under her wing and saves her from her alcoholic spiral. tilly still meets her husband and becomes a wealthy lady in saint denis, technically employing grimshaw and karen as housekeepers but it's really just an excuse to keep her found family together

kieran and mary-beth stay at the gang's original settlement and accidentally end up running a stable. mary-beth gets to write her novels but she does develop a soft spot for helping out in the barn because kieran talks so passionately about horses she can't help love them too

everyone's happy enjoy a fix it au the end

[xfiles-vibes]

One thing that I will always be desperately sad about is the relationships that Baby William never got to have with not only Mulder and Scully, but other people in his life—particularly his actual half-uncle, Jeffrey Spender, and his pseudo-uncles, The Lone Gunmen.

While Jeffrey’s attempts to get close to William are ultimately to the end of “stealing him away” from CSM and making him normal, I still believe that Jeffrey cared enough for his half-brother’s child to not want him to live a life in danger and potentially be subjected to experiments as he was. If Mulder and Scully had gone into hiding with William, would Spender have still dropped by to visit? What would his relationship with his half-nephew be like?

Meanwhile, the Gunmen purely care about William because he’s the child of two of their close friends. They understand from the beginning how special he is, and are the only three people we see who show up after his birth bearing gifts. They are also the last line of defense in protecting William when he is threatened by the alien cult, with Scully specifically telling Monica Reyes that she is giving William to the “only ones left we can trust”. Whether or not they would have been wholly competent babysitters is debatable, but their care and concern for William is there, and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see them interact with William more. One can easily imagine Byers reading the baby back issues of the Lone Gunman to get him to fall asleep, Frohike teaching him to say curse words as a toddler, and Langly not being mad when the baby messes with his hair.

Anyway, we got robbed of Baby William actually knowing his uncles and I will forever be furious about it.

[heckcareoxytwit]

Rick Jones and Marlo Chandler prepare for their wedding by going on their night outs on separate parties. Marlo Chandler, along with her mother and Betty Ross, go for a girls night out on a Bachelorette Party with She-Hulk, Invisible Woman, Lyja the Skrull, Scarlet Witch and Crystal. Whereas Rick Jones has a bachelor night with Hulk, Captain America, Vision, Quicksilver, Doc Samson, Silver Surfer, Ben Grimm, Iron Man, War Machine, Namor and his old friends from the Teen Brigade.

In the veterans hall, Rick's bachelor party is in full swing. As the Hulk's allies and superheroes converse with each other, members of the Teen Brigade spike the punch. Suddenly, the party is crashed by a costumed woman calling herself the Ecdysiast, hired for the party. Captain America thinks he hired a magician, but is quickly horrified to discover that she is actually a stripper when she shows herself off to Rick. Hulk tells Captain America not to tell Betty about this, wondering what she would think about such objectification of the human body. However, the ladies have all gone to a male strip club where they are having a wild time. Suddenly, the party is crashed by some armed gunmen who have come to rob the patrons. Their mistake, however, is in choosing the night the club is full of female superheroes. Later that night, Rick's party quiets down for the screening of an adult film. After the Vision uses his powers to fix the projector, they are all in for a surprise when the woman in the film turns out to be Rick's bride-to-be.

Incredible Hulk v1 #417, 1994

Click on Keep Reading for the bonus picture which is the cover of this comic...

[scotianostra]

The Scottish actor Archibald Duncan was born in Glasgow on 26th May 1914.

His father was a regimental sergeant major and his mother a postmistress. He was educated at Govan High School and afterwards and worked as a welder in the Glasgow shipyards.

It was at the Citizens Theatre Company that Duncan joined the training ground of many Scottish actors including, Molly Urquart, Duncan Macrae, Gordon Jackson and Eileen Herlie. He then made his Scottish acting debut in Juno and the Paycock, playing all three gunmen, at Glasgow's Alhambra in May 1944.

Duncan went on to star in London's West End with the likes of the great Scottish character actor Alistair Sim and the late George Cole. Film roles started to follow with , Floodtide , The Gorballs Story, The Elusive Pimpernel, Green Grow the Rushes, Henry V, The Lavender Hill Mob, You're Only Young Twice and Walt Disney's The Story Of Robin Hood and his Merrie Men as 'Red Gill' amongst many others. Duncan also teamed up with Richard Todd and James Robertson Justice in Disney’s Rob Roy the Highland Rogue as Dugal Mac Gregor.

