#i grew up speaking russian and english none of this makes any sense anymore what is grammar

[spicymiilk]

As an ESL, the most annoying thing about English that I just straight up cannot understand is why it's "toward" and not "towards" and "forward" instead of "forwards"

why. who made this the rule. also fuck the word salmon

[el-gilliath]

I Will Survive

Well damn, who would've thought something like this could happen at 4am (Norwegian time). So beware of any spelling errors, please and thank you.

As always, dedicated to my lovely @lsobelevans. I’m sorry it took me so damn long lol

BE AWARE of violence in this chapter. None graphic, but you do see aftermath

Ao3

He hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss. Of Cowboy’s lips on his. Of his hands on his skin. Of the gorgeous hazel of his eyes. Of the face he can’t remember.

He realized quickly that Influence is probably the reason he can’t remember, it seems like something that is within her abilities. A part of him is glad, he doesn’t want to remember Cowboy’s face until he knows his name, and he does remember the feel of his gorgeous curls between his fingers. It felt good to run his hands through them, it’ll feel good when he gets to do it again.

After getting Cowboy out of the hands of the Russians, the bond, the connection, between them felt more profound. Kissing him made it even more so. Alex can feel it, in a way, the connection underneath his skin.

He also knows how dangerous it is, how many people who would love to use him as bait for Cowboy, should their tentative thing be known. Everyone and their mother has warned him about it, including Liz (who is very publicly dating Detective Max Evans and not Electrobuzz), Maria (who knows all the shit that happens in the vigilante world), and Kyle (that did not go over well). Even Arturo has given him the worried face and soft spanish proverbs, even though he doesn’t need them. None of them understands that being Jesse Manes’ youngest child has put him in the spotlight and kept him there for years.

No matter how much Jesse hates his son, he wouldn’t stand for anyone giving him the dishonor of taking his son. It’s the one thing he can count on more than anything when it comes to his dad, he doesn’t like dishonor. If nothing else, Alex will appreciate that about his dad, no matter how much shit he gets for it. It also means that he knows Jesse will come for him, even if it’s only for the glory of having rescued his son and not because of Alex himself.

Which is why he’s not afraid when he finds himself being dragged into a car as he leaves the Post on a Wednesday afternoon, Rosa screaming “No!” as his eyes meet hers when they take a hold of his arms and kick his legs out from under him so he can’t really resist. He just lets himself be dragged into the van, giving Rosa as much of a reassuring look as he can. He doesn’t want her to be afraid for him, even if he knows she probably will be.

He’s fairly sure he knows exactly where they’re taking him anyway.

The kidnappers throw him into the back of the way, screaming at him in broken english to sit down and shut up. They scream that if he makes any trouble they’ll kill him. Alex knows that they won’t, but he still nods, curling together like he’s frightened, like he’s cowering. He’s not, fear isn’t something he feels lightly anymore but he has to protect his leg. If they take that then he’s gonna have one hell of a harder time with everything. Thankfully the men only scowl at him behind ski-masks as they drive off. He closes his eyes, counting seconds and minutes to try to find out where they’re going, listening out for the murmuring that’s happening in the van with him.

He knows he’s right when the driver starts talking louder in russian, when they slow down after about 20minutes. They’re in the Russian compound. And he’s probably gonna meet Mr. Serkoff again, after getting the diamonds off of his hands. The diamonds he decidedly did not give his father.

He’s about to be in a bigger heap of trouble than he’s been in a while.

He’s roughly pulled from the car a few minutes after they stop, pushed ahead so quickly he barely has time to put his feet under him. His leg pulls in the wrong side of comfortable and he bites the inside of his cheek not to cry out. Instead he straightens himself, stands tall and walks into the lion's den. He ignores the pushing, he ignores the yelling. He’ll face this on his own terms, not on theirs.

He’s taken to a back office in the Diamond Storage and roughly shoved into a chair in front of a huge oak desk, where Serkoff is sitting watching his men’s rough handling with a bored look on his face. Anyone not good at reading faces wouldn’t see the underlying anger, the fury.

Alex Manes grew up with Jesse Manes. He’s seen more anger than he ever wants too.

“Mr. Manes.”

“Mr. Serkoff,” Alex replies. He makes sure his voice is calm, collected. He needs to stay strong. “I don’t think taking me right outside the Post was the smartest idea you ever had.”

“Perhaps not. But I doubt you are surprised to find yourself back here again.” The anger turns obvious, a snarl on the russians face. “You took my diamonds, Mr. Manes. And you did not deliver them to your father. He was not… pleased. And as a result, I am not pleased.”

Alex just looks at him. He hitches a brow slightly as if to say ‘get on with it’. He might not be the good little cop boy his father wants him to be, but that doesn’t mean he’s not capable. And right now he needs to be a Manes.

“He told me he never sent you to get the diamonds. That he would never.” The chilling grin is the first sign. “He told me to do whatever I wanted to you. He would rather find your corpse, than to find you alive.”

It breaks his heart, just a little, to hear that. But he also knows it’s not true.

“If you hadn’t taken me very publicly that would be true. But you did. My father might hate me, Mr. Serkoff, but he won’t stand for slights on his honor.” Alex’s top lip curls upwards in a parody of a smile. “Taking his son like that? His disabled son which the public thinks he loves? You can’t imagine the outrage.”

Something flickers in the burly Russians eyes. Almost like compassion. Almost like understanding. It disappears fast behind the mask of indifference.

“Give me my diamonds.”

“I don’t have them.”

Serkoff visibly bites his tongue, hard, most likely to stop himself from speaking too early. Alex understands him better than he wants to at that moment.

