#where was the [redacted] against the tank??

[poedays]

Some Headcanons I have for the listener characters for Redacted/Castle Audios (for funsies):

Castle - Ranger, Seer, Knight, Sugar, Dewdrop, and Dear/Bud

Redacted - Angel, Babe, Sweetheart, Tank, Lovely, and Honey

Castle:

Ranger:

- Looks like the phrase ‘ladies and gentleman’.

- Owns a pair of docs but stopped wearing them because they hurt their feet.

- Has a vintage Hindustan Contessa car in a beige colour.

- > has one of those fluffy dice decorations because Isiah gave them one for Christmas.

- >> they took it down after getting their memories back.

Seer:

- Has grey-ish blue eyes and when they use their powers they flash a bright white.

- Framed a piece of paper with Beth’s work signature on it and hung it where she pushed them against a wall in their house.

- Likes really big dangling earrings but can’t wear them for long otherwise they give Seer a headache.

- Tristan asked Seer to see into his future but instead of something cool, they saw him tripping over his own untied shoelaces.

Knight:

- Has an ‘I love my lesbian sister’ T-shirt, and Claire has a matching ‘I love my ally brother’. (Can be queer sister, ally sibling, or literally any matching queer shirts - I just thought it was fun).

- Is totally into Evie biting them and liked the thought before she was turned into a vampire.

- Knight never walks in front of Claire when the two are walking together, only beside her or behind her. They’re scared she’ll disappear again.

- Being introduced to people as ‘Knight’ gives them a confidence boost every time.

Dewdrop:

- Would own a pet snake.

- > Would call it something either ridiculous or super serious.

- >> “This is my little boy: Sir Serpent Snake-Sir the third”. Or “That’s Bob.”

- Chloe has a birthmark on her thigh that they love to kiss.

Sugar:

- Had a favourite jacket they were wearing before getting turned with a bunch of pins and patches on it -> but it was covered in blood stains after they were attacked and now they never wear it.

- > Their turning was a full on attack that was very bloody.

- Looks 20 but is like 98

- Is such a Valentine’s Day snob and would either proclaimed it’s a false holiday made to make profit from love, or they’d be 100% into it and go wild with roses and wine. (Basically they’d either be Damien or Huxley when it comes to Valentines).

- Saw Liza when she was a high school student but only has a vague memory of it so they can never place where they’ve seen her from before.

Dear/Bud:

- Has Heterochromia, left eye is blue and the other is brown. Totally doesn’t symbolise the two different characters that they’re involved with. Totally.

- Has GAD and takes medication for it, but prefers to have Rose in their head sometimes to help their overwhelming thoughts.

- Monster energy drink addict (Abby got them into them) it is not good for their anxiety (Rose would much rather they drink tea).

Redacted:

Angel:

- Likes to bake but forgets to set a timer, then forgets there’s something in the oven and has almost ended up burning the house down -> David has banned Angel from using the oven when he’s not around.

- Tried and failed to get their driver’s license five times.

- Has a tattoo sleeve with little Animal Crossing and Minecraft references mixed in there.

- Romanced either Sebastian or Shane in Stardew Valley.

Babe:

- Is an only child but has a younger step-sister they see on holidays.

- Likes to carry Asher around sometimes -> wears light and layered clothing so you wouldn’t assume they have muscles but actually have quite a bit.

- Makes Asher little packed lunches for when he has pack meetings and they’re not going.

- Is dyslexic, and needs glasses, words don’t like to word for Babe.

- Has painted Angels nails on numerous occasions.

Sweetheart:

- To empowered people they have tattoo like white marks on their collarbones and under their eyes (Stealth things (also can choose to show them, so people can’t tell right away)).

- Needs reading glasses.

- Has phased in their sleep and woken up above the blankets somehow?

- When they panic they cloak and uncloak really quickly so it kinda looks like they’re teleporting.

Tank:

- Has a bunch of siblings (Tank is towards the older end of the lot) and was heartbroken when they all moved away and none of them chose to stay with them in Dahlia.

- Easily sunburnt.

- Tried to count Sam’s freckles once without telling him what they were doing and kinda just stared at him while gradually getting closer. Eventually they ended up getting his shirt off to count more of them, and Sam just sat there flustered and confused.

- Has 100% played ‘Save a horse (Ride a cowboy)’ to serenade Sam.

Lovely:

- Their hair has started to turn white from stress.

- A lot of their hair was muddy and bloody after getting captured by Adam, so the morning after they were saved Vincent helped them chop off bits that couldn’t be salvaged.

- Used to think their brown eyes were boring but after they turned they miss their old eyes every time they look in a mirror.

- Is absolutely amazing at board/card games.

- > Somehow always wins Game of Life even through it’s pretty much a game of chance.

- > Got Sam, Vincent and Tank to play Monopoly with them and all three were bankrupt within half an hour.

- > Also dabbles in chess.

Honey:

- Works from home most days and has an office with a ‘No Guy Allowed’ sign on the door.

- For Guy’s birthday one year Honey learnt how to crochet and made an amazing sweater with a bunch of granny squares specific to Guy’s interests. Honey is all embarrassed about it because they know where all the little errors are but Guy loves it to death.

- Has picked up Guy to move him out of their way.

- Also plays Stardew Valley sometimes and is like five years in but hasn’t married anyone.

- > Has high hearts with the Wizard.

Thanks for reading! I’ve got more Redacted/Castle rambles on my blog. ❤️

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: A Nomad finishes the verse of his past. A Techpriest reclaims his son

Pairing: Temog x Techpriest (Father and son)

Genre: Drama/ bittersweet/ fluff/ wholesome

TW: Crying my eyes out (angst), bittersweet, wholesome reunion. Brain wasn't cooperating in redaction of first part I'm sorry. Long aaaahhh one-shot

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia @echo-of-damnation @meervalv0

@jaghatai-khock @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @druidwolf21

Finishing the verse.

Zirmer looked sideways at his son as he did his calculations on the rhino tanks he had been commissioned to perfect. The boy was sitting in a chair that was too big for him, his legs were swinging endlessly while his whole body was leaning towards the plans his father was looking at and making notes, he was tempted a couple of times to say something to his dad like play ball or play the Emperor's Tarot, in which he always won, to chat for a while and see the hypnotic smile on his father's face. Zirmer finally couldn't hold in his laughter any longer and with an amused look said to his son: ‘Wait a bit will you, I'm almost finished! A few more minutes and you can annoy your old father all you want." ‘But dad this is boring!!! Why don't they put a model 547 instead of that heavy 875, the one I said would be much easier to maneuver and the bumps to the hull wouldn't be so bad!!! Did they give you this just so you couldn't hang out with me so long?’ - The boy said bored pointing with his soft, tender hand to the plans his dad was looking at. Hearing this the adept gasped, he had not expected such a technical comment for the infant's young age, let alone the critical commentary on what a craftsman before him had planned. However, Zirmer didn't want to show any flaws or doubts to his superiors who were about to transform him into a cyber-smith, so he decided to show his anger against his son. ‘What do you know about it, child! How is it possible that after all I have shown you and considering how our Almighty Omnissiah arranges things for us his humble servants, it is unacceptable! My own blood that I love infinitely raising their voice against the plans of a superior! No more games for you today! Lock yourself in your room and do not come out until you have recited five prayers to the Omnissiah for your offense young man.!"

Zirmer took a deep breath, he couldn't believe how angry he had suddenly become at his son, nor did he intend to give him such a great punishment but it was the "necessary thing to do", he told himself. It was necessary to give his beloved a bright future in the Adeptus Mechanicus; after all Zirmer was doing all this for him and, of course, to climb the ranks of power and knowledge in their Forge World.

After five minutes of rest to calm down he went back to check the plans and ordered a servant to send a short message to the Techpriest who had commissioned the plans:

"My most sincere greetings oh master, I am sorry to bother you in your tasks for the Omnissiah but, and if you can forgive the audacity, wouldn't it be better to change the heavy model 875 for a lighter and stronger one like 547? My deepest apologies if my ill-timed comment has offended you sir, I will do the rhino as you ask."

Not five minutes after the message had been sent the Techpriest Ztir II made his presence known in the small house of the aspiring cyber-smith startling the latter and causing him to bow to Ztir for as long as his machine-like body would allow. He congratulated Zirmer in his numeral dialect for his ingenuity and keen robotic eye and that his improvements would be more than just fixes for the machine spirit of the next rhino lines to be made in the forge world. And after giving him his blessing along with promises that his days of glory and total devotion to the Machine God were not far off, he departed.

Zirmer was totally stunned and with trembling hand he reached for the notebooks where his firstborn used to draw in his spare time. And page after page, notebook after notebook came out detailing parts, plans, mistakes and more of everything his little head could hold. This was the fruit of his father's labour at its finest that could make Zirmer a much higher power than he had ever imagined…. a forge lord of his planet. He spent the rest of the day looking at his son's childish but technical drawings and wishing with all his might that he could have wept for joy.

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

The boy has aged, he is a young man of only 11 years old, and his father aged with him but in a different way. The few human parts of Zirmer were the ones that had been affected by the weight of his longevity; but the rest of his body, the legs and a bit of his torso, were completely flawless, the metal had adjusted perfectly to his old battered form and the few remnants of his old body were seen more as a sin than an actual link with the man he once had been. The only thing that was rotting more than flesh was the father's relationship with the son, they no longer played, they could not talk about anything other than the Omnissiah and his many "blessings", as the father called them. The son said nothing but more and more he kept looking at the front door of their home and venture into the space port he had heard ships landing on it since he was old enough to differentiate the sounds of one ship's class engines from another. He linked what he heard with freedom, with adventures beyond the confines of his home, the one his father had denied him to leave.

The boy kept wandering how he would make it out of there, escape the fate that awaited him if he stayed with his father; become another machine like him was inconceivable. He needed to run away from home, from his father...from the Mechanicus.

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

Zirmer laid on a operation table being blessed by the mechasabius as he was given the final piece that would make him a member with total devotion to the Omnissiah. Slowly the needles were lowered into Zirmer's face, proudly he surrendered to the temporary pain his flesh was suffering, it was nothing compared to the thrill his spirit felt. Zirmer's son heard it all. He'd snuck past his father's door, he couldn't bear the thought of the last day they'd spend together. So he stood there and watched as the last piece was slowly being pushed into his father's face. The final needle hit the flesh, but before the mechasabius could say the closing blessings a small sound could be heard coming from the room's entrance. It was the boy, who had yelped at the horrific scene his father was partaking in. As the lifeless eyes of the Mechasabius and his mechandrites turned their heads in the direction of the boy the room erupted into a choir of hissing, growling and beeping. In binary they were shouting and ordering the boy to not interfere with the sacred work of the Omnissiah. "Dad, what are they doing to you!?" The boy shouted, tears running down his cheeks. The Mechasabius was about to start shouting again in the boy's direction, but the kid quickly fled the scene before either the mechandrites, the Mechasabius or his father could do anything. The boy did not look back as he ran away, tears rolling down his eyes and onto the floor of the city, the final sight he had seen was the look his father gave him, and the pain it carried with it. He managed to flee all the way to the interstellar ship docks, where he sneaked on board a ship, which soon would leave the world and his father forever.

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

There is a lump in Temog's throat as he finds enough courage to look up from the ramp of the Thunderhawk to the rest of the space port surrounding him. The crowd of both human and worshippers of the Omnissiah looks so comically small for the Astartes' size. And yet they seem to be all around them. "You're sure this is the right place, brother?" Sengos softly whispers into the Nomad ear "Like the sun that bathes the steppes, this is the place" "May the Khan guide you then. Go in peace, we shall wait here" As the rest of their squad disembarks and finds conversation with Imperial officers, Sengos gently bumps his brother shoulder. Temog's feet seem to drag through the metallic floor of the port as he moves towards the exit. The air is heavy and thick with smog, but that doesn't stop him from breathing in the smells that remind him of the las time he had visited his world. Forge worlds don't tend to change, even centuries could pass and still find them looking like they had been carved out from a single piece of metal. But to the Nomad, this place was more than just an industrial paradise, it was the place where the Emperor's dream was made real. As Temog keeps walking, the crowd around him becomes thinner and thinner until he finds himself all alone.

Then, at a distance, ahead sees it, standing tall amidst the other forges around. The giant skyscraper that functions as the seat of the most esteemed Techpriests of the world. The Spire of the Omnissiah, it had been too long since his eyes had seen it, even now it made him feel insignificant in comparison. It feels like a small eternity before Temog finally finds himself standing right in front of the structure. It has been built in the shape of the cog wheel, with the top part being slightly narrower than the base one. He looks up, seeing the massive statue of theMechanicus Regent at the top, the sun making its copper shine. The doors slide open and Temog steps inside the building. The air here is not much better than outside, but he can see the lights on the ceiling of the hall. There is no one else there, at least for now. He begins walking, his head constantly turning in every direction as he takes in the beauty of the architecture around him. The floor under his feet changes from a gray stone to a pristine white marble as he passes through, his steps are sure and with purpose, finding their way in the short and confusing passages purely out of his enhanced mind that can still recall the way back to the heart of the forge. The distant light of one chamber still on and noises inside made his twin hearts beat faster than they had beaten ever before, even in the fiercest of battles the Nomad had faced. His hand reaches for the handle of the door, the metal cold under his skin. It feels heavy, the door, almost like it was resisting him, but he manages to force it open, the muscles in his arms tensing up as he does. Light floods his vision as the room is filled with it. A man stands with his back to Temog, his robes seem to be made out of pure gold that shines brightly, the patterns are refined and made with a precise hand. Temog does not need to search in his mind for any memories to remember who the figure is. He feels as if his hearts were going to explode, as if the joy and pain was too much to bare. His mouth fails to make a sound; too overwhelmed with sentiment, too weak to even speak up. His feet make a massive effort to take two steps forward. The figure turns to the sound, the cogs in the wheels of the old Techpriest rattle against the ground as they move. The eyelids open widely and the blue glow increases.

Temog leans forward, the Techpriest does the same. They embrace each other and then the Nomad can't hold back anymore, wailing in the metallic limbs that surround his massive body, his feet collapse and Temog falls to his knees; crying, sobbing, whispering in a soft language the Techpriest knows all too well.

And thus, Zirmer and his son reunite once again. The Nomad had come home, the Song of his life can finally close the verse referring to his past.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

✨️I'm back✨️

Ok, first of all just getting angle's point of view is so interesting, especially compared to Tank and SH, who feel more Antagonistic isnt the best word, but it's all I can think of, is amazing.