One of Duncan's first big TV roles was as Inspector Lestrade in the 1954 series Sherlock Holmes, but perhaps Archibald Duncan is best remembered for his second Robin Hood role, where 6'2" Duncan played Little John alongside Richard Greene in The Adventures of Robin Hood which ran for 143 episodes on ITV here and CBS in the states from 1955 to 1959. I just had a wee look and many of the episodes are on Youtube.

Duncan's portrayal of Little John would be fondly remembered decades later for his combination of strength, skill and humour. It was during the filming this unforgettable series that this Scottish gentle giant proved to be a true hero and managed to prevent a runaway horse from hurtling towards a group of spectators, consisting of mainly children, watching close by. For this brave feat, he was awarded the Queen’s Commendation for Bravery and £1,360 in "damages". But it also resulted in him missing the recording of eleven episodes of Robin Hood. So between times, a replacement was found in fellow Scotsman, Rufus Cruickshank.

Another great Scottish film he appeared in was Ring of Bright Water. Archie Duncan's career in television production carried on with parts in programmes like Z Cars, Hereward the Wake, Orlando, Black Beauty and Bootsie and Snudge.

Sadly in 1978 he suffered a massive stroke which caused paralysis down his right side. Sadly he passed away at Whipps Cross Hospital in Leytonstone, London aged 65 on 24th July 1979.

[scullys-scalpel]

S5 of TXF is a wild ride. Scully is dying, Scully is saved. We see how the Lone Gunmen meet. Mulder and Scully are trapped in a forest yet again but maybe if it rains sleeping bags, you'll get lucky. Jerry Springer, Cher tunes, and the cutest Mulder and Scully moment ever. A killer doll. Artificial intelligence trying to kill people. Texan Vampires. Emily 😭. Mulder and Scully switching roles between believer and skeptic. Mulder involved in robbing a bank. You're my one in five billion. The introduction to that Diana Fowley bitch. Oh and Mulder's office is burned down. Wild!

[akronus-writes]

the clockwork vigilante

tick.

a man robs a couple while they're coming home from the shops. shooting at them as he tried to run.

tock.

a man is killed before he can spill the secrets on a criminal operation.

tick.

a rat runs over a pipe and into the sewers

tock.

it runs past a young boy as he runs through the sewers in the opposite direction, blood streaming down his nose as a group of bullies, richer kids from his school chase him.

he trips and hits the concrete as the boys close in on him, the leader holding a metal bat.

he raises the bat, preparing to strike. and as the boy anticipates ths\e blow.

tick.

The couple and the robber are frozen, no longer moving as the thief's gun stops mid fire, bullet frozen in the air.

tock.

the sniper who killed the man stops as he packs up his rifle, left mid-action as the rain stops falling around him.

tick.

the bullies are frozen, time itself stopped.

tock.

the boy rises, wiping the blood from his face as he places a strange clockwork mask on his face.

the boy reveals a strange black and bronze clockwork staff as he deftly strikes his would be assailants, hitting them over and over again. but they never move.

tick.

a bolas tipped by two clock hands is thrown at the thief and freezes mid-air as the gun is disassembled, each piece freezing as its thrown onto the side walk, and the bullet is moved ever so slightly so it will miss.

tock.

the sniper is left dangling by his foot over a busy inter-section. frozen as the rope stops falling mid-air.

tick.

the boys are sent to the floor as an onslaught of attacks are made against them in the same second, their would be victim dissapearing.

tock.

the thief is entangled by the bolas and thrown to the ground as his gun is ripped apart in a single moment, the couple saved by mere milimetres.

tick.

a police man looks over as the others rush to the dead man, an intersection stopped as a panicked and screaming assassin is dangling from his foot over the intersection.

tock.

the boy parkours through the city, wielding a clockwork mask and staff.

tick.

a bank robbery is stopped when the robbers find themselves standing in front of the cops without their weapons.

tock.

a group of armed gunmen trying to escape the cops find themselves disarmed, their car overturned and dismantled guns at their feet.

tick.

a hostage taker is pinned to the wall by weighted clock hands, unaware of how he got there.

tock.

clockwork looks over the city as the rain pours, and disappears just as quickly, time freezing as another crime is committed, and then stopped.