“Exactly how much does my father have on you, Mr. Serkoff,” Alex asks. The snort in response wasn’t what he expected.

“Your father has nothing on me, Mr. Manes. I deal with him because I want to, not because I have to.” Well shit. “And if you do not have my diamonds, I have no need of you.”

The knowledge that he means exactly what he’s saying churns inside Alex’s stomach. He has nothing to stop this, unless he gives up the diamonds. The problem is that he’s not lying, he doesn’t have them. But he does know where they are.

He also knows that giving them up would be the end.

“What if I could make you a deal?” Alex asks. Giving up the diamonds would be the end, but he can give him something different, something that might be worth more.

“And what kind of a deal would that be?”

“In exchange for me walking out of here, I could give you information. Information my dad probably doesn't want you to have.”

“And how would that benefit me?”

“When I take him down, I’ll keep your name out of it.” Alex takes a deep breath. “And in the end you’ll have your diamonds back.”

Serkoff looks at him in a way Alex is intimately familiar with, having grown up in the Manes household, like he’s a bug he wants to squash. But there’s also interest, a curiosity that Alex can’t help but feel hopeful about. If he can convince this burly russian that he can give him valuable information he might have a chance. It also means that his rig at the Pony will be brushing off the dust in a way he promised he wouldn’t do any more.

“Your offer is interesting,” Serkoff replies. “But you stole my diamonds, Mr. Manes. For that I cannot just let you leave.”

It’s the last thing he remembers as he’s hit in the head with a gun.

———

Pain. Harsh spoken russian words. The glint of a knife. Pain.

------

He wakes up, doesn’t know how much later, alone in a room. He’s on a bed, prosthetic still on. His head is pounding, his stomach is on fire, his hands filled with tiny cuts. It hurts, but he knew this was a possibility. It’s not like he hasn’t suffered worse before.

“Mr. Manes.”

He jumps, his heart hammering in his chest. His spatial awareness comes rushing back, recognizing the fact that the door’s been opened and that Serkoff is now in the room with him. He’s thankfully standing by the door, making no moves to come closer. It makes Alex’s heart settle a litte.

“Mr. Serkoff. Done beating me up?”

“Yes,” the russian replies, simple as that. Maybe it is. “Now tell me about the information you can give me.”

Alex swallows. “Will you let me go if I do?”

“I will. I could not let you go without some retaliation. My own people would think me weak if I did, but now I can. If you give me the information. From what my sources tell me, the youngest Manes is a very good hacker.” Serkoff grimaces. “I was also told hacking was how you lost your leg.”

“Yeah. It was. Doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

“On the contrary Mr. Manes, for you to have lost your leg you must have been very good, for someone to want to hurt you that much.”

“My dad is the reason I lost my leg, Mr. Serkoff.” Alex sighs, worn and tired. “Maybe now you understand why I want to stop him.”

Serkoff doesn’t say anything, but Alex recognizes the look in his eyes. It’s the look of someone who does understand, it makes the look in his eyes earlier make all the more sense. He knows exactly what Alex is talking about, probably better than Alex thinks he does.

“And you will keep me and my men out of it.”

“I will. I can’t keep the russian mob out of it completely, but I’ll try.”

“And I will get my diamonds?” Serkoff asks, and Alex just nods. His body is starting to shut down, in pain and aching. Talking is starting to become too much. “Good. I will get you a scapegoat, someone who should be taken down with your father. Now rest, your friend will be here soon.”

Alex opens his mouth to ask who said friend is, but he doesn’t have the chance before Serkoff nods sternly and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Alex to his own thoughts. Alone, deep in the diamond storage with the russian mob. A friend coming soon.

He really hopes Cowboy or Influence didn’t get themselves involved.

Still he lays back down and rests. He probably doesn’t have to fight his way out but he still wants to get some strength back. Even if that strength is skin deep, allowing himself to rest so he can walk out on his own is enough. Serkoff and his men are not someone you want to appear weak in front of. Especially if he’s going to have somewhat of a working relationship with them.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he rests, lost in his own thoughts of where he needs to move his rig (he can’t keep it at the Pony just in case someone traces it back to him), how he’s going to keep Arturo from finding out (he already knows how mad Arturo would be, after how frightened he was the last time) and who’s coming to get him (he’s going to kill whoever it is for walking voluntarily into the compound).

Which is why he startles (spatial awareness, come on) when the door bangs open.

“Hermano, you better be alive on that bed so that I can kill you myself.”

He huffs a laugh, of course it’s Rosa. A spitfire latina would be the only one crazy enough to come get him in the middle of the russian mob and threaten murder.

“I’m fine, Rosa. Just resting,” he answers, smiling in amusement as her glowering only increases. He’s still thankful for the way she stalks over and throws herself down on him, hugging him tightly.

“I was so scared when they took you,” she whispers as he hugs her back, mindful of his aches. “I even called Maria and you know I prefer when she comes to me.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” he whispers back. Even though they both know that Rosa’s burgeoning interest in Maria means they’ve called upon each other half a dozen times (if not more) since the night at the Pony. Though he’s pretty sure Rosa actually prefers it when Maria does come to her. And when she doesn’t have to call her to find someone else.

“You better. I’m in Maria’s debt now, I don’t like being in anyone's debt.”

“I know. But you can get a date out of it?”

“Vato, don’t you even-

“Okay! Okay” Alex interrupts her with a laugh that turns into a cough. “Thanks for coming.”