Ash telling tank what happend, well what did he tell them? Everything? Did he exclude what was carved into SH? Im fully aware that's probably a spoiler. But anyways, Ash telling them anything all while he threatened to tackle them means a lot to me.

Angle just wanting to feel like their own person again is so real. Like dealing with survival and thriving is such a cool topic to focus on. Especially since it feels that everyone else's pov that you've written is somehow involved in first responding. And i totally get the needing to just get out.

A small part of their childhood is always so mich 'fun' more like interesting. And seeing how when they made eye contact with quuin, who he reminded them of.

Angle and Quuins' conversation is so cool because it's so interesting to see how they best survive the situation. And I'm sorry they fucking walked him to the station is both fucking crazy and such a interesting survival tactic.

Quuin fucking waving is crazy. Like stupid mother fucker, kick rocks.

What did David say to him that night? What exactly is that night? It's lore we didn't know about. I have so many questions. But I'm so excited.

Anyways,

Lover your writing as always,

-River

Something I noticed I do I end these messages the same way. Just something kinda cool.

Buddy!! So glad you're back!!!

I've been thinking of characters in this piece as active vs passive. Tank, Sweetheart, David, Sam, and Asher are all active characters, making moves both individually and collectively against Quinn and the threat he's bringing into their life. Angel, Babe, Lovely, Freelancer, Vincent, etc. etc., aren't at the forefront of his threat and therefore aren't making as many moves directly against him as individuals. Usually, in stories like this, the active characters are in the most danger, and we've seen that come to fruition already with Sweetheart being hurt in the way they were, but what makes Quinn so devious is that he doesn't give a shit about active vs passive. He is going to hit wherever, whomever, whenever he likes. So it's important to get the POV of characters like Angel who aren't making direct moves against him so we as an audience can see that he isn't holding back when it comes to them. We get to see the threat come to fruition.

Ash told them exactly as much as he thought they needed to know. He isn't the sort of person to hide things to save their feelings, but he's also not cruel. He also wouldn't share more than SH wants, given that those are their scars. He won't violate their privacy like that.

Angel is such an interesting figure in this story and honestly in the canon of the Redacted verse because I feel like they are uniquely vulnerable. Married or mated or both to the most powerful, most putting-himself-in-the-line-of-fire main character we get in these stories makes them feel like such an easy target. They are textually small, at least smaller than David and the other packs members, and they don't have the magic in the main verse or the skill in this verse to back them up. But they're also, at least to my understanding, fiercely independent. They don't NEED David, they live their own life fully and completely. He certainly makes their life better, but when their independence is restricted (see their sick comfort video), they tend to lash out and try to be even more independent. Such an interesting character trait!! And So dangerous in this particular instance!!!!

Angel has this like complex woven backstory in my brain that I will have to write out at some point. Lots more where that little snippet came from.

Angel is a smooth talker. They are clever and kind and they will use the good grace people tend to extend them because they're funny and approachable to survive. Angel was following the logic that, if somebody is following you, drive to a police station to scare them off. But the safest thing in the world to them is David, so that's where they go. They know that David will protect them better than a station full of cops ever could.

Quinn indeed fucking crazy. THIS GUY STINKS!!!!

Back in Chapter 10, when Darlin' told David everything while driving back home from the fight with Quinn, he has a short exchange with Quinn outside the car that Darlin' can't hear. Here's the paragraph for ya:

David stood outside of the truck for a moment longer, your door closed. He said something to the darkened, empty street. You couldn’t hear what it was over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

David is referencing this night, whatever he said to Quinn, and, apparently, whatever Quinn said in reply. We will most definitely get the gist of what he said at some point, but maybe not the exact words. I still haven't decided.

Always love seeing your comments and getting to ramble a bit about this story!!! More to come soon!!

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hii, could I please have a matchup ☺️💕 thank you!!

* What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

Million Dollar Houses by PTV!! My fav verse has to be “maybe we’re meant to lose the ones we love but I’ll fight for you till then”. I feel this way a lot wether it’s for something I’m doing or towards someone I’m dating yk, I think it portrays that feeling rlly well

* What is your Enneagram type?

Type 9

* Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

YES OMG I watch sooo many but my fav has to be “learn to be bored” by Farah. It’s just so interesting and her way of explaining things is so calming I love all her stuff

* Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

I remember I had this fish tank in my room, so I’d pretend they could hear me and just yap away to these poor fish lmao, I think that’s the closest to imaginary friend I had

* What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

Tbh I fall asleep anywhere and anytime easily but on the rare occasion I can’t I just put on some music and it seems to help

* If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

I’d probably change it to Amada. It’s one of my old relative’s name and she’s somebody I look up to and hope to be like, so I’d love to be named after her tbh. Family is def something that’s important to me so it fits

* What is your favorite of Redacted's audios, and why?

One that’s up there for me is deeefinitely that David audio where he catches you with his hoodie. I always go back to one of his audios if I need to relax and that’s fs one of them (side note, I remember after listening to that audio I knew immediately that he was gonna propose for the next one ommmg)

* What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don't get the hype for. (I won't judge, I promise.)

Tbh anything with Marcus or James I know nothing abt. Nothing against them yk but I’ve never rlly bothered to listen to any of the audios in that series

* Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

Guardians of the Galaxy, both movies but tbh more of the second one. I could recite majority of the movie and I know ALL of Rocket’s lines by heart I’ve watched it countless times by now. Might rewatch today tbh I love them

* Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

I’d love to be friends w Damien. My best friend is similar to him and I feel like he’d bring out the best in somebody, I could see myself working rlly well with him esp with school and stuff

* Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you're tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows l'm ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

Hmm I don’t really ramble but if I’m tired I love to listen to somebody talk. I’m more of a listener in general but when I get sleepy I’ll call one of my friends and have them just rant until I’m actually ready to sleep

* Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

Ironically, 711. I dont get the slushees though, I just get a strawberry milk with those fruit bowls. Idk what it is but it’s like routine atp

* Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment.

My fav playlist rn is my main one- It’s pretty much just rock and like grunge w a little bit of metal, I listen to all genres but I mainly listen to that. Lots of Radiohead, pierce the veil, Red Hot Chili Peppers yk

* What's your guilty pleasure media, and why?

Any anime ever but esp Ouran. I can’t help but rewatch yk 😞

I hope I’m not too biased as a fellow type nine when I say this, but you’re a family-oriented type nine who’d get along with Damien. Who would be a better match for you than Huxley?

Type Nines are the peacemakers, the mediators of the Enneagram, always listening and taking care of people, watching the mood. This combined with family being important to you and Damien reminding you of your best friend leads me to believe that you’d have so much in common with Huxley as all these things describe him too, you know? He’d see a kindred spirit in you and would know you’d be a good fit with his life, loved ones, and values. Apropos of your enneagram type, this would build a very peaceful life together.

That’s not to say it’s not a fun or romantic life, of course. This is Huxley, we’re talking about; he is a total sweetheart to be with. He watches all your anime with you, even though it’s totally new to him, and he watches OHSHC as many times as you’d like, jamming to the theme song. (My headcanon is he’s totally in love with the shoujo genre and would love A Sign of Affection and Kimi No Todoke best.) For your next gift-giving holiday, he gives you a life-size Rocket Raccoon. When you’re sleepy, he lays you down, holds you close to his chest, and rambles about socks or some such until you fall asleep. It’s a perfect life, honestly.

Song:

I don't want this moment to ever end/ Where everything's nothing without you/ I want you to know/ With everything, I won't let this go/ These words are my heart and soul (I'll hold on)/ I'll hold on to this moment, you know/ As I bleed my heart out to show/ And I won't let go

Finding a balance between your rock/grunge music and what I headcanon Huxley to listen to was very interesting, but I think the Sum 41 song I picked is a good fit. This song would have come out when Huxley was a kid, and the nostalgia of it combined with having someone to listen to it with would just make him overjoyed.

Runner-ups:

Guy would be a really fun runner-up, because if you like falling asleep to the sound of a loved one talking? Is there a better possible match in that respect? Geordi, I like for you because he’s one of the few boys who I think would be an anime fan, especially OHSHC. (Asher is the other anime fan, I think, but he’s more a fan of shounen.)

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[captainofthenautilus]

snake update! (at last)

So! I joined my university’s reptile physiology research lab a few months ago (it’s been really cool and fun and fulfilling so far but that’s a separate post). And one day, my professor (/faculty advisor/interim dean/whatever the appropriate title is idk. everyone just calls her by her first name anyway) sends this message in the lab groupme:

[image id: a screenshot from June 8, 2023 at 1:40pm where the name and profile picture of the sender have been redacted for privacy and replaced with the word “Professor.” There is an image of a normal morph ball python in its enclosure, followed by a message that reads, “Baby ball python available. Free, comes with cage. This is a 20+ year commitment. Who wants it?” end id]

as far as I see it, the story is that a kid (~17yo) got the snake, but couldn’t keep it since his dad’s lease specified no pets 😔 so the family reached out to my advisor to try and rehome it.

now see, I love snakes, but I don’t know as much about ball pythons as I do about corn snakes (I was researching snake care and doing all the planning for Ophelia for *years* before I actually got her, which is what led me to being so passionate about herpetology in the first place), so I was hesitant to volunteer, especially on such short notice.

I didn’t want to make an impulsive decision and regret it later, so I messaged a whole bunch of people (including my girlfriend, my mom, my housemates, several online friends, and other people in the lab), but everyone I talked to about it encouraged me to get the snake, citing the fact that I already have experience with keeping snakes (I’ve had Ophelia since October) and that I actually had the capacity to take it in (other people wanted to, but couldn’t due to circumstance).

so I volunteered.

[image id: a screenshot from June 8, 2023 at 3:08pm where the name and profile picture of the sender have been redacted for privacy and replaced with the word “Me” with a message that reads “I’ll take him!” end id]

I had also volunteered to go to an outreach event with my advisor just a few days later, so we stopped by after the event to pick up the tank and I was able to bring her home! the tank fits perfectly on my desk right next to Ophelia.

[image id: two glass terrariums placed next to each other on a large desk. end id]

I had assumed it was a male since that’s how other people were referring to it, but based on the length of it’s tail I think it’s a female. I also tried the “popping” method and didn’t see any hemipenes, but I’m not too experienced with that so I could be wrong. All this to say, I originally named her Horatio, but the name didn’t really stick.

(for the record, I’m not against giving a female snake the name of a male character, gender is a social construct and the snake literally would not care, but she just didn’t seem like a Horatio. I did the same thing with Ophelia when I first got her.)

this is already a long post, so I’ll cut to the chase.

Behold, Gertrude!

[image id: two pictures of the same normal morph ball python from the image at the beginning of the post, this time being held by OP. In the first picture, the snake is resting, curled up in the palm of OP’s hand. In the second picture, the snake is in a more active position and is climbing around OP’s wrist and lower arm. end id]

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 28: Choices

Once we were clean I gave Albert a kiss on the cheek hopping out of the shower. I put on a starched white lab coat as well as a midnight black tank top and leggings. I gathered my belongings and threw on a pair of black tinted shades similar to the one Wesk normally wears. With a quick jog, I placed my old clothes into a locker and headed toward the containment chamber.

"Are you ready dearheart?" Albert asked resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, just shaking off some rust. I have a plan you go in first and introduce yourself to them. Dr. Cordell and the rest will follow suit. Maybe Galeforce will be here in time to help."  I said placing my purple sunglasses in my lab coat pocket.

"Fine just be sure you keep your emotions toward him front and center. It will be a while before you can deal real damage to him." Wesk said handing me a black briefcase, "These are the vials of your blood and several vials of opioids I have a rough idea of where you are going with this but I will follow your lead lotus."

I smiled gently sighing, "What intel do you need my beloved Albert."

"What did Sergei do to you exactly, dearheart? Even if you were Alistar this would of happened either way. The files you gave me were redacted from Sergei's hard drive. Those were secrets he took to the grave. I am sure Cordell is the only other person who knows." He said stroking my cheek.

"And the wife is just collateral, or in this case our key, my love," I smirked wickedly.

"Then let us begin dear heart."He walked through the door of the containment room.

"Thaddeus, where are we?" The wife asked blindfolded as Albert stood between the tied-down love birds.

"I don't know but no matter what happens to me you must not say a word especially not to this traitorous cockroach." Dr. Cordell snapped at Wesker.

"Now Thaddeus that is no way to speak to a former colleague." He said removing his sunglasses.

"So you are a freak! Just like your wife. I miss watching her squirm every time I brought you up. She was loyal to you till she wasn't Tabitha anymore. All that remained was love for those wasted assets Alistar and her son. All she was, was agent seven hundred forty-eight. Lord Vladimir's prized bitch." Dr. Cordell laughed.

I zipped over and punched him in the nose sending his head jarring back, "You should check your facts, Cordell. This man is no freak but a marvel of the natural world." I said setting down my virus vials and torture kit.

"That voice has changed but it's unmistakable. You did run back to him my greatest creation. Just as lord Vladimir said you would." Thaddeus laughed louder.

"We will see how long you're happy for. Something you didn't realize is I'm the sole person with the angelis samples and I have seven. ." I said pulling off the shades, my eyes flaring blue, "After all you never told me what a lovely wife you have Thaddeus."

"You wouldn't! After all, you preached about not being like lord Vladimir. You have turned into a creature more vile than him. You would infect someone completely innocent. "  Cordell shouted.

"Turning on your creation Thaddeus such a shame. My wife is a goddess who you created. You should be proud and I would not speak too much, after all, my darling lotus never experimented on anyone." Albert said walking up to me and stroking my cheek.

"At least before I was infected. I'm going to make you tell me everything you and my rat bastard uncle Sergei did to me." I said cutting the wife's shirt and bra off, "And maybe she will receive my mercy. Which was a luxury you and Vladimir didn't grant me. Albert, please hold her head down. I have syringes to prep."

He smiled wickedly, eager to play in my game of chess against Thaddeus, "As you command, lotus.".

I opened the case and prepped the seven vials of my blood. I didn't have to worry about blood rejection. I was a universal blood donor and the Angelis virus was most easily transmitted through blood. With grace and agility, I assembled the needles with their blood cartridges.

"I am ready to begin Wesker. Keep her pinned, love. These won't be too hard to do." I said walking up behind the wife.

"Please don't do this seven forty-eight. Kathleen had nothing to do with what I and Sergei did. If you do this you WILL be just as bad, if not WORSE than Colonel Sergei." Cordell shouted as I stabbed six of the syringes between the ribs on the back and the last one into Cordell's wife's neck.

Pressing the plunger down, the wife begins to have a seizure. The signs of viral rejection were starting. She wasn't a match. Smirking I turned to face Thaddeus, "Tell me what he did he made me into."

