#also geoff gave me hell. his head. why does it do that. why. he looks like a flatfish... why is he like this

[asexual-shelly]

Haven't been catting it out as much as I've liked, so as compensation here's all four leaders + some lore about the clans: Thunderclan

Born a kittypet named Christian, Eaglestar initially joined Thunderclan after being cast out onto the streets by his twolegs and the leader taking pity on him. However, Eaglestar proved to be incredibly cunning, working his way up the ranks and using his connections to eventually take the reins of the clan altogether. With this newfound power, Eaglestar naturally abuses it for all its' worth through using it to solve petty disputes and get out of hunting for the day. He has deep-rooted beef with the Shadowclan leader who he's been rivals with since apprenticeship, constantly taking any opportunity he can to one-up or antagonize her.

Riverclan

The youngest of the four leaders at just 23 moons, Reedstar was far from the first pick for leader in the eyes of his clan. After a flood destroyed most of their camp and took the lives of both their leader and deputy in one fell swoop, the clan waited with bated breath for the medicine cat to announce the decision of their new leader. To every cat's surprise however, the medicine cat chose to appoint the easygoing Reeddance of all people, much to the shock and outrage of most of the clan who saw him as unfit. Reedstar tries his best to meet the needs of these agitated cats, but his inexperience just leads most of his efforts to be used as more fuel for the hate mob as rumors of a possible civil war in Riverclan began to spread around like wildfire. Shadowclan

Azaleastar took up the mantle of leader many moons ago after the former deputy was mysteriously found dead in their nest, and she just so happened to be the next best cat to take on the new position. Being one of the best ambush-fighters in her clan, Azaleastar had always had a knack for spotting points of weakness she could exploit... and what better opportunity was there than a broken, divided clan with a hare-brained idiot for a leader? After the flood, she's been picking at Riverclan bit by bit, giddily exploiting their lack of unison for free territory with the intention of taking over their entire hunting grounds and putting her name in the history books. The only thing keeping her from invasion is the threat of Thunderclan, who've been making advances on her territory while they're busy with Riverclan. Windclan

Not wanting to engage with the other three clans, Mangrovestar keeps Windclan in a strict state of isolation. He doesn't care to involve himself in the conflict between Riverclan and Shadowclan, instead just wanting to maintain the prosperity that's reigned in his clan for these past few moons. Of the four leaders currently active, he's easily the most popular amongst his clan for his amicable nature and appearing (mostly) morally good in comparison. However, Mangrovestar tends to be very biased and easily swayed in regard to his judgement which can rub cats the wrong way whenever they're forced to clean the elders' den for a moon while his favorites get little more than a slap on the wrist.

[enterprisetrampstamp]

General #1 Medbay Trio (platonic)

"I love you."

"Tell me that when you're sober," Christine said, laughing, and Geoff threw his hands out to his sides indignantly.

"I've had half a beer!" He protested, slouched comfortably back in his chair. "Unlike some people--"

"Bite me," Len said, not looking up from the comm that he had-- habitually, anxiously-- flipped open to check for incoming messages. Christine surreptitiously dropped a quarter into the ever-growing pile next to the massive, fruity cocktail she was drinking. (It looked orange but tasted pink. She wasn't much of one for the color, not like Nyota was, but it had its place, and its place was getting her riotously drunk on shore leave.)

Geoff laid a hand over his heart, his tone magnanimous and arrogant all at once. "I know how to express my emotions openly--"

"You know what?" Len pointed his beer bottle at Geoff, raising his eyebrows. "Bite yourself."

"--honestly--"

"Oh, this is all from the heart, M'Benga, don't you worry your pretty little head about that."

"--and without embarrassment." Geoff laid his hand on Len's shoulder, his dark eyes wide and sincere. His grin, on the other hand, was shit-eating. "You know, we're here for you."

"You know, I'm your boss," Len muttered. He turned his chin away from the table, long fingers drumming as he glanced towards the door.

(Not waiting for anyone-- just wanting to leave. Usually you couldn't pay him to stay shipside on shore leave, but tonight was special. Just look: all three of the Enterprise's senior medical staff were off duty.)

(All at once.)

(Christine didn't take it personally; she knew Leonard McCoy considered her and Geoff his best friends-- after his two particularly notable best-er friends-- despite all of his grumbling. She just also knew that trusting the kids to man the Medbay without them, even when the ship was practically empty with 90% of its crew on leave, was taking its toll on his nerves.)

She rested her chin on her palm, her lipsticked lips tipped into a mocking smile. "Aw," she said, engaging in that time honored distraction technique of annoying the hell out of him as she stirred her bendy straw through her drink. "It's cute how he tries to hide behind protocol when we're making fun of him."

Geoff cupped a hand around his ear, leaning teasingly towards her. "What's this 'we' you speak of, Nurse? The only dulcet tones I hear dragging his ass are mine and mine alone."

Len checked his comm again.

Christine dropped another quarter on the pile.

With a sudden wide eyed look of comprehension, Geoff burst out laughing, slapping his hand over his mouth. Len looked up, suspicious, and clipped his comm back to his belt. "What?" he demanded, his eyes flicking between Geoff and Christine as he tried to figure out what joke he'd missed-- clearly, rightfully suspicious that he was the butt of it.

"Nothing," Geoff wheezed.

"Don't worry about it," Christine told him, sipping at her drink as her eyes sparkled, and Len narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the edge of the table as he folded his fingers together.

"You sayin' that is what worries me more than anything." He prodded a finger at her from avross the table. "You sayin' that's gonna keep me up at night--"

"Better find some hobbies then." Christine smiled at him, sweetly. "Find a good way to use the extra time."

Len-- finger still hovering in the air between them-- glared at her for a long, long moment. "You," he said, "are distracting me."

Christine pointed her own finger at the stack of coins. "Evidently, not very well," she said, dryly.

"You--"

"I love you, too," Geoff told him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and-- gently-- settling him back into his chair before he could lean over and strangle Christine. "Man, do you trust me?"

Len, sniffing, slouched moodily into his chair and didn't look at either of them as he muttered, "You know I do."

"And you trust Chris," Geoff said, leadingly.

"And I trust my head nurse," Len agreed, rolling his eyes. "We'd all be dead from butting heads by now if I didn't."

"Yeah, well, me and Chris, and you, who you trust more than anyone because you're an egotistical jackass just like every other surgeon in this galaxy--"

"Including you--"

"--We trained those kids, Len." Geoff squeezed his shoulder. "You, me, and Chris. We're the ones who trained them. If you can't trust them, trust the three of us."

Len pursed his lips. "It ain't that easy," he said. "You know that."

"Are you kidding?" Christine laughed. "Of course we do! Why do you think my drink is this big, McCoy? I've got to give myself an undeniable reason within the next ten minutes-- like being too drunk to pass muster-- that I can't race back to the transporters and finish this shift myself!"

"Control freak," Geoff told her, fondly.

"Can it, M'Benga; that jittery knee of yours if shaking the whole damn table."

Looking between them, Len's lips twitched into a grin. "We're a mess," he observed, tipping his beer towards Geoff like the words were a toast.

Geoff clinked his own bottle against it, grinning, and squeezed Len's shoulder again. Beneath the table, both of their stupidly long legs poked across onto Christine's side, their knees and ankles bumping beneath the battered wood of the rinky dink table of the ugly, messy bar.

"Pool?" she suggested, turning and draping her arm across the back of her chair as she heard the unmistakeable groan of someone who had just lost, terribly, and may or may not have the money to pay up.

"We'll have to win the table to get hold of it," Len pointed out, "and that tall guy's a menace. He's run off like three different people just since we sat down with our first round of drinks."

"Aw," Geoff said. He pinched Len's cheek. "It's cute how you think that worries me. I used to play pool with Vulcans; just imagine what that's like, will you?"

Len clearly already was. "Oh, god," he said, sounding disgusted and impressed all at once.

"Have you ever had a seven foot tall stranger lecture you on how to calculate the appropriate factor by which to multiply a given billiard ball's momentum in order to determine its speed and distance of rebound for a given angle of deflection? I have." Geoff clapped Len on the shoulder, draining the last of his beer, and rose to his feet. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Buy me something pretty with your winnings?" Christine asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Don't encourage him," Len protested. "Don't-- he's as bad as Jim--"

Christine burst out laughing. "Lenny, honey, no one is as bad as Captain Kirk. And I know you know that, or else you wouldn't have made the righteous and practicable decision to come out with us tonight instead of him."

"Maybe I just like you better," Len retorted, eyebrows rising as he stood and drained the last of his own beer. "You ever think of that, huh, wiseass?"

"Aw, Geoff!" Christine spun around in her seat, rising up to one knee and cupping her hand around her mouth as she called, "Len just said he loves us!"

"I did not--"

"I'm so proud of you." Geoff drew a heart in the air with both of his index fingers and blew Len a kiss.

"I'm going to fire you both and ship you off to Siberia to freeze your asses off and die of hypothermia."

Christine-- massive drink in one hand and quarters returned to her pocket-- stood on her tiptoes to hook her chin over his shoulder and wrap an arm around his waist. She sipped from her bendy straw, and then she offered it to Len. "No, you won't."

She felt him heave a sigh more than heard it, over the general din of shitty music and worse conversation that permeated the bar. "No, I won't," he agreed.

He accepted the sip of Christine's drink, and they watched the tall guy's face drop open with shock as Geoff calmly, calculatingly ran the table.

"You're both too good to me," he told her. "Keepin' me distracted when you're just as nervous."

Christine shrugged, settling down off of her tiptoes and letting him tuck her into his side, under his arm. "Distracting ourselves, too," she pointed out. "Besides, you spend most of your time playing emotional outlet for Kirk and Spock, and every other person who's ever come to you with something on their minds; only fair someone does it for you in return."

He snorted. "Don't let Spock hear you say that, or you really might end up in Siberia."

"He wouldn't dare," Christine retorted primly. "I have immunity. I'm Nyota's favorite, relevant for obvious reasons--"

"Nyota is Spock's favorite," Len agreed.

"--And I'm Janice's, too. Kirk would gave to sign off, but she'd never file the paperwork."

Geoff whistled, drawing their attention as he stuffed a wad of bills in his back pocket and then tossed a pool cue in their direction. "Who's getting their ass beat first?"

"Len!" Christine shoved him forward. "Show us what those legendary hands of yours can do, Sawbones."

Len groaned. "Never gonna live that down, am I?" and in return they chorused, "Never!'

"Has anyone called Carol lately?" Geoff asked, leaning on his pool cue and oh-so-graciously letting Len break. "I miss her. Only person better than Len or the Captain at getting a rise out of Spock."

"She's off in deep space working on some crazy secret research project or other," Len told him, frowning at the table as he studied the pattern that had unfolded in front of him. "I'm solids, by the way."

Geoff hummed. "Fancy."

"Good for her," Christine said.

They continued to wait for Len to take his next shot. Geoff shifted from foot to foot, and then asked, "Anyone want me to recite that lecture on elastomeric collisions from memory, or--?"

"No!"

(I'm currently taking prompts!)

[everamazingfe]

You Can Ride On My Rocket 69 - Chapter Eleven

A Song About Memories

Fic Summary: Jeremy has recently awoken in this strange world, 210 ten years after he was put to sleep, and is now the lone survivor from his vault. Trevor's a radio host from Diamond City who's barely left the station, lonely in his own right and isolated from the rest of the Wastes. When they meet, Trevor finally gets a chance to see the rest of the wasteland like he's always wanted, though Jeremy becomes more of his bodyguard than Trevor does his companion. They meet various people along the way, some being friends like the odd throuple they meet in one of the neighboring city, or foe like a certain Diamond City guard. Both are wary about bringing up their pasts, but the wasteland has a strange way of bringing people together.