“When the Russian mob calls and tells you to come to their secret base to pick up your best friend, who they just kidnapped you kinda go,” Rosa answers, grumbling into his chest. Alex just holds her tighter, squeezing her in his version of a thanks. Something he knows she understands, none of them are big on talking about their feelings in high strung environments. “Speaking of the Russian mob…”

“Yeah, no, I’m not telling you here. Later, okay?

“Si,” Rosa replies. “But you better tell me.”

“I will. But we need to get going.”

Rosa nods and gets up, pulling Alex with her. Standing is painful, but he can put pressure on the prosthetic without problems, meaning Serkoss left it well enough alone. It helps him move out of his own power. He's grateful for that much at least.

They walk out of the compound easily after that. All the Russian men are gone, vanished from their vicinity. Alex knows, he uses all the tricks in his books to look for them, as they move out to where Rosa’s car is parked. He looks back one more time before he gets in, and catches Serkoff watching them. He nods, a gesture of respect Alex didn’t expect. Still, he nods back and gets into the car.

“Where too?”

He looks over at Rosa. “The Pony. I have some business to take care of.”

He’s never felt more relaxed putting his back to the bad man than he does when they drive out of the parking lot and set course for the Pony.

The car ride is quiet, something Alex is grateful for. It gives him a chance to rest some more, leaning back into the comfy seat of Rosa’s car and closing his eyes. He breathes deeply and evenly as he listens to Rosa’s ever present grumblings about traffic.

He nods off, just a little, waking again as he hears Rosa call Maria and tell them they’re coming. Good, he doesn’t need the hassle of scared Super’s today.

Which proves to be his famous last thought as they walk into the Pony and Cowboy is there. Frantic with worry. Alex watches him with a surprised look as he walks back and forth over the Pony floor, rambling to himself with his mask on, but hat off, not listening to a word Maria says. Maria meets his gaze with an exasperated look on her face, tilting her head slightly to where Influence, Electrobuzz and Kyle are arguing loudly amongst themselves. He watches them with an artificial detachment he wills into being. He can’t afford to care. Especially now that he has a job to do.

“Cowboy.” He speaks the word clearly, a bit louder than he usually would. He needs his attention.

He’s not expecting to get the attention of everyone. Even Liz appears from the back room, cursing up a storm when she sees his bruised face. And Liz cursing starts the rest of them, besides Maria who just watches him and Kyle who walks over to Alex and silently asks permission to check him out. Alex looks at him and Kyle backs away, knowing that it’ll have to wait. Their friendship might not be all good, but their communication still works perfectly.

“Stop!” Maria yells. Miraculously it works. “This is my bar, and this is Alex’s safe space. Let him fucking breathe.”

“DeLuca-”

“No,” Maria interrupts, sending a vicious look Cowboy’s way. Alex can’t help that a tiny particle of him appreciates the way she makes him flinch. “Alex, please let Kyle take you in the back and make sure you’re okay. Please.”

Alex watches her, the way they listen to her speak even as they shoot him glances and he’s so proud. So proud of her and the woman she’s become since her mother died, since she took over the Pony and started protecting the people that might need it the most and the least at the same time. Maria DeLuca is a savior, though he really hopes that one day she will let someone Rosa save her right back. No one deserves it more than her.

He nods at her, shooting Kyle a look as well before he walks towards the backroom. He can feel Cowboy watching him as he moves but he’ll worry about that later. Right now he needs to focus on something else.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” Kyle asks as he closes the door. Alex just shoots him a look. “I mean worse than anywhere else.”

“No.”

“How about your stomach?”

“No.”

“Your leg?”

“No.”

“Damnit, Alex!” Kyle yells, startling both of them. “Just… Just please answer me properly.”

Alex runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply as he does. Time to treat Kyle like a doctor, and not an enemy. “My leg is fine, they didn’t touch it. Stomach is sore but seems fine. My head is killing me and my face is probably starting to get a real nice shiner. I’m fine, Kyle.”

“Only you would be kidnapped and beat up and say you’re fine,” Kyle mutters angrily and Alex can’t help but huff out a laugh. He has a point.

“You want me to apologize instead?”

“No. I just want you to stay safe.” Kyles gives him a look. “Within the range of safe at least.”

Alex rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer. Kyle knows him well enough to know that the Manes range of safety isn’t the same as everyone else's. Kyle snorts in derision at the eye roll but doesn’t say anything else either, preferring to finish looking Alex over in silence. Alex finds himself grateful for the familiarity and that they don’t need to talk. He might not have completely forgiven Kyle yet, but Kyle knowing what he needs and when to shut up helps. Maybe more than he thought it would, since it was Kyle opening his mouth that destroyed them the first time.

“Thank, Kyle,” he says, as Kyle moves back with a satisfied nod some minutes later.

“Any time,” Kyle replies as he packs away the nicely stocked first aid kit Maria has in the back room. “Want me to send in Cowboy?”

“No. I need to talk to Maria first.”

Kyle gives him a look of slight surprise, but nods before he goes through the door to the front of the pub. Alex waits until Maria joins him a minute later.

“You okay?” She asks, walking over to him and gently cupping his face in her hands. Her eyes are alight with worry, her frame tense in a way she usually isn’t.

“I’m fine, Maria. That was a necessary meeting.”

“Meeting? Alex, they kidnapped you!”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But now I have an ally against my father.”

“Is that what this is about, your dad?” Maria asks.

“No. It’s about keeping them safe,” he answers, nodding towards the front of the bar. “Kyle, Liz, Rosa. Cowboy, your siblings. You.”

Maria huffs. “My secret siblings out there can take care of themselves, as can Cowboy, the rest of them and me. I’ve been the unofficial Super bar for years Alex, the police can’t take me down for shit.”

“They can if my rig is here. Especially if it’s in use.”