"ALRIGHT I WILL TALK!!! JUST STOP THIS!!! I'M BEGGING YOU SEVEN FORTY-EIGHT NO LADY TABITHA!!! PLEASE DON'T MAKE THIS SITUATION LIKE WHAT WE DID TO YOU!!!" He pleaded like a dog before me.

"Oh don't worry Thaddeus, it'll be nothing like that. unlike you bastards I have mercy in me," I said pulling out the needles.

"Vladimir made you a sleeper agent that's all I know after he infected you he had me track your mental progress and he programmed a chip and planted it in the 'r' in your Sergei scar. I have the message on a pendant in my belongings your people took from me. It explains everything." Thaddeus said crying staring as his wife started to growl and lurch forward.

I smirked and undid her chains. Her skin was now a ghost white matching her eyes, " Such a pity no match at all don't worry Dr. Cordell I'm sure she'll recognize oh wait that's only for Equinoxal and Arch Angel, not B.O.W.".

"YOU BITCH!!! YOU LYING BITCH!!! KATHLEEN STOP IT IS ME YOUR THADDY!!!" Cordell screamed.

With a smirk, I went equinoxal shredding the lab coat with my wings, and simply looked at the wife. Pointing at Dr. Cordell was all I needed and she bit down on his neck causing him to scream out in agony.

"Sorry Cordell. It appears I am my husband's wife after all." I said motioning for Albert to grab the pendant, "Just as bad, worse, don't make me laugh. I am a Phoenix. All I leave is a burning wake of destruction and I will always keep coming back to do it."

While Albert was walking over to the briefcase in the corner of the room, I reverted from my mutated form the wings and excess bone shattering into ebony-colored obsidian. I pulled my samurai edge from its holster with an ammo mag in it. I loved this gun, it has gotten me through a lot of hard times. I aimed and shot Mrs. Cordell in the head. her brain and coagulated blood splattering across the doctor and the white concrete floor. I secretly flicked on the safety and placed it in front of Cordell.

"Now we both are broken and had some of the things that mattered the most to us ripped away. For me, my daughter, my son as well as my brother, and my sister were taken. For you, you lost your career, became a wanted fugitive always on the run, your research being used against you and now you learn actions have consequences." I squatted down next to him, "I put her out of her misery as an act of mercy to you Cordell. Now you have three choices. Number one, you kill me with my gun. Number two join us and work to fix what you did. Then number three is, you kill yourself with my gun. I think you know the smart option."

He lunged for the gun and pointed it at me, "You! You are just like your damn uncle. all business and no mercy. Now I'm going to enjoy putting you down like the bitch you are."

I smirked and started waving as Wesker dashed over and ran his arm through Thaddeus Cordell.

"That woman you call a bitch is a goddess you filthy cur and you are just a waste of our precious time. You can die just like Sergei and Spencer." Albert said dropping Cordell's corpse on the floor.

"Here is the pendant my lotus," Albert said Cordell's blood dripping on the pendant.

"Blood sample recognized, thank you for your service Umbrella researcher Cordell." Red Queen's voice rang out.

"No, it can't be," I said Vladimir's figure appeared as a hologram,

"My anemone, agent seven forty-eight. This will be my last address to you. Your cockroach has found us and I'm sending Cordell out with this message." The hologram spoke.

Albert placed his hand on my right shoulder, "I'm here for you this time my love."

"I know, I just have a bad feeling," I said worriedly pulling away.

"You will avenge Umbrella my tsennaya suka," Vladimir spoke with erie joy.

"tsennaya suka,"  I repeated ringing in my ears as I fell into darkness.

(Wesker's P.O.V.)

"Now agent seven forty-eight, Umbrellas anemone, squash that cockroach like you should of on Rockfort Island."

"Yes, Colonel." My lotus spoke and walked over to her torture kit.

"I'm sure you are watching comrade. I warned you Umbrella wasn't going anywhere. She was my backup plan from the beginning." Sergei laughed, as my lotus picked up her scalpel and turned to face me, "Now choose comrade living another day or killing your precious lotus. End transmission."

Sergei vanished. His last words awaken the sleeping monster inside Tabitha. The B.O.W called agent seven hundred forty-eight.

Her blue eyes were like ghostly hallows of themselves. She quickly stepped towards me her blade tucked under her right index finger.

The next thing I see is a blur of black and red slamming into Tabitha. The speed was immense even topping my own. The blur slammed her onto the floor. When the blur stilled it revealed a young-looking male with black hair with deep red highlights. He held her in an advanced sleeper hold, somehow managing to get behind her.

The man quickly grabbed a syringe from his belt and jammed it into her neck. She elbowed him in the plexus and flipped him over, "Damn you agent nine seventy-one."

She dropped to her knees clutching her neck, the male sped behind her again resuming the sleeper hold, "T look who you're targeting."

She opened her eyes and for a moment she regained her sense of self, "Alb...Albert.".

"That's right the man you love. now rest it's time I got that damn chip off your spine." He said completing the sleeper hold as he gently laid her on her back.

He stood up and looked around at the containment chamber.

"Damn, I've been gone for three months, I knew I'd find a mess when I got back." The man said turning toward me revealing a light blue and a dark green eye.

Then I recalled what my dear lotus said when we entered the containment chamber.

"Late again Chambers or has Rebecca not instilled manners in you yet," I spoke crossing the room and picking Tabitha up bridal style.

"Sorry boss, bitches love guys who are fashionably late." Gale Chambers said shooting the pendant with Tabitha's samurai edge, "Let's get her to medical so I can get the last remnants of that bastard Sergei out of her."

Well there we have it. Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter and character. Next chapter will be out soon. My name is Silfarianhawk and I'm not so far away

[starryknight-dragonarts]

The Bone King Gender: Male Background: The Bone King (Name redacted) is the title held by the leader of a desert tribe who need to be harsh to withstand the harsh conditions. They tend to rob dragons who pass through their territory but can also be bartered with to grant travelers safe passage for a steep cost since they also need dragons to keep coming with resources when times are harder and the herds have moved on. Rather than having a royal lineage, his tribe's leadership is based on a meritocratic system, where the roles of leadership are vested to individual dragons on the basis of talent, effort, and achievement, rather than wealth or social class. You have to prove that you are the best for the job to win any sort of position of power, and the Bone King needs to be the Strongest warrior and capable of keeping the Tribe surviving. Sometimes a Bone King will oversee the training of a potential successor who has shown promise but anybody in the tribe is capable of challenging the current Bone King. The Current Bone King was not one of the ones trained by the previous Bone King, he worked his way up to be the strongest, and eventually toppled the previous Bone King. Personality: Despite his menacing appearance, his own dragons mostly all admire him. He is a fair ruler, above all the most important thing to this Bone King is honor. He will still attack and rob travelers, but he will never resort to using underhanded tricks in life or in battle. This Bone King is honest to a fault, keeps his word, and sticks to the decisions he makes, so if he says he is going to kill somebody it's not just him stating his intentions it is a fact, and it's very hard to make him change his decisions once he has declared them. This doesn't always lead to the best actions all the time but he so far has kept his Tribe surviving. Strengths: Decisive, Strong, Selfless Weaknesses: Stubborn, Uncompromising, Headstrong Powers: Earth Stats Elemental Energy: 6/10 He has above average energy, but his stamina is limited. He needs to be strong and make due with very little so every little resource is used to its full potential. Elemental Control: 9/10 The Bone King is incredibly well trained in his elemental power, every use of his element needs to be used to count, and he trained for a long time to be the most powerful dragon in his village. Intelligence: 6/10 The Bone King is a wise leader with many experiences under his belt. He knows how to take care of a village of Dragons in the Desert, but outside of that he's not very experienced in matters that are not strictly necessary to him and his dragons to survive.

Combat Ability: 9/10 The Bone King is an expert in close quarters combat. He will tank his way through attacks to get close to his enemies and then overwhelm them with constant attacks so they can't focus or pull off an elemental attack against him.

[wonkyreads]

The Stars Too Fondly by Emily Hamilton

2 out of 5 solar systems

Cleo McQueary is lost in life and absolutely obsessed with what happened to the crew of Providence I. Twenty years ago all 203 of them had simply disappeared and no one at NASA seemed to care enough to figure it out. Cleo and her friends, though, hatch a drunken plan to break into the space ship to puzzle it all out for themselves. The plot spirals out of control from there in ways the official synopsis doesn’t touch on so I feel obligated to leave out as well.

The Stars Too Fondly is marketed as a queer space odyssey rom-com and while I can see where they’re coming from, it (along with the mention of a heist) wasn’t anything like what I was expecting. I’d compare it to Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers more than just about anything else and it has too much heart to be distilled down into just ‘rom-com.’ I can see it being an absolute hit with the right audience. That audience just really wasn’t me.

First of all, this is very much science FANTASY more than the hard sci-fi I’d expected. I’m a chronic overthinker so every modern day pop culture reference and impossible piece of science magic sent me spiraling. And there was a metric ton of that. So, if you’re the kind of person who will wonder why TikTok and Thomas the Tank Engine are still relevant in 2061 or if a ‘food extruder’ would be super convenient or a hellish prospect for someone with celiac, then this might be a skip for you. I think I’d have had an easier time with all of it if Providence I hadn’t been launching a mere 17 hypothetical years from now when it seems people from 2061 had made little to no new scientific advances (despite so many kids purportedly having gotten obsessed with Providence and then going into STEM fields). And also if there was a single pop culture reference that wasn’t from 2019 or later. I care far too much about the logic of it all and this is a book that requires the reader to largely just go with the flow. It is intentionally silly and often requires a hefty suspension of disbelief.

Because I am nothing if not nitpicky, a couple smaller things that made it difficult for me, personally, to stay within the narrative: Sometimes conversations lacked dialogue tags and it tripped me up every time. This is about a group of 20-somethings, but it absolutely leans very YA (by which I mean I haven’t read someone sticking out their tongue so often since fanfiction in 2010 but also the cadence of the writing/narration is very bright and young and often immature). I just cannot pinpoint why the formatting chosen for this novel didn’t work for me. It flips from a close third following Cleo, to old Providence I reports and private messages, to a [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] perspective rapidly within each chapter. Usually I love having multiple weird perspectives, but I think there was a lack of separation, especially at the beginning, that got under my skin as a reader.

Probably the biggest issue I had over all was honestly a marketing problem where huge parts of what the plot of this book is about were fully left out of any synopsis I read before or after. I was honestly so excited to read this book (between sapphic space heist, the title, and the cover I was so sold) and I’d have never requested it if I’d known that it contained a plot point (plot gimmick, trope, ??) that I almost always dislike. For the record, it’s a totally fine plot point/trope and doesn’t require a content warning of any kind, I’m only not being explicitly clear about what I’m talking about here because they chose to leave it out of their marketing and I’m writing this review before the book is actually out. I’m trying so hard to avoid spoilers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not holding marketing decisions against Hamilton, it’s just super frustrating in general.

I feel like I’m being so negative when I don’t necessarily mean to be. This debut was not all bad. Not in the slightest. I can recognize that it wasn’t meant for me. It didn’t focus on what I wanted it to and I went in with all the wrong expectations. It’s just that as someone who often reads reviews before I pick a book up, I want to get all the reasons I wasn’t 5-star in love with this out of the way first.

So now for some of the things done right: There’s what I can see being a solid romance here and beautiful found family dynamics. I enjoyed the diversity and the different places each character was coming from and how easy it was to distinguish where their priorities differed. There’s action sequences that fully drew me in. I love the inclusion of multimedia bits, especially the ones that give new information from an unexpected direction (I mean, the one that’s very clearly the abstract for a scientific article? So good!). There are ideas and themes here that I absolutely adore, like how far people will go for those they love and how easily power can corrupt an ideal and just the messy business of still having growing to do into your twenties and thirties and probably forever. I can absolutely see this book being loved. Truly and fully.

I’m just so utterly bitter that it couldn’t work for me.

[I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own. Huge thanks to NetGalley and Harper Voyager for this eARC.]

[insomnova]

things i'd change:

the initial fight. what the hell kind of assassin walks in and goes "FIGHT ME" in broad daylight and is expected to be taken seriously?? hello??? the motive to do it makes sense in a 'jedi don't want any collateral damage and taking hostages would kneecap their abilities due to their compassion being wielded against them like a knife' but the way that was handled was so messy??? and made me think she was an idiot 💀 literally felt my respect die an ignoble death (just like indara LMAO)

also what the hell was indara even doing there?? she wasn't even like. talking to anyone. she was just sitting in the corner with her hood up??? did i miss something here or was she literally just shoved into a cantina without explanation

if anything the show should've opened on INDARA, showing why she was there, showing what a jedi's day-to-day in a galaxy not hounded by the constant presence of the sith is like, really let us get to be invested in her and what she's doing, and then have the fight scene in the cantina. maybe indara's there because that's her habit post-whatever she's doing or maybe she's trying to speak to the locals to get intel. either way, she's there for a REASON

then [redacted] shows up, and maybe somehow manipulates indara in starting the fight? idk what abilities she has in the actual show so this is up to whatever she's got in the tank. hell maybe she just threatens to blow up the joint via explosives placed right before indara got there.

the fight still happens, except it's an actual fight this time. maybe indara's lightsaber is disabled DURING the fight because the knife somehow manages to slice through the hilt in a way that disconnects the power cell??? or maybe indara's literally unable to use more than one hand because she's injured. something that makes it so a JEDI MASTER DYING UNCEREMONIOUSLY TO A SINGLE STAB WOUND TO THE CHEST doesn't happen so embarrassingly

the stab wound occurs because indara is trying to hold up the collapsing building (they knocked a few load-bearing walls out or maybe [redacted] detonated the charges) with the force and literally cannot block the strike without risking the cantina owner + their kid's life as they escape

indara still dies, but this time not pathetically, and [redacted] escapes. indara's death would actually be shocking on some level to the viewer, who's spent the past [x] minutes forming a connection with someone they thought would be a recurring character while also emphasizing the threat-level of this unknown assassin

we cut to osha who wakes up from a bad dream on the ship whose name i didn't catch nor do i care to look up

nothing changes up until yord shows up, and this time he doesn't fucking??? threaten a civilian unprovoked??? literally what the fuck was up with that you are a jedi knight who recently took his oaths how the fuck did you forget how to conduct yourself in public already it's only been two years??? you have a padawan?????????