Chapter Summary: Jeremy remembers something he immediately wishes he could forget about all over again. Trevor gains a memory he never wants to forget. This chapter's song is "Happy Times" by Bob Crosby.

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Words in this chapter: 4817 Pairings: Jeremy/Trevor, Michael/Gavin/Lindsay, Jeremy/Matt Warnings for this chapter: Minor violence, references to Ian

Notes: There’s a link to the first chapter of this fic as the source of this post! Click it to go read this fic over on A O 3, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site! Also, I still need to go back and edit chapter 10, however I have made the decision to change Detective Nick Valentine into Geoff for this fic.

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Convincing Jeremy to leave the Third Rail and actually go to the Memory Den was a hell of an undertaking, even though he had only had a single drink. He simply did not want to relive any parts of his past, and he wasn’t sure that there was anything *to remember while he was on ice. As far as he was concerned, it was the longest shot in the world, and his aim had never been that good. But the bar eventually had to open up, and the crowd began to file in for Lindsay’s show. He could no longer sit in quiet contemplation as Trevor talked to the trio, so decided to finally listen to the man’s pleading and go. Ultimately, what choice did he have? If he couldn’t remember anything else, Geoff wouldn’t be able to help him and he’d just be back at square one.

“I’m really not sure how I feel about this, Trev.” They were standing inside the entry hall of the Memory Den now, and even in the dim mood lighting Jeremy looked visibly nervous. His hands shook and he was starting to draw blood from how hard he was biting his lip.

“I know. I’m not sure I feel that good about it either, but… What else is there to do?” Trevor asked, leaning back against the wall as he looked over at the other. He was sympathetic, he certainly wouldn’t want to go reliving his own past either, but this had all been Jeremy’s idea in the first place. What had been the point of it all if it just amounted to nothing? “If we learn anything, we’ll know where to go from here.”

Jeremy scoffed quietly, shaking his head. “Where we’ll go is back out into the wastes for days and days of wandering.” That’s all this journey had been so far, and it was wearing Jeremy out. His eyes were gaunt and dark from a lack of restful sleep, and his body ached all over. Trevor wasn’t in much better condition either, even after his week of rest. He could just tell that he was starting to get tired of all of this, and honestly he couldn’t blame him for it. “Okay, you know what? I’ll do this, on one condition.”

Trevor frowned, crossing his arms as he looked down at Jeremy. “What’s that?”

“You do it too.”

The suggestion made Trevor’s frown turn into open-mouthed surprise, and he looked downright offended by the suggestion. “Absolutely not!”

“Then I guess I’m not doing it,” Jeremy said after a moment of contemplation, seemingly unbothered, but Trevor was less than pleased. 

“Why should I have to? I’m not looking for anyone, he’s your husband, and I don’t have some cushy pre-war life to look back on.” Trevor was a child of the wasteland, born and raised in a world that had actively tried to take him out of it from day one. He didn’t have any happy memories to remember, and he made sure to let Jeremy know it. The rant continued for several moments before he was interrupted, cut off by Jeremy turning away and walking down the hall. “Where are you going?”

He paused, letting Trevor catch up to him before speaking quietly. “I was only fucking with you. I wasn’t actually going to make you do it.” It was a poorly executed joke, he should have known that the past was a sore subject for him. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” 

“I don’t know, I just-... You know what? Nevermind, it was stupid. It was a stupid joke.” He paused and took a few breaths, counting to ten. “I’m sorry. Let’s just get this over with so we can get the fuck out of here.”

“Finally, a plan I can get on board with.”

They turned the corner into the Memory Den proper together, surprised to see Geoff already there, speaking to a woman lounging luxuriously on a couch in the back of the room. Her dress was beautiful and clean, something that was rare these days. It came in stark contrast to Geoff’s dingy and tattered trench coat. She waved as they approached, the detective turning to face them as she acknowledged their presence. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Geoff here was just telling me all about you two.” Her eyes scanned Jeremy up and down, and she let out a soft laugh at the way he squirmed. “I was most interested to hear about you, though.” Her voice was sultry and sweet, but she had no interest in seducing anyone into anything but sitting in one of her chairs.

It was Geoff’s turn to wave her off now, hissing a quiet, “Knock it off,” before clearing his throat. “It’s about time you two showed up, what kept you for so long?” he asked, trying to hide his displeasure, but it was hard to do. Early models of synths didn’t have a great handle on hiding their feelings like humans did, they weren’t quite that advanced yet. When they felt something, it showed, and seeing Geoff look so displeased made both Jeremy and Trevor hang their heads in shame.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you were gonna be here, it kinda seemed like I was on my own until I could remember more about what happened. Plus, I stopped at the Rail to pick up Trevor, and you know how Gavin likes to talk.” The beady and bright eyes of the synth made it very easy to feel like Geoff could see right through his story, like he could just tell that that wasn’t all of it. “And I was uh… I was having some doubts,” Jeremy confessed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he turned his gaze to the floor. 

“Doubts?”

“Like… What if I can’t remember anything? What if this was just a big waste of time?”

The woman behind Geoff laughed again as she stood, approaching Jeremy with swaying hips and tipping his chin up to make him meet her eyes. “With the amount of caps I’m paying her, Dr. Amari better be able to make you remember something. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” She patted his cheek. “You’ll find her downstairs, Geoff’ll show you the way and make the introduction.”

“Yeah, c’mon boys. Let’s leave Irma to her very important work of watching over empty loungers. We’ve got a man to find.” He walked off before the woman could retort, Jeremy and Trevor hurrying to follow.

The basement wasn’t nearly as posh as the main area, furnished with some big computer equipment along the walls and two loungers in the middle of the room. There were some items that made it look like a sort of living area, a bathtub that seemed out of place and a couch held up by burned books, but ultimately it was dingy and dank. Dr. Amari herself was standing at a terminal in the back of the room, looking very professional in a lab coat and slacks, and too focused on her work to even notice them until Geoff started to speak. 

“Amari, I’ve got two new clients for you, but this one,” he paused and clapped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, “Is gonna be a tough nut to crack.”

“Oh? Is he now? Please, the two of you, have a seat.” Dr. Amari motioned to the pair of loungers, but Trevor just shook his head quickly, hiding himself behind Geoff. Jeremy himself wasn’t as resistant, walking over to one of the open chairs and walking circles around it to inspect it. Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t figure out how it worked, but it looked complex. “Do you not want to?”

“Uh, no, not really,” he answered, following behind Geoff as he moved towards the couch. He sat down next to the synth, hands folded in his lap and eyes on the pods. “Remembering the past… It’s not really my thing.” 

Dr. Amari frowned, but nodded in understanding. “It’s not for everyone. Remembering can be painful, if you have things you’d prefer to leave buried.” She was used to stumbling across rather surprising and upsetting memories, it came with the territory of poking around in people’s heads. But if someone didn’t want those memories to be stumbled upon in the first place, who was she to argue? 

Jeremy gave Trevor a quick smile after he gave up on his inspection of the pods, taking a seat in one of the loungers. The seat was old and worn in from many people sitting in that same position, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Still, he didn’t know what the remembering process itself was going to be like. “This isn’t going to hurt at all, right?”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she began to tap at the keyboard. “No, not at all. You won’t feel anything. Maybe a slight headache, I am probing around in your brain after all, but no worse than a mild hangover. It will fade fast.” With that, the hydraulics hissed and the cover to the pod shut overtop of Jeremy. There was a small television in front of his face showing the ‘please stand by’ symbol that lingered on every channel now, and every sound that came from outside the chamber sounded muffled. Trevor was speaking to Geoff, he could see their lips moving, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. The only voice that came through clearly was Dr. Amari’s, and that was only because she had a mic that broadcast right into the chamber. “How are you feeling?”

Jeremy shifted a little, uncomfortable as he looked out of the chamber at her. “A little cramped… I didn’t know this was part of it.” It reminded him too much of the cryopods, and he’d just never been a fan of tight, enclosed spaces in general. At least he had hope that he would come out from the other side of this having found some answers, though. “I didn’t think it would close like this, I sorta hoped it was just… Not part of it.”

Geoff said something and Trevor laughed, but Dr. Amari cut them a look that had both of them shutting up. “I apologize. I did not realize that you would be claustrophobic, but that should not matter soon.” 

Before he could even ask what that meant, Jeremy’s vision was filled with a white light. It was so blindingly bright that he thought it should hurt, but it didn’t. It was just like if he’d closed his eyes, but instead of black, the back of his eyelids were pure white. When his vision cleared again, he was inside Vault 111.

“Can you hear me?” Dr. Amari’s voice seemingly came from all around him, and he turned around to search for her. “Ah, good. You can. The simulation seems to be stable, but the memories are quite fragmentary. This is the best I could do. Geoff told me what to look for, it only took a little digging. We got lucky with this one.” It felt weird and disorienting to be seeing a memory he hadn’t even known that he had, and Jeremy was certain that when he came out of this he would be feeling a lot worse than if he just had a hangover. “You weren’t awake for long, and the failure of your life support made certain that your conscious mind could not remember it, but your subconscious? There was quite a bit to find in there. You are very lucky.” 

He could see the pods, he could see himself and his husband inside of them, but most importantly, he could see a trio of people standing in front of his husband’s cryopod. “What the fuck?” There were two people, presumably scientists, dressed in lab coats and other protective gear. One of them was a woman, the other a man. There was another man as well, who wasn’t dressed like the two scientists he had with him. He wore something akin to raider leathers and was bald, like Jeremy. The most distinct feature was a scar across his left eye, clear as day. Over the speakers, Jeremy could just barely hear Geoff say, “That’s Kellogg,” but he was far too focused on the man himself for his ears to properly register it. 

The man, Kellogg, pointed at the pod that Jeremy knew held his husband. “This is the one, here. Open it.” The scientists didn’t hesitate in following their orders, the man hitting the manual override as the other got ready for... something. Jeremy couldn’t quite tell what she was doing.

As the pod opened, the man inside coughed as he came back to life. But as one pod thawed, so did some of the others. “Is it over?” he asked, gruff and confused. Hearing his husband’s voice knocked the air right out of Jeremy’s chest. He hadn’t heard it in so long. “Are we okay?” The man stepped out from the pod slowly, and Jeremy could only stare. It really was him, probably in the last moments he was alive. His hair was still as long as the day they’d gone into the pods though the colorful streaks of dye had long faded, and his glasses fogged up from the sudden temperature change causing him to squint behind the glass. His beard had small icicles hanging from it, but they quickly began to thaw and drip water down the front of the vault suit.

The woman smiled kindly, offering a hand of help out to him. “Almost, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Come with us,” Kellogg ordered, his voice considerably less kind than hers. He sounded annoyed and impatient, though he had only just arrived in the vault. 

“What? No, I’m not leaving. I can’t go.” The man looked at the pod across from him in panic, where Jeremy remained in stasis, frozen solid. Or so he thought. “I can’t leave without Jeremy.”

“You don’t really get a choice in that. Now, come with us.” Kellogg spoke as the other scientist reached out, her hand of assistance now firmly on his arm to start pulling him away from the pod despite the insistent protests that only grew louder. “We’re only gonna tell you once.”

“And I’m only going to tell you once. I. Am. Not. Going. With. You.” 

There was no verbal retort from Kellogg, he instead only huffed in frustration before he hit the man over the head with a stun baton. He crumpled in an instant, knocked out cold and bleeding from the impact. Luckily, the scientists managed to catch him before he hit the floor, but only just.

“Let’s go,” the one said, glaring at Kellogg as he adjusted his hold to help support his weight. “At least we have a backup in case you hit him too hard. We weren’t supposed to hurt him, you know.”