He sees it happen the second it dawns on her, the second she understands just why he’s calling it a meeting.

“You can’t do that. The last time you hacked you lost your leg,” she says with frightening calm. “If you do and your father finds out again you’ll lose your life!”

“I will. But this time I have the Russian mob at my back.”

She just stares at him, eyes wide and wild with indignation and a fair bit of the classical ‘are you crazy’ look. But there’s no question, she knows that he’s serious. She also knows she can’t talk him out of it, like she couldn’t the last time.

“You better be careful,” she says through clenched teeth when she finally does speak, marching over and laying a hard kiss on his forehead before she walks out without a word. Probably best, so neither of them starts to cry. Matia saw him at his worst after he lost his leg, he knows she has a right to be scared but he’ll be more careful this time. He has to be.

“Alex?” Cowboy asks as he walks through the door. He looks worried, scared even. “Can I come on?”

“Yeah, come in,” Alex replies. Cowboy comes in slowly. His hat and mask is on, but Alex doesn’t mind. He never minds, especially now that he has to do what he does.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replies. “The Russians are pretty pissed, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

“Is this because-“

“No. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Cowboy clearly doesn’t believe him, if the way he purses his lips is any indication. “Sure, I get stuck in their compound, you go in and use your name, and not two weeks later you get kidnapped and beaten up!”

“That was because-“

“And now you want to work with them? And hack for them when you lost your leg because of it the first time? How can you be so st-“

“Hey!” Alex interrupts. “You do not get to call me stupid, Cowboy. I got into trouble because of my dad, not because of you. It's my choice, not yours.”

He watches Cowboy bite his tongue, clenching his fists tightly in obvious annoyance. But he doesn’t say anything, breathing deeply for a few minutes before he relaxes his fists, his jaw following. Alex understands how he feels, he does, but Cowboy isn’t his keeper of any kind. He makes his own decisions.

“You don’t get to decide when you run around New York as a vigilante, protecting people left and right with no regards to yourself. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He doesn’t expect Cowboy to kiss him. He just walks over, takes Alex’s face in his hands and kisses him. It’s sloppy, this side of too hard and feral, just a little bit painful to Alex’s bruised face. It’s perfect.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You’re hurt,” Cowboy says, pulling away.

Alex shakes his head, keeping him in place. “It’s perfect, please don't stop.”

Cowboy seems sceptical, but Alex doesn’t care. He pulls him back in, though he softens the kiss so it won’t hurt. Instead of hard it’s soft, instead of hurried it’s languid, instead of feral it’s tender. Painful turns way to heat, lazily curling up his spine and settling everywhere from his neck to his stomach. He sighs softly into the kiss, pulling Cowboy infinitely closer.

“Alex. As much as I love having your lips on mine, you’re hurt,” Cowboy says as he pulls back again. “And we both know Maria will kill us if we do anything in this backroom.”

Alex groans. “You pick now to be sensible?”

“I pick now to be scared of your best friend. I’m just… breaking. Not saying no.”

Alex sighs, nodding because he knows Cowboy is right. He also does have to remember that he doesn’t actually know who Cowboy is, yet.

“I need help, moving my rig back home. Will you help me?”

Cowboy gives him a long, hard look. It feels soul searching in many ways, but Alex endures it. For him. He’s admittedly surprised when Cowboy nods, but grateful.

———

He find another piece of paper hidden under his keyboard the next day, with the letter A.

[somedayonbroadway]

Sad Anon

Guys, Tumblr ate one of my asks. I am so upset. But, luckily, I did have a response saved before that happened.

Sad anon, this is for you.

Anon, you are never annoying, nor are you ever asking too much by wanting some Race angst, as it is my absolute favorite thing to write!

Brace yourselves. There’s angst ahead.

So, this story actually begins with Jack, like most do. Because apparently I can’t write Race without writing Jack.

Jack is seventeen at the beginning of this story. He’s had a rough life. Orphaned at four, bounced around from home to home until he lands in a boys home when he’s seven years old.

This is no ordinary boys home.

He learns fast that his new foster father, Mr. Snyder, has intentions of creating some kind of army.

And Snyder likes Jack. A little too much.

Ten years later, Jack is a trained assassin. He is extremely dangerous and has many aliases that he uses around the country. He’s Mr. Snyder’s favorite. He is trained in three different forms of martial arts, knows his way around any weapon, computer and any car, he knows seven languages. English (obviously), Spanish, French, German, Italian, Russian, and sign language.

Jack is Snyder’s best man.

It wasn’t easy for Jack to get there.

He was constantly beat and whipped and locked away in order to ensure he would work as hard as he possibly could.

Jack grew up killing people who betrayed Snyder and threatened to turn evidence over to the FBI or local cops. Snyder is known as The Spider to most people being that he has a web of crime operations around the country. Jack was apart of all of them.

And he hated it.

He tried to tell Snyder several times that he wouldn’t do it anymore.

Snyder just took him and told him he had no one else to take care of him.

Throughout all of this, Jack managed to get close to some of Snyder’s other boys. Spot Conlon most of all.

One day, Jack is sent on a mission. It’s a blackout operation. The whole family goes.

Jack doesn’t think much of it. He’d had to take out several married couples before. He was always told they were the enemy and if he didn’t follow orders Snyder would have him tortured and killed instead.

It was him or them.

Jack goes on the mission with another one of Snyder’s boys. They kill the couple no problem.

But Snyder said there were three of them.

It isn’t until Jack hears the wails that he truly stumbles.

It’s a baby. Maybe not even a year old.

The guy he’s with, Carter, goes to just do it. But Jack shakes his head, simply looking at the child. He can’t do it. And he can’t let Carter do it either.

