#that probably helps create a false sense of safety. like oh how dangerous can these guys be if their captain is a silly little gungan.

[maulfucker]

I am kindly requesting information about your gungan oc

oh I do not have them designed yet but they're part of a concept I've been thinking about for a while now, of like. a pirate crew of guys who don't need to breathe air normally. like amphibious species like gungan and quarren (and perhaps a new nautolan), two or three tognath, which don't breathe oxygen so they're always wearing breathing masks, a few sentient droids, and maybe a givin, which does breathe normally but can survive for hours in vacuum. since everyone either is used to having individual breathing tanks or doesn't need to breathe, they can turn off the ship's atmosphere and pretend to be a dead vessel, attracting unsuspecting scavengers and attacking them when they try to get inside.

but the gungan specifically, I think I want to make them a competent type instead of a silly clumsy type like Jar Jar (no hate to Jar Jar I love Jar Jar), but who still favors gungan weapons over blasters and the usual stuff you'd expect from a pirate. nobody expects to get hit by a ball of blue goo that shorts out your circuits.

maybe I'll even add a second, sillier gungan, like a more zen type who is super attuned to the force (but has no problem pulling a blaster on anyone who looks at them weird)

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Oh man I was scrambling trough tumblr tag and I saw this LB quote about Aleksander: "The Darkling is beautiful, I wanted to create a leader who was charismatic, appealing, a dictator you could imagine yourself following, an antagonist you couldn't just dismiss. [...] The Darkling is beautiful and broken and had a rough childhood, but he's also a brutal, manipulative monster with no regard for human life. He's dangerous because he's seductive, because he evokes sympathy.

…I just don’t even know when to start with this? Can she come off as anymore ignorant and offensive by trying to sound so woke. I mean “beautiful and broken”?! Are you kidding me?!

(Book Spoilers. Trigger Warning: Trauma and Mental Health)

Hmm well I'm not sure you could really sum it up as a 'rough childhood' more like a rough life filled with alot of trauma that has left him isolated and struggling to form human connections. Also I'm not sure I like the term monster for someone who is made the way they are through trauma and also the line about him having no regard for human life is just false he has lines he wont cross which is why he didn't harm the grisha children in book 3 and he was never going to because he values their lives. To be honest though I had some issues with the way LB dealt with trauma and mental health in the books. Not just with Aleks either but with Sergei too, actually I found the way she treated Sergei and his mental health in the last book rather appalling. Sergei is established as being severely traumatised by losing Marie to the point where he struggles to function properly. I think out of all the characters in the trilogy he's depicted as having the worst trauma, all the other characters have bad dreams and what not but Sergei really does find it debilitating and he struggles with day to day tasks like eating, sleeping and even just walking/travelling takes its toll on him. But Alina's attitude towards Sergei at times was troubling. To be clear though I'm not blaming the character for this as it was just the way she was written but she seems to consider Sergei weak and his mental health a hindrance. Here are some extracts from R&R the first is right after Sergei accidently revealed Genya's real name to Nikolai:

I shot to my feet. “What happened?”

“Sergei let her real name slip. He seems to be taking to heights about as well as he took to caves.” I released a growl of frustration. Genya had played a key role in the Darkling’s plot to depose the King. I’d tried to be patient with Sergei, but now he’d put her in danger and jeopardised our position with Nikolai.

Sergei was nowhere to be found. Probably a good thing, since I didn’t have time to give him the pummelling he deserved.

And like I understand that this must have been a frustrating situation but Alina knows that Sergei is struggling with his trauma and that he didn't mean to cause anyone any harm. I can understand her frustration but I really don't like the line about the 'pummelling he deserves'. I just don't like the suggestion that a person who is clearly suffering from a mental health issue deserves to be punished for making a mistake because of his trauma. Here's another instance where Alina is annoyed at Sergei:

Sergei had slowed us during our fight with the militia. He was unstable. I could apologise, offer useless words, but I didn’t know how to help him, and it didn’t change the fact that we were at war. Sergei had become a liability.

Again I get the frustration but again I have issues with the suggestion that because they are at war Sergei should just pull it together. Or even this image that's being painted that people who have mental health issues are just a burden on those around them. People in real life who suffer with similar mental health issues like depression and anxiety often worry about feeling like a burden to their loved ones so this could be really triggering for them. Then there is this from Baghra:

“We came to find you. What’s the matter with that boy?”

“He’s had a hard time of it,” I said, leading them away from the tank room.

“Who hasn’t?”

“He saw the girl he loved gutted by your son and held her while she died.”

“Suffering is cheap as clay and twice as common. What matters is what each man makes of it."

This one really troubled me because its like LB is saying that you can control your own trauma or decide how the trauma is going to effect you. It's again this suggestion that Sergei is weak because he struggled with his trauma more than others did. But the part that actually kind of disgusted me when I read it and I actually had to stop reading the book for a bit because of how much it upset me is how the characters talk about Sergei after his death. Alina had sent Sergei away because she felt he had become a liability and he then went back to the darkling and told them all the information he had on Alina and co. This move was obviously one born of his trauma and was made out of desperation. On several occasions Sergei has said he is struggling with feeling safe and no matter how hard he tries he never feels safe. Alina even tells us that Sergei had gone back to the darkling looking for reassurance and safety which really makes sense, this man grew up at the LP the one place where grisha could be safe, he grew up under the protection of the darkling. Then he chose to stand with Alina and went through the trauma and grief of losing the woman he loved horrifically in an attack against the LP which was his original safe place. He then never feels safe again so it would make sense for him to go back to what previously had made him feel safe, the LP and the Darkling. But this is what the other characters say about Sergei after he is killed by the darkling:

I sat beside him, unsure what to say. I remembered sitting like this with Sergei in the tank room, searching for words of comfort and failing. Had he been scheming then, manipulating me? His fear had certainly seemed real.

Abruptly, Zoya said, “I should have known Sergei couldn’t be trusted. He was always a weakling.”

Though that seemed unfair, I let it pass.

“Oncat never liked him,” Harshaw added.

Genya fed a branch to the fire. “Do you think he was planning it all along?”

“I’ve been wondering that,” I admitted. “I thought he’d be better once we got out of the White Cathedral and the tunnels, but he almost seemed worse, more anxious.”

Abruptly, Adrik snarled, “I’m glad Sergei’s dead. I’m just sorry I didn’t get to wring his neck myself.”

Steel is earned. Adrik had that steel, and so did Nadia. She’d proven it again in our flight from the Elbjen. A part of me had wondered what Tamar saw in her. But Nadia had been in some of the worst fighting at the Little Palace. She’d lost her best friend and the life she’d always known. Yet she hadn’t fallen apart like Sergei or chosen life underground like Maxim. Through all of it, she’d stayed steady.

And yes again I understand why they feel betrayed but they knew that Sergei was struggling and instead of understanding that Alina is accusing him of manipulating her and Zoya is saying he couldn't be trusted and that he was a weakling. To be honest it kind of reminds me of the way people talk about the darkling. Instead of recognising their trauma and trying to understand they jump straight to well they were a bad, untrustworthy person who was manipulating me.

Then there is the last part where Alina is thinking about how Adrik and Nadia are strong because although they faced trauma they were able to keep going and keep fighting but not Sergei, Sergei was crippled by his grief and his trauma and this means he was weak. Maybe its because I have struggled with crippling mental health issues myself where I couldn't even get out of bed let alone do anything else but I just found this implication that Sergei was weak really offensive to those who do struggle that way. People deal with trauma in different ways and whilst some people can fight through it and will just have a keep calm and carry on attitude others can't, others just fall apart, but that doesn't make them weak. I also don't think this 'just carry on and push through it' attitude towards mental health issues is necessarily a healthy message. If you need help then you should ask for it and be able to have access to it. LB could have used this as an opportunity to show a character who is severely traumatised getting support and help to work through his trauma and heal. But I feel like nobody really helped Sergei and any comfort or support he got seemed to be grudgingly given and there was more of an attitude of I'll try to help you because your issues are a hindrance to me than because any of the characters actually cared about him and wanted to help him.

Sergei and the Darkling were both characters that were 'beautiful and broken' but neither one of them was given the support or help they needed. Instead they were painted as either weak or as a monster. So what kind of message does this send to readers who also struggle with trauma and mental health conditions?

[handonhaven]

Okay Lizzie and Josie really pissed me off in 3x16. Like Hope just ran off with someone who tried to kill her and someone who manipulated Josie. With no clue why or where they were going. And Lizzie first thought was to try to find Hope a rebound. Not to try to find out where she went or if she was in any danger. And Josie was no help either she didn't bother to do any of those things. She just asked Lizzie with who. I also didn't like Lizzie comment either. When she said "we can't afford to be picky. Anyone who doesn't melt after having sex with her will do." Maybe it's just me and I'm taking that comment the wrong way. But when she said that I got so mad. Because what I took from that was being able to have sex is only thing that matters. So let's just try to hook her up with anyone. Doesn't matter if they're a killer or a psychopath as long as they can have sex then it's fine. I don't know maybe I'm just over reacting to that(but I can't be the only one to feel something like that after hearing that comment, can I?).

So, so many Handon scenes just hits so differently now knowing that Landon was really malivore. I'm not gonna lie after I found that out I went back and watched those scenes over again trying to see if I can find any clues or hints at it. But when I did that I start it to think about the fact that we had a whole season without the real Landon. Then I start thinking about the fact that Landon has had a whole season of going through trauma one right after the other since 3x02(when Raph died) and it only got worse from there. Then I got mad at the writers for doing that to him. It was bad enough that his life before coming to the school was hell. So were they just like yeah lets put him through a whole season a trauma too. Now before anyone says well Hope went through hell this season too. I'm not saying she didn't. But I feel like Landons was on a whole different level than Hopes. Because Landon had to watch his brother die, then had to watch himself melt, then he was in malivore, then in the prison fighting off monsters, to then having malivore take over his body. And who knows what he's going through in this own mind right now. But I think my biggest fear is that when they do get Landon back the real Landon. That they play off his trauma to save time(like they often do now). Or someone will try to downplay it like it was nothing. Because if they do that imma be pissed.

So I start it thinking about that maliLandon scene with Cleo when we saw both malivore's and Landons memories. And all of Landons memories were big Handon moments for season 2(I think there might have been some for season 1 but I can't remember). And I know they did that for a reason. I think in that scene it inspired both malivore and Landon somehow to do something. I just can't figure out what and I know myself this will be stuck on my mind until we finally find out lol. I'm already thinking up theories and all both make sense but don't make sense all at the same time. And this is really going to bug me.

P.S 1: I have to say this season had one very consistent thing, the "Logical" answer is wrong.

- Logic telling Hope, Landon was dead ....wrong

- Logic telling Hope, Landon was back.....wrong (Hope felt something was off but chose to ignore it bc she missed him)

- Logic telling Hope, she and Landon are doomed.....wrong

- Logic telling Cleo, to trust Landon and he was only traumatized.....wrong

- Logic telling them Malivore wanted Cleo to escape the prison world....wrong

- Logic telling them, the monsters were coming from a actual pit....wrong

- Logic telling Hope the only way to kill Malivore is to become a Tribrid.....wrong

- Logic telling Hope she caused Landon to melt.....wrong(okay I know we don't know for sure about that one. But that feels way way to much like a red herring with how much it's been said). Also another consistent thing is everything they say things Multiple times over and over again espesally things that have no concrete proof turns out to be False. They keep repeating these things; Landon is Human, Landon is dead, Landon is not a Phoenix anymore, Hope needs to become a Tribrid, Hope is toxic to Landon(once again I know we don't know for sure yet, but there's no way that isn't a red herring), Hope and Landon are doomed. Watch all turn out to be wrong.

2. The antis and H*sies are already coming out the wood works. And there this one line I see that they're really trying to hold onto like it's a win or something. How at the end of 3x16 when Hope said "we want our friends back" they're taking it like Hope sees Landon as a friend now(among other things but that would make this too long if I write it all out). Which is sad and means they're truly not paying attention to anything. And let me just point out that Hope was speaking for everyone not just herself. So it makes more sense for her to say "we want our friends back" then it would be for her to say "we want our friend and my boyfriend back". Since they're all friends with Landon and Cleo. Even though they're not very good friends to Landon(minus Hope because Hope is with Landon and treats him better than his "friends" does). But that's a whole other thing for another time. I do my best to say away from antis and H*sies but somehow one of them somehow always end up in my timeline. And it's gonna make these next three months so much longer than it needs to be tbh.