Kellogg only shrugged, turning around now to look at Jeremy that was still in the pod. “Doesn’t matter now. Like you said, at least we have a backup. Let’s get out of here. And when’s that other team coming in?” 

“You might as well be one of them, god.” They both cast him looks of disgust before turning, slowly making their way from the cryo-room with the unconscious man in tow.

The scientists were no longer paying any mind to Kellogg, but he didn’t seem to care. He was just as done with them as they were with him. His eyes were also no longer on the empty pod, instead he’d turned around to look at the one across the way. “You… You’re going to come in handy someday, I’m sure. Or you’ll just be another thorn in my side.” He tapped on the glass with the stun baton, tilting his head to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “Let’s make sure you go back to sleep, shall we?”

The robotic voice saying ‘Cryogenic sequence re-initialized’ echoed loudly in Jeremy’s head, and he closed his eyes and covered his ears to try blocking the sound of the pod re-freezing out, though it was unsuccessful. The sounds weren’t really coming from around him, they were coming from inside of his head.

“That’s the end of the memory. But… Wait, there’s something else here.” Dr. Amari spoke now, and when he opened his eyes back up, he was still in the vault. 

There were two scientists at his husband’s pod again, but instead of opening it up to take him out, they were now putting him back in. But he knew now that it wasn’t him. It was a decoy. A fake to convince anyone who came searching that he was still in there. 

That same robotic voice came over the loudspeakers again as the pod sealed back up, but it wasn’t saying the same thing. This time, it was saying ‘Critical failure in cryogenic array. All vault residents must vacate immediately.” 

Jeremy watched as the two scientists looked at each other in confusion, about to write off the announcement as just another piece of vault weirdness, until the pod behind them hissed and clunked as it began to open up. 

“That… That wasn’t supposed to happen, he told us everyone in this vault was dead!” the one said, watching as a cloud of fog covered the floor, the ice hitting the warm air of the vault and instantly thawing much faster than anticipated. She looked to the other in fear, trying to figure out what to do, but this was the only pod that was opening.

“They are,” the other one hissed, busting the manual controls to ensure that the now sealed pod could never be reopened. It didn’t take him too long to regret his words though, as Jeremy fell forward onto the floor, barely able to catch himself in time before his face hit the concrete. He coughed and heaved, lungs suddenly filling with air and every system in his body forced to jump-start all at once. “Shit, go, go!” He grabbed the arm of the other scientist, all but dragging her out of there before Jeremy could get his bearings and stand up. 

“Get me out of here,” the real Jeremy said, his voice strained as he fought back tears. “Doctor, please… Get me out of here.” Trying to process everything that he’d just seen, the truth of everything that had happened in the vault to him, to his husband, but he didn’t feel any better for knowing it. Instead, he just felt worse.

“Are you sure? If there’s something else you’d like to see-”

“Get me out!”

“Amari, please. Just get him out of there.” Trevor’s voice was in his ear now, and he sounded concerned. Scared, even. It made Jeremy’s heart ache as much as his head.

Outside of Jeremy’s brain and outside of the memory chamber, the three of them had been watching the memories unfold through his eyes on Amari’s terminal screen. Geoff had a notepad out and had been jotting down thoughts and observations on the whole ordeal, unphased by Kellogg’s cruelty, but Trevor was quite the opposite. He was in a similar boat as Jeremy, unable to process what he’d just seen but knowing that it made him uneasy. He bit his nails as he listened to keys clacking on the keyboard beneath Amari’s nails, eyes fixed on Jeremy's face to make sure he would actually wake up. The second the pod was open and Jeremy could sit up, Trevor all but launched himself at the other, wrapping his arms around him. Jeremy was in no shape to push him away, just clinging to him and hiding his face as his body began to tremble. 

“That was… That was horrible,” Trevor whispered, hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jeremy just laughed, but it was dry and without any humor. “Yeah, I… I wish I didn’t remember now.” He lifted his head to look at Geoff, who was still jotting down notes. “Did you find out everything you needed?”

“More than,” Geoff said, flipping his notepad shut and meeting Jeremy’s tear-filled eyes with a smile. “I know exactly what our next step is. Kellogg, he used to own a house back in Diamond City. It’s been abandoned for a while now, but… I think if we can get ourselves in there, we can figure out where he went.”

Trevor stood up then with a soft huff, offering a hand to Jeremy to help him stand as well, pulling him close once they both had. “Doubt it. It’s probably been picked clean by Crazy Myrna by now,” he muttered, “She’s always looking for stuff to sell.”

“Maybe so, but I know he had someone with him when he stayed there that fits the bill of the missing husband. Pretty tall, long hair… Most guys tend to keep it cropped pretty short these days, and no one that tall has come through the city in a long time.” Geoff laughed quietly. “Trust me, it’s always a spectacle when they do. I’ll meet you back there. You two… You two take your time. I’ll talk to security, make sure someone gets stationed there to keep Myrna, and everyone else, out until we can get a look.” He waved at the three of them and thanked Dr. Amari before heading out. 

Diamond City wasn’t exactly far from Goodneighbor, but Jeremy felt like garbage after all of that, and he was sure that Trevor wasn’t exactly up for the journey after all of that either. All he wanted to do was curl up in bed, or maybe get another few drinks at the Third Rail. He couldn’t make up his mind, so he settled on both. “I’m gonna go get us a room at the Rex, can you go get us a few bottles to go from Gav?” he asked, fishing a small pouch of caps from his armor and offering it to Trevor, who swiped it from him without hesitation. They both could use a few drinks.

“Gladly.”

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

They were several beers in each before they decided to call it quits, pocketing the caps and dropping the empty bottles to the floor to join their discarded armor with satisfying clinks. Jeremy wasn’t really feeling much better, his head was still swimming and now his stomach was churning from the alcohol, but at least it was harder to focus on the day’s events and on the newly uncovered memories. And Trevor was definitely having a good time, singing along to the songs on the radio that he knew every beat of by heart. He could’ve listened to that forever without complaint, elbow resting on his knee and chin on his hand as he sat cross-legged on the creaky old bed, eyes closed as he listened to him. 

“Hey Trevor?” he asked softly, opening his eyes slowly. The singing stopped, and Jeremy almost felt bad for interrupting it, but he felt like he had to say what he had on his mind. “I know… I know I was kind of a dick when we first met, and even earlier today, and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay-”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay. You said before that you have no happy memories, that you have nothing you want to remember, and… And I’ve definitely contributed to that, but I also want to change that. Everyone deserves happy memories.” 

Trevor smiled softly, though the words would have been a lot more endearing if they weren’t half-slurred together. But Geoff had always taught him that it was the thought that counts. “What’s your happiest memory, then? I gotta know what to strive for here.” 

“My happiest memory? Shit, I don’t know. Probably… Probably my first kiss? It happened later than it should’ve, not ‘til I met my husband and I was *old by then. Not as old as I am now, but… Older than most people have their first kiss. And he was a real shit kisser at the start too, but… It was still sweet.” Jeremy smiled fondly as he thought about it, swaying back and forth from the good feelings it filled him with. “Pretty much any memory I’ve got with him is my happiest… ‘Til the end, at least.”

He nodded slowly, letting out a soft sigh. “Should’ve seen that coming. Dunno why I even asked.” 

That made Jeremy frown. Trevor never seemed to like it when he talked about his husband like that, but it wasn’t like he was going to stop. His life pre-war was still something near and dear to his heart. “You’ll have that too, one day.”

“Doubt it. Best I can do so far is Ian, and… He’s not really a catch,” he muttered, huffing as he laid down on the bed. It groaned under the shift in weight, and the pillow smelled musty beneath his head. It was a miracle this place didn’t have bed bugs. “But it’s fine, you know? Not like the wastes are meant for finding love. If you make it past twenty without getting bit in half by a Deathclaw or beat down by raiders, you’re doing pretty good. And I think I’m doing pretty good.”

“People aren’t meant to just do ‘pretty good’ though. You can’t survive off of just ‘pretty good.’”

“Can’t I, though?” Trevor asked, propping himself up on an elbow to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “I’m doing fine. I don’t need some pre-war ghoul telling me how I should live my life. Things are different now, Jeremy. If someone’s doing ‘pretty good,’ it means they’re a hell of a lot better than everyone else.” 

They stared each other down for a few minutes, the tension building until Jeremy was the first to look away, reaching down to the floor and grab one last beer. He popped the cap, holding it out for Trevor. “I’m sorry.” The peace offering was rejected, and Jeremy just tucked it into his own pocket instead. “But I still meant what I said. Everyone deserves happy memories, even you.”

“Maybe. But saying that won’t magically give me any.” 

Doing and saying stupid things while he was drinking was a staple of Jeremy’s personality, whatever thought processes that made him only do slightly dumb things while he was sober seemed to disintegrate after a few beers. After four in quick succession, it was just gone entirely. So maybe that was why he set the bottle aside and leaned in, a rough and calloused hand cupping Trevor’s cheek oh so gently as he leaned in and pressed their lips together in the softest kiss he could muster. It lasted for only a moment before he pulled away, smirking a little. “Won’t it, though?”

“God, Jeremy, just… Shut up,” Trevor stammered, sitting up fully now and leaning in to kiss him again. He let his eyes slip shut as Jeremy held his face with both hands, not to forcefully keep him in the kiss but to just hold him, to give him the soft and loving touch that he didn’t even know he’d needed as badly as he did. 

The kiss lasted for quite a while, but it didn’t go further than that. Neither of them wanted, or needed, more than that. Trevor got his happy memory, Jeremy got the satisfaction of knowing the other man now had at least one to look back on, and they both got the affection that they’d desperately craved.

“We should get some sleep,” Jeremy whispered, his forehead against Trevor’s as he reluctantly broke the kiss. He could feel the other’s breath fanning over his face and could see that his cheeks were now bright red, and he was sure that his own were the same way. “C’mon,” he urged gently, moving to lay down and guiding Trevor to lay down with him. 

Trevor was practically in a daze, his mind had begun to shut down as he waited for the kiss to turn forceful and for the other to start pushing him for more, but it never came. Jeremy was nothing but gentle, even as he made him lay down, and they shared a few more sweet kisses before agreeing that it was time to get some sleep. Jeremy’s arms wrapped around the other securely, holding him close and making him feel safe, and Trevor had an arm slung over Jeremy’s middle, face tucked into his chest. It was, hands down, the best sleep either of them had gotten in a long time, the bags under their eyes receding and bodies aching a lot less than they had the night before. Neither of them would acknowledge the other’s reluctance to move away in the morning either, because they both just wanted to stay put. They’d needed this. Better yet, they’d earned it.

“Geoff’s just gonna have to deal with us showing up late again.”

[vagrantblvrd]

Those GTA V videos with the airport fuck arounds?

So like.

FAHC AU where it’s Geoff, Jack, and this little shit Gavin for the longest time, right?

This kid Burnie picked up somewhere, after which Geoff stole him from Burnie (asshole told him to pick his people for that crew he wanted to build in Los Santos, so really he only has himself to blame) and now it’s the three of them figuring things out.

There’s a surprising amount of downtime between all the meetings and phone calls and whatnot and Jack realizes early on a bored Gavin is a dangerous Gavin.

(I mean, it’s how they ended up with the Vagabond later on, but that’s a story for another day.)

And Jack, right.

Not much better and between one thing or another doesn’t get get as much time with his planes and choppers and whatever else he’d like. (Cars are nice, fast cars are better, but nothing beats flying.)

Anyway.

One day Geoff’s off doing whatever and makes this offhand comment to Jack to keep a eye on Gavin (running gag of him being their kid and the whole mom and dad thing and anyway, not important really).