@f4y3w00d5 @drewp1 @gobodegoblin @good-wizard @monsterfucker-research-wizard

[sailxrmxrs]

shoutout to my three friends who are equally unwell over trigun and infinite blue. this one's for u. it's so so incredibly niche but the ones who get it, get it. taking some inspiration from the current obsession and throwing some faves in to spice it up. tobias, rory and dear reader just out in some post apocalyptic western landscape fighting for their lives against a notorious gang of gunmen. very very loosely inspired by the vash, wolfwood, and meryl dynamic. insert blood and thunder from 98 trigun soundtrack here. anyway enjoy the result of my late night brainrot and screaming over tasty fanart. cw for guns and some mild violence !

The sun sat high over the rolling dunes of sand, bearing down heavily on the unfortunate souls traversing the uneven ground. This time of year made that unforgiving heat feel all the more powerful as it threatened to burn the exposed arms leaning atop the side of the oversized car. Tobias had one arm resting where the window had once been and the other lazily sitting on the steering wheel, barely moving it as the car sped across the dunes. The car wasn't all that old, but it had seen its fair share of gun fights and fast escapes. There had once been a time when all of humanity wasn't on the brink of extinction, not fighting tooth and nail just to keep its cities from falling to ruin. But those times were no longer. Now, bands of desperate individuals were wreaking havoc and robbing innocents for all they were worth. Wanted posters were plastered over tavern walls, countless bounties out for whoever could drag their bodies back—dead or alive. Tobias' face had long been drawn to perfect likeness over the browned parchment. The bounty he'd amassed for himself, however, was not for pillaging and stealing from the bar owners who housed him on long journeys nor did he use his gun for unjust means. Rather, Tobias had garnered himself somewhat of a Robin Hood-esque reputation; he stole what had already been stolen and gave it back to the people. But when those who had stolen not only money, but also power, found themselves reaping the benefits of their greed, their first course of action was to bring down the man responsible for their shortcomings in whatever way possible. For anyone else it might have damaged their spirit, but Tobias cared too much for his cause to let a bounty on his head sway him. Especially now that he no longer travelled alone.

Months ago he'd been a lone soul going from town to town with little but the clothes on his back for company. Until he'd met you. A city native confined by circumstance who saw his freedom as a symbol of hope. All it had taken was one quiet conversation under the moonlight, aided by Tobias' slight inebriation, for you to be taken under his wing and brought along for the ride. His way of living brought uncertainty and risk; danger and threat becoming a constant friend looming over your shoulder. But you wouldn't change anything for the world. Not when it took you to the most remote corners of the planet. Even if that meant driving across the desert in the middle of summer with a broken cooling system. Tobias had tried to fix it once, but somehow made it worse. Since then, you'd taken the executive decision to ban Tobias from any kind of technical repair work. It was for the best. So long as the car held up long enough to get to the next town over, that was all you cared about.

"It's too hot," Tobias whined, leaning his head to rest atop your shoulder. You could feel the car jolt with his movements, hitting a slight bump in the sand. If it weren't for the fact there was no one around for miles you might have panicked a little more. Tobias' driving was a little less than careful out in the middle of nowhere.

"Hey, eyes on the road. Sand. You know what I mean," you said with a playful push against his head. Tobias sluggishly dragged himself back up, a sulking pout on his face as he scowled at you.

"If you let me fix the fans maybe I wouldn't be almost collapsing in the car. I don't see you volunteering to drive in my stead." His tone was light and teasing, not really meaning the words he said. He just knew it'd spark a reaction.

A bemused laugh left your lips, watching Tobias reach for his sunglasses. "First off, collapsing? Sure thing, bud. Secondly, the last time I offered to drive you told me off and made me sit in the back seat. Only got yourself to blame there."

"Because you had just gotten shot! You were bleeding out and insisting on driving! What did you expect me to do?"

"You said no driving then so I'm just doing as I was told," you said, folding your arms across your chest and closing your eyes. Tobias sighed, admitting his defeat. He might like to push back sometimes, but he really he was rather soft at heart. He liked your company more than he cared to admit, even if that meant being the one to drive uneven terrain in the scorching heat.