A shot goes off. Carter falls to the ground.

And Jack takes the baby.

He runs.

He has no idea what to do. He can’t leave the baby, chances are Snyder is still after it. He can’t let Snyder kill a child. And if Snyder does decide to let the child live and Jack does call CPS, he’ll end up the same way Jack did.

So Jack does what he can.

He lays low, erases any trace he can. He takes the kid and finds a place in Manhattan. The only person he manages to contact is Spot. Spot tells him he’s making a mistake and then meets the baby who he actually ends up liking. He tells Jack he’ll help him anyway he can.

They give the baby a name. Tyler. Tyler James Kelly.

And Jack raises him like he’s his own.

As the child grows up, he believes he lives a normal life. At least, for the most part. He believes Jack is his brother. Jack homeschools him, takes him on walks, plays with him, makes him laugh.

It took Jack years to figure out how to handle a kid, being that he was hardly a kid himself.

He teaches the boy a lot of things in a much more nurturing way than Snyder taught him. He trains him in martial arts, foreign languages, computers, cars.

When the kid gets to be around eight, Jack begins to call him Racer because of how much he loves to run around the apartment and around the park.

Race picks things up very quickly. Italian and Spanish are his favorite languages to speak, ASL is a close third. But he learns the others for the most part. Russian is the only one he struggles with.

He is very good with all the martial arts training and is decent with computers. But he’s not nearly as interested in cars as Jack is. Jack loves cars. All kinds. He was always excited to test drive old, vintage cars. He loves to draw them too.

And he loves to draw people.

Race catches him one day drawing him. And he watches the whole time.

Race loves to watch Jack draw. It always calms him down. Jack loves to draw because it’s one thing about him that he didn’t learn from Snyder.

Jack’s favorite thing to do, however, is to spoil Race as much as he can. Race loves chocolate and card games and gambling. Jack let’s Race gamble with none valuable things, like candy and trinkets. They often play poker to settle meaningless arguments.

This is a long winded way of saying that for the next fifteen years, everything was pretty normal. There were only a few instances throughout Race’s life when he questions their family situation, like asking Jack why he didn’t have a mother when another boy he’d met at the park one day had. Or asking Jack why Jack was the one taking care of him. Or asking Jack if Jack was his dad because he took care of him like he was one.

Jack always managed to answer him vaguely.

But when Race is about fifteen, something happens. He’s walking home from grabbing a few groceries. When he gets inside, Jack isn’t there. Another man is. A man he’s never seen before.

A man who introduces himself as a Mr. Snyder.

Jack walks in not too long after that, coming home from work (he works as a mechanic for a garage and he’s IT at some company that I haven’t come up with yet).

Jack immediately grabs Race and gets the kid behind him. And Snyder just smirks and asks Jack if this is the boy he left everything behind for. Anthony Higgins.

Race asks what the hell hes talking about and Snyder asks if Jack ever told him anything about who he used to be. That’s when he starts to tell Race about how he trained Jack from a child. How many people Jack had killed or that Snyder knows he’s killed.

And then he asks Race why he’d never wondered why he was an orphan.

And that’s when it clicks in Race’s mind.

The kid runs.

Jack tries to stop him but isn’t fast enough. Instead, he grabs a gun and stops Snyder from going after him, which is much more important at the moment.

Eventually, Jack manages to stall Snyder and then run to try and find Race.

Race is running with tears streaming down his face. He can hardly breathe. He nearly gets hit by two cars as he’s running across the street and he stops in an alley to just break down and try to think.

It all makes sense now. Why Jack is the way he is.

He tries to call the police. Someone answers. But he hangs up. Because he doesn’t know what to say.

He stands up to start running again, but is met with a gun and an order to stay still.

Shots are fired and Race screams. The man pointing the gun at him falls to the ground and Race turns around to see Jack standing there with a gun. He goes to run. But Snyder rushes around the corner and fires at Race.

A bullet grazes the boy’s head. And he has no choice but to run back to Jack. Jack fires at Snyder and Snyder’s boys who reveal themselves.

Jack practically stage Race into a small hiding spot and covers the kid’s mouth as he begins to pass out. The last thing he hears before he falls unconscious is Jack quietly telling him to stay awake.

When he wakes up, he can feel a cool cloth against his head. He hears someone shushing him. He tries to move and realizes his hands and tied behind him, around some kind of pole. It’s a support beam. The kid opens his eyes to find Jack in front of him, cleaning blood off of his face and telling him to stay calm.

But Race immediately starts struggling. He tries to start screaming but Jack cuffs a hand over his lips and tells him that he’s doing all of this to protect him. Race tries to bite him, but Jack is too fast for that. He tells Race that he needs to stay calm. That he’s got a head injury and if he tries to move around too much he’ll get dizzy.

Race just starts crying and finally just asks Jack to tell him the truth. And so Jack does.

He tells Race that it was them or him.

Race hisses out that he murdered innocent people and Jack has to explain to race that his parents worked for Snyder willingly and were only killed because they were found out by the authorities and were going to give Snyder up to get a deal.

But he says he’s still sorry. He says that if he could change everything, he would. But he can’t.

He says that Race was the best thing that ever happened to him and that the love he had for him was the most real thing he���d ever experienced.

Then he goes over to a set up of computers and tells Race he’s trying to track Snyder to see what the next move is.

When Race asks where they are, Jack says somewhere safe. For now. And Race trusts that. He tries to guilt Jack into letting him out of the ropes, so that he can help. But Jack says he knows him better than that and Race stops asking.