??????????

anyways that doesn't happen. the yord + tasi + osha conversation still happens except instead of that weird ass interrogation scene where nothing was really asked and only osha's tragic backstory was repeated as if by reading it off a teleprompter instead we ask about osha's whereabouts, ask her to prove it, ask her for witnesses who can provide alibis, ask her if she recognizes the cantina owner, ask her if she will willingly come into custody, etc.

they take her onto the same prison transport, except yord + tasi go with her. the cantina owner is there for 1 hour to give his witness testimony + identify osha before leaving the ship

the prison transport takes off. yord and osha catch up, revealing more of their prior connection to each other while tasi sits uncomfortably in the corner. they also hint to why osha left, without explicitly stating it outright, giving the viewer something interesting to chew on while the plot moves to the next scene

the prison break still happens, except yord and tasi are trapped on the other side of the ship due to falling debris. yord and tasi escape on the last pod while osha straps herself into the cockpit and hopes for the best. that random ass dude with the parasite whose only purpose in the episode was to give a character testimony in osha's favor doesn't exist because he serves no purpose to the story at large.

yord and tasi crash land on carlac and make contact with the jedi on coruscant, alerting them and by association master sol of the complications with the transport. they ping their location and ask for backup. tasi is injured, which is why yord cannot immediately start the search for osha.

master sol has a conversation with master vernestra discussing their next steps, and asks to be the one dispatched to retrieve the injured/missing parties on carlac due to his connection with osha. master vernestra agrees on the condition that he stays in constant contact + exercises mindfulness, and to not let attachment cloud his judgement of the truth. master sol thanks her for the reminder, collects jecki, and leaves.

meanwhile osha wakes up delirious, in pain, and hallucinating visions of her dead sister. she takes stock of her surroundings and condition, and tries to figure out if she can contact yord + the jedi for help, but the comms unit is busted and the temperature is starting to drop dangerously. she patches herself up as best she can, grabs what supplies she sees, and decides that her best bet is to hunker down until she has no choice but to leave.

it's as she's trying to set up a makeshift shelter from the cold that those 'visions' get worse. it goes from her sister's voice -> seeing her silhouette in the corner of her eyes -> actually seeing her move and run (this is when osha chases her) -> full blown environmental changes -> reversion to youth + coherent conversations with her

atp yord+tasi and sol+jecki link up, and discuss options. sol says to follow him because he 'has a feeling' (hooray for the force ex machina) and they eventually find osha standing in the middle of a snowy field, gazing blankly off into the distance

they snap her out of her vision, and osha half-coherently explains what she think happened to indara, and sol reassures her that he believes her

smash cut to the end scene of episode 1. no changes here.

like this makes way more sense to me than what we got while also following the same story beat for beat!! i just rearranged some pieces to make it flow smoother + not reduce the jedi to fucking. space cops who are negligent to the point of actual stupidity. i'm also deleting every conversation they've had about being emotionless + disapproving of sentimentality because genuinely what the fuck was that all about 💀💀💀

god the way i want to rewrite episode 1 so bad. the worst part about the acolyte isn't that it's clumsy and contrived it's that the story they want to tell has genuinely good and interesting beats in it that are being smothered to death by lazy writing

[hades--baby]

Their Saving Grace

Summary: Angel and Tank hadn't hung out much. Not in public, at least. The times they had spent together were tucked away in Tank's dingy little apartment as Angel tried to pry into the estranged wolf's life and during the short breaks of the pack meetings that neither of them really wanted to be at. And that's why Angel was so surprised when Tank actually agreed to go to a bar with them. It's a damn shame that their night didn't really go as planned.

Note: I'm so out of practice with writing, but I'm trying to get back into it. I've been sticking with the redacted fandom, but I started rewatching Game of Thrones so I might just dip myself into that area as well haha--anyways, let me know what you guys think! And thank you for reading <3

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word count: 5,016

“The next job that I have lined up for us was outsourced by the department for the protection of a seer named Morgan Kyne. We’ve worked as a security detail for him in the past and he requested our services again,” David explained as he handed Tank a small stack of stapled papers. “The department is setting up a meeting between Morgan and another seer, who decided to stay unnamed on our record. They asked us to make sure that the entirety of their meeting goes undisturbed and that both participants leave the building unharmed.” 

Tank lazily flipped through all the papers, halting their movements to look over Morgan Kyne’s file. They quickly found that he was considered to be a very important seer and that the department had done many things to keep him heavily protected at all times. Tank found the lengthy list of safety procedures a bit odd. It made them question why this specific seer was so much more important than all the other ones the department had managed to harbor in their clutches? And why did the other seer in the equation decide that they wanted to stay unnamed on the Shaw Pack Security record?

Even though they had all of these jumbled unanswered questions, Tank knew that they would still have to work the security detail regardless of having all of the information. So, in the end, it didn’t really matter if they had the answers to their beloved questions. 

“You and Milo are going to be watching the main entrance while Asher and I cover the meeting room door,” David continued. He tapped two of his fingers against a specific spot on the map of the department building plastered in front of them, showing them exactly where they were meant to be stationed throughout the entirety of the job. 

“Is it just the four of us working this one?” Tank asked, glancing up at David with a curious look in their eye. He nodded his head in response. They grimaced and hummed lowly. “Seems a bit small for something so important, don’t you think?” 

“Morgan and the department asked for something a bit small,” Milo said, quickly stealing the estranged wolf’s attention. Tank flicked their expectant gaze over to him, waiting for him to follow up on his very brief statement. He always followed up with more after saying something so short and blunt. They’d noticed that he’d been doing it since high school. “They’re trying to keep whatever they’re setting up all hush-hush. It’s supposed to be a subtle job.”

“Well, if that’s the case, are you sure you want me staking out the entrance? I don’t really scream… subtle,” Tank said, furrowing their brows while giving them a knowing look. 

“Neither does the alpha and beta of the Shaw Pack standing at the front of a department building,” David retorted. 

“Fair point.”

“Hey, Tank!” 

Now, that was something that made Tank cringe a bit. 

The last time someone had shouted their name like that in the middle of the den, they had gotten a pleasant surprise fist to the face, all thanks to Christian and his so-called “high opinion” on what was supposedly right for the pack. Tank hadn’t cared much about the fact that Christian thought they were no good for the pack or for the nasty bruise he had left on their cheek, but David and the rest of the pack did. 

David practically had a fucking field day with him.  

Tank flicked their eyes around the crowded room, searching for the person who had just shouted their name. Angel was easy to spot. They had just burst through the doors of the den, their figure perked up and practically buzzing with excitement. Tank raised their brows, silently gesturing for them to continue on with whatever it was they wanted to say.

“We’re still on for drinks later tonight at the Golden Growler, right?” Angel asked with a smile shining on their face. 

“Supposed to leave at nine, right?” they prompted, curiously tilting their head to the side. Tank knew the answer to their own question, but they figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure they were right. 

“See you in thirty,” Angel confirmed, sending them a two-fingered salute paired with a wink before walking over to where Asher and his mate were talking. 

Tank went back to skimming over Morgan Kyne’s file, but their reading was rudely interrupted when Milo speedily snatched the papers right out of their hands. They looked up at the pair of grinning shifters standing in front of them. They tried to reach for the file, but Milo jerked them further from their reach. 

“Alright, what the fuck?” they questioned, impatiently waiting for an answer. 

“Are you going to a bar with my mate?” David asked with a smug smirk on his face. 

“Didn’t know you were the party type,” Milo teased, tapping one of their shoulders with the folded file in his hands. Tank huffed out a heavy breath, rolled their eyes, and grabbed back the stack of stapled papers before shoving both of the shifters away with a harsh playful shove. 

“Piss off, would you?” 

The other two shifters gave each other a look, held their hands up in mock surrender, and went back to discussing the details of their upcoming security job. 

Regardless of their little teasing, David and Milo were actually really happy to hear that Tank was finally getting themself out there; especially with Angel, of all people. They were interested in seeing how the pair’s interaction would play out. And it’s not like this was their first time ever spending time together—long nights in Tank’s grungy apartment and snack breaks in the pack den were enough to prove that. It just so happened to be the first time they were going to be hanging out in a public setting like a bar. 

The latest version of Tank was known to be a lot quieter in a bar setting. They were typically found sipping something strong on their own in a dark corner of the room or at the very end of a perfectly polished bar, not bothering anyone and not being bothered by anyone. The only time people had really known them to party at a bar or a club was when Quinn had an absolute vice grip on them and their mind.

On the other hand, Angel had always been known to be—what Milo had called—the party type. They were unapologetically themself at bars and clubs. They didn’t care about whether or not someone was staring at them as if they were crazy as they danced their way around the room or if they were making fun of them for ordering the fruitiest drink on the long-ass menu of bullshit cocktails that cost all too much. 

So… yeah. 

It was going to be an interesting night for the two of them. 

Tank couldn’t deny that they were actually excited for their little hangout. Now, how was this little hangout arranged? They couldn’t really tell you. Angel kind of just burst into their life as they did with most people. 

“Well, it looks like we have about thirty minutes to discuss this week’s job before you have to head out for your little party,” Milo teased one last time before returning to the plan they had been discussing moments before. Tank rolled their eyes in response before going back to listening in on the plan. 

They didn’t understand why they were making such a big deal about everything. 

Well, in a way, they did. 

It wasn’t every day the most estranged member of the pack decided to hang out with the most ecstatic one. 

Guess it was about damn time it happened. 

“Ready to go?” Tank asked as they walked over to where Angel was sitting patiently on their phone. They pulled on their leather jacket and stole a glance at Angel’s phone, seeing that they were playing—what they had learned to be—Minecraft.

“Ready,” Angel said, popping up from their seat and stuffing their phone into their back pocket. “Are we taking your motorcycle like you promised?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tank said, nonchalantly nodding their head along. They remembered Angel's excitement when they offered to take the two of them to the bar on their old motorcycle. A joyride on Tank’s classic cruiser was something Angel had been begging for since they had witnessed the estranged wolf pull up on it for a late-night pack meeting a couple of months ago. 

“Be safe,” David called from the table he and Milo were sitting at. The two of them had finally released the poor shifter from their meeting, noticing how they had been watching the clock for the remaining thirty minutes.

“See you later, Davey!” Angel called back as they headed out of the den with Tank in tow. 

When they got outside to the glossy black classic cruiser parked near the front of the lot, Tank kicked their leg over and settled comfortably on the seat. They grabbed the helmet that had been hanging from the handlebars and held it out to Angel, who seemed a bit hesitant to take it. 

“What about you?” they asked, tilting their head to the side while slowly taking the offered helmet. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve ridden this thing without a helmet more times than I have with one on. Sam would probably have my head if he knew that, but that’s beside the point. Plus, I’m pretty sure David would rather have you wearing that thing,” Tank said, shrugging their shoulders. They zipped up their leather jacket, pulling at the collar a bit to cover their neck. The fading bite marks soon disappeared from view under the thick material. “You’re gonna want to zip your jacket up. It’s going to get a lot colder when we start moving.”

Angel zipped up their jacket in a flash, pulled the heavy helmet on, and nodded their head. Tank looked them over for a second before a small smile pulled over their face and a soft chuckle slipped past their lips. That smile was enough to make Angel grin like an idiot. They hadn’t ever really seen Tank smile like that. Only on occasion, and Sam was typically the cause of it. So, knowing that they had just made the usually stoic wolf smile—it made them feel absolutely ecstatic.

“Come here,” Tank said, ushering them closer with a lazy wave of their hand. The quiet shifter helped adjust the thick woven straps of the helmet under Angel’s chin, ensuring everything was nice and snug. Once they figured everything was good to go, they snapped the clear face shield down into place and rapped their knuckles against the top of the helmet a couple of times. Angel was forced to duck their head to escape the rough knocking as they let out a few bits of laughter. “Let’s motor.”

Angel hopped onto the back of the bike and quickly froze, not knowing where to place their arms. 

Would Tank be comfortable with their arms wrapped around them?

Would they want Angel to just hold onto their shoulders?

Would they even be comfortable with any of that?

The only time Angel had been on a motorcycle was with David, but they knew his comfort level nearly better than he did himself. They knew exactly how much they could do before their mate got irritated and uncomfortable, but how far could they go before Tank got irritated and uncomfortable?

“You’re going to have to wrap your arms around me if you don’t want to fly off the back,” Tank said, glancing over their shoulder a bit. 

“Right,” Angel said with a curt nod, but their words were almost completely muffled by the polished face shield that Tank had set in place. They wrapped their arms around Tank’s torso, clasping their hands right over the shifter’s abdomen. 

Tank started up their motorcycle like they had done a million other times, finding absolute comfort in the deep rumbling purr that reverberated from the massive machine. They couldn’t help but think back to all the warm afternoons they had spent with Gabe, fixing up the busted engine and vast amount of stripped wiring while his choice of classic rock played quietly in the background of the open garage. 

The bike had been something that was left behind by their parents when they had skipped town and left Tank, who had been in their late teens at the time. They had wanted nothing to do with that damned bike, but Gabe had somehow convinced them to help him fix it up. He had told them that it would be a good project to take up their time and that it would be good to have something to ride around town when they really needed to, but Tank knew better than that. 

Sure, all of those reasons were fair and true, but they knew that he wanted to spend more time with them, to keep them around for as long as he could, and to make them feel welcomed in a pack they so obviously felt detached from. 

They had been pretty reluctant to help Gabe fix the old bike up. They hated the idea of fixing something that had once been owned by their parents. The motorcycle had become a constant reminder that they had been left behind all the same. But the moment they learned to stop comparing themself to a motorcycle was the moment they started spending comfortable afternoons with Gabe, and the glossy black cruiser became a much favored after-school project. 

“Ready?” Tank inquired, glancing over their shoulder once more. 

“Ready,” Angel confirmed, nodding their head and knocking the chin of the helmet against the wolf’s shoulder. 

They eased their way out of the parking lot, hitting the smooth streets of Dahlia at extreme speeds. The needle of the speedometer climbed like there was no tomorrow. Tank couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of Angel’s arms tightening around them and they found it nice to hear their muffled laughter of excitement. 

Much to Angel’s dismay, they arrived at the bar much quicker than they’d like to admit. They silently wished they could’ve kept riding for a little longer, but they guessed that’s what they got for picking a place so close to the pack’s den. Tank soon pulled over, parking right in front of the buzzing bar. The bright neon light hanging outside shone across the face shield of the helmet, urging Angel to pull it off and hand it back to Tank. They hung it on the handlebars, waiting for Angel to get off the bike before they could. 

“Alright. Drinks, darts, and dirty secrets,” Angel said. 

“Drinks, darts, and maybe dirty secrets,” Tank echoed, nodding their head once. Angel grinned, grabbed their hand, and pulled them right into the bar. 