An hour later and your destination was finally in sight. The town stood like an oasis under the afternoon sun, the promise of food and, hopefully, fresh water an irresistible temptation luring you in. By the time Tobias had parked up under a shaded canopy and got out to make a point of stretching his legs, you were eager to see exactly where he'd taken you to. The town was another new venture to add to your list, its buildings and architecture looking similar enough to everywhere else you'd travelled that it felt familiar. Though it certainly seemed livelier than the previous destination had been. It wasn't quite a thriving city, but there was still life here. Still the teeming buzz of humanity clinging on to its home. Curious eyes followed you walking side-by-side with Tobias, some going wide in recognition and others scrutinising you both for intruding on this peaceful little town. There was no telling how situations like this would go. Either you'd leave unscathed with no one looking to take Tobias' bounty for themselves, or there'd be guns shooting from all over as you made a run for the car and made your escape. The last few escapades had been mostly uneventful, but there was no room to let one's guard down. Especially not when there was a stranger shrouded in a cloud of smoke leaning against the wall of a busy sounding bar. Dark sunglasses rested atop his nose, and his hair was a bright shade of red despite being muted in the shade. You could feel his gaze even as you looked away, as if he perhaps knew something you didn't. It wasn't a nice feeling.

"Hey, Tobias. Don't be obvious about it, but there's a guy over there looking our way. You think he's trouble?"

Tobias spared a glance, the concern in his face turning to a grimace. "Yes. But not the kind of trouble you're thinking of. Come on." Tobias reached for your wrist, pulling you in the direction of the mysterious stranger. Your attempts to ask for any semblance of clarity were ignored, Tobias' grasp warm and unmoving.

Up close, the stranger looked even more displeased. Someone had clearly pissed in his cereal this morning—if the deadpan look of repugnance was anything to go by. "Brave of you to show your face here," he drawled, the toothpick between his teeth moving with each word he spoke.

"Why? You looking to try and break it?" Tobias asked, an easy grin stretching his face as he leaned against an old and rusting motorbike.

"Not at all. Looks like you want to break my bike though. Move your ass." Whatever relationship Tobias held with this man it was certainly not friendship.

"You sure it's worth caring that much about this thing? Looks one wrong move away from falling apart."

The stranger looked almost bored as he uttered, voice completely toneless, "You're right. And I'm looking right at the wrong move in question."

You watched as Tobias' face dropped its lazy smile and jumped to hold an arm over his chest. "Settle down, boys. I'd prefer to not have to coddle Tobias for getting his ass kicked five minutes after arriving."

The stranger scoffed, raising an eyebrow as his eyes fell to yours. "Good luck with that. You know what kind of bounty your friend has over his head, right? And that the man who's hellbent on having him killed lives in this very town?"

Your eyes went wide, head snapping to see Tobias looking meek. He'd kept that one quiet. Before you could get any kind of explanation, the stranger looked elsewhere, tutting as he gestured for the two of you to follow him. Wariness stayed your steps until you felt a reassuring hand at your shoulder. Tobias might not have a gleaming friendship with this stranger but he clearly trusted him. And that was enough for you. For now, at least.

He'd sat the three of you in the corner of the bar, tucked away to preserve whatever privacy you could garner. There was enough bustle and energy to hide your voices under, with no obvious lingering looks from particular patrons. It seemed you and Tobias were going to have to play it safer here than you'd first thought. From what the stranger, whose name you now knew to be Rory, had said, Tobias' reputation here was notorious. The common people of the town knew him for his true intentions, having been first aided by him long ago. But equally there were many out for the bounty—not to mention the personal vendetta a local leader had for him after Tobias had not only stolen a good portion of his fortune from him, but also played a hand in making a public scene mocking him. Needless to say, those who disliked Tobias, really despised him. And would do almost anything to see his head in their hands. Such an outcome wouldn't exactly be ideal, so you could only hope it wouldn't come down to that. Stealing glances around the bar didn't offer much insight as to whether the wrong individuals had recognised Tobias. The revelry all seemed normal enough. But there was no telling how the day might turn. It was, after all, still bright and busy enough outside that he would be easily recognisable in the daylight—even if the crowds might help conceal him.

"Look, if I were you I'd get yourself out of here as soon as possible. Before you draw any more attention to yourself. News travels fast here," Rory warned, fingers playing with the glass at his hand. He hadn't taken a sip of the misty water. It was probably for the best.

"You worry too much, Rory. That's all in the past, I'm sure no one remembers or cares for something so trivial." Tobias laughed, waving off Rory's apparent concern. Rory scoffed, readying to quip back at Tobias' easiness when a piercing shout brought all chatter in the bar to a close. If it weren't for the remnants of Tobias' laugh, you could've heard a pin drop with the stunned silence that fell. Another shout sounded—a command to fight. The peace had well and truly shattered as your eyes landed on the group of men weaving through the bar tables.

"Tobias," you uttered, moving to rise from your seat. "Time to move."