He’s still angry. He can’t help but be angry. But seeing Jack a bit scared triggers something in him. He wants to help. He wants Jack to be okay.

They wait for a long time. And Jack eventually unties Race. They play poker. Race still tries to hate Jack. But it’s very difficult to hate the man who had raised him so lovingly his whole life.

Jack knows Snyder’s coming for them. But he won’t tell Race.

Only a few hours later, an alarm on his computer goes off. And Jack gets up to stop it. Race asks him what’s happening and Jack grabs his phone and gives it to Race, helping him up and leading him over to a closet. It’s only then that Race sees the tears in his brother’s eyes.

Jack dials a number and tells Race that the person on the other end is gonna ask for a name. He tells Race to say Kelly and then code pink.

Race tries to ask what’s happening but before he can, Jack pulls him into a bone crushing hug and kisses his head, telling him he loves him before locking him in the closet.

Race hears gunshots. He hears doors slamming and people screaming. He tries to bang on the door to beg to be let out, but someone answers the phone. Race whimpers out what Jack told him to and the person tells him to stay quiet and crouch down as low as he can and stay on the line with them.

Race listens to the fight going on outside until everything goes quiet. Then he just starts sobbing.

It isn’t for another hour or so that someone unlocks the door. Race is practically hyperventilating. He’s about to pass out. His head is spinning. Everything happened too fast.

He never even got to tell Jack that he loved him too.

When he gets out of the closet, he sees the mess that’s been made. The computers are shattered, there’s blood and holes in the walls.

And Jack isn’t there.

The kid let’s this stranger led him into a car and take him to a hospital. The man introduces himself as Spot. Spot Conlon.

Race doesn’t say a word the entire way.

In fact, he doesn’t speak for a long while after that.

The doctors check him out and give him stitches for the head wound, telling Race he did a good job in bandaging it up like he did. And all Race can think about is Jack.

Someone comes in. A social worker. They try to ask him questions. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares aimlessly out the window with tears streaming down his face.

They tell him they’ve found a placement for him. With a Miss Medda Larkin.

They still don’t know his name. There’s no record of him in the system. To them, he came out of nowhere. But Medda doesn’t mind.

She gives him a room and new clothes and food every night.

It’s not like it was with Jack. It’s clear that it’s not normal. Medda is kind and sweet and Race likes her. But she doesn’t play poker with him to bet on who’ll be making dinner that night. She doesn’t spare with him at night to tire him out for bed. They don’t go for full days speaking in other languages. Race doesn’t feel comfortable laying across her lap while she’s watching tv.

Race cries the first few nights he’s there. And Medda can hear him. She just doesnt know what to do.

She tries to coax the story out of him. Eventually he gives in a little and writes something down on a piece of paper.

Tyler James. Racer.

She’s ecstatic at this. She tries to get more out of him, but he refuses, mostly keeping to himself.

Race falls into a sort of depression. Medda enrolls him in a public school and that terrified Race.

The morning of his first day, he wakes up to find a bar of dark chocolate and a deck of cards on his night stand.

Race looks around for any sign of entry. He can’t find it.

He takes the chocolate and the cards and goes to his first day with a bit more peace of mind. He still doesn’t speak. But on his first day, he meets a boy. Deaf and mute with a mangled leg. Product of a sickness when he was just a baby.

Race signs with him. And he makes a friend.

Crutchie.

He tells Crutchie a little about himself. And Crutchie promises to keep all of his secrets.

Medda tries to talk to him more, even signs him up for therapy. But it still gets her nowhere. Though she can tell while the weeks pass by that Tyler is a beginning to get a bit more comfortable.

She just doesn’t know about the small gifts that he finds on his night stand every few days.

Chocolate. Drawings. Candy cigarettes.

One of Jack’s old sweatshirts.

It’s that one that Medda notices a bit. A sweatshirt she didn’t buy Race that he wears almost everyday.

Race tries to catch Jack sometimes. But he never manages it. He always falls asleep. So he tries to spot Jack on the street, knowing he must be around somewhere.

He manages that only once. And it’s only for a brief moment.

One more gift is left on his nightstand. With a letter. One that tells Race how much Jack loves him and how it’s okay it Race is mad or if Race hates him because he spent so much of his life hating himself. But the note tells Race that no matter what, there’s always someone out there for him, someone who’s on his side even if they can’t truly be together.

Race carries that letter with him everywhere.

After that, Race doesn’t receive another gift. A few of his things actually go missing. And he gets nothing in return. Not for weeks. And he starts to get a little worried.

He tries to spot Jack around, but there’s some kind of feeling in him that tells him Jack isn’t there.

About a month and a half goes by. The only person Race communicates with is Crutchie. His best friend. No one else even knows if he’s capable of real communication. Crutchie knows a lot about him. That he knows six languages and struggles with Russian. That he loves to gamble. That he has a brother he can’t see. Crutchie can read his moods really well.

Anyways, a month and a half later, Race is freaking out. He can’t decide if something bad happened or if Jack decided it was time to leave him behind.

One night, after Race goes to bed, Medda is downstairs alone. She hears something from the hallway and grabs a knife from the kitchen, believing that there was an intruder.

She was right.

When she hears that the person is close, she goes to attack, only for Race to jump in her way and block the knife. She freezes.

By now, it’s been almost a year since Race has been with Medda. He hasn’t spoken the whole time.

But in that moment, he finds his voice again.

The first thing he says in almost a year is. “I-It’s Jack! It’s j’st Jack!”

He doesn’t have to look to know that. He knows it’s Jack. He just knows. He turns around to see Jack and Jack is just staring at him like he’ll disappear. So Race asks what Jack was doing there and Jack would just rush forward and hug him and start crying uncontrollably. Eventually it would slip out.