And Jack, right.

It’s a beautiful day and he hasn’t had the chance to go for a flight for what feels like fucking forever. Gavin’s restless, antsy almost. Poking and prodding and getting meaner with it than he usually does because pent up energy or whatever, so.

Jack grabs Gavin’s hoodie off the back of the couch the asshole dropped it on the night before and tosses it at him. Tells the little shit to get ready because they’re going for a ride and downstairs in ten minutes or Jack’s leaving without him.

He goes down to bring the car around, bit of uncertainty because he likes Gavin, okay. Stupid kid who’s really damn smart but also an asshole. Geoff and Gavin get along like you wouldn’t believe but things are a bit rockier between Jack and Gavin, and Jack’s not sure what to do about it?

But, uh.

Geoff told him to keep an eye on Gavin and it’s a sure bet they’d end up fighting if they were cooped up in the apartment (early days still, no grand penthouse setup yet), so yeah.

He’s not really expecting Gavin to show up, but he does. (Past that ten minute deadline Jack gave him and this odd look on his face as he slides into the passenger side, but he’s there.)

And then the drive out to the airport up in Blaine County. (Faster, shinier planes at LSIA, but if this goes the way he hopes it will it’d be better to stick to prop planes for now.)

Kind of an awkward drive out there, Gavin fidgeting with the radio until Jack smacks his hand away from it because no. Leaves it off because reception is shit out here anyway and their only choices are worse than awkward silence.

Of which there is a fair amount.

Eventually Gavin is just. “Are you taking me to the middle of nowhere to kill me?”

A joke, or it’s supposed to be, but there’s this awkward little laugh and all that Jack, alright.

He can be an asshole, but he likes to think he’s not that kind of asshole.

Still.

“Tempting, but no,” he says, because that whole thing about being an asshole.

Gavin snorts, but Jack must have said something right because he relaxes a little, and the rest of the drive isn’t as painfully awkward.

Gavin actually starts asking his weird little Gavin questions that Jack just didn’t get at first. Thought they were just dumb and pointless, but Geoff thought were hilarious as hell and usually gave serious thought to them. So Jack paid closer attention and realized they were still stupid? But not for the reasons he used to. (Odd phrasing to be sure, but interesting and clever once he got what Gavin was actually asking.)

Anyway.

Takes a while to get to the airport, and when they do there’s not a lot to see, really.

Still.

Jack glances at Gavin who’s looking around, head tipped to the side like he’s trying to figure out what the hell they’re doing here, and Jack, okay.

“You feel up for a flight?”

There’s an old Cuban in one of the hangars. Long in the tooth, maybe, but up on its maintainence and Jack learned to fly in one.

So.

Gavin gives him this look like he can’t figure out what Jack’s angle is, but he shrugs and follows along gamely enough.

Watches Jack through the pre-flight check and takeoff, and then he’s looking out the window with this look Jack knows too well. (Something incredible seeing the world from above, puts things in perspective.)

A few minutes pass before JAck glances over at Gavin again and asks if he’d like to learn to fly.

Because look.

Jack’s been around for a while, used to being the one behind the wheel or yoke, but shit goes wrong, you know?

Been times Jack took a bullet or something else happened and he couldn’t do his damn job.

Not a major problem when it comes to cars, but Jack knows Geoff, okay. Knows he’s dreaming big for this crew he’s building them and they sure as hell aren’t going to be sticking to cars or other ground vehicles. (Crazy motherfucker that Geoff is, and Jack’s just as bad, so yeah.)

Geoff’s a decent pilot, but Jack would feel better if Gavin knew how to fly too. Isn’t expecting him to be an ace pilot or anything, honestly doesn’t think he has the patience/interest for it, but it’s something that could save his life one day maybe.

Besides, they were both bored as hell and this is something to do and honestly Jack’s not sure he has a real explanation for what he’s doing anymore, but here they are.

There’s this moment of quiet, Gavin clearly surprised, and then -

“Are you serious?”

Jack shrugs because yeah, yes, and is about to tell Gavin it’s a good thing to learn, but Gavin’s laughing - this honestly amused thing - and tells him it’s a bad idea.

That he’s likely to send them slamming into the ground but there’s this little gleam of interest in his eyes and Jack, okay.

“Well, okay, how about you don’t do that?”

Because please don’t? But also why not, and Gavin’s easy enough to convince and then the flying lesson starts.

Gavin loves it, gets all excited and the whatnot and Jack realizes that this could be a good way for the two of them to ~bond, and then, okay.

Then it’s Jack taking Gavin out for flying lessons every chance they get, and the two of them building a beautiful friendship while Geoff is a smug bastard because he told Jack he’d love Gavin, didn’t he?

And Gavin, okay.

Fucking loves flying, takes to it far better than Jack expected and while he loves zippy little fighters and all that?

Idiot fucking falls in love with the Titan they get their hands on at some point, which.

Yeah, Jack can’t really say much when that Cargobob of his has a special place in his heart.

The others come along at some point and everything gets louder, crazier (better) and Jack’s prediction of Geoff incorporating planes and choppers come to be because of course they do.

(And oh, the first time the crew realized Gavin was the one saving their asses with a last-minute save in Buzzard he liberated from the LSPD? Like, amazing.)

Anyway, anyway, this is all a super long-winded way of saying I love the idea of Jack and Gavin ~bonding/becoming BFFs via their love of flying because wow do I love the airport fuck around videos with the planes and choppers and everything.

Both of them pulling off near impossible aerial feats to save everyone’s asses/for shits and giggles and everyone else being like why are they like this because why, really.

[taywitchcrafts]

Exception

Requested by: @kingpattillo Prompt: “I don't like people, but you’re an exception” Pairing: Michael Jones/Gavin Free Word Count: 2180 A/N: I’m sorry this is sorta angsty I apparently don’t know how to write anything without angst shjdg it does end fluffy though, promise!! ********** The day they met, Michael decided he hated Gavin. He was loud, obnoxious and clumsy as all hell. Michael wasn't entirely sure Gavin didn't push his buttons on purpose. He seemed like the kind of asshole to do that. The bird noises, the stupid British slang words that made no sense, the way he screeched constantly and made his voice high pitched. Michael just wanted to stick a thumb through his fucking eye and tell him to shut it. But he was useful to the crew, so he tolerated him. Mostly. He wasn't exactly known for being mild-tempered. The way he saw it, the few black eyes he gave him were a warning, and the Brit would eventually get the message and leave him alone. Except, he never did.

********** "Michael" Oh, for fuck's sake. Why did he have to say Michael's name like that? "What do you want, Gavin." "Will you play a game with me?" "Why would I do that?" "Because I'm bored?" "But I'm not, and I'm already playing a game." He gestured to the switch in his hand, the soft cheerful music of his paused Pokemon game filling the momentary silence. "But you could be playing a game with me instead!" "Again, why would I want to do that?" "Because we're friends." "Where the fuck did you get that idea!" "We're not friends?" Gavin's tone was shocked and sad, the look on his face was like he'd just watched Michael kick a puppy- or like he was the puppy Michael had kicked- and Michael wanted to kick himself for feeling bad. He hated Gavin, why did seeing him sad get to him?? He pushed it aside. "No, Gavin. You never noticed that I hate you? Are you seriously that fucking stupid?!" His voice was raised a little, allowing his anger to squash his other feelings as he so often did. It was better to be angry than to be weak, he told himself. He'd never let himself be weak again. "Why don't you like me?" "I don't like people in general, Gavin. And you're the worst of all of them." "...Michael" Jesus, the one time he said it right and he sounded like he was 3 seconds from crying while doing it. "What, Gavin?" He turned back to look at him, but he was already walking away. Thank God, he thought. At least I don't have to deal with him crying. But he couldn't concentrate anymore, a pang of unfamiliar guilt gnawing at him. Fucking Gavin. ********** The heist going wrong wasn't his fault, not really. Sometimes shit just goes wrong. None of the others had known the motion detector was there either. But Gavin was so used to it being his fault, to being shouted at and blamed (usually by Michael), that when nobody blamed him for things he started to do it himself. They all tried their best to reassure the Brit, all attempts unsuccessful. Michael was the only one who didn't try. He didn't want to be cruel- Gavin had actually been super helpful on the heist-but he still didn't like him, and wasn't thrilled at the idea of comforting him. That is, until he got up at about 3am to get a glass of water, and saw a light on in Gavin's room. He poked his head around the door and saw the man huddled in a corner, a blanket around his shoulders. Michael hadn't really seen Gavin since the heist, which was three days before, but it looked like he hadn't slept at all. Gavin didn't even notice him, too caught up in worrying about what went wrong and self-blame. It wasn't until 5 minutes later when Michael appeared in front of him, a hot cup of tea in his hands, that Gavin broke out of his trance-like state. "Michael?" He knelt in front of him, handing him the tea. "I still don't like you, but you gotta stop blaming yourself. Shit happens. Things go wrong. Snap the fuck out of it. We need you." It wasn't exactly nice, but Gavin understood that he was trying. "...Thanks." "Get some sleep." And he was gone. Gavin didn't know when he'd learned how he liked his tea, but paired with the semi-reassuring words he'd just received, it settled him enough to finally fall asleep. He didn't even get to his bed, and Jack found him the next morning passed out in the corner of his room, an empty mug next to his feet. ********** Geoff had tried so hard to avoid pairing Gavin and Michael up, he knew they'd be a great team if they could work past their issues, but he also knew that Michael was far too stubborn for that. Gavin's personality seemed hand designed to piss Michael off, and nobody would dream of asking him to change. Michael would simply have to adapt, however long it took. But this heist needed them together. Gavin was, essentially, the bait. They knew if he fucked something up, he'd distract anyone on the rest of the Crew's scent. And if that didn't work-or if Gavin miraculously didn't screw up- Michael had a fair amount of explosives in his armoury. Michael made no attempt to mask his irritation at the pairing. Sure, the crew needed Gavin, but Michael didn't want to work with him. Jeremy or Ryan would also be down to fuck shit up, and they could at least tolerate Gavin. Goddamn it. ********** "What if," Oh, this will be good Michael thinks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Your toenails could grow to be as long as your legs?" "Are you fucking kidding me?" "What?" "We're in the middle of a heist! Is that seriously what you're thinking about right now?" "I'm bored! We've been here for like an hour. When will the others be ready?" "When they're ready. The UD isn't a fucking easy target. Now shut up so we ca-" Just then, they both received a text from Geoff. "Alright, it's time. You remember the plan?" "Yeah, I'm tripping the alarms, right?" Michael nods. "I'll be right behind you, promise." Gavin smiled at him- why was that so distracting??- before smashing the glass of the bank doors. Well, that's one way to trip the alarms. They weren't in their normal disguises, so nobody would question why members of the FAHC were being so sloppy, and they needed the cops there as soon as possible. Maybe Gavin thought this through? Not too likely. "How are we gonna get into the vault?" Michael smiled, waving some dynamite he pulled out of his bag. "Won't that damage the money?" "The money isn't the goal, idiot. We just need them to think it is." Sirens had begun to sound in the distance just as the door blew, and they made quick work of grabbing what looked like a reasonable amount of money before making their way back to the foyer. They were well and truly surrounded, but this wasn't even half of the cops in the city. Definitely not enough to keep the others from being caught. "Dude, get back!" Michael shouted as he threw one of his grenades into the foyer. This served the double purpose of keeping the cops outside of the building- they wouldn't enter with the knowledge that they had explosives- and ensuring that plenty of backup would be called. What he hadn't accounted for was Gavin being a little too slow, and it wasn't until he heard the Brits pained scream that he realised he'd been caught in the blast. "GAVIN!" He screamed, code names and hidden identities completely forgotten. He hurried to the younger man's side, way more panicked than someone who hates him should be. "I'm okay Michael. Just... Just caught my arm a little." He was struggling to breathe through the pain, and Michael was at a loss at what to do. Upon further inspection, the injury wasn't as bad as he'd feared. Rather than the explosion catching Gavin directly, it seemed that his arm had been burned. It was still pretty terrible, and the smell of burning flesh was almost overwhelming, but Michael couldn't bring himself to care about anything but getting Gavin to safety. "Just hold on a minute, Gav. I'm gonna call Jack." Their escape plan had hinged on Gavin being able to drive, which obviously wouldn't happen now. After a short conversation, the UD heist was called off, and the Crew on their way. Michael still hadn't stopped apologising when they arrived, even though Gavin had passed out from the pain. None of them had ever seen him like this. ********** Gavin spent the next 3 weeks in bed, much of it against his own will. The young man had always had too much energy, and bed rest ironically left him restless. This was the usual for Gavin when he was injured. The real surprise came from Michael, who spent those weeks at the end of Gavin's bed, even when he slept. He brought him food and helped him eat, he dressed his wounds, he played games with Gavin when he got bored. They all knew that this was guilt, that Michael was letting the feeling that Gavin was hurt because he didn't do good enough eat away at him, and none of them could convince him otherwise. It wasn't until the fourth week, when he sat outside the bathroom while Gavin was showering and got shouted at to "just bugger off, Michael!" that he left his side. After that incident, he was nicer to Gavin. It seemed a mixture of guilt and proximity had led to, at the very least, some form of respect between the two. ********** They grew closer as time passed, though it wasn't particularly obvious. When Michael shouted at Gavin, it wasn't mean or borne from hatred anymore. He was still angry at Gavin, he would probably never stop being irritated by him, but he also saw the hilarity of Gavin's clumsy foolishness, and they would be laughing with each other 5 minutes later. Michael would play games with Gavin if he was asked, and launching himself across the table to wrestle with him became a rarer, much more playful occurrence. They still didn't work together a lot, not many heists called for a pairing quite as dangerously explosive as theirs, and Michael would still fuck Gavin over if doing so wouldn't seriously harm him or the heist. Their dynamic was the same in many ways, but where there was anger and hatred before, a friendship had begun to form. Only Michael and Gavin really knew it was more than that. ********** Was Michael really about to do this? Had their relationship even gotten this far yet? They'd kissed a few times, and Gavin had fallen asleep on his shoulder more than once. This was... Well, it was something a boyfriend would do and they hadn't decided whether that's what they were just yet. But he knew Gavin wouldn't mind. He knocked softly. "Michael? What's wrong?" "Just uh... nothing it's stu-" "Michael..." He sounded concerned as he took Michael's face into his hands. His eyes were a little red, and he looked like he hadn't slept much in a while. "Tell me." "I just had a nightmare... didn't wanna be alone" He mumbled, a little embarrassed. Michael hated showing his softer side, hated being vulnerable. Sometimes it was necessary, he knew that, but that never made it any better. "The Liberty decoy job again?" "Yeah..." Gavin pulled him through the door and onto the bed, kissing him softly. "You don't have to worry about that anymore, okay? I'm here and I'm not hurt. Promise." "Can I stay tonight?" "You can stay every night, I like having you around." Michael smiled, reaching down to take Gavin's hand in his. "Hey, Gav?" "Yeah?" This was definitely too much too soon, but he'd realised months ago and he had to tell him or he didn't think he'd ever work up the courage. No time like the present, right? "I love you." A cheeky grin spread across Gavin's face. "Really? I thought you didn't like people." His tone was mocking, but Michael knew he was just doing his thing, taking every opportunity he had to be a little shit. "I don't like people. But you're an exception." There was a few seconds of silence, and Gavin looked down at their hands, gently rubbing his thumb over Michael's knuckles. "I love you too, Michael." He looked back up, placing a gentle, loving kiss on Michael's lips before pressing their foreheads together. "I'm glad you don't hate me anymore" He whispered, after a few minutes of silence. "Me too." The pair would eventually fall asleep- as close as they could possibly be- but for now they were both content to sit like this, listening to the other breathe softly and hoping that they got to do this for the rest of their lives. For the first time in his life, Michael was glad he'd had a nightmare that night. Being this close to Gavin made it more than worth it.