Same. Exactly! It was all so strange.

Lizzie was just upset over the fact that Hope ditched them, but Hope has always done stuff like that on her own to keep others out of danger. Yet Lizzie didn’t even seem to care, even though both her and Josie said they didn’t trust Clarke after all he had done. So they knew that Hope could’ve been in danger. But Lizzie’s highest concern in that moment was finding Hope a rebound as quickly as possible?? What on earth... And Josie acknowledged that Hope could be in danger, said she cared more about her actual life than her romantic one, but then proceeded to do nothing. And exactly! That comment really bothered me too! Yep, that’s also how it came across to me. Like Hope being able to have sex with someone was the priority, the rest wasn’t important. I don’t think you’re overreacting, I thought it sounded really bad. And the fact that Lizzie was focusing on that over Hope’s safety... I don’t even know what to say. Then Ethan shows up and they drag him into it, it was just a mess, and probably the weirdest way and time to bring in a love interest for Lizzie. Then they get to the school, are casually standing around chatting, then Lizzie wants to give Ethan a tour. All thoughts about Hope’s safety forgotten, besides Josie mentioning in passing that they needed to tell Alaric what happened. That was the full extent of their efforts to help Hope. Then she gets back and all they can talk about is how she ditched them? Not about what happened or if she’s okay? And they’re the ones who just promised Hope she wouldn’t be facing Malivore alone... not off to a good start.

And right? It’s crazy! Me too, watching the breakup scene is SO different now haha. But ugh, yes. We seriously had nearly an entire season without the real Landon... I can’t. And same. That’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about the most, and I’m honestly mad at the writers as well. Like, it’s actually shocking to think about just how much trauma he has gone through. And I don’t know what made them to decide to put him through that much because it’s unreal. Just... why?? So true, he had a lifetime of trauma before the show even started! Went through more trauma while at the school, going through death after death. And then went through the most horrible things this whole season. And yes, Hope did go through hell, but what she went through was very different. I agree, what Landon went through was on a whole other level. Exactly! He literally went through one trauma right after the other. And he went through them alone (apart from losing Raf). Without any help, and every single time he escaped one thing, he ended up in another and endured more trauma. He’s been through pure hell, nonstop, and I can’t imagine what state he’s in right now and how he’ll be when this is all over. Oh, and literally me. I’m honestly so worried they’re gonna do that too. That they’ll just ignore his trauma, that they won’t show how he’s been affected or have him talking about it. And it will just get cut off and forgotten and they’ll jump to the next thing and he may not get even a break. Because that really is what they do all the time. And right now is their chance to show what he’s been through. To go back and show what happened to him and show his side of things. We need to actually see what he’s been through and how he’s being affected right now. And once they get him back, they need to address it. They need to let him and Hope rest. I think season 4 needs to be about them healing together, though I’m sure they’ll be dealing with more crap. So I’m very worried about that, I will be pissed right along with you if they don’t go into that. That’s probably what I want to see the most at this point, and what I think is extremely important, not only for his character, but also because they shouldn’t ignore that kind of trauma.

And yes, they were! They had Landon remembering Hope telling him she loved him for the first time, and then those other huge moments for them, the 2x08 reunion, and the scenes in 2x11. I‘m wondering if those might be Landon’s most powerful memories. And I think you could be right, I’ve wondered the same thing, but I also can’t figure it out. Like they showed Handon memories with Malivore creating Clarke like... I’m so confused haha. They definitely left us with too many questions, and now we have to wait, it’s gonna suck.

Wow, you make very good points with that. That’s very interesting for sure. The writers really used “logic” as a way to mislead the characters in order to shape the plot for the season. And I think because of that, they also had to hold the characters back from investigating things further. When I feel like Hope, especially, would’ve looked into things more to figure out what was going on, but they couldn’t have them finding out yet so they just had everyone believing in the “logical” answer. Which does end up fitting with the idea that things are not what the seem, especially with all the things you listed that they keep repeating. Which does make it seem pretty obvious that they’re trying to convince us of these things that aren’t actually true. I think it’s gonna all turn out to be wrong as well. We already know it wouldn’t make sense for Landon to be fully human since he never was, and that he’ll surely get his Phoenix powers back. And I agree about Hope being toxic to Landon too, the more they’ve talked about it, the less I believe it’s true haha. And same now with them talking about Hope having to become a full tribrid, it seems like they might be doing the same thing. Or at least, if these things aren’t already wrong, Hope and Landon will find a way to prove them wrong by fighting their fate.

Yeah, those people clearly aren’t paying attention to the show and are grasping for anything at this point. Did they not watch Hope’s scenes with Clarke and how she responded to him talking about fighting fate? Did they not hear her literally tell Cleo that she still loves Landon? Obviously, Hope does not view Landon as just a friend. She was speaking for the group, just like you said. I don’t even think Hope sees Cleo as her friend right now. When Cleo told Hope that she hopes they can be friends again after all this, Hope said nothing and just walked away. So yeah, she was speaking for everyone else, although it’s weird that the rest of them would even view them as friends either. I’m pretty sure Kaleb is the only one who really sees Cleo as a friend. And true, they’re not even friends to Landon, none of them gave a crap when he died, so I’m not even sure why they were there. I guess since there’s a threat now? But anyway, yeah, I get that it’s hard to avoid those fans, the hate is everywhere. But knowing how ridiculous their reasoning is and how far they’re reaching helps me to just kind of laugh it off sometimes, although it is annoying. It gets so tiring to see, but I’m just gonna try to focus on enjoying Handon and ignoring the antis as best I can!

[tumblunni]

I had a really weird dream involving Dr Maddiman. Its a shame i can barely remember any of it and also it seems i woke up before it ended? Like i just had this overwhelming sense that allll the plot threads were gonna be wrapped up any second now and then BOOM awake. So just a whole bunch of random stuff happened with no real explanation at all.

It was some sort of post apocolyptic setting i think? Humanity was in these small isolated cities fighting against some sort of invading army but we never actually saw the aliens themselves. And some part of my brain was like "it makes sense its the same rules as a hairdresser and the design takes cues from a pack of AAA batteries". I have NO idea what that means! So basically everythibg was super vague and undescribed and dream-me just had a sense of already being a long time fan of this series and knowing enough to fill in the gaps. Apparantoy this was some sort of adaptation of a thing id already seen, but id been told the ending was different and more accurate to the manga? Also i wasnt actually a person watching this show i was still the protagonist of the show yet i acted like i'd been reincarnated and relived this week a million times or something

ANYWAY the way dr maddiman comes in is that he was some sort of 'brilliant but dangerous' expert the government had hired to help our fight against the aliens. It wasnt really explained why he was.. yknow.. maddiman. Like is this meant to be that ghosts also exist in this sci fi universe? Was he a half alien hybrid instead of a yokai? Was it just human maddiman with the personality of yokai maddiman due to ptsd...? In any case he didnt seem entirely tethered to the laws of reality and nobody knew exactly how he pulled off all his scientific miracles. He was treated as the only guy who could understand the mindset of the aliens, but that also made him dangerous because he trapped in the delusion of everything being okay and fun and happy and he often did evil things by accident while having good intentions. But they didnt have anyone else who'd cracked the code of the alien weaponry so they had to put up with him. He was just sorta assigned a crack team of secret agents whose job was Be The Old Man's Friend So We Dont All Die. Dont let him realise how the world is all destroyed and such, just play along with his goofyness and try and remind him to do his important work while dancing around why its important. it was super creepy how he was locked up and gaslighted like this!! And he was all 'oh im sure when im done with my ultimate experiment i can go home to my wife and kids' and yeah it was implied here that the same backstory applied :( 'distract the old man and validate his false opinion that his family is still alive and waiting for him' :( poor sci fi madds :(

Oh also for some reason he seemed to be wearing elements of Adventure era Dr Eggman's outfit? But just the general style of the coat and the wearing goggles that he never actually uses. And he had a very warm and cuddly autumnal colourscheme

Anyway i was part of the Super Secret Grampa Cherishing Division whose job was to act as his assistant but also secretly be packing a bazillion weapons to neutralize him if he poses a danger to humanity. But i started to genuinely care for the guy and question the 'any atrocity is permitted for the sake of saving the world' philosophy of my bosses. Also it was just very weird how it was this post apocolypse alien fighting action thing yet i didnt see ANY OF IT cos this story was confined to this one laboratory. It was surreal hearing about all this stuff happening offscreen!

I think Maddiman's main project was some sort of dimensional transport thing using salvaged alien tech? It was just a door in his lab that usually led to a closet but if he got it working itd teleport us straight to the alien base and save the world. And a lot of it wasnt explained but i got this great sense that itd all come together with a great twist ending evebtually but then i woke up before i got that far. Same for the reveal of this maddiman's new sci fi backstory and soooo many other dropped plot threads. Alas!

So anyway: closet. Closet with one of those bead curtain things cos i was thinking about them when i fell asleep. It was supposed to be a teleport but when it malfunctioned it had really scary negative effects warping people's biology and stuff. I remember one of the test subjects was sent in for a five day trip to a specific alternate dimension but then when they came back itd been several years and theyd had to survive in a deadly wasteland and been mutated into a hellbeast. And maddiman had a huge breakdown because he felt like his recklessness and optimism towards this experiment had caused this mistake to happen, and he'd never realized just how awful the consequences could be. He was babbling motor mouth discussing theories for where it went wrong and there was something like 'we'd only tested it for one day trips and assumed that just programming two of them would equal two days but actually with each additional number on the screen it multiplies the days by 3" And there was something about like...the bead curtain was the machine rather than the door itself? Like trying it on a bunch of different doors around the lab to try and find a way to cure this person.

And there was some sort of artificial intelligence computer with the personality of an adorable lil girl, who helped maddiman do calculations and stuff. She missed the mistake in this calculation cos her concept of linear time and the limits of human organs was kinda undeveloped. She only existed within the realm of numbers after all, and didbt even have functionality to record footage of her human friends's faces. No idea wtf a human looks like! So maddiman was lost in his desperate grief of potentially accidebtally killing or at least mentally scarring a person and the government would probably kill them now if they saw they were a super mutant. And he was sobbing and begging this AI to help, his last resort was her maybe being able to see a brainwave that he'd missed. But she was freaking out cos she didnt even fully understand why maddiman was crying let alone what to do to fix it. Eventually she did manage to find a solution theough some simple different logic thing that she had from her perspective as a computer. And that person was saved but still traumatized and maddiman had a moment of realizing just how high stakes everything was and freaking out. He was like 'whats wrong with my head, why didnt i notice that, why was i so reckless, why cant i seem to grasp basic human logic that i need right now" Having a big existential crisis of 'wait how did i even get in this lab, where's my family and why do i seem to have superpowers'. Protagonist mission: hide all the goddamn mirrors to avoid this weird ghostgramp (...aliengramp??) from realizing he's dead (..or an alien??) and losing control of himself. And everyone was running around talking about 'containment procedures' and poor maddiman didnt know that if his panic attack continued he might just straight up be killed for outliving his usefulness. So the protagonist was desperate to help him calm down and it sucked SO MUCH cos they had to lie about his past and weave the web of deception around him again for his own safety. In the end they just hugged him close until he calmed down, and all the other employees were like GASP THEY ACTUALLY TOUCHED THE EVIL DANGEROUS SUPER EVIL MAN and protag was like 'i am 1% away from slapping the next bitch who insults this grandpa'. And it was super depressing cos once he'd calmed down he seemed to start forgetting that anything bad had ever happened?? And he was really panicking and scared cos he didnt understand why he was forgetting, and he knew he had to cling onto something important but he didnt know what. And then five minutes later he was back to haha cheerful nothing is wrong and i love doing my fun science in this room im never allowed to leave. And protagonist was crying the tears that this poor gramp wasnt allowed to cry :(