The place was a mix of empowered and unempowered people, which Tank didn’t find any comfort in. Part of them wished they had just gone to an unempowered bar. Somewhere that would’ve been considered safer for their alpha’s mate. Somewhere they wouldn’t have to glance over their shoulder every few seconds to make sure that there wasn’t anyone trying to start some shit with them.

Not that anyone would try to start some shit with them. 

No one in Dahlia would be dumb enough to mess with anyone associated with the Shaw Pack. 

Well, only Quinn would have the guts to try something, but that was a story for another time. 

They took their seats at the high bar, called the bartender over, and ordered their preferred drinks. And even though their drinks of choice were drastically different, they seemed to fit the two perfectly. 

“Damn it,” Angel said, slamming one of their fists against the polished wooden bar as their drinks were placed in front of them. The slam of their fist should’ve made Tank flinch like a few others around them did, but it didn’t. 

“What’s up?” Tank asked, casually glancing at Angel as they took a sip from their glass of whiskey. One large cube of ice floated neatly in the middle of the chilled amber liquid. 

“I knew you were pretty much the definition of a badass—I mean, the motorcycle, the leather jacket, the stoic look you always have on, the cool-looking scars—and I had a feeling that you would order some sort of plain whiskey drink, but I was kind of hoping that you would break the stereotype and order something like super fruity,” Angel rambled as they swirled their own drink around with the little black straw set in their glass. “Fuck. Now I owe David ten bucks.”

Now that was enough to make Tank laugh. 

“You know, Asher and Milo used to always tell me that I matched the stereotypical movie badass trope. They would always say that I was like someone straight out of a Fast and Furious movie or some shit like that,” Tank said, shaking their head while shrugging their shoulders. They took another sip of their drink, enjoying how warm their chest was beginning to feel. 

“Here. Take a sip of mine and tell me what you think,” Angel said, sliding their drink over to Tank. The shifter eyed the colorful drink carefully before slowly picking it up and taking a slow sip, completely disregarding the little black straw Angel had been using. The strong taste of pomegranate and liquor overwhelmed their taste buds, making them grimace slightly. “See? Isn’t that much better?”

“It’s pretty good, but I think I’ll stick with mine,” Tank said, grabbing the heavy crystal glass full of whiskey. 

“Suit yourself,” Angel said, beaming a bit with a smile before taking another long sip of their drink. They slammed the glass back down on the bar, grabbed Tank’s hand, and nodded towards the dartboard nailed on the opposite wall. “Come on. We’ve still gotta fulfill the darts and dirty secrets part of the night!” 

“I’m sorry, but there is absolutely no way that David Shaw lets you call him puppy,” Tank scoffed with an amused smile and a furrowed brow. “I am never going to let him live that one down.”

“First of all, he would kill me if he ever found out I told you that! And second, I said that he only lets me call him that on occasion,” Angel insisted, giggling like a child while playfully shoving Tank’s shoulder. 

“Oh, on occasion my ass,” Tank said, rolling their eyes. The amount of whiskey they had drunk wasn’t enough to completely inebriate them, but they were definitely a lot more chatty than they were at the beginning of the night. Angel liked this side of Tank, and they were interested in seeing what it would take to get them like that without the wonderful aid of whiskey. “I bet he lets you call him that and pet him all the time when he’s shifted. Secretly enjoying all of the head pats and belly rubs you probably give him.”

“The same way you used to enjoy all the same things from me, misfit?”

Tank immediately froze at the sound of the familiar voice, the multiple glasses of whiskey in their system quickly flooding away as if they hadn’t been tipsy moments before. Their laughing mood had been snatched and their senses were thrown on high alert. They grabbed onto Angel, shoving their alpha’s mate behind their back as they whipped around to face the voice that had just spoken into the night’s chilled air. Their eyes narrowed at the psychotic vampire wearing a sadistic, devilish grin. 

“Quinn,” Tank snarled, baring their teeth. Angel tensed up behind them, their hands finding the back of Tank’s leather jacket and squeezing the material into their trembling fists. Tank wanted to turn their head and tell them that it would be okay, but they didn’t want to risk taking their eyes off Quinn. 

“Making friends with another unempowered brat? Huh. It seems you never learn,” he said, scoffing and dramatically rolling his eyes. “Who knows? Maybe this one won’t end up like the last.”

Tank’s fingers twitched at the insinuation until they balled up into tight fists. 

“Let them leave. Then you and I can settle all of this bullshit on our own,” Tank insisted as they took a single step back. They kept a hand wrapped around one of Angel’s wrists, making sure that they were still where they knew them to be. Quinn didn’t show any sign of letting their unempowered friend leave. “As much as I hate to admit it, you aren’t fucking dumb, Quinn. You’ve made some bold moves in the past, but you’re not stupid enough to go after someone that would get your head on David Shaw’s most wanted list.”

“You’re right,” he said, letting out a disappointed sigh. His eyes flicked down to the ground for a moment before looking right back at the tense shifter. “But that doesn’t stop me from going after you.”

Angel didn’t know what to do. 

All of it had happened so quickly.  

Quinn had mercilessly lunged for Tank and dragged them right into the shitty little alleyway adjacent to the bar they had been comfortably drinking in moments ago. Unfortunately, he had managed to snag Angel’s arm in the process of grabbing his most hated shifter and now their poor forearm was bleeding through the sleeve of their jacket. But their gash was nothing compared to what Tank had just endured to protect them. 

The fight hadn’t lasted long. 

And now, Tank was lying limp on the ground and Quinn was nowhere to be seen. 

The sadistic vampire had fled once he had gotten the poor wolf bleeding and on their knees. Angel was just thankful that the blood-sucking bastard hadn’t gotten away completely unscathed. They felt a little better knowing that half of the dark blood staining the wet concrete below them came from his undead veins. 

With that being said, they felt absolutely sick to their stomach knowing that the other half of the blood on the ground had come from Tank. 

“Tank! Time to open your eyes. It’s going to be okay—you are going to be okay,” Angel rambled, scooping up the shifter’s head with their shaking hands and resting it comfortably in their lap. “I’m going to call David and then he’s going to call Sam and then everything’s going to be perfectly okay. You hear me? Everything’s going to be okay.”

Tank could tell that Angel was freaking out past the point of comprehension. 

They couldn’t blame them, though. 

Angel wasn’t used to situations like this. 

They weren’t David, who could usually keep a relatively level head regardless of the chaotic situation. 

They weren’t Asher, who could joke through any serious situation while still making sure to get his job done. 

They weren’t Milo, who could switch between being a jokester and a stoic medic as he attempted to heal someone. 

They weren’t Sam, who always knew exactly what to do even when the simple task of thinking felt impossible. 

Tank needed Angel to calm down before anything dire happened. 

Before they potentially fucking died because they couldn’t get Quinn to back off. 

Before they potentially fucking died and scarred Angel for the rest of their life. 

Tank’s heart was starting to slow, but they needed to pull through to make sure this situation didn’t absolutely fuck with Angel’s psyche.  

They didn’t deserve that. 

Not in this lifetime. 

Not in any lifetime. 

Fuck. 

They were still wearing their goddamn leather jacket. The blood was going to be a bitch to get out. The smell, the texture, the material—all of it would be ruined. 

But that didn’t really matter right now. 

Angel’s hands were shaking as they tried to dial David’s number. Hot tears were streaming down their face and it was apparent that they wouldn’t be able to complete the task on their own. Not like this, at least.

“Angel,” Tank rasped out to catch their attention. Angel took a deep breath and met Tank’s blanking gaze. “I need you to take a deep breath for me and then finish David’s number, alright?”

“Alright,” they said, nodding quickly before taking another deep breath. After that, they started to dial much steadier than before. Their hands still shook, but their nimble fingers managed to type out the rest of the number.

Tank didn’t understand why they hadn’t just pressed David’s contact name, which would no doubt be in their recent call history, but they also knew that panic and adrenaline could do amazing things to the mind. They knew that Angel was trying to do the right thing and they were doing the right thing. It didn’t matter if they were taking the longer route to it. Tank was just thankful they hadn’t frozen up like most people would have. 

The phone started to ring and Angel put it on speaker, their hands still shaking as they placed it on the cold concrete next to Tank’s head. 

“How’s the night going, Angel?” David asked the moment he answered. 

“David! I need you to come down to the bar right now,” Angel begged, their voice bursting out louder than either of them expected. “We’re in an alleyway by the bar on sixth—”

“Slow down—what’s wrong? Why do you sound like you’re crying?” he asked. The noise from the other side of the line made it apparent that he was getting up and grabbing the keys to his truck. Both of them could hear Asher and Milo asking what was wrong in the background. “Angel put Tank on the phone.”

Tank let out a strained groan to let David know that they were, in fact, already on the phone with them. Angel grimaced and shook their head at Tank’s attempt.  

“I can’t really do that right now. Quinn was here and they protected me and now they’re bleeding out and I don’t know what to do!” Angel exclaimed, their panic growing with each passing word they rambled out. 

“I’m sorry—what? Quinn was there?” David snapped, sounding completely distressed now. He started to move even faster than before, keys jangling louder in the background. “Are you alright? Is Tank alright? How bad are they?”

Angel looked over Tank’s body, not really knowing how to answer him. Blood poured out of Tank’s neck, chest, and abdomen. All of the crimson liquid was coming from a vast amount of gashes and vampire bites that littered their body. 

“David, it’s bad,” they whispered as if Tank couldn’t hear them. 

The bleeding shifter chuckled, but it immediately turned into a line of rough coughs. 

“Hey, David?” Tank rasped out, hoping he could hear them. 

“Tank?”

“Don’t call Sam, alright? I don’t want this to be his last image of me,” they said, swallowing hard. 

David stayed completely silent on the other side of the line for a long while, thinking about how he could respond without sparking anything. Eventually, he let out a long sigh before speaking again. 

“Stay on the phone. I’ll be there in five.”

Tank took a heavy breath and shook their head as much as they could. 

“Fuck me,” Tank muttered. They knew he was going to call their mate regardless of what they wanted. “Sam’s going to fucking kill me himself if this doesn’t turn out to be the last night of my life.”

“Don’t say that. This isn’t going to be the last night of your life. Sam’s going to get here and he’s going to fix you up and then we’re all going to go home and everything’s going to be okay,” Angel said, clenching their jaw as they tried to get a hold of themself. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Hey, Angel?” Tank started, smiling a bit. Angel could see the blood that stained Tank’s sharp teeth. The bleeding wolf took a moment to speak up again, trying to think about whether or not they wanted to say something while David—and most likely Asher and Milo—were listening in. Fuck it. “Thanks for making tonight amazing. It’s been a while since I’ve… since I’ve had a good night with a friend.”

Angel nearly broke at that. 

A friend. 

Tank called them a fucking friend. 

The estranged wolf of the pack, the one that nobody seemed to be able to get to, the one that didn't seem to have any friends. 

“You are going to be perfectly okay and then we’re going to go out again and have another good night because guess what, Tank?” Angel started, furrowing their brows while holding onto their form even tighter than before. Tank’s eyes flicked up to Angel’s, waiting for them to continue with what they were going to say. “Because that’s what friends do.”

Tank stared at them for a long time before letting out a strained chuckle.

“Cheesy.”

“Shut up before I really show you cheesy,” Angel said, letting out a huff of laughter while tears continued to stream from their eyes. They were starting to calm down and Tank was ever-thankful for that. They weren’t sure if they could keep themself calm along with them for much longer. 

“I’m sorry that all of this happened tonight,” Tank rasped out, grimacing slightly as their laughter died down. 

“You can make up for it the next time we go out. I’ll let you pick the place next time,” Angel said, shrugging their shoulders with a sad smile. 

They sat in silence for a while, waiting for David and the rest of them to show. Angel’s hands had been working their way through Tank’s hair the entire time, fingertips messing with the ends every so often in a comforting way. It was enough to make Tank want to close their eyes and fall asleep, but they knew they couldn’t do that. 

Not now, at least. 

“Hey, Angel?”

Angel hummed, waiting for them to continue. 

“Thanks for being my saving grace.”

[thesunandmoons-blog]

a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be.

hi friends!! as soon as i heard this song i knew i needed to write a fic around it :) 

song: a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be - jess benko

cw/tw : abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, quinn himself, slightly happy ending, hurt/little comfort, non-con biting/feeding

Word count : 1,215

Fandom : redacted asmr

Pair : quinn/darlin , sam/darlin

if you wanna read on ao3!! 

They were hand in hand, center stage of Darlin’s living room. One of Quinn’s hands was gently laid on their hip, the other holding their hand with a gentle grasp. Darlin’s hand was perched on his shoulder, their other hand holding his back. Quinn leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against their lips, resting his forehead against their shoulder now.

I never should have kissed

They feel the weight lifting off of their shoulder momentarily, hand being raised to his lips. Quinn presses a ready kiss to their scraped up knuckles, lowering their hand and his forehead back to their shoulder, still swaying side to side in their dance.

Kissed your hand

Darlin’s lips curl into the tiniest of smiles, but it’s not like Quinn would be able to see. Even if he could they wouldn’t mind- he understood them. He loved them no matter what. 

I am under your control

Quinn pressed a chaste kiss to their neck, right below the turn of their jaw. He always knew how to kiss them just right, fangs gently scraping against the tight, scarred skin as his mouth dragged slower kisses to their shoulder. Darlin’ visibly relaxed, shoulders loosening and slumping down at their head leaned to the side to give him better access. This was done out of instinct now, but not because he’d asked. He stopped asking a long time ago. 

I am under your control

A shiver ran up Darlin’s spine, knees almost buckling underneath them as Quinn’s sharp fangs roughly pierced their sensitive skin. They took a quick breath in through their nose, holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it. Darlin’s eyes were shut tight and their hand gripped Quinn’s tighter than ever.

I will never understand

"Quinn,” they say, his name almost leaving their mouth as a question. He humms at them, but his lips didn’t move from their skin and his fangs didn’t retract from their neck. 

“Do I not taste good enough for you- am I not good enough for you?” 

He snarled at them, painfully ripping his teeth from the junction where their neck and shoulder met. Darlin’ took their bottom lip between their teeth, biting down hard to try and stifle the small whimper they would have released otherwise. 

They shouldn’t have asked.

His hands were now removed from them completely as he took a step back. Their eyes peered up at him, his bite spot still slowly oozing with blood, dripping onto their tank top. 

“Excuse me, Misfit? Did I just hear that right?” He scoffed, his arms crossed in front of his chest with an eyebrow raised. He was almost smiling, but they couldn’t be sure why. “Are you questioning my judgement?” He took a threatening step forward, but they didn’t move. Darlin’ knew what would come next, but they knew it would be better to take it than try and avoid it.