He raised a brow, nonchalance smoothing his features. "Don't act guilty and they won't come for you." As soon as the words left his lips, a call of his name set Tobias' eyes wide. "On second thought, I think I've had enough to drink here."

Rory scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Look at that, I was right."

"I don't care who was right or wrong, I care about not getting my head blown off," you grumbled, eyeing up the best possible escape route as your pursuers came ever closer. Gaze landing on the window, you saw Tobias already running to jump through the small gap, his legs getting caught on the window frame and sending him tumbling onto the dusty sand below. For a wanted man, he wasn't exactly the dastardly delinquent that the rumours might have painted him out to be. He wasn't quite so talented on his feet as he was with a gun and it didn't exactly help with making a swift escape. In a split second, you and Rory shared a look of exasperation with your companion before following suit and climbing through the open window, landing on your feet in a manner much more becoming than Tobias had. It was then, as Tobias finished dusting off his shirt that the first gunshot sounded, glass shattering along with it. You needed to find cover, and fast.

Rory called for you and Tobias to follow him, leading you both through the backroads of town. Gunshots and shouting could be heard coming from the bar, but there was telling where others might by lying in wait. Your hand was resting at the hilt of your gun, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. It had taken some getting used to, wielding a gun and shooting to defend yourself, but with Tobias at your side it became less and less scary each time. He never shot to kill. Only to deter pursuers or injure them at most, but only as a last minute resort. A gunshot fired, deflecting off a broken lamp post. One quick glance was enough to see that you had company. You readied your gun to aim, delayed only by the sight of Tobias already sending a bullet in their direction, knocking your pursuer's gun out of his hand.

"Got a plan, Rory?" He shouted, the three of you picking up the pace.

"I don't know, get out of here alive, maybe?!" An excellent plan, really. One you hoped to follow. Even if it was easier said than done. Rory slowed his pace, crouching behind the wall of a worn-down house. He'd avoided the busy clearing and managed to buy a few moments to plan the best route of escape.

"On the count of three, I want you to charge out there and shoot. Keep their focus on you. But don't die. Or get injured. I don't want any of you bleeding out on my bike."

"I'm sorry, did I hear that right? Your bike? You really think all three of us will fight on that thing?" You asked, incredulous. Rory's motorbike had looked like it'd seen better days. It barely looked like it could support one person let alone three.

"It's all just a means to an end. I start up the bike, we find whatever rundown motor you drove to town on and we get out of here."

Tobias shrugged. "Works for me. Do first, think later." He reached a hand out for your wrist and bolted with no hesitation. The gunmen shouted Tobias' name, calling for reinforcements as they aimed. The crowds had since dissipated and the townsfolk all seemed to have hidden away in their homes or in the shadows out of harm's way. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to get caught up in this unnecessarily. Your back was at Tobias', taking aim to disarm anyone in Tobias' blind spots as he did the same for you. You were a force of nature, an unstoppable duo completely honed in on the task at hand. Soon, the revving of a motorbike echoed from across the way, Rory's bright red hair gleaming under the sun as he tried to get it started.

"Don't tell me it's given up on you now!" Tobias called out, laughing under his breath as he leaned closer to you. "Hey, you got this. We can take these guys easy." Before you could eke out a response, Rory's motorbike surged forward and he soon reached you and Tobias. Bullets reflected off the rusting metal, Rory only stopping for a quick moment to reach an arm around you and haul you up onto the back of his bike. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled away.

"Uh, I think you're forgetting someone."

Rory shook his head, flinching as a bullet scraped by his cheek. "Shit. That hurt. But he'll be fine. The man never misses. And he's not about to get himself killed today. I'm just getting you to the car so we can all get out of here safe and sound."

"You'll be pleased to know our car isn't rusting and falling apart. Unlike this bike of yours."

"Don't complain, it's gotten us this far," Rory quipped. Although, as if on cue, a bullet struck the rear tyre and created a nasty puncture that had Rory swerving to try and regain control. The pair of you skidded across the ground, quick to draw out your weapons and recover from the mild throbbing of pain. The car was so painfully close. There was just a few feet between you and the promise of freedom. Tobias shouted for you to run, his feet moving so fast yet so gracefully it was almost like a choreographed dance. Heeding his command, you made for the car, leaping into the driver's seat and pulling forward as fast as it would let you.