Also actually i think maybe he was a ghost AND an alien? Like he was a scientist who died in some sort of tragedy back when the aliens first invaded, but along the way he'd been infected so his body got back up as a twisted combination of human and inhuman. And this was something unique to him, like he just happened to have a genetic mutation in his blood that was totally undetectable in life but happened to mix unpredictably with this alien virus to turn him into a hybrid instead of just killing him. So the government was very interested in finding a way to replicate this and create new supersoldiers, as well as just taking advantage of this dude's confused mental state that granted him a unique understanding of alien tech that made him more effective than other scientists. And, of course, also made him easy to manipulate :(

And i also had a feeling that maybe his backstory was mixed up with Adventure dr eggman? Like here it seemed he had a daughter instead of a son, and she had a similar death to Maria Robotnik where she was assasinated by the government he worked for, and it tipped him over the edge. I think Maddiman-alien-scifi-dude originally died trying to save her from being used in some sort of experiment? Like she was already dying of a disease and thats why maddiman took this job to have access to powerful government technology to try and look for a cure. But when the whole alien apocolypse happened, the evil government decided to use her for experiments cos she was 'basically dead anyway'. Theyd just lie and tell maddiman she died of her illness. So this was how they found out that this particular family's bloodline had a mutation that let them form a viable hybrid with alien dna. They were turning this poor kid into a monster in the basement while lying to her dad about her being dead! And maddiman was about to commit suicide from having no reason to live anymore, with the hell of this apocolypse world and the false impression that his kid was already dead. But somehow monster-daughter sensed this or something and broke out of containment to try and save him, and when he saw her he was able to recognise her even in her twisted state. So when the soldiers gunned her down in front of him and fed him some lies about this not being his daughter, he just completely snapped. He tried in vain to fight back and take down as many of them as possible in revenge, but well he was just a simple round dad with no ability to fight a government. So he was unceremoniously executed along with his kid and they shoved the bodies back in the lab to continue testing. "Damn that overemotional science dad, he made us execute our most valable test subject! But at least this way we can analyze his corpse to see if the mutation is passed down on the patrilineal side." But at some point during the fight, monster-daughter's blood had splashed on her dad and gotten into his bloodstream. So the seemingly dead body suddenly got up out of the morgue and started sucking people's blood or something. And this led to the current situation where they have him locked up cos he's a valuable test subject but also hey he has 100% reason to kill all of us and we're screwed if he remembers his past. Also i think the computer AI thing was his subconcious attempt to recreate the personality of his daughter even if he couldnt remember she'd ever existed :(

Anyway at some point things escalated and there was this final showdown versus both the invading aliens and the evil governmebt guys. I think there was some corrupt greedy politician dude who stole maddiman's teleporter tech and sold us out to the aliens cos he wanted money and power or something. And probably predictably the aliens just threw him off a bridge after he gave them the thing, because seriously even this evil army thinks these government dudes are too evil!

So this big actiony event was happening and Maddiman was freaking out like 'no no no i cant leave the lab everyone wpuld be mad at me, i dont even know what its like outside this room' even when he was in the middle of being attacked by aliens. He was forced to face his repressed memories to survive, and he naturally had a massive fuckin freakout! And i think maybe when protagonist character was trying to protect him he accidentally lashed out with his powers and hurt them, and he was so horrified thinking another person he cared about was gonna die because of him. Protagonist was like 'dont worry gramps its just a scratch' but he'd already freaked out and run away into the battlefield to his heavily implied death.

BUT THEN at some sort of moment of dire need, he came back all powered up and re-memoried and was like 'i have every reason to despise humanity but im not gonna let more children die because of these damn corporate monsters (and also literal monsters which are infinately less scary)" And he did some sort of great sacrifice to save the protagonist at the cost of his own life, and it was super dramatic falling from a building into a lake of fire or something. While sobbing and smiling peacefully thinkibg "did i atone for my sins? Will i be able to see my family again?" As his smiling face sunk beneath the flames and the protagonist cried out into the abyss...

Aaaaand then i dont really know what happened in the big battle and i also never found out wtf the solution was to fixing the transporter thing or how the aliens invaded or any of the million plot points that were non gramp related.

I just remember that when we all saved the day and defeated the baddies we found that maddiman had actually survived and it was a big hugs reunion. He was like "OH YEAH i totally forgot i literally already died once and regenerated from it, and this was the entire start to my story. My bad!" *shrugs inexplicably not dead arms*

So yeah in summary im glad my brain summoned up a universe where my favourite sad granddad is literally immortal now, but also why did it torment him with an even sadder plot than his original one

[thealfanator]

Dandelion’s Tales, Part 2 ~Chapter 5

I tossed and turned, sweat drenching my whole body.  No spot dry. I didn’t sleep.  I couldn’t sleep.  Someone knew about my trespass in the medical basement.  Someone knew I was looking for Dune.  Someone knew what I was doing, and I didn’t know who.  Who could it be?  Tugna?  No, he wouldn’t send a note – just a punch in the face.  Cebri?  Again, no. She would confront me about it. It had to be someone who wanted to be subtle.  Possibly someone who didn’t want to report me straight away but instead wanted leverage for something.  Who knows? I had to keep my cool, and right now I was doing a pretty poor job.

             I woke.  Well, I don’t suppose I was ever asleep to call it ‘waking up’, but I got out of bed and strolled to the window.  It was almost dawn.  A good few hours had passed since I returned from the forbidden area, yet I hadn’t slept a wink.  I stared down from my upstairs privacy.  Tugna had returned to the door.  I’m certain his moving lips sounded curse words behind Hunter’s back.  Something like, “That fucking piece of… He tricked me.” I’m not sure; that’s what I would’ve thought he’d say.  I smirked slightly.  Yeah, that’s right; you didn’t stop me this time!

I did hear a slight creak from behind me.  First, it breezed past my mind.  Then I realised my door was unlocked.  Anything could be breathing down my neck.  I sharply turned, swearing to myself.  Nothing.  I swore I heard something…  Turning my head back to the window, Tugna lie unconscious on the muddy ground.  I swore louder this time.  Replaced on the vacant grassy plain was a hooded woman.  Her hair bled a mysterious white hue, and she walked sternly away from Tugna’s limp body further down the street.  I peered round with her, trying to catch a last glimpse before she walked out of my view.  Black suit, covering most – if not all – of her body.  She wore veins of green patterns on her sleeves.  A sorceress?  That was it, she was gone.  I tried with effort to peek further, but it was futile.  I just ended up with a freezing cheekbone as I pushed it harder and harder against the window.  Nobody except for me saw what had happened.  All buildings had their curtains drawn, and Tugna still sat there, his unconscious body snoring on the ground somehow.  Do I run out there and help?  No, not today.  He’d done enough to grow a tumour of hatred inside me; I wasn’t helping him.  He’ll stay there in the merciless cold.  I walked back to my bed and pondered over what I had just seen… Strange things weighed more than the normal things. More questions grew exponentially, and even more secrets covered them from the curious askers.  I shut my eyes and prayed for sleep, though I’m delighted to report than none came.

The next day, my dead, drooling corpse rose, and slid into the streets.  I was tired, but I managed to keep my eyes open.  Barely.  As I stumbled through thin crowds, I started to feel the effects of my actions weighing down on me.  When I grabbed that poor woman, I set an impression in other’s minds.  Instead of a welcoming smile (which was scarce anyway), I was now avoided, as if everybody in the town contributed to making an empty bubble around me.  I was greeted not with passivity, but with angry glares.  Not with slow, gentle walks, but with swift pacing; like a repelling magnet.

             “Dandelion!” shouted Cebri in an overjoyed voice, startling me from my sleepy trance.  I smiled and walked over.  I was surprised to see her happy to see me considering yesterday’s argument, but I went along with it.  She could just be an incredibly good actor…

“Good morning, Cebri. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She paused and studied my face, “My God, Dandelion you look terrible!  Did you not sleep?”  I gently pushed her approaching, weak hand away.

“I’m fine honestly, just didn’t sleep.”  She agreed.

“Yeah, I can tell! Like you got up and went sleepwalking in the middle of the night!” Oh, Cebri, if only you knew… Actually, if you knew, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“I’m just…” Careful, Dandelion; your wording here is important.  “…slightly under the weather.  You know, security seems a little unusual.  Tugna’s got it in for me, I swear.” I chuckled slightly, meeting her gaze.  “And not being able to see Dune is a little overwhelming, you know?”  Her eyes seemed so sympathetic.  Too sympathetic.

“Don’t you worry.  I told you, he is resting in the medical ward. We are restraining anyone from seeing him purely because he’s in critical condition.  Whoever made that wound got him good.” I bit my tongue.

“Where’s Hunter?” I asked in a peculiar tone amidst the footsteps on the mud around us in the middle of the morning breeze.

“Never mind him, I have something to show you.” She ushered me to follow.

             I ended up in her room.  The same room we had argued before.  It was strange seeing her like this.  I’d definitely thought she’d still be angry with me.  It all seemed a little bit too theatrical, like an act waiting to turn sour.

“I got you a little gift.” Oh my… What emerged from under her desk lie a beautiful instrument in her palms.  A lute.  It looked brand new, but with a thick blanket of dust over it, like an old human being reborn a baby.  It looked magnificent.  Patterns and strange marks layered the precious wood.  “I don’t know if I should be giving this to you, but you seem to know your way around an instrument, I hope.”

“Thank you.” I replied softly, eyes glued to the precious nooks and designs of the equipment.  “How did you know?”

“About what?”

“That fact that I liked to play music?”  She paused for a second.

“I have my ways.” She slowly looked me up and down, observing my… florescent clothes.  She laughed when my eyes met hers.  I decided not to say anything.

             I left the building with my new instrument; at least this would give me something to occupy myself with.  Or was this some way to create a false sense of security?  Was Cebri just trying to create leverage?

             I didn’t have enough time to think about it.  All of a sudden, I had felt small yet strong arms clutch around my neck and pull me into a thin, dark close between two houses. Private and dimly lit.  I swore to myself, trying to focus on my supposed attacker.  A small, short figure.  A child? She pressed her palm to my face and forced me to the dirty floor.  I tried to call out but she bust her elbow into my throat.

“What the fuck… who…?” I squealed through a throbbing neck and enormous headache.  The little girl crouched to my level.  My view gradually was no longer impaired, and I saw her face. Funny, it was the same girl who would enter my bed chambers to change my sheets.  The same girl who would clean my clothes, and make sure everything was in order. The little girl with long dark hair and tired, yet beautiful blue eyes.  I saw this little girl often, yet I failed to know a name…

“What were you doing?” She said sternly.

“What are you talking about?” I replied, slightly choked.

“I know what you did. What were you doing in places you didn’t belong?”  I adjusted my position on the cold, hard ground and pressed against the upcoming bruise on my cheek with the palm of my hand.  “Where?!”

“So you were the one who left the note.”

“You are testing my patience.”

“I have to find…”

“Dune?  Yes, I know.”  Are you kidding me?  This girl managed to pull me into a place where no eyes wandered, beat me up then provoke answers she already knew?  This is absolutely ridiculous!

“Why ask if you already know?” I stared with innocent eyes at her.

“Listen, don’t – I mean don’t, do it again.  Trust me on this, this village is not as safe as they say it is.”

“Ok,” I started, closing my eyes briefly, headache pounding, “but what is your name?”

             She was gone.  Nowhere to be seen.  I didn’t even hear her footsteps.

*

“This is a song my… one and only person I pretty much think about made.” I sat on the counter to the tavern with my lute, strumming the strings gently.  Around me, during the dusky part of the day, sat my audience. Some were drunk, some were not. Nevertheless, I was quite nervous. A silent void had struck; a void for me to fill.  “I think it’s called The Wolven Storm…” I cleared my throat.

             “These scars long have yearned for your tender caress

To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own

Rend my heart open, then your love profess

A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone…”

               “…You flee my dream come the morning

Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet

To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy

Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep.”

My ears almost burst as my audience flared in applause.  I smiled. That’s actually the first time I pulled off that song perfectly.  Thanks, Priscilla.  Hunter approached.

“That was really good, mate. Well done.” He thumped my back strongly.

“Thank you.”

“Listen, I have something I want to show you.  Meet me tomorrow afternoon.  Trust me, I think I have important information about Dune.  I need your help.”  As he said these words, he progressed in a more and more hushed voice. Something tells me we are going to do something quite dangerous.  And if what that little girl say is true, I should be worried for my safety.  This place isn’t what it seems.  Everything has its secrets.  My heart sank slightly, but I swiftly dismissed the thought as I was swallowed by the crowds of people leaping my way.