Jack would say he thought Race was dead. And Race wouldn’t know what happened in any kind of way.

Jack would pass out in his arms. And Race would panic.

He’d start speaking in tongues because he was so panicked. Medda would recognize the language he was using most as Italian.

She’s try to calm him down by saying she’d call an ambulance. But Race grabs the phone from her hands and turns on a light, eventually able to explain in English that Jack was a criminal and Race couldn’t turn him in and risk never seeing him again.

That would just make Medda more nervous. She’d try to get Race away from Jack, but Race would shove her away and try to clean Jack up. He’d finally scream out that Jack was his brother and that he’d be dead without him.

Medda doesn’t know what else she can do but help Race find the issues.

They find Jack’s back has several fresh lushes on it. From both belts and whips. They find that Jack has several cracked and bruised ribs but most of the damage is on the outside. Medda tells Race that Jack will be okay and sets up the guest bed for him.

Race doesn’t leave his side the entire time. He helps carry Jack to the bed and he cleans the blood off of his back, causing Jack to hiss and wake up when he feels the sting.

He sees Race and starts crying again, reaching out for Race’s hand. Race takes it and cries right along with him and asks him what happened in German (because he can and he still doesn’t trust Medda completely). Jack responds in a mix of Italian and Spanish because he’s too shaken and hurt to think straight.

He tells Race that Snyder found him somehow. And this time Jack couldn’t trick them or overpower them. Snyder knocked him out and he woke up somewhere underground. He’d try to leave out as much detail as he could, not wanting Race to see him as weak or pathetic. But Race tries to pry and ask. He wants to know everything.

Eventually, Jack reveals that he was kept down there, chained down in a small room with one light in the center of the room. He got a piece of fruit or stale bread every couple days. Snyder came in everyday to torture him, telling him it was a punishment fifteen years overdue.

After about three and half weeks, Snyder came into the room with a hat that Jack has bought for Race years ago. A baseball cap that Race loved to wear backwards on his head.

There was a hole in it and blood splattered all over it.

Snyder told Jack that his last mission was now complete, leading Jack to believe that Race was dead.

Jack tells Race what that felt like, finally switching to English. He can still feel that feeling. The pure anguish he felt. He tells Race that he screamed. That he hadn’t stopped crying for days. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t taken the food they’d brought him.

He could hardly move.

He’d tell Race that he had held that cap in his hands for a week before he truly looked at it. And he’d tell Race that he managed to escaped to see if he could still go to a funeral of some kind, just to say goodbye. To see him one more time.

And then he found him alive and well in his home.

He’d take Race hand and kiss his fingers and tell Race all he wanted to do was hug him. And Race would cry for his brother who had just been through so much.

Medda would still be trying to get Race to leave the room. She’d heard all of it.

Race wouldn’t leave. He would just grasp Jack’s hand tighter and stand his ground. So Medda would let him stay. And she’d ask what crimes Jack had committed that warranted Race calling him a criminal.

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t know how. Eventually he tells Medda his story, explaining he would tell her everything because of what she’d done for his kid.

And by the end of Jack’s story, Medda can’t help but feel sorry for him.

Race can’t help but let the tears fall at the whole story just the same, as it’s the first time he’s ever heard it.

Medda promises to keep him safe.

But she is still hesitant about Race sticking himself to Jack’s side and tells him to give the man some space.

Jack is laid up at Medda’s for about a week before he begins to get up and walk around. He helps Medda in anyway he can, around the house mostly. He cooks for her and Race. She’s very hesitant to truly trust him, but seeing the way Race puts all his faith the man is touching to her.

She learns more about Race from Jack in two days than Race let her in on in ten months.

Jack tried to leave again after he’s fully healed. Race catches him at two in the morning, trying to sneak out his own window. So Race gets up while Jack sits on the sill. And he asks Jack if that’s how he left all the gifts. Jack explains that he had to take apart the entire window and put it all back again.

Race goes and hugs Jack as tight as he can, begging Jack not to leave him.

Jack holds him tightly and tells Race that he loves him and tries to tell him he’d be better off without him.

And then he slips out the window and climbs down into the yard. That’s when he hears Medda on the porch. He laughs about how he must be losing his touch.

She just smiles at him and walks down to give him a hug. And before Jack leaves, she gives him a key. A key to the house. She tells him to come and visit anytime he can. Because his brother needs him in his life.

Jack takes it and disappears.

But not for too long.

Jack visits Race three times a week in anyways he can. He moves into an apartment building three blocks away and tries to lead a normal life.

He does the best he can. But Snyder’s still out there somewhere.

Just waiting to strike.

And that’s the end of this outline. I know that’s an ominous ending, but I like it.

What do you all think? Questions? Concerns?

I hope this helped, Sad Anon! I’ve been feeling a bit down lately too and this definitely help me. Much love!

And, in case no one has told you today, you matter to me!

Have a great day! (Or night)

[fictionborn]

VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck! TAGGED BY: @bountyman (thank u i love oversharing) TAGGING: @atrabilicus (for florence?), @lipstickandknives, @fastiell, @scarestress

BASICS.