They learned that a long time ago.

His hand was firm against their cheek as he slapped them, the sharp stinging forcing their own hand up to console the redness and pain. Darlin’s eyes were now glued to the ground in front of their feet, not daring to look up at him.

I never should have said

Their mouth wavered, mind trying to decide what to say. After standing in silence for what felt like hours, Darlin’ decided to go off of instinct.

“I’m sorry, Quinn, I shouldn’t have asked. I trust you. I love you.”

"I love you"

Silence.

Darlin’s eyes slowly moved from their shoes to his, which were now stepping backwards towards their kitchen. They looked up slowly, hand still cradling their slightly swollen cheek. David would definitely ask about this one, just like he did the other marks and bruises they went to pack meetings with.

They slowly looked up at him, swallowing the thick lump that had formed in their throat. He was looking directly at them, faux hurt and disappointment dripping from his gaze and words.

You never said it back

"How could you possibly ask me something like that, Misfit? You know how much I care about you. You trust me, don’t you? I thought you trusted me and loved me.”

This was all an act. This was his instinct.

“I should go. You can call me when you’ve decided to act accordingly.” He brushes past them, almost half-shoving them with his shoulder. 

So why do I still care for you?

The door slams behind them with a bang. Darlin’s shoulders were tense, dragged almost up to their ears. Their hands gripped their cheek tightly, slowly falling down to their sides to ball up into fists. A shaking sigh had their shoulders slowly dropping back down, along with the fresh tears now dripping down their cheeks.

The cold tear made the stinging on their cheek more intense, but they didn’t care. How could they?

Stranger, that's all I see

This wasn’t the first time. Not the first bite without asking. Not the first time they’ve questioned him about it. Not the first time he’s smacked them straight across the face. 

It wouldn’t be their first apology to him. Not their first ‘I love you’. Not the first time he’s not responded. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stormed out, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Not of any of this.

When I look into your eyes

Darlin’ felt filthy. They didn’t understand how it was fair. How he could say and do things like this to them, but they kept crawling back, like a little mutt. Like the wet mutt he’d told them they were. That he’d told them they are. 

Their eyes flooded with a fresh set of tears. 

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

When Quinn had asked Darlin’ about their pack, there had been no hesitation on their feelings about pack life. They’d never felt like they fit in, or that they ever would. They were late to join the pack, they were never as close to anybody, no matter how hard Gabe had tried. No matter how hard anybody had tried. 

Stranger, who knows all my secrets

"I understand you. I never could find a clan who loved me and respected me- not the way I deserved. Not the way that you love and respect me.” 

Darlin’ felt understood in that moment. It felt like nothing else had ever mattered, not in the past, not in the present, and certainly not in the future. 

“You’ll never have to worry about me, my little wolf. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always understand.”

Can pull me apart and break my heart

Darlin’s eyes were wide open now, turning against the soft silk of the pillow case that Sam had bought for them recently. They were laying on their back, Sam turned on his side, facing them. His face was peaceful, like nothing mattered. Like he had no cares in the world. 

Darlin’s lips curl into the tiniest of smiles, but it’s not like Sam would be able to see. Even if he could they wouldn’t mind- he understood them. He loved them no matter what.

Sure, it’s exactly what they thought with Quinn, but this was different. 

Sam was different.

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

[barry-j-blupjeans]

I think I already sent one in, but here's another one if you don't mind!

44. "That is my choice! My decision to make, not yours! Not anyone else’s! Mine!"  and Taako and Lucretia? :)

I just feel like having my heart shattered again lol

44. "That is my choice! My decision to make, not yours! Not anyone else’s! Mine!"

((random dialogue prompts here - still accepting!!))

--

Lucretia's bed, which usually felt plush and soft, felt like laying on a pile of rocks. The sheets she had loved a few weeks ago were too itchy against her skin and she couldn't position her pillow correctly to actually get any sleep. She had tried stripping the bed, washing everything, switching things around, but it was no use. It wasn't as much as a physical problem, more of a mental one.

Her room was too dark. Lucretia wasn't afraid of the dark, but it was unsettling. The ship's hum was too loud. For the first time in over fifty years, the Voidfish's tank was gone. No bubbles, no lights, no tendrils pressing against the glass, eager to play instead of sleep. Last week, they had moved it into Magnus's room because- because-

Because Lucretia had tried to erase her family's minds. And she had failed.

No. No, she hadn't failed. Her original plan was near-sighted and not thought through well at all. To be completely honest, Lucretia was glad Magnus had walked in as she stood up from her desk with her journal, and not when she had already gone through with everything. Seeing Magnus's face- hopeful, just there to cheer her up, just there to comfort her- had thrown a wrench in her idea that she had carefully tip-toed around. Which is that her family's opinion on all this mattered just as much as hers did, if not more.

Lucretia turned on her lamp and sat up in bed. There was a big empty space where the tank used to be. Along the other wall, the bookshelf that she had carefully combed through was empty.

They trusted her to redact the Relics just fine. But this time, Davenport had sat through it with her and they both ignored her tears as they edited everyone's personal information back in. Last Wednesday, the world below had forgotten all about the Grand Relics. Her family's memories remained.

The hallways of the Starblaster were quiet, but not empty. In the common area, Taako and Barry sat, pouring over more maps and plans and attempts. A terrible part of Lucretia still tried to imagine giving Barry and Taako a break for the ache of it all, but it shut up quickly as they turned her way at the sound of her footsteps and paused.

"I just need some water," Lucretia said. Brave, brave. She had faced a year alone, she could face her brothers. "I'll keep out of your way."

"Good," Taako said, turning back to the maps. Barry didn't say anything, but he turned away, too. Lucretia hurried into the kitchen. She got a glass of water, and then another, even though neither of them made her mouth any less dry. She was sipping on a third when she heard Barry say something about needing to go to bed. Taako responded with something she couldn't hear.

Lucretia washed her cup and set it to dry before going back out. Taako was still sitting there, writing something down in a notebook. He didn't look up.

"Taako..." Lucretia started, not even sure where she was going with it.

"Don't," Taako said tersely.

"I'm sorry," Lucretia said. Taako's shoulders were hunched up like he was scared of her. Or angry at her. She didn't know which one would be worse. He still didn't look up.

"I get it," Taako said, pulling his notebook closer.

"I'm going to bed," Lucretia said needlessly.

"Great," Taako responded. She went around the edge of the room, giving him a wide berth.

"I'm sorry," Lucretia said again at the entrance to the hallway. The grip Taako had on his pencil tightened.

"You don't get to decide my life, Lucretia," he said, finally glancing up at her. His lower lip was trembling slightly. "You don't get to decide when I get to take a break. And you definitely have no say on if I get to remember my sister."

"I know," Lucretia said, voice wobbling a little. "I'm- I'm so sorry, Taako-"

"That's my choice," Taako said tightly. "My decision to make, not yours, not anyone else’s. Mine. Capiche?"

"Capiche," Lucretia repeated. He looked back down at the maps, waving her away. She said a quiet, "good night", and scurried back to her room, throat tight. The water hadn't helped at all.

Her bed was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever slept on that night, but Lucretia doubted that laying on a bed fit for a king would have made her sleep any better.

[lunareclipsee]

Yk what i’m a music bitch so

Instruments that the members of the shaw pack know how to play, and i would know erik redacted asmr told me (he did not)

David

Oh my god not to be stereotypical but electric guitar (he also knows how to play bass)

picked it up from his dad who was absolutely in a band with other shifters (with milo’s mom, asher’s dad, and christian’s dad btw btw <3)

david is that one guitar player in every movie ever where the mc sees him and is like “i want you SO BAD” bc he looks so fucjushdvgbbsgghh good! jesus

his guitar looks like him. it just. it does. it’s the ESP e-11 black satin with a small silver wolf claw mark on the front and it fits him so well

angel watches him play in their living room (nothing too energetic, just a soft and slow pattern) and they pull an all nighter he just looked he uh um uh uh i uhhhh 🤤 (me too)

Asher

Fiddle. this man plays the fucking fiddle. i’m talking like the first song he learned to play was the devil went down to georgia and he  performed it with david

when babe heard him just casually drop that fact they almost fainted (if you don’t play for me right now RIGHT NOW you hate me. please god.)

babe just likes music and seeing him get so into it was so fucking cool. seeing their bc so passionate always brings major heart eyes

he dropped it for a bit but picked it up after gabe died as a way to cope with all of the changes that being beta brought, and so he’d have a better emotional outlet with the changes that were happening to his relationship with david

he named his fiddle clementine (it was his dads)

he also has a black electric violin, specifically the sv-200 by yamaha

Milo

HEAR ME OUT

Piano

I’m not talking ‘river flows in you’ i’m talking like intense ass movie scores (the first one he ever learned was time from interstellar)

hc that sweetheart plays violin so they play together a LOT

he learned on a little electric piano bc he could plug earbuds in and drown out his parents fighting (im not projecting)

but once he got enough money saved up he bought a console piano and it’s in a little soundproofed corner of his apartment so he doesn’t get noise complaints every time he plays

after a really bad day where he doesn’t feel like talking he’ll just sit and crank out a really fast paced classical piece like op.23 in g minor by rachmaninov or the minute waltz by chopin or literally ANYTHING hans zimmer nd then collapse on the couch

sweetheart: oh god that was hans zimmer. what happened?

Darlin’ / Tank

Acoustic Guitar

they learned from their family up in washington

they have little camp nights with fred, bright, and sam and they play guitar and if anyone notices them humming along to the song they’re playing no they don’t

the strings pressing into their fingers was a healthier coping mechanism than most others, so they just practiced on any and all free time they had. after work? they’re picking up their guitar and running through chords and strumming patterns. before bed? they’re playing some song they know by heart

they have this BEAUTIFUL sunset fender that was made in the 50s, it was their grandpas and they take care of it like it’s made of glass

one time they accidentally hit it against the wall and sam got back to their place and was TERRIFIED when he saw them hunched over crying but he saw the little nick on the body and he was like ‘oh my god i almost had a HEART ATTACK. do u know how scared a vampire has to be to get one of those’

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

Apparently, this is the eighth chapter!

Link to the first one here (for the new readers if there are any)

This one's the longest so far!

Reviews and Comments appreciated. It fuels me to keep on writing. Enjoy!

VIII - Samantha

Samantha felt that she lived for a year inside her dream realm. She was aware that this was all a dream because it wasn't possible that Connor was alive, but then again it pains to see how she's fooling herself with fake memories.

Certain moments while she's walking along the beachside with Connor, he would immediately dissappear, and would never come back until a few more days in her dream. She wondered what time it was outside but all she knew was she kept living the same tragic day again and again and again. She found a loophole though, she prevented him from taking that yacht but would find himself a different situation where he ends up dead. It felt like she was meant to feel extreme sadness from loss.

This wasn't what her captors wanted from her. They wanted 'something she accidentally saw on her father's drawer'. Then it dawned on her, those were numbers and dots separating them, almost like an IP Address. Just as she tried recalling it, thanks to the drug flowing in her bloodstream, the numbers began to slowly melt as a faint smell of cheese wafted around her. With one soft gasp, she found herself awake.

Thick oak trees covered the windows as she turns around the room. She's in a log cabin, but fancier. She slowly ripped her dextrose as she quietly made her way down to the living room. She knows where she is, TV taught her that only the evil people could afford expensive things. Grabbing a medicine tray beside her bed, she slowly descended the stairs, readying herself as she attempted to beat her abductor with an aluminum tray.

Following the scent of melted cheese, she tiptoed across the living room to the kitchen, a man was standing behind the sink. Athletic build and arms sprawled with tattooes. He pretty much looked like Alex, but this one reeks evil.

The loud clang of aluminum rang as she hit her abductor square on the head, knocking him down temporarily dazed. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal Alex, who's rubbing his head and wincing in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Alex. I thought I was still held captive!" She quickly assisted him up and grabbed a bottle of cold water for his head.

Alex was too hurt and surprised to talk but as soon as their eyes met, it almost felt like he wasn't hit by a medicine tray just now.

"You're awake!" was all he said as he hugged her tight. Then he realized, he wasn't supposed to do that. Samantha just sat beside him by the kitchen floor, confused. He immediately let go of his arms and pretended to be still dazed. He was just too overwhelmed to see her okay.

"Is your head okay?" She asked, with an expressionless face. Alex nodded.

"Nothing major. I just need ice maybe."

"Got it." Samantha quickly stood up and opened the fridge. Her warm cheeks couldn't feel the cold breeze. She was blushing hard and staring blankly at the contents of the fridge.

"I think we don't have ice. A cold water bottle would be fine." Alex commented as Samantha snapped back to reality. She remembered she had an injured person to tend to. Quickly grabbing the bottle, she plopped herself beside Alex who groggily found his way to the sofa.

The bump was slightly obvious and Samantha can't help but laugh at him. It was a funny mistake but what matters is that she finally saw him again.

"Where are we?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at Alex trying not to laugh.

"CIA Safehouse 110197" Alex mouthed.

"Which is... where?"

"Classified. Even I don't know where we are." he lied.

"And where are the others?"

"It's actually just you and me." he replied, looking down, his eyes rolled trying to see her reaction. Samantha rolled her eyes somewhere else evading to meet his gaze.

"Great. Guess I have to tend to my mistakes." She quickly got up and went up to the bedroom. Alex simply sat there waiting for her to come back.

"This house is complete. There's actually a medicine box by the bathroom sink!" She exclaimed in excitement as she set her kit and prepared the gauze.

"You'd be surprised on what you can find by the sofas." Alex chuckled and immediately winced in pain as Samantha placed a plaster by his bump.

"You could've said something!" he complained, Samantha just laughed.

"I always wanted to be a doctor..." she said.

"Why didn't you?" Alex shifted his seat and placed the water bottle by the table.

"I can't be a professional doctor while on a fake identity, Alex. You probably knew by now that I'm uh.. redacted? You did scan me when the CIA was here right?" She smirked, making Alex amused and clueless was a beautiful view. If only she had her camera, she'd take a photo of it and pin it by the fridge back at home.

"Yeah. That's right." was all he could say.

Samantha placed her hand by the back rest of the sofa and raised her leg comfortably to the sofa. She was still wearing Alex's clothes from the other night and all Alex could think of is why?

"I'm Samantha Coleman."

"Coleman as in..."

"Yes. The daughter of the Head of National Defense, Richard Coleman."

Alex froze in amazement and the puzzle pieces finally make sense. What's missing now is why they're after her and what's with the memory serum.