 ---

Hi again!  Is it just me or does the week go too quickly?  I have the feeling not many people agree with me on that one... Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!  Just a heads-up, the season will have 7 chapters (I know that because I’ve almost finished writing it!) and I’m excited for you to get to it because it’s probably the most intense finale I’ve written thus far!

Have a good week :)

[inked-out-trees]

hey, mr. no name kid

in which I attempt a writing exercise based off a fic I read and it ended up being 10k of pure awesomeness, so, this is my take on the scenes not shown! (original fic: http:archiveofourown.org/works/4426595 - read it!! it’ll help with the plot, I think? do it anyway.)

full and complete credit goes to @isthepartyover for creating the story I loved so much!! thanks for allowing me to post this!!

(title from “Fight For Me” from Heathers ‘cause that’s the first thing I thought of when I saw the original story)

full story under the cut!

Honestly, he was just reading. That was it. Probably one of the most non-threatening activities a person could be doing, especially with a cup of tea in an oversized colour-changing mug. It was calming and immersive, and Davey almost missed the sound of the front door unlocking. If he were fully paying attention, he would’ve noticed that there was no shuffling of either of his boyfriends taking off their shoes (besides, Jack was due to go out on a mission soon) or tapping of a crutch against the floor. However, the one absence that even Harry Potter couldn’t veil was the fact that no one said anything. (It started out as a joke, but it was instinct, at this point, to call out when they got home.) Davey slowed, reaching back down in an exaggerated motion to rest the tea on the bedside table. In the same silenced motion, he pulled the drawer open and slid his fingers across the amassed pile of junk until he found what he was looking for: the chilled metal handle of the gun they kept for emergencies. On his other side, his book lay closed, page forgotten. If this were a false alarm, he’d be frustrated at having to figure out where he was. But, he thought, and stiffened in realization, it probably wasn’t. And, as luck would have it, he turned out to be correct. Footsteps, much too heavy to be anyone but intruders’, echoed around the apartment. There were multiple sets- at least three, Davey counted- and they were treading carefully, spreading out, and checking what seemed to be every corner of the apartment. He waited. When the first person came in his line of view and was most definitely recognized as not Jack or Crutchie, he aimed and fired. He pitched himself out of the way, heart racing, as return fire came quickly. One real, honest-to-god bullet punched itself in the wall above their bed- Davey mourned for the repair costs, it was the bedroom, for god’s’ sake- and another one buried itself deep into the pile of pillows he had surrounded himself with only moments before. The next round he fired at the person at the door must’ve hit something, if the suppressed sound of pain was anything to go by. Swallowing the heartbeats that were slamming in his throat, Davey pushed himself up and ran at the door, where the first attacker must have fallen back. Every trace of anxious and raging emotion washed away as he slipped back into mission-mode. There was someone at the end of the hall, who shot wildly once and ducked around the corner. A picture frame shattered in the background. The next minute passed in a spray of bullets spanning the entire apartment, ripping holes in the couch and smashing the coffee maker, until it ended abruptly in the form of an arm closing around Davey’s throat. He had moved into the kitchen and was pretty sure he had kept track of all three unnamed shooters- except there were four, and the one he had missed was currently pressing a terrible-smelling rag over his mouth that he was desperately trying not to breathe into, but one can only go for so long. He saw Snyder there, just for a second, delicately placing a sheet of paper onto the ruined coffee table, and then everything disappeared. –

Crutchie made his way up the stairs feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. Race was more than capable of handling Jack on an easy in-and-out mission like this, and both men had given him a pass to go home. This meant that Crutchie  now could keep Davey company and maybe even make that soup he’d had his eye on for a week and a half. Man, afternoons off were great. He shoved his key into the door, humming. The content feeling that had been tickling at his heels as he walked home was alive and curling in his chest, ready to– Run, apparently, as he took in the state of the apartment. “Davey?” he yelled cautiously, maneuvering himself around a pile of shoes from the shelf that had been knocked over. His heart froze as he continued into the apartment. There were holes all over the walls, bullet holes, the chairs and couch were ripped to shreds, and there was shards of glass on the floor in at least three different places. There was no answer. Crutchie kept going. There was a hole in the wall of the bedroom, christ- that meant whatever had happened had spanned the entire place. And Davey was nowhere to be found. Crutchie picked his way back into the living area to get his bearings. Davey was gone, but whether he was safe or not was- Oh. The sheet of paper resting on the shot-burned coffee table caught his eye. In small, penned cursive, it read: Jack Let’s make a deal, shall we? Your boyfriend is with me right now, and he will remain so unless you choose to deliver yourself in his place. If you care to bring anybody but yourself, I fear his safety will be much less assured. It’s the price we pay for love, I’m afraid. The longer you wait, the less I can guarantee you will get him home. It would truly be a shame if you failed him now. You know where to find us. Snyder Crutchie crumpled the paper with shaking hands and flung it at the wall with a strangled yell. Davey. The cause of the havoc made sense now. The reasons for the bullet holes, the fact that there was still tea inside Davey’s mug, everything. It was because of Snyder. If he had only taken a cab home, or left earlier instead of chatting with Kath for a while, or- No, it was no use. He could’ve gotten home in time, but what would he have done? He’d probably end up in the same boat as Davey, and that would have just made matters worse. Besides, it wasn’t like he could turn back time. So Crutchie picked up the note, stuffed it in his bag, and ran. –

He stopped at Katherine’s office first, where the woman in question was typing intently on her computer. Her eyes drew to Crutchie immediately as he burst through the door. “Didn’t you just leave?” “I did,” he said. Then, “I got home and the apartment was a mess and this was on the table and I don’t know what to do.” He took the crumpled piece of paper out of his bag and attempted to unwrap it with shaking hands before finally slamming it on Katherine’s desk. “Oh my god,” she said quietly. Crutchie nodded frantically. “I need to tell Jack. He can’t- he needs to come back, we need to figure something out.” “This-” Katherine looked up at Crutchie with wide eyes. “Crutch, we could go to the authorities with this. Snyder’s managed to evade them by keeping things on the down-low, but this is literally a confession note. We could destroy him with this.” “How long would it take?” She bit her lip. “I’m not sure. It depends on their Danger assessment as well as ours, plus the time it takes to file for an actual warrant. But there’s also the added-” her voice cracked slightly- “hostage situation.” “That’s what I’m worried about,” Crutchie admitted. Katherine pushed back her chair and stood, walking around her desk and throwing her arms around Crutchie. “Davey’s strong. We’ll get him back.” Crutchie briefly allowed himself to be hugged, then steeled again. “I need to tell Jack.” “You do that. Make sure he comes back to us.” –

The full situation hit Crutchie again as he ran up the stairs to the tech floor, and he ended up almost tripping twice and bursting into Race’s room with more reckless abandon than he had ever felt. In any other predicament, Crutchie may have felt bad about nearly shoving Race off his chair, but there were far more worrying things at hand. He ignored the sputtering protests beside him to lean over and yell into the microphone. On one of the screens, he saw Jack stop. “They got Davey,” he whispered. Jack’s back was to the camera, but Crutchie could see the way he froze, the way horror spread through his body as easily as it had spread through his own at seeing the apartment. “I got home, and our apartment was a mess, and there was a note saying that- that Snyder has him.” As he relayed the information, he noticed Race stiffen as well, knuckles turning white as he gripped the side of the closest desk. His face looked raw, angry, even- it was no secret that Jack used to work for Snyder, but he had long since abandoned them for his new life. Everyone at the agency had heard horror stories about Snyder’s rule. “Really?” Jack asked, already sounding on the verge of tears. “Yeah.” Without warning, Race shot to his feet, slamming his hand down on the table with a wordless shout. Pens spilled across the desk from an overturned pen cup. Crutchie gulped down a suspiciously sob-like feeling as Race swore quietly. “Kath says you can come back because we have everything we need to convict. And- Jack-” He stopped. Don’t go? I’ll break down without you? I need you here? Jack must’ve understood, because Crutchie watched as he set his posture, nodded shortly, and headed for the exit. –

It took seven minutes for Crutchie to realize that Jack was most definitely not taking the quickest way back to the building. It took seven minutes and thirty seconds for Crutchie to realize that Jack was most definitely not intending to come back to the building. “You missed the turn,” he said into the microphone, his voice higher than normal. “Jack, where are you going?” Jack hummed but said nothing. “Jack. Where are you going?” Race had, in a burst of code, trained the array of screens to follow the GPS on Jack’s earpiece, and then left with a slam of the door. Crutchie had taken up residence in Race’s chair, and watched as Jack crossed another intersection, this one further away from both the agency and the apartment. It took less than a second now for Crutchie to realize what Jack was doing. “Jack, don’t you dare. Turn around and get your ass back in this building. I will drag you back here myself, Jack, just don’t do it!” Jack’s eyes searched the street ahead of him until he found a camera that was probably watching him. Crutchie desperately stared back, hoping to every degree that Jack would feel it, feel the terror, and change his mind. Quieter, “Jack, you asshole-” Jack reached up and took what looked like a black wireless earphone out of his ear. “-please.” Crutchie leaned back against the chair and drew a hand across his damp cheeks, thankful that for once the chair was comfortable and not the hard-backed wooden atrocity that was currently his own office chair. (He had to steal one from the atrium, after Jack and Spot had used their boyfriends’ respective wheely chairs to race down the hallways. Race’s had survived. His own had not.) The earpiece landed in a public trash can just as Crutchie begged, one last time, “Please come home to me.” Jack didn’t hear. He gave the camera a look that conveyed everything he wanted Crutchie to know, and kept his head down from then on. –

There was a stress ball in the first drawer on Race’s desk, and Crutchie promptly squeezed it tightly and threw it at the door. He’d been doing a lot of rage throwing recently. He went down to Kath’s office first, because she knew exactly what was going on, and the possibility that she might have an idea was significantly higher than if he went anywhere else. She was sitting again when he came in, almost in the exact same position, and looked up at Crutchie questioningly. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and then dropped her head on the desk and groaned. “That idiot.” “My thoughts exactly,” said Crutchie, dropping into the chair opposite Katherine. “I just wish he could’ve come back, just once. Enough for me to- to-” Jack knew that if he went there, if he went to rescue Davey, there wouldn’t be a way out. They all knew Jack knew that. “I know,” Katherine soothed, cutting him off. “Me too.” The door to the office flew open again, crashing with a resounding thud into the wall. “That goddamn idiot!” Race stalked into the room, followed by Spot, who was looking only slightly less angry. “That stupid, sacrificing idiot. We could’ve done something.” “Sure, you can join the party,” Katherine sighed. “We’re lamenting the loss of all of Jack’s common sense.” “It makes sense to him,” Crutchie muttered from behind a hand. Race cleared off the corner of Katherine’s desk and sat down on it, scraping his hand against his jeans. “This is ‘cause of Davey, isn’t it?” “There’s nothing Jack or I wouldn’t do for him. To Jack, this means following Snyder’s note. He knows exactly what he’s getting himself into, and he knows exactly who he’s doing it for.” There was a wistful tone in his voice, one that Katherine recognized immediately. She reached a hand across the table and Crutchie grabbed it, running a thumb over her smoothly painted nails. “Davey means a lot to all of us,” she said, to everyone’s agreement. “We don’t not care. And just because Snyder’s looking for Jack doesn’t mean you get to feel useless. You’re important to them and you’re important to us. You just need to be here for them when we find them again, all right?” “Be here in good shape,” Race clarified. “Not guilted half to death.” There was a long pause. “That son of a bitch,” Crutchie said finally, but nodded, and then there was silence. –