[worshippingmendes-blog]

Marked By Love - Looking good

sorry for the wait but I hope you’ll enjoy! 

PART 1   PART 2   PART 3  MASTERLIST

Plop.

That was the only sound that echoed through the small bathroom as he dropped his phone in the toilet. Shawn had gotten over thousands of dm’s from his picture, but only one of them stood out. And a quick look at her account had confirmed his suspicions, it was her.

The moment of shock had caused him to loosen his grip on his phone, only to see it slide out of his large hand and into the water.

“Oh fuck” he mumbled as he rolled up his sleeves and bent down. His face twisted in disgust as he finally got a hold of it, and quickly fished it up. He held it with his pointer finger and his thumb as he walked out from the bathroom, placing the soaked phone on the counter as he grabbed the rice.

“Man, what happened?” A fairly drunk Brian giggled.

Shawn shot him a death stare and mumbled a short answer.

“I dropped it into the toilet”

“You did what?”

Now it was Andrew’s time to comment on the situation and Shawn rolled his eyes.

“She sent me a message and I dropped my fucking phone into the toilet! And I really need to answer her but I can’t!”

Geoff tried to suffocate a laughter that was bubbling up inside of him at the sight of the anxious twenty-year old.

Andrew sent him a look before turning back to Shawn, who was now almost laying, spread out over the kitchen counter. It was a sight to be seen. His tall legs standing steadily on the floor while his upper body rested on the table.

“Why don’t you just use mine?”

Shawn’s head shot up and he looked at Andrew with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Really?”

Andrew gave him a smile and handed over his phone and Shawn could almost kiss the man for saving him.

“Thank you!”

Shawn sat down on the side of the couch and quickly logged himself into Instagram, sending a few angry looks to the bowl with rice that contained his phone.

His account was blowing up from fans who wondered who the mystery woman was, to people claiming it was them. He couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes at the fame desperate girls.

As he found her message, he doubted for a second. He stared at the screen for a minute, seeing his own reflection stare back at him. This was crazy, he had wanted her for so long and now that he finally found her he didn’t even have the guts to text her back. Taking a deep breath, he accepted the message and began typing something. As he pressed send a smile made its way onto his lips.

He felt his friends buring stare on him and he gave them a confused look.

“What?”

Geoff let out a small laugh before taking another sip of his beer.

“You’re so fucked”

-

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as you put your bags down on the floor. They were filled to the rim with books and papers from school and were a lot to carry on one’s shoulders. Three weeks. Then you would be free.

You had big plans for your summer, including many different festivals, a vacation ,and staying up until sunrise. All were things you could not wait to be able to do again.

“Hello?” You yelled into the seemingly empty apartment and as expected the only thing that you heard back was the echo of your own voice.

With a happy whimper you melted down in the comfortable couch. Your eyelids were heavy and you fought the desire to let the sleep consume you. With a yawn you grabbed your phone and scrolled through tumblr. Reading some feedback on your latest writing and answering some asks you soon found yourself scrolling down the new posts. It was filled with pictures of Shawn, the picture. You couldn’t help but feel a little proud as you read the hundreds of comments of confused people trying to figure out what was going on.

Going into instagram, you saw the little blue arrow having a small ‘1’ over itself, and your heart skipped a beat. By the time you had gone into your dm’s, it was about to beat out of your chest. Your fingers were shaky as you pressed on the chat, reading the message a certain Shawn Mendes had sent you. You. Of all the millions and millions of girls that worshipped him on the daily it was your mark that was placed on his godlike body.

You read the message over and over again as a blush creeped its way onto your cheeks and you felt like you were walking on clouds.

“Not as good as it looks on you”

It was as the tiredness had washed away and you were now wide awake. A small green dot on his profile picture showed that he was online right now and you thought about what to write back. You weren’t the best when it came to flirting with normal guys, and what the hell do you write to your idol of years back? The tip of your tongue rested in the corner of your mouth as you concentrated on writing. You wrote a message, and erased it, wrote another one, and erased that too. A frustrated sigh left your lips after the fifth erasing.

Then something popped into your head, and you quickly pressed send. No going back now.

“I didn’t know you were so observant”

A smile came over his face as he read your message and he was quick to reply. But not too quick. He was sure to wait a few minutes before writing back to avoid sounding, you know, like you were the only thing running through that pretty mind of his.

“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me then”

Your stomach did a flip as you read the little grey bubble. He was certainly flirting with you, at least that’s what you hoped. So you decided to be bold

“Oh, I think I know most of it”

Shawn nearly choked on his drink,  getting the attention of the rest of the boys who looked at him with confusion written in their eyes.

“You okay there Mendes?”

Shawn nodded as he was coughing, holding his thumb up to show that he was okay.

The conversation continued through the night, and even if you were running on last night’s five hours of sleep, you had never felt more awake.

Shawn’s friends had left hours ago, not seeing the point in hanging around when he was clearly busy with other things. But they were happy for him, knew how much he craved someone. Or something.

It was 3am when Shawn asked if you could share numbers instead and you had gladly accepted his offer. The conversation had picked up on text message from there and you texted back and forth for another hours, too caught up in the moment, the feeling, to even think about sleep.

Shawn walked around his apartment, now with his functioning phone, in his hands and a toothy smile on his face. That smile had been there for so long that his cheeks hurt, but still he never wanted it to go away. She was just as he had imagined her to be, maybe almost better. And even though he had only talked to her for a couple hours, it felt like they where old friends. His phone vibrated and he was quick to unlock it.

“Can I show you something?”

He replied with a short “of course”, growing curious over whatever she wanted to show him. A minute later he got a pictures sent to him. It was a photo of her arm, more exactly her wrist, and on it there was a small rose. The same rose he had on his ankle. The same rose he had seen on so many of his fans before, but this was different. This was a girl he had fallen so headlessly in love with, and the confirmation that she felt the same, was enough to make him let out a scream of happiness and run around his apartment like a little kid on christmas morning.

“Wow, that does look a lot better on you than on me”

You let out an excited giggle at his response and you realized really how screwed you were for him.

“Oh stop it, it looks better on you. Everything looks good on you”

He was grateful that she couldn’t see him where he was sitting with his cheeks as red as her nail polish.

“LOL thank you ;)?”

“You’re welcome, you know i’m right”

“Haha, we’ll see about that!! Now I want to know something about you, since you apparently already know everything about me”

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

-

You woke up by the sun shining through your blinds, the broken one that you had told yourself you were going to fix for the last three months. You stretched out on your king sized bed and let out a yawn, thinking back to the night before. A smile was growing on your face at only the thought of him, the guy you had fantasized about for three years, was actually talking to you, and not just in a fanfiction. The two of you had talked until you saw the sun rise and he was like no guy you had ever met before. So sweet and so caring, funny but also sarcastic at times, he had it all. For some reason you felt so comfortable talking to him, like you could tell him everything that was going through your mind or just about why pasta is the greatest thing ever invented. It just felt right.

A quick look on your phone showed that it was already 11am and you got out of your bed with a sigh. Holding your phone in a firm grip as you reached the bathroom, thinking about Shawn’s story about how he dropped his into the toilet, you made sure that the lid was down. Brushing your teeth and hair, and applying a little mascara to your tired eyes, you decided to go out for lunch. There was no point in eating breakfast at this time, and you felt like treating yourself.

As you locked the door to your apartment, your phone lit up. Putting the keys into your purse, you read the text. The text from him.