FULL NAME: nicky wilde. NICKNAME/S: technically “nicky” started as a nickname. AGE: 24. BIRTHDAY: october 3rd. ETHNIC GROUP: white. NATIONALITY: american, but started off as belarusian and polish. LANGUAGE/S: english, russian, polish, ASL, bits and pieces of spanish (but their accent is awful). SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: depends on the verse; either single or dating florence morgan. CLASS: lower class. HOMETOWN / AREA: nicky grew up in several different cities in several different countries before their family eventually settled in san jose. CURRENT HOME: nicky is homeless, so they mostly travel from place to place. PROFESSION: unemployed. makes money by busking.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR:  sandy brown when they were a child, but grew darker as they got older. now it’s dark brown/black. they also used to have their hair cut short, but now it’s just past their shoulders, with straight-across bangs. EYES: very pale blue-grey. NOSE: button nose. small and cute. FACE: a round face that makes them look younger than they are. full cheeks. LIPS: full pink lips with a less-defined cupid’s bow. they usually wear lipstick of some sort. COMPLEXION: pale as heck. they don’t really tan or even freckle, they just burn. BLEMISHES: occasional pimples since they don’t bathe as often as they should due to homelessness. some splotchy spots here and there, especially in summer. i’m sure they’ve got a few acne scars as well. SCARS: outside of small nicks, they only have one noticeable scar; a bullet scar on their stomach, which looks like a straight line up from their belly button. they were shot in the chest and it traveled down to their abdomen. it’s highly noticeable when they're shirtless or wearing a translucent fabric. TATTOOS: none. HEIGHT: 5′6″. WEIGHT: less than average definitely. BUILD: skinny, lanky, somehow both bony and noodle-y. ALLERGIES: none. USUAL HAIRSTYLE: shortest is a bob cut just at the jawline, longest has been just past their shoulder blades. straight and dark. USUAL EXPRESSION: neutral. nicky has learned to smile more, but their usual face is definitely a neutral one, even when they’re enjoying themself. USUAL CLOTHING: nicky’s fashion sense ranges from goth to oddball, but their usual outfits look something like this. they lean more toward emo/goth most of the time, with fishnets or leggings, short shorts or tight pants (to show off their legs). they used to be more fond of crop tops but that isn’t so much the case anymore. they also usually wear padded bras to give the illusion of having breasts, and almost always tuck.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: physical pain, being ignored or forgotten about, death, losing their sister. ASPIRATION/S: to be famous, and wealthy enough to be able to give money to the people they love who need it. mostly the fame though. they feel like they were meant to be famous. POSITIVE TRAITS: easy-going, spontaneous, fun, humorous, considerate, kind, musically gifted, quick learner. NEGATIVE TRAITS: selfish in many respects, impulsive, lazy, unmotivated, detached, moocher. MBTI: ENFP according to the test. ZODIAC: libra. TEMPERAMENT: sanguine with phlegmatic leanings. SOUL TYPE/S: tie between “creator” and “performer.” ANIMAL: quiz says ‘mouse’ but that’s inaccurate as hell to me. i always compare nicky to a raccoon. VICE/S: drugs (weed, xanax), alcohol, sex FAITH: probably on the agnostic side of atheism. they’re pretty sure there’s nothing but they’re not 100% certain on that. GHOSTS? yes. AFTERLIFE? only by way of ghosts. they don’t believe in heaven. REINCARNATION? no. ALIENS? probably. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: nicky is fairly liberal but never votes or anything, so they don’t have much of a voice. plus they’re a queer transgender homeless person so they wouldn’t much be listened to anyway. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: they’d love to be filthy rich lmao. they wanna be rock star barbie. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: they’re simultaneously liberal as heck but also a slave to consumerist culture. EDUCATION LEVEL: they graduated high school with average grades and attended two years of community college before dropping out. while nicky is smart, they don’t apply it to anything that would be considered meaningful in modern america.

FAMILY.

FATHER: cyril borysko. (estranged.) MOTHER: inga borysko. (estranged.) SIBLING/S: zaria borysko (older sister). EXTENDED FAMILY: none that they know of. they probably have half-siblings out there somewhere. NAME MEANING/S: their dead name, “nikolai,” is a variant of the name nicholas, which means victory of the people. HISTORICAL CONNECTION: none. mom just liked the name.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde. (guess where they got their chosen surname from.) 5 SONGS:  they don’t really have favorite songs, but some favorite artists are joan jett, the pixies, the cure, siouxsie & the banshees, and nirvana. DEITY: aphrodite. MONTH: june. SEASON: summer. PLACE: parks. WEATHER: sunny, warm. SOUND/S: guitar strings, birds chirping, cat meows, kids playing. SCENT/S: fresh bakery bread early in the morning, petrichor, coffee. TASTE/S: keebler sandwich crackers, oreos, trail mix, peanuts, coke, margaritas, toothpaste. FEEL/S: a real shower, freshly brushed teeth, brushing/braiding hair, swimming. ANIMAL/S: cats, dogs, birds. NUMBER: n/a COLOR: black, purple.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: guitar, singing, languages, pick-pocketing, sleight of hand. BAD AT: math, confrontation, socializing like a normal person, drawing, common sense, talking about feelings in a serious manner. TURN-ONS: moaning, pet names, whispering, compliments, praise, toned muscles, confidence, tall men, small women TURN-OFFS: degradation, humiliation, pain of any kind HOBBIES: writing/performing music, learning bizarre random facts TROPES: Book Dumb; Perishing Alt Rock Voice; Attention Wh*re; Chaotic Stupid; Functional Addict; The Unfavorite; The Drifter; Hidden Depths AESTHETIC TAGS: idk what this means

FC INFO.

MAIN FC/S: ksenia solo. ALT FC/S: my animated fc is currently riruka dokugamine from bleach. OLDER FC/S: n/a. YOUNGER FC/S: joel courtney in super 8 (child); kathryn prescott in finding carter (teen) VOICE CLAIM/S: chloe arden (speaking); brian molko (singing). GENDERBENT FC/S: nicky is nonbinary :/