Jack drifted. At times he’d surface just enough to register a bump in the road, or the syllable of a word, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t see. Jack drifted. He woke up on a hard floor, staring at a flourescent yellow light that seared into his eyes. Everything ached, and a point on the side of his neck throbbed annoyingly. “It’s about time,” a deep, scarily familiar voice rumbled from above him. Instinctively, Jack tried to curl in on himself, but it was a sluggish and minute movement. “Now,” said Snyder, “that’s no way to react.” His mouth was dry and he gulped before answering, “I got every right to react how I want, given you just drugged me to all hell.” “Well, we couldn’t have you seeing where you were going, now, could we?” “Fuck you,” said Jack, and it was final. His arms shook as he placed his palms firm against the floor and pushed up to a sitting position. The room around him was gray, with a window high on the wall to his right. Snyder stood above him, and three other men stood off to the side, two flanking a door and one beside the other. Jack recognized the single as he sneered at him; Oscar, who antagonized Jack during every waking moment with Snyder, along with his brother, Morris. Who, Jack noted, was currently absent. “Where’s Davey?” he asked, glaring at Snyder. “Is he okay?” “You’ll see,” the man answered cryptically. Jack nearly launched himself at his old boss. “I’ll see? I’ll see? You pieces of shit have the nerve to break into my home and use my own boyfriend as a hostage to get me to rejoin your hell society, and I don’t even get consolation? Consider this an appraisal, Snyder. You’re a shit boss.” Snyder clucked. “Language! My, you really have strayed far.” Scowling, Jack pulled his legs to his chest. “I’m not doing anything until I see Davey and make sure for myself he’s all right.” “As I imagined. He is being brought to us as we speak.” “That’s comforting,” Jack spat. Snyder just hummed pleasantly, tugged on the collars of his jacket, and left the room. Fuck you, Jack thought again, but kept it in his head as he stayed put, seething. A minute passed, and then another, and Jack was getting ready to get up and punch something and then go look for Davey himself, no matter the consequences, when the door to his left slid open. And Davey was there. Jack felt the fury melt off him as they connected eyes. “You idiot,” Davey said, as Jack said, “Davey.” Davey was pushed forward and Jack stumbled to his feet to receive his boyfriend, pulling them both down to the ground and holding him tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It was the only way, the only way I knew you’d be safe. I couldn’t let him do anything to you. You mean too much to me, goddammit, me and Crutchie, we’d do anything for you, and I will never regret this for the rest of my life.” The door flew open again. Davey had been mumbling, his lips moving into Jack’s shoulder, and Jack heard a final “don’t do this, please,” as the object of Jack’s complete and utter hatred returned to the room. He tightened his embrace on Davey, as if anything less would make Davey slip through his arms and once again get caught up in some sort of twisted plan of Snyder’s. Snyder took a step forward and Jack audibly growled. “Stay away from him.” “Dear boy, I thought I had taught you some manners.” Davey shifted against Jack, and Jack let himself run his hands up and down Davey’s bare arms, hatred curling in his stomach as he felt the coarse rope at the end of Davey’s wrists. “Fuck. You.” “I’ll have to break the disrespect out of you,” Snyder said chidingly. “That’s why you’re here, correct?” “You know why I’m here. I’m here because you took my boyfriend and said the only way to get him back was to come back.” “Exactly. You came back.” The weight of the situation struck Jack hard and without remorse. If he had been a bit later, if he hadn’t come at all- “Let him go,” he said, and this time it was less angry and more resigned. If Snyder wanted him back, fine. As long as it was only him. “Let him go, and don’t ever go near him again.” “That was our deal, was it not?” In response, Davey curled into Jack even more. Jack felt Davey’s heartbeat on his shoulder. He wasn’t losing it. “Now.” “You don’t even want to say your goodbyes? My, this agency you’ve been with has no class, doesn’t it?” Say your goodbyes. Panic clawed at Jack’s throat. Davey was always first and foremost, his safety especially- saying goodbye would make it worse. Davey would know, always, that Jack loved him. “Now, okay? Get him out of here and back home, or else-” “Now, now, dear boy,” Snyder interrupted. “Gentlemen.” Two of the silent men on either side of the room moved forward and grabbed Davey, one on each arm, hauling him up and away from Jack. Jack managed to brush a final kiss against Davey’s forehead, raising himself up on his knees just long enough to catch him. Davey’s mumbling grew louder, coming as a steady stream of “no” as they locked eyes, the space between them growing with every forced step back, and the ocean was roaring in Jack’s ears- A shot sounded. Jack was on his feet yelling before he realized what had happened. A hand was on his shoulder, firmly holding him in place as Davey blinked once, took in Jack’s face, and collapsed to the floor. Snyder held a small gold pistol in his hand, smirking. “We had a deal.” Jack took in a shaking breath, voice pitched high and uneasy. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.” “I believe my note said that he would go home if you came to me, nothing about the condition he’d be in.” There was a self-satisfied grin growing on Snyder’s face. “I’d suggest you be good and shut up before I shoot him again.” Jack paled. The stain on Davey’s shirt, blood, was darkening, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if Davey didn’t get tended to in time. He watched as the brothers dragged his unresponsive boyfriend out the door, and said nothing. “Good,” Snyder smiled. “Let’s see what else you can remember.” The person holding Jack’s shoulder let go and exited, leaving him and the boss alone. –

For some unknown reason, at four in the morning, Crutchie caught Katherine on the way down the stairs holding her fifth cup of coffee and looking absolutely dead to the world. “Wait,” she said, when he jumped out of the way and told her, tripping over his words, what had happened. “So it’s more than likely either Jack or Davey.” “I’m almost certain.” Katherine sighed and took a long drink of coffee. “I’ll go get my keys. You are not taking a taxi at four in the morning. I’ll be quick,” she added, at Crutchie’s face. “I’m only on the third floor.” She dropped her cup into Crutchie’s hands and turned around, a decidedly petulant look on her face as she disappeared back up the stairs. Crutchie leaned against the wall and tried not to think about who they were going to see. I think he’s been shot, the person on the line had said. He’s bleeding really bad. It could be Davey, or it could be Jack, or it could be someone else, or Jack, or Davey- True to her word, Kath reappeared quickly, snapping Crutchie  out of his reverie. All traces of exhaustion were evident on both as they left the building, but neither felt tired anymore. This was as real as it could get, and that thought alone erased any sense of weariness and replaced it with erratic heartbeats and panic. The drive to the hospital felt like both the slowest and the fastest ten minutes of Crutchie’s life. –

Jack drifted. He ached all over, dull pains in some places and sharp, stabbing pains in others. It was tough to remember where he was or what day it was. What day was it? It scared him, not knowing. But he was tired. He closed his eyes, and drifted. – Out the window, there was complete darkness. The flashing lights of cars were the only indication that Crutchie was not, in fact, looking at a painted window or a dark mirror with his face reflecting back. He looked like a mess. He felt like one too; having confirmed that the person brought in was, in fact, Davey, he’d spent the next hour worrying before finally sitting down to rest his leg. It had been pulsing more than usual, sending bolts of pain shooting up his side, and it reminded him to sit down once in a while so he didn’t also get admitted into the hospital. Kath was at the front desk somewhere, trying to use her badge and way with words to coerce the staff into letting them into Davey’s room early. At this point, Crutchie wasn’t sure what they could be arguing about, as it had come upon the hour-and-a-half mark, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry too much. She could handle herself better than anyone, and Snyder’s people had more sense than to do anything in a public area. Besides, all he wanted was Jack, and he had Jack now. Goddamnit. She came back half an hour later, a satisfied look on her face, and sat down beside Crutchie, pressing a verification card into his hand. “Technically, we have higher credentials than anybody in this place, and we’re also technically required access to any government property or similar.” Crutchie sidelined a look at her. “Government property?” “Legal talk, it got us in.” She shrugged. “Nobody ever thinks about it like that, not even the people who create the contracts.” “They better not,” he muttered, and concentrated again on his leg. The sun rose quickly after that. The sky became progressively brighter and Crutchie watched as cars began to populate the lot, and then as a morning flow of visitors passed through the lobby. Finally, Katherine stood up, checked her phone, and said, “Let’s go.” Obviously, she knew where she was going, and Crutchie followed her through the hospital without difficulty. They came to a room on the third floor, through a maze of hallways, and Katherine knocked once before shoving the door open. A man in a white coat intercepted Katherine right a she walked in the door. Crutchie pushed past them both as they argued, something about not being ready, and headed straight for Davey’s bed. Davey was asleep. There was a ventilator in his mouth and a heart monitor provided an unsteady beep, something that caused Crutchie’s heart to do the same. Coppery red coloured the visible bandage on Davey’s left shoulder. Crutchie shuffled to his right and sat down in the seat that had been dragged away, tuning out the arguing and grabbing Davey’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly. “But I’m glad it’s not worse. You’re safe now.” He rubbed his thumb across Davey’s hand, and he swore the heart monitor grew steadier. The sudden silence made him look up to see both Katherine and the doctor staring at him. “What?” “You have a point,” the doctor said to Katherine, reluctantly. “I’ll allow it. But if anything arises, we need everyone out.” “I can live with that,” Crutchie said, and turned his attention back to Davey. Kath resumed her hushed conversation with the doctor. Davey breathed. The doctor left soon after, and Katherine leaned against the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb anything. “They’re finished. They just wanted to watch him for a little bit longer to make sure they got everything, but we can do that. They were just being pricks.” Crutchie smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and meant it. There was a pause. “Why were you both watching me?” Katherine laughed. “I told him that this was better for everyone, and to look at you and Davey before saying anything else.” “Smart.” Crutchie stayed with Davey until the window grew dark again and the nurses made their final rounds. They found him asleep, pillowing his head with his arms, one hand still holding Davey’s. –

Crutchie had made two trips back to the apartment in the past two weeks. The first was to clean up, and Kath came by to help sweep up the glass and put everything back in order. The second trip was to gather whatever he could, and then Crutchie split his time solely between visiting Davey and finding Jack. Race had found him once in his office, Dangerously close to falling off his chair after inadvertently falling asleep, and made him take a real nap on one of the couches outside their offices. (He’ll never admit it, but it did help Crutchie think.) Crutchie had grabbed Davey’s copy of Harry Potter from the bedside table and kept it with him wherever he went, and he had began to read to Davey as he slept. Davey was supposed to be waking up soon, he had been told, and Crutchie  figured the least he could do was give Davey something to think about. He was partway through the ninth chapter when he felt a shuffle on the bed. A wave of relief washed through him as he continued to read, smiling a bit as he let Davey wake up comfortably and on his own time. And then- Davey was curling in on himself, crying out, and everything seemed to explode as Crutchie dropped the book and hammered on the button for the nurses. Maybe they didn’t get everything, maybe there was something overlooked, all Crutchie knew was that Davey was panicking and he was panicking and a nurse came in and all he could get out was the obvious; that Davey was in pain and something was wrong. The nurse, calming and level, adjusted the morphine, and both Davey and Crutchie could breathe again. “Are you okay?” He asked, once the nurse was gone. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it worked just as well. Davey nodded. “Yeah. Now.” Time to rip off the bandage. Crutchie took a deep breath and asked, “What about Jack?” Davey’s face fell and he shook his head. A wave of emotion threatened to knock Crutchie back into the chair, but he held on a moment longer, holding the bedrail with white knuckles.