"Get ready to fish for a Tobias," you instructed, eyebrows knitted with focus. It was almost cartoonish the way you slowed the car for Rory to open the door and reach out to grab Tobias, yanking him backwards and with a force you hadn't expected from his appearance. Tobias let out a yelp as he tried, and failed, to regain his footing, landing atop Rory's lap in the passenger seat. Rory closed the door and yelled for you to hit the accelerator. If it weren't for Tobias' near maniacal laughter, you'd be teeming with stress as more bullets came flying at the back of the car, the rear windscreen cracking as you escaped.

"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever witnessed," Rory announced, voice as expressionless as his outward appearance until the realisation set in that Tobias was still sprawled over his lap, one leg hanging out of the broken window. "Get off of me. Now."

"Would love to. But unless you want me to kick them in the head trying to climb onto the backseat, we're stuck like this," Tobias sang, leaning his head to rest on Rory who looked like he was half tempted to throw Tobias back out of the car.

"Get used to it, Rory," you called out. "He's like this 24/7."

"Can't wait." Tobias only smiled brighter up at Rory while your eyes flickered between them and the sand dunes ahead. All danger was long gone in the distance, already becoming a fading memory. With how content Tobias seemed to be, it looked like whatever business he'd had in town was either not important enough to risk being caught again or had already been seen to. A small part of you suspected he'd only wanted to return in the first place to find Rory. You didn't know exactly what kind of past they shared, but the two were clearly important to each other in some way—even if Rory looked like he might eat a fistful of sand before he admitted it. Still, the new addition felt right. Even if it'd come with no small degree of danger, this all just felt like the perfect beginning to another new adventure.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Hold-Up Trio Active in City," Montreal Star. April 7, 1943. Page 3. ---- Police Seeking Gunmen For North End Robberies ---- Police are today continuing their search for three armed bandits who staged five holds-up in the middle north section of the city last night. The gunmen are believed to have worn gabardine overcoats and spoke both French and English.

The trio's first hold-up occurred at a butcher shop at 103 Laurier avenue west. At this shop, the gunmen took $125 from the owners, Harry Bercovitch, 5645 Esplanade avenue, and Harry Bernstein, 5178 St. Urbain street.

The bandits then called a taxi and went to the United Cigar store, 4495 St. Lawrence boulevard, where they looted the till of $60. They re-entered the taxi, later robbing the driver, Camille Diotte, of $10 and his car keys.

Shortly after midnight, the trio forced another taxi driver, Marcel Caron, to hand over his money. The loot here was $50. A third taxi driver, J. W. Bourque, leaped out of his cab and ran when the gunmen ordered him to give up his money at the corner of Maguire and Casgrain streets. They threatened to shoot, but Bourque continued to run and escaped with his money.

[nerds-yearbook]

The infamous The Lone Gunmen pilot aired for the first time on March 4, 2001 and was never aired in the UK. The X-Files spin off pilot featured a plot of the government trying to fly a commercial airplane into the twin towers to create a war in the Middle East. 6 months later in real life, terrorists hijacked several airplanes, two of which crashed into the World Trade Center in an event that has since been known as 9/11 and spawned a long term war in the Middle East. Australia first aired the episode just days before the tragic events that changed the world. The episode was filmed over year (March and April of 2000) before the real world events. The episode also marked the last episode long time X-Files director Rob Bowman did for 1013 Productions before focussing on feature films. The episode also introduced the recurring character Yves Adele Harlow and there was a cameo by X-Files alum Kimmy the Geek (Jim Fyfe). ("Pilot", The Lone Gunmen, TV Event)

[unseenacademic]

Hospital scene 👀

There's a photo which appears on my dash occasionally. It's a photo of Stockard & Martin from "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen" and it's the cutest thing in the world! Seriously! Here it is, that's the photo:

Sadly, I guess the scene ended up on the cutting room floor and WE WERE ROBBED!!!! Just look how cute they are 😭😭😭😭 Anyway, until someone at WB decides to show us the real scene, we'll have to make do with my version of this scene.

Thank you so much for the ask! 💜💜 I'll also share a snippet with you:

“Abbey?” Jed’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Hey.” Careful to avoid his wound, Abbey sat on the bed. She took his hand. 

“I forgot to duck.” 

“It’s okay,” Abbey said, brushing the strands of his damp hair from his forehead. 

“You mad?” 

“At you? No! At whoever shot you? Damn straight!”

Jed managed a weak laugh in response. 

“I told Zoey you’d be pissed,” he said.