“Goodmorning!! I’m tired”

The three words was enough to lighten up your entire mood and you walked on clouds to the elevator, where you sent him a text back, that was going to make him feel just the same.

-

You had three things you needed to do. Eat lunch, return two books to the library and go look for a new dress. The library thing was the first thing to get crossed over considering that it was located only down the street from your apartment. Your plan was to go get a dress right after, but the aggressive sounds your stomach ḿade left you changing the order.

Arriving at your favorite sushi place, you let out a happy sigh as you saw the bright colored signs in front of it. It was located next to a 24h- gym and that had made their opening hours pretty generous and as a college student, you appreciated that. The familiar bell made a soft sound as you entered the small restaurant and the workers welcomed you happily. You ordered the same thing as you always did and you gave them a smile as they handed you the plate.

You turned around to go find a place to sit but accidentally bumped into a tall guy behind you. The soya sauce spilled all over his grey shirt and wanted to sink under the ground and disappear.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I-I’m so clumsy I-” You started and looked up to face him for the first time when a familiar pair of brown eyes met yours.

Shawn. He was dressed in a a pair of black gym shorts and a tight shirt, like he was just coming from the gym. His curls were pulled back with a headband, a heaband you had made at least five appreciation posts for. He towered over you, and you realized that you never actually understood how tall he really was.

He looked just as surprised as you did, and you stood there as two fools just staring at each other. He shot you a sly grin that made your cheeks hot as he looked down on his shirt.

“So, do you really think I look good in this?”

Taglist ( send an ask if you want to be added/removed): @nervousroses @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @oyesmendes @justmesadgirl @wronglanesassholeshawn @yourwonderbelle @hunshawnmendes @ultrunning @myownplacex @maryjanerose @thinkaholicer @musiic-is @vnv21

[sathtrash]

I wrote this up at the beginning of the month when you mentioned Trevor angst and as soon as I wrote the last sentence, I went to bed and I immediately lost all ideas of how to write the ending to it. I needed to do SOMETHING with it, though or it was gonna sit in my notes app, unseen for the rest of eternity, and since I wrote it referencing A LOT from your AU, I’ll pass it on to you:

“—— I imagine that some subtle comments are made about "does your boss here treat you as good as I/we did?” and “you look like you’ve moved up in the world…who-I-mean-what did you have to do?” /

The crew is no stranger to nightmares. They all have them from time to time. Nightmares about their pasts, heists gone wrong, close calls, new fears…the list never ends. And while everyone in the crew is used to helping each other afterwards, Jack is usually the first person to be woken up to help. So when Trevor begins yelling and crying in his sleep, Jeremy bolts from the bed in the room he shares with Trevor, and down to Jack and Geoff’s room. Jack is dazed and bleary eyed at first in the light from her bedside lamp, but she snaps awake as Trevor screams again, and then she’s out of the bed and rushing down the hall.

The crew is used to Jack shaking them awake and talking them back into reality again, but the crying doesn’t stop after Jack wakes Trevor up. Instead, it gets worse. He’s choking and gasping and soon the rest of the lads and Ryan and Geoff are awake and standing silently in the hall, out of sight of the open bedroom door. And then Trevor starts talking.

Between sobs, Trevor manages to tell Jack about his last gang…the gang that they met today. He tells her how they treated him. How they abused him. He tells her how he planned to escape it all, that him being at the heist site and getting caught in Michael’s explosion was no accident or coincidence. He tells her that he was nineteen and wanted to die after what his crew did to him. Everyone in the hall looks at each other in shock and then there’s a loud crack and they turn in time to see Geoff storming into his office, and the hole in the wall that his fist just made.

Trevor looks up, Jack is on her feet and rushes to the door to see her boys standing there in the shadows. Without a word, she motions for them to disperse and then closes the bedroom door.

They hear her give some half assed excuse to Trevor about one of them must have thrown something at the wall in one of their rooms. The lads and Ryan head down the hall to see Geoff sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. Ryan herds the group the rest of the way down the hall to the living room and turns on the lights over the sink in the kitchen. Michael sits on one of the couches, stunned at Trevor’s confession that he purposely went to the site hoping to be killed by Michael’s bomb. Jeremy’s sitting at the table clenching and unclenching his fists and trying not to think about how he actually complimented Trevor’s former gang on their intimidation techniques. Ryan stands by the sliding glass door, looking out at the city lights, but also looking down the hall every so often. Gavin leans on the counter by the stove, a kettle on the stovetop and three mugs lined up nearby. After the water is done boiling, he pours it in one mug and then carries it down the hall to Geoff’s office.

As if on cue, as Gavin is leaving the office, Trevor’s bedroom door opens. Everyone freezes, but Jack exits alone and closes the door behind her. She glances at Geoff as she passes his doorway, but continues on, ushering Gavin back to the living room and making her way to the stove. She offers a small smile to him as she makes her tea and then pushes the third mug toward him.

“Trevor-” he looks down at it.

“Trevor’s sleeping. Drink.” she says, before looking at the rest of her boys.

“Look at me.” Jack quietly commands. They do, and she sees the mix of emotions on each of their faces in the low lighting.

“Trevor doesn’t know that you all know. You can not…no…you WILL NOT do anything about that crew until Trevor tells you himself what happened. You will not let Trevor know that you know, and you will give him the dignity of letting him be the one to tell his story.” She starts.

“Jackie! You heard what-” Michael interrupts, before Jack holds up her hand to silence him.

“Yes, I heard. I heard everything that you heard. Trust me, I want to run out that door right now all the way back to that sick fuck’s building and put him through the worst pain he’s ever felt, but that’s not going to help anything right now. I don’t need to remind you that some of you took time coming out of your shells and telling your stories at your own pace, and we owe it to him to be allowed the same thing. Until then, please…just treat him the way you always have, like you didn’t just hear everything that he said tonight. No kid gloves, just that openness and support you gave him since day one…he’s going to need that more than ever soon.” After Jack finishes, and everyone nods, she takes a long sip of her tea and then looks up at the clock.

“Now…everyone back to bed.” she says, looking at the light still coming from Geoff’s office. Ryan and Gavin do as she says and with quiet “goodnight"s, head back to their rooms. Jeremy and Michael remain where they are for a few moments longer before doing the same and disappearing to their rooms.

Jack, with mug in hand, turns off the light and heads to the office. Geoff is still sitting at his desk, but with his hands wrapped around the mug instead of tangled in his hair. He’s staring blankly at one of the black and white pictures of the crew that Jack had hung up. It was a candid of all of their "kids”, the main and support crews, laughing and dressed up in their finest before heading to dinner one New Years Eve.

“I didn’t know. I never would’ve agreed to this meeting if I had known.” he manages to say as Jack sits on his desk next to him.

“I know.” She says quietly.

“I’m the reason he went back there today, I practically forced him to see them again, Jackie. I basically took the shovel from him and uncovered all of the things he had buried!” Geoff moves his hands to tangle them back in his hair, but Jack is quicker, taking them in her own.

“First of all, your metaphors are running away from you. And second and most importantly, like you just said: you didn’t know. I don’t think for a second that Trevor blames you for anything.” She brushes her thumbs over his knuckles.

“Why didn’t he say something? I would’ve cut off contact at the start of this, I could’ve…” he trails off, looking up at her.

“I asked him that, Geoff. He said he knew how important these alliances could be when trying to solve a problem, that if he had spoken up, even though it would’ve been the right thing to do, he knew that crew would’ve launched some kind of attack on us. But most of all…he said he thought he could handle it. That knowing now how a real crew has each others backs and how a real boss looks out for his own people…he thought it would be enough and erase what his old crew had done to him.” Jack explains.

“It wasn’t enough, though.” Geoff mumbles.

“Not today or tonight, no. Not the way he thought it would be. But he’ll get there, Geoff.” She assures him.

“You know I’ve always admired your positivity, but how can you say that so…certainly?” He asks, pulling one hand away from hers to rub at his forehead.

“Remember when Ryan showed up? Completely mute, sleeping with a knife under his pillow, his back always had to be against a wall, always sticking to the outside edges of any group just in case he needed to run? How it took him a long time of writing notes and sign language before he finally spoke? He got there, Geoff. He stopped hiding.”

“Remember each one of our kids when they first came to us, and then think about them now. Jeremy, ducking away from any attention and now he commands it wherever he goes with his Rimmy Tim colors. Gavin, being so careful to never leave a hint of him being somewhere, and now there’s glitter and gold accessories and computer parts all over the apartment. Even Trevor, jumping at shadows and staying out of the dark as much as possible, and now that boy seems to thrive in the dark. Literally, sometimes I think he’s part owl.” She chuckles before smoothing Geoff’s hair down with her free hand.

“Whatever we did, whatever each of our kids saw in the rest of the crew was enough to bring those changes, but remember, that didn’t happen overnight. It took time. We need to give him that time.”

“What about these fucks that want to align with us? They can’t get away with what they did to him.” Geoff says as his face contorts into anger once more. Jack puts her hand under his chin to make him look at her.

“They won’t. I know you won’t let them get away with it. If you want to wipe them off the face of the earth, I won’t stop you. But this isn’t the right time. Not yet. Not until we hear the story from Trevor.” She says.

“What if he doesn’t say anything? He didn’t tell anyone before this meeting, what if he continues keeping this to himself? What do I do then? I can’t let those guys near this crew.” Geoff asks. Jack takes a moment to turn and look at the picture that Geoff had been staring at. Their kids. She would go to hell and back for all of them.

“…I didn’t trust that crew from the second we walked in. I don’t like the way they talked about doing business. I don’t like the way they talked about their own guys. I definitely didn’t like the way they looked at our kids.” Jack wheels back around to face Geoff, now staring at her in confusion.

“We have connections to other crews that we know are good at what they do and we know are good to us. I don’t see the reason in taking a chance on a crew that would be more than happy to stab us in the back as soon as their end of the job is complete. I think forming this alliance is a bad idea, Geoff. And if they don’t like it, we’ll cut them down.” She finishes.

“Jackie…why are you telling me this?” Geoff asks.

“So you can tell Trevor that I was the one that forced you to call off this deal. So you can roll your eyes and chuckle with him about "mothers intuition” and “following her gut”. So he doesn’t feel like he’s letting you down. If he’s not ready to tell his story, let me be the reason the deal ends before it ever starts.“ Jack replies.

"You don’t really think he’ll believe that, do you?” Geoff asks in disbelief.

“It’s not a lie. The way they looked at Trevor in that warehouse, I could’ve taken a knife to all of their throats. So it’s settled. The deal is off, Trevor doesn’t have to feel like a weight is on his shoulders and gets to move forward at his own pace, and you and the rest of the crew can take down that slime as you see fit. But for now,” Jack slides off of the desk and picks up the now empty mugs in one hand, the other pulling at Geoff’s. “It’s time for bed.” ——-“

I had planned on there being more: Trevor sitting the crew down and telling them, and then Geoff and/or Jack’s revenge on his former crew…but I went to bed after writing this much and haven’t touched it since then (like everything else I’ve ever started writing)

__

Kristen I am crying, I have been awake for an hour and I was not expecting these FEELS today I have been SLAIN

[jonathandavidlange]

Comic Theory Pt. 2

Just Because We Can Doesn't Mean We Should.

Three Panel Technique

On my third book, GRAVES, I employed a technique of almost always using three panels for each page. After my second book, I wanted a format that would bring to the comic medium a space that the characters could inhabit, along with an emotional continuity that comics rarely possess. After doing some experiments, I landed on a three-panel technique. While writing the rough draft and storyboards for GRAVES, I happened to read Osamu Tezuka's Lost World and The Mysterious Underground Men. Both books were written in the late 40s and utilized a three-panel technique on each page. This gave me the confidence to make all of GRAVES a three-panelled comic, and I had such a good experience making the comic that I've continued to utilize these techniques for the stories I have written since.