“You should rest.” He sat down with a thump and picked up the book, thumbing through it until he found his place. With tears beginning to stain his cheeks, he stretched out his hand, gripped Davey’s with everything he had, and continued to read. –

Davey was discharged a few weeks later, with strict instructions not to go out into the field until official clearance was given by the agency’s doctor. Even so, it took almost two months of mindless muscle-building exercises for Davey to get himself back to something resembling normal. It wasn’t hard to assemble a team to find Jack. The agency was more like a giant family than anything, and nobody was surprised when most people were ready to drop whatever projects they were working on to devote their skills to the search. Race ended up leading the search, being one of the agency’s best in the affectionately dubbed “Q Branch” (by Jack, of course). Katherine seemed to live in her office now, and her work clothes had slowly transitioned from neatly pressed dress shirts to paint-stained hoodies, but her voice could be heard through all hours of the night chipper as ever as she went through every contact and connection she had. But as Davey recovered, everybody else was beginning to fall. Because somehow, Snyder had dropped off the face of the Earth, and he had taken Jack with him. Crutchie and Davey helped out as much as they could. Often times Davey would be sitting with Katherine, crossing out names and writing notes as they came. Crutchie alternated between Race’s office, where he would sit on the extra chair and watch the screens, and in the laboratories where he’d join Blink and Spot in devising plan upon plan for when Jack was found. He enjoyed those most, simply because there was no “if”. It was always “when we find Jack” and “this is how we’ll do it” and there was no room for argument. Jack was coming home. Except two months turned into three, turned into six, and still they were no further along in finding Jack or Snyder. The vigor with which they had begun the search was receding, leaving tired agents chasing single-word leads that led nowhere. Crutchie and Davey didn’t return to the apartment. For Davey, it was full of dark corners and the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears, and he found that being alone brought back the struggle that he had ultimately lost. He slept in a new pull-out bed in Crutchie’s office. Crutchie frequently joined. Most nights, though, they’d take the elevator up to the seventh floor and climb the stairs to the roof, where the rarely-used helipad had turned into a refuge from what could sometimes get overwhelming. Though the path from the wide pad to the inside door was untouched, a corner of the roof had been filled with comfortable stools and paint-splattered tarps and even a small lamp that only worked in the summertime. They would sit along the ledge and watch the colours of the sky as though Jack was right there with them, and they’d fall asleep using drop cloths as blankets, and they’d make sure everything was right as they found it so Jack didn’t come home to a mess. (If Jack ever came home.) (Home.) Until one night, nearing the eight month mark, one of Race’s monitors made a sound. – Davey found Katherine in the gym that night, playing workout music so loud that he could barely hear his own thoughts and beating on a sandbag. Without speaking, he sat down on the weight bench, and watched as she threw punch after punch with increasing frustration. When she started yelling, he said, “Katherine.” She jumped back, grabbing for the straps of her gloves. “I didn’t hear you come down.” Davey crossed the room and turned the volume down on the speakers. “I didn’t think you would. Do you want company?” “I’d like that.” Katherine took off her gloves and threw them to the wall. It was far past working hours, and the lights above the sandbag and mats were the only lights still on. Davey stood surrounded in shadow. She took a long while to speak. “I passed you an hour ago on my way down and you were in the same position as you were this morning. Have you eaten yet?” Davey watched her skeptically. “Is this why you were destroying all of the agency’s available sandbags?” “No!” Surprised, Katherine let out a small giggle. “No, I’m just wondering. You tend not to eat when you’re working hard.” “I stole a sandwich before I came down here,” Davey told her. “Crutchie’s usually caught up in his own stuff too. Jack’s the one who makes sure both of us eat.” “Me too, honestly,” she said with a sigh. “He really takes care of everyone here. It’s a wonder this place hasn’t fallen apart without him.” “It’s pretty close.” They sat in the dark. The silence was nearly bursting with all the things they wanted to say, but every word was choked down. The clock in the corner of the room passed midnight. The only audible sound was Davey’s rapidly increasing breaths. “I miss him,” Davey said. “I know,” Katherine replied. “Me too.” “I wish he didn’t do it.” “You know he didn’t consider that an option.” Davey stood abruptly. “Why’d he have to be so damn protective all the time? Why’d he have to love everybody so much? If he had just stayed back, if he had thought this through, maybe I would’ve been a little roughed up. Maybe I wouldn’t be as great as I am now. But he’d still be here, holding everyone together. God knows he’s the one who does that. Not me, and he still did it for me. Why?” Katherine followed suit, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Because you’re Davey, and he loves you.” “What if I don’t want him to, if this is what’s going to happen?” Davey yelled, pushing away from Katherine and hitting the sandbag with a bare fist. His heart was hitting his throat now, growing out of control, spiraling up through his chest and bursting out of his body. He couldn’t count his breaths, so he hit the bag and counted that. Counted, counted, pounding- “Davey,” Katherine said, somewhere above the water. He heard scattered words, picked out “call Crutchie”, and nodded. His hand throbbed. He was on the ground. How about that, he observed. Then Kath’s voice broke the surface again, and everything slowly filtered in again. “…on his way,” she was saying. She was holding his right hand, where the knuckles were red and bursting from the impact of the punches. “He told me to keep talking to you. That’s what I’m doing. Jesus, Davey, I thought I taught you to use gloves.” “Didn’t want to go get them,” he croaked. She looked at him in surprise, and then smiled, comforting and clear. “The anger does that sometimes.” He shuffled, pushing his legs underneath him, and hissed when Katherine’s fingers brushed against his knuckles. Next to her was the small medical kit kept in the gym, and a roll of gauze sat forgotten on top. He shifted a gaze to her. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it,” she replied, equally quiet. She watched as he wrapped his hand, easily even with only one hand, and they waited for the telltale click of Crutchie coming down the hallway. Instead, they heard the click of the building intercom, and Race saying, “You guys had better get up here quick.” –

Was it important? Definitely. There was no question about it. Race wouldn’t use the intercom otherwise. But Spot was in the middle of making coffee, so that’s what he did. Davey, Katherine, and Crutchie were already in Race’s office when he came in, holding two steaming mugs of dark coffee. He watched them all as they watched him, took a sip from one mug, and placed the other on Race’s desk. “Took your sweet time,” Race said, finally. “Got your coffee, dipshit,” Spot responded. “You’re an ass.” “You bet I am.” Davey cleared his throat. “Race, what’s up?” The change in the technician’s disposition was immediate. He swirled around in the chair and pointed to one of the monitors on the wall. “So I managed to hack into Jack’s computer early on, right? And I found this file in deep cover a while later that has basically everything you’d ever need to know about Snyder. Except when I went through it the first time, nothing helped.” With blurred fingers, he brought up two more windows on the monitor. “I got a notification today. There was some activity at this one place we had decided wasn’t relevant, and it opened up a whole whack of stuff that had been happening under the radar. So I looked further, and I found this.” On the screen was a schedule, along with a large group of pictures. Each depicted a different person, in an area noted on the schedule, with a bag of some sort. “Messengers,” Race explained. “The code didn’t pick them up ‘cause there’s nothing weird about them on their own, and we didn’t pick them up ‘cause they’re too sporadic, too far apart. But there’s a connection, we just realized this morning. Specs and I put this together.” Anticipation gripped everyone in the room. “So this means-” “We have a trail,” he confirmed. “And with a trail, we can find Jack.” Katherine put a hand to her mouth. Crutchie slumped against the wall, eyes rimmed with wetness, holding onto Davey’s hand like a lifeline. We can find Jack. “It’ll take a bit of work, but we finally have something to base it off of,” he continued, pausing to take a long sip of coffee. “And we’ll get our cowboy back.” At once, a sigh swept over the entire room. All the hope that had slowly dwindled throughout the search returned in a swell of relief. It had been eight months of nothing, and now finding this was the one saving grace within all of the suffocating darkness that had fallen over the agency. It was a start, and it was all they needed. The evidence, there on the screen, was the proof that things would get better. Davey was openly crying. Crutchie rubbed circles into the back of his hand, trying to ignore the threat of tears spilling out of his own eyes. “Maybe you’ll start wearing actual clothes again, Kath,” he joked instead. Katherine scoffed. “Maybe it’s time for a change in the dress code. These are comfortable.” “You’re a diplomat.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t live my life,” she responded, grinning. “Oh my God, Jack is going to have a field day with this. As far as I know, he’s not aware I even own sweatpants.” At the thought, Race burst out laughing, followed by Davey and Crutchie, and soon even Spot was giving a reluctant chuckle. It was sleep-starved, relieved, and definitely tinged with a drunken sort of insanity, but it was real. For once, something was going to be okay. –

The week following, everyone was working harder than ever. The excitement was alive in all areas of the building, each working in their own way to reach the goal that had been set so many months ago. They knew, now, that they could do it. And they did. This time, it was Buttons who figured it out, after keeping track of the messengers almost obsessively. There was something about to happen. People were bringing more and more supplies underground, stocking up, and it was becoming more and more certain that Jack’s return would come soon. They organized a mission. A location and date had been caught by one of the Q-agents. The plan was this: - Davey would go in, having been cleared for field work over two months ago. - Crutchie would be on comms. It was an easy choice. - They would wait until Snyder’s agents showed up. Davey would go through them until he found Jack. He would use some form of tranquilizer, probably developed by the med team, and use it to bring Jack home. Hopefully there would be no complications, and it would work. Crutchie bought a new wheely chair for the mission. It was smooth and comfortable, and perfect for chair races. Spot tested it once, on his break, and disappeared up to Race’s office, probably to convince him to get a better chair. Crutchie deemed it perfect. (The race that had broken Crutchie’s chair had been far from the only one. Often times people would come out of their rooms to watch as the two men flew down the hallway on office chairs. Sometimes there were bets.) Spot and Mush were spending most of their time in the lab, personalizing the standard tranq formula for Jack. Davey prepped as much as he could for the mission, reading over every possible file the agency had on the building, Snyder, and everything in between. There was, of course, was the taboo topic of exactly what would happen if Jack wasn’t in a condition to come back. Or, god forbid, if he wasn’t there at all. The day before the mission was set to go, there was a room in the medical labs below the agency full to the brim with whatever supplies the med team could get their hands on. There were backup vehicles as needed on the mission. Contingency plans had been set. All the stops had been pulled out, and it was time to go. We’ll get our cowboy back. – Jack dreamed, occasionally. The dreams were few and far between, and were usually as strange and subhuman as fever dreams were. Sporadically, he dreamed about Davey and Crutchie and the Before. Those were both the best and the worst dreams. The best, because he saw their faces, watched and felt as they embraced him with relief and joy and love, and although it wasn’t real it always felt so right. Like he belonged right there in their arms. The worst, because every time the dream came, it went just as quick: in a pop that left him with wet cheeks and just the glimpse of a life he had sacrificed. Because every time, he believed that somehow, he was safe. Because every time, he woke up back in the unknown. He tried not to associate them with the dreams. It wasn’t fair to them, wasn’t fair to their memories. It wasn’t fair that the last time he’d see them would be in a fragmented reality created only by his mind. (It wasn’t fair that his interactions with either of his boyfriends had ended in such a way, but life wasn’t fair anyway.) (Could he even still consider them his boyfriends?) Jack dreamed, and he tried not to be disappointed when he woke up. –

“Alright, Davey, you’re clear to go whenever.” Crutchie’s voice floated out of the earpiece. “They’re spanning the building, covering a single person in the middle, by the data room. Betcha it’s just who we’re looking for.” Davey snorted. “Betting is Race’s forte, not mine. But you’re probably right.” Crutchie’s tone was warm as he replied, “I’m always right. That’s why you love me.” “Damn right it is.” Davey checked the cartridge on his gun. It was full of double-strength tranq bullets, something that Spot had given him not fifteen minutes before Davey headed out for good. (“I’m not mad,” Spot said. “Just a little pissed.” “That’s basically the same thing.” “Yeah. Well. If he puts up a fight, this’ll knock him out real quick.” “And?” “And what?” “There’s always an and with you, Spot.” “He might be out for a while.” Spot shrugged. “But it’ll help in the long run, if he’s got an injury then he won’t be stubbornly aggravating it like he stubbornly aggravates everyone else.”) Davey teased that Spot would be glad to have Jack back. Spot had denied any semblance of emotion, but after he left, Crutchie texted him a picture of him and Race and a bottle of scotch in the break room with the caption “drinking for jack’s safety”. Then, “spot’s gonna kill me if he finds out I was listening”. Davey took that as good luck, and laughed at Crutchie as soon as he appeared in his ear. He fiddled with a lock now, on the main floor of the building, and basing his success off the hope that Snyder’s team had disabled all the alarms in the building and not just the floor they covered. His hands were not shaking. His heart was steady. Faced with the possibility of Jack, all Davey could be was calm. That’s the damn influence you have on me, Kelly, he thought, slipping silently through the doorway and heading to the stairwell. The occupied data room was on the third floor, down a hallway after exiting the stairwell and to the right. It was dark, but Davey had Crutchie and the light of the moon to guide him. “My boyfriend radar is tingling,” he told Crutchie  quietly, in a last-ditch attempt at humor. Crutchie  laughed. It sounded forced, a bit sad, but he took what he could get. And, he was in the room, and he managed to hit all the guards on his first try despite the deep-seated fear that one of them was actually Jack. The person at the computer ducked. Davey blinked at the shadow. It looked like someone he knew, and he knew now that it had to be- Jack stared at him from beside a desk. He looked scared. He was a lot thinner than Davey remembered, with harsh features and dark circles beneath his eyes. There was a cut across his cheekbone, still raw and thick. All Davey felt was anger. Anger at Snyder for forcing Jack into this shell of himself (the Jack he knew would never be scared of him, never) and anger at himself for letting this happen. Jack wasn’t supposed to be like this, he wasn’t supposed to be scared, he was supposed to be the one calming Davey’s anxiety and not the other way around. Not that Davey was doing that, at the moment. He held the gun up, stoic, and fired. Maybe when Jack woke up, he’d be okay. Davey closed his eyes after firing. He didn’t want to see Jack fall. –