"So um... any idea on what they want?" Alex asked, his eyes felt intense and curious. Something Samantha can't help but stare at.

"I guess it's a childhood memory... Of my father's office. They're looking for an IP address... Does it ring any bells?" Samantha explained, her hands fiddled on the sofa's fabric, squeezing it and rubbing her thumbs against it.

"No. But I could relay it to those assigned to the case. It could help a lot." Alex's hands slowly trailed to hers, squeezing it a little bit.

"Thanks for cooperating, Samantha. What you just did may save the lives of those missing." A soft smile escaped his lips. Samantha froze in shock. Maybe it's the sincerity of his face, maybe it's the feel of his hand on hers, maybe it's her heart racing so fast. She wasn't sure why she found herself unable to move or speak.

Awkward silence filled the room, neither one of them moved an inch. The crickets outside sounded louder as the silence grew between them. Then burnt toast filled the air.

They both snapped out of whatever trance they were making, eyes quickly diverted away as Alex removed his hand above hers.

"Oh Crap! The toast!" The CIA agent hurriedly rushed by the kitchen and turned off the oven toaster, showing a very burnt piece of bread.

"You're not supposed to put it on an oven, Alex" Samantha giggled as she assisted him. They quickly became cook and assistant as Alex started to learn something from the expert, whereas Samantha proudly taught him how to make basic breakfast specialties.

"How come you didn't know how to cook?" Samantha asked, pouring oil to the pan.

"We don't usually prepare meals." Alex replied rapidly whisking the eggs, Samantha looked worried that he might break the bowl.

"So what do you eat?"

"Energy bars, ready to eat meals, beef jerky, chicken. You know, the simple stuff but filled with essential nutrients." Alex proudly replied.

"Boooring! You know you should try some of life's greatest meals sometime."

"Someday."

***

Samantha became very comfortable around Alex. Despite her judging him at first glance, she actually enjoyed his company. Over the course of the day, they found themselves mostly talking about every possible thing, leaving an impression that he's really good with people.

It felt warm and fuzzy that the idea of them being alone in one roof felt appropriate. She almost wished they'd end up like this forever, but that meant the criminals are still out there. She wanted to be selfish just for once as she literally gave up her life just to blend in. Would it kill for her to have a good time?

Nighttime came and they settled for barbeque, something Alex claimed he's good at. Samantha watched him from a safe distance as he showed off his cooking skills at her.

He was wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron over his black tank top and camo pants, a sight admirable for her. She found herself a cozy silk spaghetti strap nightgown from CIA's supply box. She just looked at him from the moment he unboxed a dusty grill box until he assembled it fully, asking him questions about his work to which he answers with certain confidentality.

"You hungry?" He asked teasingly as he placed the meat on the grill letting it sizzle as it puffed smoke toward him.

She wanted to say she's hungry, but not for food. But it felt inappropriate, she knew he's with her because it's his job to, but she couldn't help but feel needed. Especially that she spent the last eighteen hours of her life mourning about sad memories.

"So, silence means yes?" Alex tilted his head to meet her gaze. It's that stare once again.

"Uh yeah. Impress me Mr. Chef!" She cheered as they continue talking while they prepare dinner.

As the meat started to become tender, so did their conversation. They slowly diverted the topic to something private.

"Have you been into any relationships before?" Samantha finally asked the question she's dying to ask him. Alex's movements became cautious and his eyes slowly looked at her. He could tell that she's really curious and excited about the question as shown by her widening pupils.

"Yeah. Here and there. They don't last long as I always had to move when reassigned." He replied eating a mouthful of steak.

"So where would you be after all this is over."

"Wherever they'll send me."

"Are you happy with it? Being sent here and there?"

"As long as I could save the world." He smiled. A smile so genuine, Samantha slightly felt goosebumps.

"Cool." She replied, wiping her face with a napkin.

"Thanks for the meal, Mr. Chef. I'll go take a shower and sleep." She stood up, her voice almost felt sad.

"Samantha, wait! Did I say something wrong?" Alex quickly grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

"No. You said everything that I need to know."

Tears start falling out of her eyes, Alex noticed this and wiped it off with his thumbs lifting her chin up to meet his face. She couldn't stare at him, not with those sad eyes.

"Look, I know what you feel, because I feel it too, from the moment our eyes met..." Samantha looked at him.

"...But I can't risk it enough because I know I'll hurt you... I can't show affection to you because after all of this is over I have to leave." Alex stared at her, his words stung more than that needle from yesterday.

"But, you already made an impact in my life. It doesn't matter if we go too far..."

"I can handle the hurt... but you've already lost a lot. I can't let myself be the reason for it." Alex closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

She knew this would happen. Hence the questioning earlier, she wanted to make sure she's right about her suspicions. She was right to resist his charms the moment they met, but then again she took the risk and fell for him. A choice she willingly took.

"I've mourned the loss of my boyfriend for three years. What's a few more for you?" she breathed, almost cracking as she held back a sob. Alex nervously stared at her. She was willing to take the risk of getting hurt, all for s short moment with him.

Alex did the math. If she's true to her words it's a win-win. No more pretending, they'd both be happy and they both accept the impending end as soon as this was all over. What's holding him back is the end of both their promises, but it didn't matter when he let his heart decide for once.

He licked his lips as he slowly kissed her. It was awkward at first but as soon as they both felt comfortable, it felt relieving. Each moan signified the supressed feelings they had toward each other since day one. Each clash of tongue meant hope after years of mourning. It was a kiss that lasted longer than they could remember.

[rejectclone]

I’ve been meaning to update the mini bios for my OCs, it took me some time to try to condense their core aspects and backstory stuff into smaller paragraphs but I’m finally done!

NAME: Jared Clements

AGE: 28

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

RACE: White (is of Hispanic descent)

OCCUPATION: Detective/Deputy

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

SHORT BIO: Who was once one of the greatest detectives in Neo York City’s police branches, now a shattered former shell of himself after the Incident. Physically and emotionally mauled from the explosion that killed his partners and his reputation, he now ruminates at the station, plotting for his revenge against the criminal organization that led to his fall. Formerly known to be the most kind and upbeat member of the station, he has become cold and callous to everyone, but the new recruit might pull him from his self-imposed darkness.....

NAME: Devon Cox

AGE: 25

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RACE: ‘White’/Ambiguous (HEAVILY mixed, but he identifies mostly with being Italian)

OCCUPATION: Trainee Officer, former illegal bloodsport boxer

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

SHORT BIO: The bastard son of a seedy bookie and a mother who clearly did not take good care of herself, along with being the only mute member of his family, he was deemed a unwanted child. Eventually, his parent’s actions caught up to them one night out, and as they were slaughtered, their son was left alone at home. Soon adopted by his uncle on his father’s side, he was essentially forced to ‘repay the debt’ by becoming a bloodsport fighter, regardless if he wanted to do it or not. As a adult, the illegal ring has fallen due to on-going corruption, he is now again left alone as his corrupt uncle got hauled off to prison. Left to his own devices and lamenting his actions, he now wants to pave his own path by repaying his own debts by joining the NYPD. Unknown to his new coworkers, he has spilled blood numerous times and won’t hesitate to do what must be done in some situations.....

NAME: B055 M4N

AGE: 24 in 4027 (BEFORE DEATH) 80 in 4083 (POST RESURRECTION)

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RACE: White

OCCUPATION: Lieutenant

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral

SHORT BIO: He was supposed to be the next gleaming star in the NYPD’s legacy of lieutenants, all from the same bloodline spanning across decades...... until he was assassinated at his induction ceremony in front of the general public. Ironically, his fate was not sealed there, as a week before his induction, he was coaxed into signing up for a ‘organ donation program’, to a incredibly specific experimental medicine company. He never expected his corpse to be used in a unethical program to create a supercomputer, devised of a human consciousness instead of a AI, to ensure that it will have a good stance on logical proceedings of organization and the law, and will not suffer from conflicts of interest. Unfortunately for him, the total conversion to a machine was semi-successful, as they could only resurrect his head...... Now doomed to be a severed head in a jar filled with PFC and the inability to speak (well, at least without using text-to-speech), he has been forcibly instated to be the permanent boss of the station. His true appearance is a facade to essentially everyone, as the ‘higher-ups’ creates false non-existent lieutenants to be instated every few years to keep the act going, except a very select few know of his current situation.

NAME: Lydia Hall

AGE: 25

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Lesbian

RACE: White

OCCUPATION: Psychiatrist, uses ‘personal nurse’ as a cover

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

BIO: She is considered to be one of the ‘greatest’ newer psychiatrists to ever grace the continental US, but nobody expected her to suddenly disappear off the face of the earth, upon getting a ‘promotion’ one day. Unknown to almost everyone, she was coerced into the psychological monitoring of one of the company’s most experimental projects, the undead severed head turned database at the local NYPD station. His previous care taker had to be laid off due to ‘concerns’, and thus she now must monitor him on a near daily basis, cleaning out his tank, making sure he is still sane, and to just stay there to entertain him basically. She never expected her career to be basically reduced to a personal nurse, and yet here she is. Unfortunately for her, the true nightmare unfolds when a certain hazmat wearing being stumbles into the picture.

NAME: Lawrence Grey

AGE: 47

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RACE: White

OCCUPATION: Geneticist

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil

BIO: A famed scientist who has been working for ages for a experimental medicine company. He was renown for his research in advancing certain projects, some more well received than others however. A overall stoic man, his coworkers reluctantly follow his command, never fully knowing what he thinks of them. Dedicated to his work, the higher-ups gave him access to a incredibly hidden cloning program, regardless if he wanted to work there or not. Not wanting to bond to his ‘projects’, he continued his intimidating aura, until one of them in particular piqued his interest. It would have been better if the clone never showed any promise however, as the impeding transport to another lab will lead to his escape, and his ‘father’s’ coma.....

NAME: [REDACTED]

AGE: [REDACTED]

GENDER: [REDACTED]

SEXUALITY: [REDACTED]

RACE: [REDACTED]

OCCUPATION: [REDACTED]

ALIGNMENT: [REDACTED]

BIO: ……………… he wasn’t meant for this world. The forced byproduct of a illegal cloning procedure, made to be a rejected failure on purpose. As for why? The higher-ups of the organization believed that the more malformed and sickly the clones are, the higher the chance they might carry new genes that can cure said sicknesses. The #439th clone to be made, he seemed to be another waste of flesh and blood. If it wasn’t for his ‘caretaker’, he would’ve been euthanized after a month. Desperate to ‘spare’ this subject, the caretaker demanded him to be transferred to another laboratory base, as rumors began to spread that the project has been leaked to shareholders. That fateful night, he was given a technologically advanced hazmat suit to conceal his inhuman appearance, and was shipped off to his new ‘home’. Alas, as fate would have it, the hovervan he was in along with his ‘father’, crashed, leaving him to wonder aimlessly in the pouring rain, hiding in a alleyway until he was spotted by two odd looking officers, trying to close-off the crash site. He was taken in to the station, where somebody claimed it was his ‘son’. Taken up to the lieutenant’s office, much to the confusion of many, this clone will blend into daily happenings of the station.

NAME: Ren Nakamura

AGE: 22

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Robosexual

RACE: Japanese

OCCUPATION: Future heir to the head of a crime syndicate, doubles as a criminal lawyer as a cover

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral/Evil

BIO: The next in line to his family’s criminal syndicate legacy, he is reluctant at first, but must come to terms to what he must do. Raised up to be cold and unrelenting towards his underlings and other syndicate bosses, he will never back down from a fight, always striving to be on top. However, nobody really expected him to come up with a plan to undermine other syndicates, by actually studying criminal law and becoming a legitimate defense attorney in order to coax his clients into exposing future plans (in which he will immediately inform his father of...). Recently he was assigned a personal body guard, who has a ‘unique’ physical composition and will surely make a great hitman. The two of them go along quite well, considering their popular opposites in personality.

NAME: Deangelo Moore

AGE: 25

GENDER: MALE

SEXUALITY: Gay

RACE: German-American

OCCUPATION: Cybernetic hitman, uses ‘criminal lawyer’ as a cover

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Evil

SHORT BIO: Neither fully man nor machine, this once respected art dealer has gone fully into the seedy underbelly of Neo York. As a escapee convict test subject from a experimental ‘liquid metal’ cyborg program, he is a con man on the run, until as fate would have it, he was accepted as a personal ‘body guard’ for one of his former clients’s son. With no real home to go to anymore as his public reputation has been disgraced, he now gleefully takes in stride that he is a ‘ghost’ among the populous, a potentially unstoppable killing machine who is only curbed by his greed and urge to be respected by other powerful beings. His former life now gone, he now works for his employer as if they were blood relatives, and even agreed to do a surreal operation, to directly siphon information from other rival ‘organizations’ by acting.........as public criminal lawyers who defend them..........

NAME: ‘John’ (he was never properly named by any of the scientists, so he named himself. His ACTUAL name is Specimen - 1257)

AGE: 21

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight, but questioning

RACE: Literally nothing

OCCUPATION: Chemist, radiobiologist

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

BIO: After two nuclear wars ravaged the Earth, odd things will happen to all sorts of life. This is one of them, a human who has the unfortunate pleasure of having their physical composition be mainly nuclear radiation. Much about his early past is kept under wraps by the US government, who sent him away as a infant to a remote chemical research base in Alaska, in fear of him being the next nuclear detonation. Left without proper social interaction and is just seen as a genetic anomaly, it left him with a warped view of life. With incredibly poor socialization skills but a surprisingly large scientific intellect, he has been reduced to hidden-away lab worker, who’s aware of essentially being a captive but is shocking content with it. After all, if he were to be released, the genral public wouldn’t take too kindly to a mannequin-like being with stark white skin and exposed green goo leaking out of his facial orifices, with a near constant glowing aura.

NAME: ‘Mark’ (he was never properly named, and this is just a name given to him by ‘John’. His ACTUAL name is Specimen 1258)

AGE: 21

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Literally doesn’t care at all

RACE: Literally Nothing

OCCUPATION: Convict, former hitman

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil

BIO: What’s more strange than one severely irradiated human being with physical nuclear radiation as flesh and blood? His red colored doppelgänger. With a past even more shrouded in mystery, this ‘man’ seems to originate from the wastes, the former parts of the US that were scarred from the previous two wars. Claiming to be the next step in human evolution, he is incredibly cruel and harsh, and when introducing himself to the criminal underworld as the ‘best’ hitman, he was severely feared by many. Even other rival hitmen who genetically or cybernetically augmented themselves saw him as a legitimate threat to themselves, as after all, he’s a actual living biohazard. They all chipped in together to pin him against who they believe is true my IMMUNE to him, another ungodly hitman with a liquid metal composition. The plan worked, as letting him just step foot into NYC triggered radiation alarms, thus exposing him to the government for the very first time. After a short stint at a supermax prison, he was given a deal: stop irradiating the guards and convicts, and we’ll move you to a more private place where you can do basically almost anything you want. The place in question? A remote research base in Alaska.....