In working with the three-panel system, I have wondered if I am truly utilizing the comic medium to its fullest capability. My goal is to stabilize the perspective and approach to comic storytelling so that techniques used in film can be utilized in the comic medium. Frank Miller said that he went into comics to make them more cinematic, and that he stays in the industry to make them less so. With the production of his Sin City as a film, it is clear that any comic style can be translated to cinematic language, making Miller's statement a moot point.

So why use the three-panel method utilizing fewer comic techniques (less panels, less word balloons, less sound effects, duller colors, etc...) to make the comic language more like film? Because I believe the mediums are very related and share a lot of the same principles. They share visual narrative principles and techniques like being a visual medium, the use of cuts or edits (shown by panels and page turns in comics), and the use of texture and tertiary story devices (such as sound effects, set design, and sound design).

Emotional Integrity

Film consistently achieves a level of depth and drama that is very rare in comics. Every year there are multiple films that move me deeply and push the medium forward in daring and personal ways. In an average year there is rarely even one comic that moves me as much as five movies that have come out that year. From self-produced to indie to Marvel and DC--every year I am hard-pressed to find a comic that resonates with me to the same extent as current films. (Some examples of what came out the year I wrote this, 2016: Captain Fantastic, Moonlight, Manchester By The Sea, Neon Demon, Nocturnal Animals, and Arrival to name just a few.)

Imagine a year in comics where there were several comics that achieved a level of specific and personal emotion like the film Moonlight, written and directed by Barry Jenkins. In this film we follow one man, Chiron, who is played by three different actors. We see him grow up and encounter all of the complexities of living in Miami. We also see him struggle with his mother as a drug addict and try to navigate life with his father figure who is a gentle and loving drug dealer. What could easily become a niche art-house film is instead universal because of its approach to heartache, identity, and family. It is constructed in the most professional and wonderful way. Everything converges to make one fantastic story that washes over you, and I would dare anyone to not be shaken emotionally by it.

Some examples of earnest, raw, and nuanced intelligent emotion in comics includes contemporary comic artists Aidan Koch and Austin English as they achieve an abstract, emotionally-rich level of storytelling. In the graphic novel by Sam Alden It Never Happened again: Two Stories (2014), it is raw and powerful, yet refined and subtle. The emotional intensity and keen observation of human interaction and existence is profound and completely on par with the most understated and nuanced of films and novels. There are indie masters like Terry Moore and Alan Moore who consistently have vivid characters and build rich worlds. Masters of the past like Osamu Tezuka and Harvey Pekar continually tapped into genuine human emotion and shared insight into the human condition. Recent superhero stories by Geoff Johns, Justice League (2012), and Scott Snyder, Batman (2012), often capture the fun and energy one had when reading superhero stories as a child. They both add layers of humanity to superhero stories that are often stock and cold when written by others.

People may argue that graphic novels, specifically biographical stories, do achieve the same level of emotion that a work like Moonlight achieves. I cannot deny subjective emotion that wells up in a reader. But I can argue technique and structure. Using the example of body-horror stories, stories that focus on the fragility and decay of the human body, the structure and depth of character in a graphic novel like Charles Burns’ Black Hole (2005) cannot compare to a film like Andrej Zulawski's Possession (1981).

Before I jump in, it needs to be said that people may also argue that even comparing stories within the same sub-genre is like comparing apples to oranges. But I disagree. I believe Dracula (1931) can be compared to The Shining (1980). Two films within the horror genre (not of the same sub-genre), but with very disparate stories. Even still, the central focus of blood, family, and control of one's mind could easily spark thoughts of comparison and contrast.

Black Hole's structure jumps around, and we never focus on one specific personal conflict or really get to know even one character very thoroughly. We get more of a wide vantage point in the story. Everything is skin deep. Whereas Zulawski's Possession structure focuses on a family and places them in a familiar and terrifying backdrop: West Germany with the wall as a large and looming presence, almost a character in and of itself. Possession gets under your skin, you become part of it's mania. Black Hole appears to be more interested in a scattershot of characters and experiences. Burns’ story takes the analogy that body-horror innately brings with it and uses it to focus on a coming-of-age story in high school. This is an obvious metaphor that does not have much depth to mine. The depth of one character’s disease is never felt because it is never directly penetrated to the “basement floor” of a character, and, because of this, I found Burns’ story forgettable. Zulawski’s Possession, on the other hand, starts in the middle of a story we know nothing about. Everyone is acting strange and the locations they inhabit are equally bizarre as well as bare. As we get into the film, the reason for the strangeness becomes deeper and deeper, more personal, and alienating. By the end of the film, our head is spinning with what is real and what is fake: both in what we are seeing, but also in a relational context. The film is about alienation of the self, of the other--family, friends, and everyone else, of a career, and of the state. It is an incredibly complicated, nuanced, and personal film. It’s effect stays with you and every time you revisit another layer is revealed.

Structure

The reason that I use a three-panel, per page technique is because I feel one of the primary things missing from comics is a structure in which to set the narrative so other aspects of storytelling can shine and provide layers to the plot and characters within. An example of some very rare techniques to find in a comic that are commonly utilized in film are consistent frame composition, understandable perspective of a location as well as knowing where a character is within it, a steady and consistent flow from panel-to-panel--that does not exclusively utilize close-ups with bare backgrounds--like smooth and seamless editing does in a great film.

Something nearly all comics have in them consistently is a plethora of random panels. Randomly placed, randomly sized, and often framed very close or showing little detail beyond the character at the focal point. Comics can be hard to read for the uninitiated and feel like the story is being told in a randomly presented and ordered way. From superhero to indie, this is just how comics are made. Good questions to ask a writer or artist of a comic (or to think about while reading any comic) is why is that panel placed right there? Why is it that size? Why is it that shape? Why is it focusing on that character or action and nothing else? What else is happening in the environment around the character I am looking at, and why can’t I see it? Search Youtube for a video essay on any famous director, and you will find a plethora of video essays describing why Stanley Kubrick, Wes Anderson, John Carpenter, or Chantal Akerman--to name a very few--shot and edited the way they did. I dare anyone to find a video essay on the structure of a very famous book like Alan Moore's From Hell (1999). (As of the writing of this I found several surface level reviews of From Hell, but not a substantial essay. For comparison there are at least five essay/theory videos on the first page of Youtube for John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982).)

Why is a plethora of seemingly random sized panels a poor layout strategy for a comic? It’s not. There are a multitude of comics that use this format to an amazing affect. But unless you are Osamu Tezuka, Dave Sim, Gabrielle Bell, Terry Moore, or Dash Shaw, odds are your comic will be cluttered, confusing, bloated, and underutilized.

Comics Vs. Novel Vs. Film

When read, a comic book is spread out over two full pages at once. This lets the reader subconsciously see both of the pages at once and in part. The reader can see what is coming, but having not yet read the two pages, there is no context for the information they have. This is an enormous advantage over film. Cinema is ruled by time and must share its information clearly, consistently, and adequately. If the information in the film is not delivered in this fashion, the story will come across too fast, too slow, too jumbled, or too confusing. A film tries its hardest to keep you under its spell, and when a component is off, at any time, you will be thrust out of the film.

Prose is hindered because it lives inside the reader’s head, and it’s easy for an author to digress down countless rabbit holes often muddying up a plot with too many details and too much information. A film is hindered because it has such a brief time to tell it’s story it must often rush through the details, leaving out many sequences from which the novel was derived. Comics have the opportunity to use techniques from both mediums, and use them better. The comic book can utilize the freedom and tools found in both novels and film. It can use prose to describe just as easily as it can use an image to tell the same story. It can use whatever it needs to to make the story clearer, more emotionally resonant, and intellectually stimulating.

A novel works very hard at communicating what an image can say instantly. A novel is not bound by time or physical space to work within, like a film. And unlike a comic it can and must describe, in subjective prosaic detail, what the author sees and intends for the reader to see. A novel is a unique and subjective experience because the format and structure of a novel can be radically different from author to author. A film has a given structure at which every filmmaker must work under. A novel has proven writing strategies and guidelines, but given that, Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow (1973) is a radically different experience compared to reading C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia (1950). Watching Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) is narratively very different than but structurally very similar to Pete Docter’s Monsters, Inc (2001). The difference between authors can be like the difference between a grand feature film William Wyler’s Ben Hur (1959) and a home-made five-minute-long Youtube video. Sure, they are both made by using a video camera, but beside that they couldn’t be more different.

Time

More than film, comics share a close relationship with television. Shows are often released a week at a time using individual episodes to sculpt the narrative arc of a season to tell one long story. This is very similar to what comics do, but instead they come out monthly, with less time to tell their story, as the average comic is roughly thirty pages--the average drama TV show is 45-60 minutes. In this way it could be said filmed narrative is more efficient than comics. But if you read a story by a master comic maker like Osamu Tezuka, every panel will give you so much uncluttered information, that the story doesn’t feel rushed or incomplete.

Another advantage the average TV drama has over monthly comics is that they are made and released in seasons. They are given a break to re-adjust, get some distance from, and fine-tune the following continuation of the narrative. Comics are typically unending monthly narratives. They are often made as quickly as possible, with little time to flesh out and iron out narrative and artistic wrinkles. If comics were released as seasons, with a proper amount of time to give space and breathe to the creative process, the average quality and it’s given control of a book would increase. Imagine a show like Breaking Bad (2008) never having any break between seasons. The writers, directors, and actors would become so exhausted and burned out. It would be easy to assume they would start viewing the process of the making of the show as a hill to climb and complete, instead of a journey to explore and spend time with. Comics rarely have this luxury.

No Right Way

Obviously, there are no “right” ways to make a comic, just like there is no “right” way to make a film, TV show, or write a novel. But over the decades of each of these mediums’, their evolution has increased and allowed for radically diverse approaches of creation. Comparing the short films of the Brothers Quay to a director like Stanley Kubrick is amazing in the radical spread of approach, sensibility, and sheer variety of perspective. Comparing a superhero story from the 30s to that of one of present day, or even comparing a contemporary superhero comic to the average contemporary indie comic, one will not find much difference in narrative content, structure, or approach to art.

I believe the three-panel technique is a way to address this common lack of growth in emotional richness and depth as well as structural complexity and integrity. By unifying the approach to panels, by focusing on perspective, and by providing a space for unique and specific location design the average comic reader will not be concerned with trying to keep up with a comic and what is going on in it. The reader will instead be enveloped by the story and art and get lost just like one does with a good novel or good filmed piece of art.

Final Thought

A final note on a unique aspect of comics is its two-fold use of image as a lexicon and comics as writing. Every day we see so many images and signs that we don’t even notice the majority of them any more. All it takes is the octagonal shape and red color, and we know we are to stop our car. All we need is a triangle on a remote, and we know that means “play,” just as a square means “stop.” We see stripes and patches of color, and we know it’s a country’s flag. These make up a lexicon of images that mean and communicate concrete thoughts and ideas--as in reading the combined image of letters spelling out “S-T-O-P” in sequence, we know exactly what to do.

In much the same way, comics are a powerful medium that often utilizes narrative and visual information, and all within a glance. See a costumed character flying with a fist outstretched, and we know this is a hero. If we see a figure with their head tilted down, eyes looking straight ahead while smiling, we know this is the villain. Film cannibalizes itself, referencing shots from films of the past, providing more layers and context to both shots. Film can’t take something like a simple shape, like a character’s body, or color in a rapid glance and tie it to a narrative that has complexity and purpose in the same way that a comic can. Film will always be locked into figures, stances, photographic composition, mise en scene, and editorial motion. Comics can and do deal with a wealth of symbols and images that are varied and unlimited. These symbols and images can be used in a narrative with an added layer of depth because of the use of image as lexicon.