Jack did not dream. He did not drift. He was suspended in time, in a black hole of absolutely nothing, and then he heard voices. “He said it would take a while to wear off. Up to a month, I thought I told you?” “You did. I just miss the idiot.” Jack tried to scramble back into the dark expanse of nothingness. It would be better, god, anything would be better than having this happiness once more ripped away from him. It felt so real. (It was never real.) His mind stubbornly stayed in the present, listening, as the voices of his boyfriends once more appeared. “At least he’s safe no-” He couldn’t take it. It felt so real, too real, a pipe dream, something that was so far away Jack could only think about what would happen. It wasn’t true. It was never true. He was going to wake up soon, cold and afraid, and pretend like he didn’t get these dreams on a nightly basis. Pretend like he didn’t get his heart shattered every morning. “Jack?” God, it was beautiful. Jack wanted to give in, to answer. Yet- “Jack, please,” said someone else. Yet he wasn’t cold. He felt warm, slightly achy, and less afraid. Taking a chance would hurt, but he had to hear the voices. “Can you open your eyes?” No. No. He conveyed that. Open his eyes and the dream would be lost, open his eyes and Davey and Crutchie would be swept away, particle by particle, until there was nothing left but a ratty, tear-stained pillow and a cold iron bed frame. “Please?” No. “Why?” asked the Davey-voice, and oh, that was touch. Touch rarely came in his dreams, but when it did, Jack savored what he could get. It was the nicest treatment he’d had in months. No one else had touched him with anything less than a sting. “Can you tell us why?” “Might not be real.” His mouth was moving before he even realized it, voicing the fear he had felt since the very beginning of the dreams, and still felt even as it came true every time. Acknowledging the dream meant it would be all the worse when it disappeared, but it was worth it. It was always worth it. Then, more touch. Ow. And someone was laughing, sweet and high, Crutchie, and somewhere Jack believed that it wasn’t just a dream this time. It felt so real. Too real. Real enough to be- “Please be real,” Jack mumbled, and opened his eyes. They didn’t melt away. There was no sound of pouring sand as Davey and Crutchie disintegrated into nothing. They stood, strong as ever, and looking as if their entire world had begun spinning the moment Jack woke up. God, it was real. “Hi,” he whispered, and managed to puff out a laugh when both of his boyfriends repeated it simultaneously. Something still ached, down in his stomach and spreading toward his back. But it was okay, because he was there, he was there and safe and with the real, alive people he had dreamed so much about. “Missed you.” Because he did. He missed them so much that the last few months had been spent frustratingly trying to replicate the feeling of Davey’s fingers combing gently through his hair or the way Crutchie would rub his back after a long day. He missed them so much it hurt, but now that they were here, nothing hurt anymore. “Thought I’d never see you again.” Because it was true, he had believed that Snyder would take away his only happiness and leave him with the memory of Davey’s shocked face and Crutchie’s panicked voice. He had believed that he wouldn’t make it out. He had been okay with that. God, he missed that smile, he missed holding their hands. Crutchie was talking, and then Davey was, quickly beginning to ramble because what better to do than talk? It was proof Jack needed that everything was right. When he gathered enough strength, he propped himself and managed to scoot to a semi-sitting position. “I love you two,” he said, putting more meaning behind the words than he thought he’d ever done before. “Really. I know I don’t say it enough, but I do.” And he didn’t even need to get an answer to know that it was reciprocated in full force. The way they watched him- something he recognized solely from being the one watching them like they hung the stars- that was answer enough for him. (Of course, they answered anyway, and then somehow they all squished into Jack’s hospital bed and everything was perfect.) –

Everything was perfect for about a week. Except the first person who saw Jack walk in the agency doors after he’d been discharged was Spot, who was managing to hold two cups of coffee and an energy drink, and when Spot almost dropped all of them and stalked toward Jack, something was obviously wrong. “You’re a big fucking idiot, Kelly,” he hissed. “How could you even think about-” He jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest and Jack flinched. Jack was looking at him with wide eyes, and Spot immediately froze. “Oh,” he said quietly. They stared at each other, then Spot swirled around, picked up the myriad of drinks, and disappeared through the stairwell doors. “Jack?” Crutchie asked, and Jack was anchoring himself against the wall and running a hand down the side of his face. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. “I can’t. I just- I’ll get overwhelmed. Snyder, he- he-” “It’s all right if you need time,” Davey said softly, appearing behind Crutchie’s shoulder. “We understand. I can’t imagine what it was like, god, eight months- whatever we can do, Jack, just tell us.” “I don’t know,” Jack told them truthfully. “I don’t know what’ll happen. I need space, I guess. Nobody yelling at me. Nobody telling me I’m-” he bit off the word with a swallow. “Just, try not to tell them too much. I don’t want everyone thinkin’ I’m a swan or something.” He didn’t want to hear an answer, so he swept them both into a hug before they could say anything. “I’ll be in my office.” – They bought a new apartment. The old apartment was plagued with bad memories. Nobody had stepped foot in it in months, and it was evident that no one quite wanted to. The paint covering the bullet holes in the bedroom didn’t exactly match the wall colour, and wood chips from the coffee table kept showing up no matter how many times the living room was vacuumed. Besides that, they needed somewhere off the record, so nothing could ever lead Snyder to a repeat performance. (They had tried to find Snyder after rescuing Jack, but he had disappeared long before. Nothing could lift their spirits the day they realized that. It took away much of the closure Jack thought he had.) Jack was constantly looking over his shoulder. He held Davey’s hand a lot more, sometimes with a grip so crushing Davey felt like his hand was going to break, but Davey never complained. He’d discovered that when Jack did that, something in the room was bothering him, so he tried his best to help them both escape. It was an agreement that never had to be spoken. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Jack would scream. He didn’t always elaborate on the nightmares, but he’d often wake up shaking and wrap himself around Davey and Crutchie. They were his constant, the ones he could depend on to whisper assurances and carefully wipe tears away when the nightmares were too much to handle. He needed them there, to convince himself that they were all okay. They slept with the light on. It helped ground Jack when he woke up, reminding him that he was safe and not back there. He screamed less as time went on. –

“Spot,” Jack said after a long while, cornering the smaller man in the break room. “You’ve been avoiding me.” It was true, in a sense: there had been only careful, one- or two-word conversations between the two, nothing remotely close to the teasing banter that used to fill the halls whenever they talked. Spot was stiffer, skirting around Jack whenever possible, spending more time in the lab and clocking out later than usual. “Maybe,” Spot said, not meeting Jack’s gaze. “Why?” “None of your damn business.” Jack caught his arm as he tried to slip away, and held tight until Spot sighed and turned back to him. “I know it is. What’s wrong?” They stood in silence for a long while. Spot opened his mouth and closed it again, swallowing dryly. “Look,” he began, and then stopped. “I- when you- goddamnit, Jack, I know I’m abrasive, but I don’t want you to be scared of me.” Oh. Understanding flashed in Jack’s eyes, and Spot barreled on. “And I know that deep down, it shouldn’t matter, we’ve been friends for a long time, but you know how I get. I yell. A lot. I’m pissed ninety percent of the time. And if it’s bad for you, then it’s on me to be the one to fix it.” He attempted to duck under Jack’s arm, but Jack held him firmly in place. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you that it’s nothing because it’s not nothing. I’m telling you that I’m working on it. But if you keep avoiding me I’ll never know when it gets better. It’s hard, knowing that wherever I go he could be there, watching, but sheltering me isn’t gonna do shit.” Spot said nothing. Jack blinked. “And- I miss it. The old Spot.” Slowly, a grin spread across Spot’s face, and he batted Jack’s hand off his arm easily. “Jacky, I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to anyone other than your asshole boyfriends.” He didn’t miss the flash of pain in Jack’s eyes, but he patted his arm and left the break room, and Jack was thankful. (When he passed Race’s office later that day, he told him to relay the message “mine aren’t, but yours is” to Spot, with no context. Two hours later, a paper airplane appeared on his desk with FUCK YOU HE’S GREAT written in big block letters, and Jack laughed out loud.) – “Okay, everything seems to be goin’ good so far,” Race said joyfully in Jack’s ear. “In fact, we might be able to-” He was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open, and swore. “Christ, Davey, thought I told you to knock during missions.” “It’s important,” Davey said in the background. Jack felt himself go stiff. This was exactly like before, what had happened so long ago- long enough for the scars to scab over, long enough for the pains to fade- and if this was anything like last time, he was going to break down. “Jack?” Davey asked. Jack gulped down a rising suspicion. “Here,” he replied cautiously. Davey didn’t sound scared. He sounded rushed, sure, but it wasn’t a type of rush that comes from terror. It was more… excited. Excited? “We were gonna wait ‘till you got back, but there’s kind of a group in the conference room close to fighting- anyway, Crutchie may have- well, he may have found an untagged puppy outside the building earlier today and the shelter we went to may have asked if we could find a home for it.” Faintly, Jack heard Race say “why wasn’t I informed of this?”, and laughed.

“And, uh, we’ve got a new apartment that’s plenty good in keeping another body, even if said other body is currently a dog that was found outside our work building. Crutchie’s kinda already taken a liking to her too, honestly. She’s really sweet.”

Jack kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. This was momentous, like getting a child- god knows Jack already had to deal with twelve coworkers on any given day- but there was a proud feeling in Jack’s stomach. He felt ready.

“Is it okay with you?” Davey repeated.

“If it’s okay with you guys,” Jack answered, feeling higher than he had in months. “I’d love it.”

Davey hissed a small victory cry that didn’t go unnoticed, and if that wasn’t the greatest thing Jack had heard then he’d be lying. “Thanks, Jack. Have fun with the rest of your mission. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jack told his boyfriend, but Davey was already gone, closing the door gently at Race’s request and probably running back to the conference room.

They named her Bailey, and she was loud and tended to pee in the closet where the shoes were, but she was loved so much that it didn’t matter. When nights got tough, she’d maneuver her way onto the bed and lay her head on Jack’s chest and stretch out between him and whoever was on his right side that night, and they’d wake up to her curled comfortably in the blankets with the rest of them.

Jack rarely screamed anymore.

If he did, he had two boyfriends and a quickly growing puppy.

He felt pretty okay.

[blueyedcas]

Wings like Midnight (Ch. 10)

Can also be read here in AO3

Chapter 1     ->     Previous Chapter     ->     Next Chapter

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Gabriel & Other archangels and angels

Summary:

An angel’s wings are a beautiful and unique thing, their colour supposedly signifying their owners personality and temperament. But when an fledgling is branded an ‘abomination’ the moment he’s created, will Gabriel find it in himself to help the little one? And is it possible that Heaven’s new angel could help him back?

(I promise the story’s better and more complex than the summary)

Hi guys! So sorry this took ages to be posted, I've been really busy with college and my virgin media decided to block AO3 on my computer :/ :'D Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! Sophie xx p.s. once again, thank you to my amazing beta, Dayna <3

“This is so unfair,” Balthazar howled, his arms swinging loosely by his side as he stomped towards the stairs. He whined all the way to his room and made loud thumping noises with every step. Eventually, the sound of a door slamming shut was heard, marking the end of his tantrum.

Gabriel smiled, wondering how little Castiel would turn out, when a high pitched screech pierced through his head. His hand shot up and pressed into his temple in an attempt to sooth the violent ringing.

“Gabriel? Are you okay?” Anna asked once she noticed his pained grimace.

“Yeah, I think it's just Michael,”

As if on queue, Michael’s deep voice echoed around his head, washing through his mind with a hypnotic calm.

“Gabriel, you are to report to the Gohe room… Immediately.”

The piercing screeching ceased, leaving a sensation of emptiness and apprehension.

Despite their calming quality, Michael’s words sent sparks of fear sizzling through his blood. Tiny explosions of uneasiness erupted in his head, releasing anxious thoughts that spiraled into illogical terror. Gabriel tried to reign it in, focusing on what was important.