[irnbraw]

On the Need to Preserve Freely Spoken Words in Scotland

Scotland is slowly boiling to death - like the proverbial frog in the pan of simmering water.  Our civic life is already damaged to such an extent that Scotland seems more like Northern Ireland than the rest of the UK now.  To which we can now also see the methodical disassembling of facts, history, free-speech and freedoms of person, belief and action.

The SNP is fundamentally illiberal.  (See all the preceding pages of this blog).  It, like all cultish entities, has a Dogma to which ALL must be sacrificed.  Truth, facts, friends, even family.  Nothing is more sacred than Dogma so public ethics, accountability, transparency, honesty - any and all can be safely and comfortably dispensed with if Dogma is furthered and the transcending goal of Dogma is advanced.

Into this vortex of lies have wandered a number of persons who are not a perfect fit.  They are those who have failed to have their own moral compass overwritten.  Certain people who, when they encounter corruptions or abuses of power at the highest levels do not look the other way - or mutter to themselves something about ‘the end justifying the means’.

This is alas rare - but therefore significant.  One such instance is when avowed separatist, ‘progressive’, a scion of the Scottish nationalist cause - someone at the core of that maelstrom: Robin McAlpine - saw and experienced at first hand the kind of corrosive corruption that the SNP is now disintegrating Scotland with, he spoke up.

McAlpine was Director of “Common Weal” a social issues ‘think tank’, dedicated to the progressives’ view of a separate Scotland.  But he is that no longer.  For when he stopped in his tracks and lamented the detrimental impact of secretive, conspiratorial nationalist power (by penning a 3,000 word article)* he was invited to step down.

Given the direction in which Scotland currently drifts, aided by Covid and an overly sentimentalist and un-critical population, I believe the essay that caused the former Director’s downfall may not long survive.  Therefore, I have copied and pasted it here.

Not much is now, in reality, safe in the hands of Big Tech.  The clarion warnings of Rand, Huxley, Orwell and Bradbury have already been rendered moot by our illiberal and autocratic governments combined with the mob mentality of ‘wokeism’.  So even reprinting here is no guarantee of anything.  But we must all make an effort, and this small bit is my contribution to preserving words freely spoken in Scotland - while that is still a thing.

 - Here is the Article - 

(link to the original blog-post is above)*

THIS TIME almost exactly two years ago I sat in a cafe close to Holyrood in a state of what I can only call shock. The enormity of what I’d just heard was sinking in; over the preceding nearly three hours I’d been introduced to all the gory detail of the plot against Alex Salmond. The last two years has at times been surreal for me as a result.

To explain what I am going to write next I need to tell you something about my fundamental beliefs. I have worked close to the power of government my whole life. I have studied and read widely on power. I am also a strong believer in social change.

Everything I have seen has driven me to the same conclusion; nothing is more important than integrity in public life. That may seem anachronistic to some (given modern political culture) and not particularly left-wing. But the positive change I want cannot be built on anything but the firmest of foundations; when corruption or misuse of power creeps into those foundations, nothing good can be built on them.

Some on the right of politics are anti-state and for them a discredited public realm has its uses. For the left, nothing good ever, ever comes from it.

There is no doubt in my mind that there was and is a coordinated plan of action created by a powerful group of people, developed and executed in secret but using public resources, all with the sole purpose of forcing a perceived opponent out of public life in Scotland.

I then have no doubt that when this plan was at risk of collapsing and exposing those who perpetrated it, they instigated a wide-ranging cover up. My suspicion is that it was not initially the intention to seek to jail Salmond, and that this was a result of an escalation to distract attention as part of the cover-up operation. Yet that is the direction in which this plan proceeded, nonetheless.

There is no greater abuse of power than to use it arbitrarily to remove someone’s liberty. This is absolutely not the ‘rough and tumble’ of politics. It has no place in Scotland. None.

At this stage I need to make some more things clear. This is no longer anything to do with Alex Salmond, his reputation, his career or his future. He was investigated thoroughly, tried in a court of law and acquitted of all charges. It is worth adding that he was not acquitted because his actions were ‘dodgy’ yet failed to meet the threshold of criminality but because the jury believed his defence that none of them happened.

It is not about contentious political issues such as independence or the Gender Reform Act. It is not about crucial social and cultural debates such as the Me Too movement. I am open that I believe Nicola Sturgeon has run a poor administration and has repeatedly misled the independence movement in a way that has harmed our chances of independence. But it’s not about that either.

Nor am I any kind of Alex Salmond fan-boy. This is not about a personal squabble or some ‘psychodrama’. It certainly isn’t some spurious debate about ‘civic’ versus ‘populist’ nationalism. The sheer volume of dust being thrown up to obscure what this is really about is in itself telling.

So you must clear your mind of all of these issues and focus on the sole and single issue this is about; are there people in a position of power in Scotland who misused that power in a manner which makes them unfit to hold office or employment? (If this gives you difficulty, perhaps remove the names and think in terms of ‘Politician A’ and ‘Civil Servant B’.)

In what follows I will try, carefully and without emotive language, to take you through how I reached my conclusions. I will seek very hard to only state as fact things that are public record, and to make absolutely clear where I am introducing my own opinion and analysis.

(There are far, far too many references to include throughout as this relates to thousands of disclosed government papers available here. Gordon Dangerfield has gone through many of those forensically on his blog here. I know there are strong views about Wings Over Scotland but that is the best place to find a number of documents which are redacted elsewhere. I have never at any point had access to nor specific knowledge of material not in the public domain but have broad awareness of what it is believed to indicate.)

But yes, I am of the decided view that people in a position of power in Scotland misused that power in a manner which is not acceptable. I believe that it started when a complaints procedure was created and designed to target a specific individual and pushed through over strong objections from the UK civil service.

In a position of power, you should never create laws or procedures for a purpose related to the pursuit of an individual; it represents a gross misuse of those powers.

I am of the decided view that the same people merged this process with the ‘grooming’ of complainants against the same individual, and on this a ruling of the Court of Session strongly suggests I am correct.

There are then too many details concerning the fundamentally improper manner in which this complaints process was subsequently pursued to cover here, but it is all documented and will reach the public domain eventually. This too was a gross abuse of power.

It seems that at this point, those behind these actions became aware of their risk of exposure as a result of legal arguments they had become aware of, and I believe this is when the cover-up began.

The first crucial element of this cover-up was for the most senior of government politicians to arrange a meeting to discuss sensitive government business at her house, seemingly deliberately doing so with the express intent of excluding civil servants from documenting this meeting and then subsequently, when caught, to knowingly and repeatedly to mislead parliament about that meeting. I believe this is confirmed by existing information in the public domain.

I then believe that, aware their position was coming into substantial jeopardy, the participants in this operation sought to move the focus away from their actions by escalating the matter to a criminal one by reporting information to the police, information they had access to for at least six months previously but did not act on (done against the wishes of the complainants).

... seeking to jail someone for political expediency is something I did not believe I would see in Scotland in my lifetime.  Pause must be taken here to take in the enormity of this ... 

At this point we have moved into the territory of the kind of behaviour we seldom see in western Europe. Certainly, seeking to jail someone for political expediency is something I did not believe I would see in Scotland in my lifetime. Pause must be taken here to take in the enormity of this.

As part of that process, I believe that a leak of information which is probably criminal in nature was carried out from within the office of the politician and on this the investigation of the Information Commissioner’s Office strongly suggests I am correct. I do not believe that it is feasible this happened without the authorisation of the politician (though I am aware of no hard evidence for this).

The affair now moves into two strands. The first involves continued efforts to cover up what has happened through the repeated failure to produce documents, even in the face of a Court Warrant, and in this a judge at the Court of Session concurs (on fact, not motive). This appears to be, on the face of it, contempt of court.

This also involves what I believe appears to be pressure exerted on Government lawyers to misrepresent facts in court up to the point where they threatened to resign (this latter point is public record).

The Scottish Government continued this behaviour in the face of at least one (and probably more) legal opinion that it would be ruled against but only admitted fault when more damaging material appeared to be about to be exposed. The ruling on the part of the Judge in this case was damning and the award made was extraordinarily harsh on the Scottish Government.

From there the cover-up, I believe, is fairly apparent, ranging from refusing to reveal legal advice to doing everything possible to avoid document disclosure to creating the remit of inquiries deliberately designed to prevent proper investigation of what has happened to repeatedly evasive and factually incorrect evidence given to a Parliamentary Committee.

The second strand involved the criminal case, and while there was some crossover of participants this was pursued largely by the apparatus of the political party of which the politician is a member. Much less of this evidence is currently publicly available, so I will restrict myself to saying that staff of that party appeared to have sought to maximise the number of complaints and put pressure on the police.

These two strands recombine during the resultant criminal trial, where there may be a case to be made that the repeated refusal to produce relevant documents represents an attempt to pervert the course of justice and contribute to the imprisonment of a man by withholding evidence relevant to his defence.

Perhaps the pinnacle of this for me is the testimony of Woman H, by far the most serious of the charges presented (attempted rape). Here the prosecution led no properly admissible evidence that she was even in the building where the alleged attempted rape took place. The defence led multiple pieces of evidence including reliable eye-witness testimony that she was never there.

The circumstances around this testimony are deeply concerning and it seems to be clear perjury. I can’t comment any more, but for me it sums up this whole sorry affair.

I haven’t even mentioned what I find to be the difficult-to-understand decision by the Crown Office and Prosecutor Fiscal Service to bring this case to court, nor its (for me) subsequent chilling pursuit of supporters of the man tried. I also have some concerns about what I know of the actions of the police. The role of some publicly-funded agencies and the publicly-funded BBC in the aftermath only contribute to my unease.

There is so much more, so much that will come out and this will be worse still than what you’ve seen so far.

There is so much more, so much that will come out and this will be worse still than what you’ve seen so far. The damage I believe this is likely to do to confidence in the conduct of public life in Scotland is substantial.

That the politician is Nicola Sturgeon, the man Alex Salmond, the civil servants a group surrounding Leslie Evans and the party officials a group surrounding Peter Murrell (husband of Sturgeon) should play no part in affecting the details I have set out above.

I have never in my life called for someone to resign. If they should be fired, they should be fired; but resignation should be a matter of honour, so calling for it seems futile to me. But I can see no circumstances in which it should be acceptable for Nicola Sturgeon to remain in office. Any one of half a dozen the above acts perpetrated by a member of Boris Johnson’s cabinet would have the SNP demanding their head.

From there it seems to me to be a question only of how many of the civil servants and paid officials of the SNP should be sacked for misconduct. Some of the civil servants seem to me clearly to need to face contempt of court proceedings and there are a number of people involved who seem to me at least terribly close to ‘conspiracy to pervert the course of justice’ territory.

I want only to finish with a few thoughts on the ramifications of all of this, firstly for public life in Scotland.

I have made no secret of my growing concern about the state of democracy in Scotland nor the way public officials perform their duties. There seems to me now to be a messianic cult of impunity among far too many senior officials. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that this has rattled my confidence in the health of Scotland as a nation right now.

There must be reform of governance in Scotland and a root and branch review of the civil service and its agencies. I struggle to understand how the Lord Advocate is still in post (what exactly is the ‘correct’ number of malicious prosecutions he can admit to in any given year?) and his existence as an active member of Cabinet is clearly contrary to EU law (enshrined in domestic law) that the Executive (government) and judiciary (legal system) are independent of each other.

If this rattles the confidence of the public in Scotland then I can hardly blame them, and I can’t see what the option is other than (finally) honesty, full disclosure and reform.

Talk of continuity in government during the Covid crisis is neither here nor there. If continuity means failure to ensure integrity, we have a bigger problem. Surely someone else can do a press conference every morning and no-one is asking health officials to resign. The vast majority of the SNP’s politicians are good and honest people who had nothing whatsoever to do with this; there will be no problem forming a strong working government.

Finally, the cause of independence. I have said over and over to the small group of people whom I’ve spoken to about this that harm was inevitable from the moment the ‘original sin’ of this affair took place.

In the last week there has been much chatter from people who support independence of the sort ‘but she’s so popular, can’t we turn a blind eye to this, at least for a while?’. I of course have sympathy for the many grassroots activists I so admire and who have been let down by this, but I have two responses.

The first is simple; directly before the Watergate scandal Richard Nixon had approval ratings of 68 per cent, substantially better than Nicola Sturgeon’s – and this whole affair has remarkable parallels with Watergate.

This will out eventually. I wish dearly that Nicola Sturgeon had found a dignified excuse to fall on her sword long before now and it might actually have been possible to avoid this (for now, if not for the history books). But she didn’t. Every part of this traces back to her, her team, her husband and her close confidants. If you’re angry about this (you should be) that’s where to direct it.

We sure as hell can’t afford this to dominate the 2021 Holyrood election and there is a very real risk it will.

But to return right back to the beginning, while I have sympathy to those wishing we could ‘turn a blind eye’, in the end that is the Ted Cruz/Mitch McConnell position – and how is that working out for them?

It is almost explicitly to say that you are content for a new Scotland to be born from corruption, so long as it is born. But I can’t tell you how much of a mistake that is – there is no redemption for us from such a stance. Our future, our nation must be born from honesty and integrity or you should want no part of it. I certainly don’t.

‘Just this one corrupt conspiracy and no more, we promise’ can’t be acceptable

‘Just this one corrupt conspiracy and no more, we promise’ can’t be acceptable, can’t be how we carry ourselves into the future. Whatever price we pay for this we must pay, and we must then atone and rebuild. We can still win an election if we start right now.

I wish I had an alternative for you. I wish, I so deeply wish, this had never happened. None of it. Even now I wish I didn’t feel I need to write these things. But I do feel I need to, for my own conscience if nothing else. My silence would leave me feeling complicit and I can’t live with that. I would have written the same even for a leader I admired and supported.

And I have already lived for these two years with the knowledge of this wound deep into things I care very much about – Scotland, its future as an independent nation and its ability to be a much better place than one where a fifth of the people live in poverty.

We have been dragged here and whether it is now, during the election or in the months after when we should be moving purposely towards independence, this is all going to pour into the public domain like it or not.

And because it will poison all it touches, those responsible must remove themselves or be removed and rapidly be distanced from the cause of independence and Scotland’s public realm.