“Would you…?” He trailed off, holding out Castiel.

“Yes, of course,” Anna said, jolting into action after a few seconds of puzzlement. Carefully, she took the little one into her arms. “What did Michael say?”

“He wants to see me in the Gohe room for a meeting.”

As he said this, Gabriel twisted around and checked his wings, fastidiously grooming the tides of golden feathers for anything out of place or messy. He smoothed them over with his fingers, gently plucking any that were spiking out in the wrong direction. “Is it okay if I leave Castiel with you?”

Anna nodded, bundling the fledgling closer to her.

“Okay, well, uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly as he headed towards the door. It was an odd feeling, to trust someone with his fledgling but not know them well enough to be at ease in their presence. The other angel inclined her head, wisps of red hair falling across her face. The last thing Gabriel saw before he closed the door was Anna gazing lovingly at Castiel, a protective intensity radiating from her.

He made his way back through the suffocatingly white hallway while trying to ignore the stabs of jealousy shooting through his body. He should be glad-- No, he was glad for Anna’s help. Exasperated with himself, he continued down the hallway towards the nest’s entrance, shaking away any thoughts of envy.

Just as his hand touched the door’s handle, a light, tickling sensation trickled up his arm, stopping at his shoulder. Frowning, Gabriel peered to the side and saw a pair of antennae twitching nervously out the corner of his eye.

“Loki!” he exclaimed, extending a finger for him to crawl onto. Once he could see the little beetle properly, he realised he wasn’t nervous; he was angry. Gabriel avoided his black, beady eyes.

“Sorry, bud, I completely forgot about you,”

Loki turned away from him and glowered.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I’ll make it up to you,”

“Who’s that?” came a whisper from behind him. Gabriel started and spun round to find Balthazar perched eagerly on the steps.

“Ooooh, you have some guts coming down here,” the archangel grinned, and Balthazar’s expression instantly dropped.

“I didn’t--” he started angrily before pausing and choosing to take his voice down a notch in volume, “I didn’t say.. The word. Not the last time anyway!”

“Yeah, I know,” he said sympathetically. Balthazar's angry expression turned to him and he realised he’d said the wrong thing.

“Then why didn’t you say anything!” the fledgling whispered furiously.

“You think I want to start an argument with Anna?” he said, shuddering dramatically, “She’d tear me to pieces,”

Balthazar tried to keep a straight face but he ended up giggling, and Gabriel smiled along with him. A thought struck him and he bent down to the fledgling’s level.

“While I’m out, would you mind looking after my friend here?” he said while lifting the beetle up to their eyeline, “He’s called Loki.”

Wonder replaced the mirth in Balthazar’s light blue-grey eyes and, carefully, he stretched out his palm. The beetle turned back to Gabriel, sending him another scathing glare.

“Trust me pal, you’ll prefer it here to where I’m going,”

The archangel could almost see the beetle’s brain straining, considering his options. Eventually, with a last petty antennae twitch, Loki crawled across. Gabriel marvelled at how small the fledgling's hand was compared to his, thinking of how much Castiel was going to grow. Excitement fizzled within him, mixing with the apprehension that had settled in the pit of his stomach since Michael’s message.

“I’ll look after him,” Balthazar said solemnly. Gabriel smiled, but not in a mocking way.

“I know.” For a moment they regarded each other with a mutual respect, as equals. Gabriel basked in Balthazar’s wide-eyed gaze, letting the warm feeling of acceptance envelope him.

Reluctantly, the archangel pushed away these new emotions. He has his duties, and tricking himself into a false sense of belonging would only cause more pain in the future.

With a loud sigh, he stood up, stretching his wings in preparation of flight. Light bounced off his feathers as if they were golden mirrors and the tops of his wings gently scraped the ceiling. A smirk appeared on the Archangel’s face as he watched Balthazar’s mouth open in wonder, finding the fledgling’s awe more fascinating than his wings ever could be.

“I’d get gone before Anna finds you,” Gabriel said as his hand closed around the cold surface of the door handle. Hesitating for a moment, he finally opened it, unwilling to leave the safety of the nest.

“See you soon?” Balthazar said, both a goodbye and a question. Gabriel noted the hope in his eyes and something in his heart gave way. An overwhelming wave of affection flooded his mind as he realised the fledgling truly wanted him back.

“Definitely,” he managed to croak. With a final glance at Balthazar he forced himself out the door and slammed it shut before he could change his mind.

He took a moment to look down the ethereal streets of Heaven. No one seemed to be outside which Gabriel found strange. They’re probably still gossiping at the market.

The archangel redirected his gaze upward at the bright blue. It stretched to every corner of the sky, so artificial and cold, as if Heaven were capable of no other colours but white and blue. He couldn’t understand why his Father hadn’t made it a nicer shade, why He’d settled for this everlasting blanket of weak, insipid blue.

Why had He left Heaven with this when Earth’s sky could be mistaken for a small slice of the universe, changing from orange to blue to black, unpredictable and exquisite.

What about it’s oceans? Constantly swirling, flowing, seething, foaming; Towers of blue sculpting layers of immovable rock as if they were made of sand.

What about Castiel’s eyes? Spirals of azurite, so calm and tranquil, like peering into the soul of an ancient being.

Of all the blues He has created, why had He left Heaven with this? Why had He left at all?

Gabriel physically shook his head, ridding himself of the questions spiralling around his skull that were beginning to build momentum and power.

*

“It’s a dangerous path to keep asking questions,” said Michael, once. “If you keep asking questions, you’ll become one yourself.”

“But how can someone become a question?” Gabriel had asked, still barely an angel.

“Your sole purpose will be to find answers, constantly searching for something you’ll never find. Don’t be a question, be an answer.”

“But, how am I supposed to be an answer if I don’t know any answers?”

Michael was beginning to get annoyed. “Well, you can start by not asking so many questions.”

*

He pushed himself into the cold, distant sky, his wings slicing through the air like golden blades.

It was strange, he thought, how things so powerful could be made of feathers. They were so silky and soft; pliable and weak. Take one by itself and it goes with the breeze, floating along helplessly, taken away and lost. The wind is a force of nature so much stronger than each individual feather.

But when feathers work together they become a solid wall of power, and the effortless freedom of flight is possible. They can create the breeze or fight it. They can go with the wind or devote every fiber to pushing against it. With wings, flight is inevitable. They can fly against nature, each feather rustling happily as they swoop upwards and beyond.

Gabriel was now cutting through the sky, high up and out of sight. If anyone were to look up they would see a tiny dot floating along in the blue, and that was how Gabriel wanted it. The less attention, the better.

In the distance, he spotted the Gohe room. It was a grand but simple building with a single room, held up by extravagant pillars. A narrow staircase, leading up to an entrance hole, was used mostly by his younger siblings. For some reason, Michael encourages them to walk instead of fly. Gabriel had put it down to the eldest archangel trying to create another barrier between them and the rest of Heaven’s population, as if they needed anymore of those.

The Gohe room was a meeting point in which any angel could freely talk to the archangels, whether it be about problems or ideas as to how Heaven could be run. Understandably, meetings were a rare occurrence. Raphael had once boasted this was down to their outstanding leadership, as if the lack of meetings were down to a lack of issues instead of the thick layer of distrust and fear that hung around them, repelling any sane angel from seeking help.

Tucking in his wings, Gabriel curled downwards, golden hair swept back as he plummeted. He kept going until the stairs were at a reasonable distance and he spread his golden appendages out, halting his speed enough to allow a graceful landing.

After taking a moment to collect and prepare, he hopped up the remaining stairs and passed through the entrance.

Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed <33 I can't believe it's the 10th chapter!! Please feel free to leave a comment or a like I'd greatly appreciate it! Until next time ;D Sophie xx

[qualkoesuce-blog]

Dating site con artists

What is a Con Artist? (with pictures) Sh'reen morrison had been targeted by joining online, contacts a.  They are excellent at reading people and have no trouble locking into emotional triggers.  Potential victims have been known to get messages saying they're beautifuor handsome when they haven't even posted a photo, and comments about being sweet and terrific when the text in their profile is practically empty.  The best way to spot con artists through their profiles is to scrutinize the content.  Yes, I'm being sarcastic The show, Catfish, does us all a disservice by soft-soaping the dangers of online romance scams.  And this, I came to find out, was how she secured her income for over ten years: by pretending to be a guy named Alex Lee.

com-k2.ru Is Operated By Scammers That Are Conning You Meet Filipina Girls and Woman, Singles and appreciated by 1000's for relationship American single man, boyfriend or foreign husband.  He even said he was going to marry me, and buy a ring for me.  Funny how you sound as if you're right next door, when you're really half a world away.  These three rules will help protect you from most kinds of Internet fraud.  Bobbi - I need to read your hub - it sounds like it covers some information mine doesn't address.  We went to his brother's house for dinner and after we left went back to his parents house.  The holidays were coming, and she didn't want to face them alone.

Online Dating Cons and Scams He had my heart now I'm hurt and not trusting.  The same girls are on all the time.  He never actually met any of his Facebook girlfriends, claiming to be shipping out whenever the requests for face time became too insistent.  You might also contact a center for abused women to see what channels they're aware of.  Not all married men are brave enough to meet you in a seedy motel room, but they create a cybersex with erotic messaging, text and chatroom conversations.  I am not worried if I get a thing when they are gone.

I Was Catfished And That Con Artist Is Still Out There I've seen photos that were definitely part of a male model's portfolio.  It takes a lot of strength to say 'no' to something that seems to offer all you've ever wanted in life but that has red flags.  Their objective is to get you to drop your guard.  He came to my father's funeral and all he wanted was a free ride.  This particular person had a son and said he had a mom and other family members, too.

Con Man Arrested After Years Of Scamming Women On Dating Sites: Gothamist Check it probably conicides with the times in Nogeria or Ghana.  But since they may already claim to live in another country, poor language isn't always a problem.  Indeed, they're so well known that 419ers have adopted a more effective variation — mining dating sites for targets of romance scams.  I begged him to please show me his face, promising that I would love him no matter what he looked like.  We have an entire team here dedicated to nothing but preventing the fraud that is common on the web.  I just disconnect when this happens.  My mother and father-in-law came to me eight years ago saying that if I didn't help them pay for their house they would lose it.

Romance Scammer Stories: One Online Dating Scam And Amy was looking, desperately, for reasons to trust Dwayne, because the money was really adding up. Free Filipino Relationship Web site.  I've never been scammed out of money, I've been scammed of my feelings.  It felt almost like she was talking to someone else.  The con artists are yet another breed - they're only out to scam people, right from the start.  They spoke for only a few moments before it broke up.

Your Online Safety Yes I could tell the are scammers just by the way the sentances are formed.  I looked at his profile pic -- the guy looked ruggedly handsome, at least on that photo.  Devereux, of Roseway in Macclesfield, was also convicted of sexual assault, false imprisonment and fraud.  She bought all his favorite foods — fresh salmon, sourdough bread, a nice Merlot.  He owes back rents and monies to women and men that he befriends.

'Cunning' dating site 'con artist' jailed for rape and blackmail Arrange your first meeting in a public place like a coffee shop, book store or restaurant.  She was a regular on game sites, dating sites, chat rooms, Facebook, paperback swaps, radio blogs, online art galleries — anywhere people would go to make friends online.  Search to see if their image matches someone else.  He wants to have phone sex and he asks you to text him nude pictures of yourself.  Educational websites, such as the one for the National Information Center, can also provide useful information about specific cons.  More than a week went by with no answer.  Instead, he would send images of vampires and dark, gothic angels.

Your Online Safety There are some organized scam operations on most dating sites, and they're getting better every year at sounding normal and honest.  Born in neighboring Benin, he and his family moved to Nigeria during his childhood and went looking for opportunities in the emerging economic powerhouse of Africa's most populous nation.  Certain people enjoy the rush of pulling of a scheme, while others look for a sense of superiority over those they target.  Oh what amazing belly laughs we can have and oh, how smart and above it all we can believe ourselves to be, knowing that while there's a sucker born every minute.  Make exchanging recent photographs mandatory before deciding to meet someone.  They reel you in by playing on your emotions, telling you of his dreams and of his past hurts.