When writing, like when playing an instrument, inspiration can strike, causing a speed and emotion to be felt, portrayed, and converted into art. Jack Kerouac’s prose, Thelonious Monk’s arpeggios, Allen Ginsberg’s poems, Jean-Michel Basquiat’s paintings--comics can achieve this level of spontaneity and locked-in emotion. Treating comics less like a piece of marble or a wooden chair and more like the sketch of a landscape or the initial draft of a song would be a healthy step in the right direction.

Comics can achieve something as close to the heart, as common, and as intimate as writing. Utilizing a lexicon of images to provide narrative information and context, comics can be written--not just drawn. The images themselves can be the words, and they can be written passionately, powerfully, and personally. They can be grand and heroic. They can be small and proletariat. They can be short, simple, and minimal. They can be complex, difficult, and long. Comics are amazing because they define what they are. They are cinematic. They are literate. They are visual. They are narrative. They are art. They are ours.

[ragehappysecretsanta]

Date Night Interrupted

Author: http://canadiantardis.tumblr.com/

Recipient: http://meganna2525.tumblr.com

Summary: Lindsay is taken on the worst day possible - date night with her partners - but she trusts them to know how to save her before anything bad happens.

Warnings: Teen rating, swearing, mild violence, polyamory (Mavinseg), pregnancy, FAHC AU

Word Count: 5568

Date Night Interrupted

Lindsay grunted at the right hook to her cheek, her head whipping to the side from the force, but still she couldn’t help but laugh, even as she felt the blood fill her mouth and drip from her lips from her teeth biting her tongue.

Some upstart crew thought they had the jump on the Fakes, thinking if they ‘took the weakest link’ of the wild bunch that was Lindsay and her partners, they’d be able to demand turf and dealers as method of payment for ransom. Yeah, sure, she had been easy to kidnap on her way home from the cat shelter she volunteered at every other day, and it stung her pride how they thought so lowly of her, but she knew something they would soon learn if they survived the lesson.

“Stupid bitch.” The punk who had punched her muttered angrily, turning away from the redhead in disgust.

Lindsay just laughed in response, baring her blood-stained teeth at his back as he walked out of the ‘torture’ room she was stuck in. Personally, she found it lackluster and had no flavour like Ryan had made his torture chambers to look. This room was bare except for the bolted chair, a couple lights imbedded into the ceiling that shown the dark gray walls easily, and a plain as hell metal door that was the only entrance or exit out of the room.

Now that she was alone for the first time since waking up with that god-awful headache from the struggle she had against the upstarts – which she remembered being from her head being smashed into the pavement until she had lost consciousness – she took stock over her new injuries. Cuts and scrapes along her arms and palms from the struggle – with a few exceptions as the cats had been extra playful during her volunteering time – the back of her head most likely split open as her hair felt like it was sticking to her, and her face felt like a giant bruise from the ridiculously unnecessary beatings they gave her to rough her up before they sent any evidence that they had taken her. Her chest and stomach weren’t badly beaten, which was lucky – or about as lucky as a kidnapped felon could get – for her and the three-and-a-half-month fetus inside her.

Lindsay also took the time to look over the state of her clothes, and was sad that her pretty fading-red dress and leggings were both torn, neck hole stretched, and the front edges were frayed to hell. She couldn’t blame the cats she had been taking care of for the multiple small holes and stretched fabric from this morning, they wouldn’t do this much damage at their worst.

She wasn’t sure where her purse was, which had her ASP pistol – which she has lovingly named Ruby after she got it painted a beautiful red – and phone, among other stuff. She guessed it was either with the punks or back on the street where she had been taken.

She realized a little late that the blood dripping from her lip was falling onto the dress and she groaned in annoyance. It was going to take forever to get the stain out, even longer if she wasn’t rescued within the hour.

“Come on. This was supposed to be Date Night.” She grumbled to herself quietly. Because of the damn upstarts, who knew when she and her lovers were going to have another one. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

** 4 Hours Later **

Lindsay was normally late to Date Nights when they happened on days she volunteered at the cat shelter on the outskirts of Los Santos named Kate Shelly. Because a member of the Fake AH Crew was a regular volunteer at the shelter, the place had become a safe haven for cats, the workers and other volunteers were granted complete protection/immunity, and the place never got heavily taxed or had to struggle to stay afloat.

Oftentimes – meaning every other month or so – Gavin would join Lindsay to visit the cute little fuzzballs, and he had today, but had to leave early at the request of the Lads needing his computer skills for something.

He had kissed Lindsay on the temple – her mouth and most of her face was covered by a long-haired calico she had been cooing into –  and put a hand to her belly before leaving, promising to see her at their apartment this evening. She had given a muffled response, laughing at the kitten in her hands as it mewed in complaint.

Now, several hours later, Gavin and the other two lounged around their living area, Michael picking at his shirtsleeves idly, leaning against the other man comfortably.

“When did she say she finished?” Meg asked from her spot on the recliner, playing with her skirts in boredom.

Michael pulled out his phone before he answered. “‘I promise I’ll be done in an hour.’ Sent three fucking hours ago. She always does this, Jesus Christ!”

“But Micoo, the kitties!” Gavin protested in defense for his fellow cat lover in her absence. “She might have forgotten the time again because of ‘em. C’mon, we just need to call her and talk her ear off until she gets here.”

Michael huffed in mild annoyance, but not the anger he played up for the public, and tossed his phone at Meg. “You do it this time, Turney. I got kicked-puppy eyes for a month straight after the last time.”

“Fine, fine, I don’t need your phone to call her, Mikey.” She tossed the phone back to him before she grabbed her own phone and went about calling Lindsay’s number, flipping her hair away from her ear to hear properly.

There was a brief silence before they all heard the faint sound of the phone being answered before Meg laid it on thick. “Have you forgotten again, babe?” She stuck her bottom lip out like Lindsay would be able to physically see it. “You know we’ve been wanting to see this movie for weeks.”

Gavin and Michael just barely heard an incoherent reply but saw Meg stiffen, her back straightening and feet planting on the floor, her eyes bright and staring at nothing to listen intently. Michael almost asked what was going on but seemed to think better of it. Both men were attentive to their girlfriend’s reactions, aware something wasn’t right.

“Wow.” She barked a laugh, venom lacing her tone. “How fucking stupid are you? You know what’s going to happen to you because of your little gamble?” There was an answer but Meg cut it off. “I’ll cut off your balls and stuff them down your throats. Unless of course, you’ve realized the errors of your ways and let my beautiful girlfriend go on her way and maybe she’ll forget your ugly-ass mugs and we’ll let you live your pathetically short lives in peace.”

Meg’s face grew red with anger, her free hand digging nails into the armrest and her jaw clenched. Whatever she heard as an answer to her threat didn’t go the way she wanted, before she dropped her phone, the two men hearing the end call beep coming from her phone.

“Get Ryan or Geoff on the phone.” She commanded in a hard voice, making Michael and Gavin scramble for their respective phones and call their friends, looking to Meg for instructions. “Tell them a bunch of assholes took Lindsay for ransom. Gunna need a lot of manpower to find her before we go guns blazing.”

The young men nodded and took off to different parts of the apartment as the people they called answered in various states of curiosity and confusion, before they slowly took an angry tone as they listened to the two explain what they knew.

“Did they say their crew name?” Ryan asked Gavin in a growl.

“Hang on, I’ll ask.” He replied, pulling his phone away from his mouth to speak to Meg. “Did they mention a crew name or anything?”

“No, but the man who spoke to me had a nasally voice, like this.” She spoke as if she had a stuffed nose. “Must have been an upstart crew. Look around the path Lindsay normally takes home from the shelter for more, ‘cause I don’t know.”

Gavin nodded and repeated everything to the Vagabond over the line.

“Alright. Thanks. I’ll make sure to save some bloodshed for you three.” He promised.

“Thanks, Rye-bread. Hear back soon?”

“Yeah, course. Oh, hey, sorry Date Night’s cancelled again.” His tone had gotten softer just before hanging up.

Gavin sighed, nodding to air as he put down his phone.

“Geoff’s rallying the troops, and they’ll start searching in a couple minutes.” Michael said a minute later, striding back towards Meg and Gavin, looking down at his button-up and dark jeans and shrugged. “So much for Date Night.”

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Although this wasn’t the first time Lindsay had been captured by a rival gang, this was the first time she was captured because of her relationship with Gavin, Meg, and Michael, and while she was pregnant.

The four were known by and large in the underworld as being the strongest team in the Fake AH Crew, what with Michael and Meg’s killer streaks and Gavin’s unbelievable technological abilities and smarts. But – and it was somewhat her own fault in this – Lindsay’s strength was never known to anyone outside the Crew.

She could tell this was why the upstarts thought they could cut down the strongest team by taking her.

As she waited in the barren, boring torture room, Lindsay thought it would be best if she tried to doze to pass the time, wondering how long it’ll be before her trio rescued her ass. She wondered if they’d be able to find her with or without help, before her eyes slipped shut and the next thing she knew her neck was leant to one side rather uncomfortably and the light had been turned off.

With a loud groan, she brought her head back up and tilted it to the other side, wincing in discomfort as she tried to fix the crick in her neck. She rotated her head as best she could, ignoring the discomfort, when she heard the distinctively loud footfalls coming towards her room, and she winced again when the lights turned back on, assaulting her eyes suddenly.

The same punk as before entered with a grin. Lindsay’s eyebrow rose.

“With a smile like that, you don’t look nearly as stupid as you really are.” She said, mocking cheer, hoping to push some of the man’s buttons.

The grin grew forced for a moment before it relaxed, much to Lindsay’s disappointment. “With a face like that, you don’t look nearly as much of a whore as you really are.” The punk replied with just as much false cheer in his voice as she had.

“What do you want.” Her face went flat as her tone got monotone.

“Nothing. Just wanted to let you know your lovers have been informed of your predicament. My men said that other slut was downright furious when we didn’t agree to her command to let you free.”

“Stupid decision, then.” Lindsay replied, her mind buzzing. If they knew she was taken, they could possibly be able to track the phone and find them in no time flat.

It seemed something in her expression changed to show her thoughts as the upstart chuckled lowly. Her eyes narrowed at him, demanding an answer to what he thought was so funny.

“If you thought we would keep anything of yours that could be traced back here, you really are stupid. We weren’t born yesterday, bitch.”

“No, if you were born yesterday, you’d already be smarter than you are.” Lindsay retorted, but she began to worry. She knew there were other ways of finding where she had been taken, but those ways took so much longer than Gavin hacking and tracing a source. She could only hope the upstart crew had contacted her lovers nearby so they could be in the ballpark of where she was.

“So, what now?” She asked, leaning her head back with a look of boredom on her face. “Do we play the waiting game until they come here?”

The punk’s grin grew. “We’re going to be playing a little game of cat and mouse with those three, until we get every little bit of information out of you, or until they agree to our terms. You see, our bases are connected to the railway, with the only ways in or out through the train tracks.”

“You really think you’ll be able to hide from the Fakes?” Lindsay let out of a bark of laughter, feeling dried blood crack and flake on her chin. “They’ll find me and you’ll have a few hundred bullets in the head and I’ll only have been roughed up.”

“How much do you want to bet on that?” The punk leered.

“I’ll bet your pathetic life on it.”

“How about something on you, bitch. If they don’t come get you by midnight tonight, you answer one question a friend of mine will ask. If they do, as you said, I’ll be dead.” His grin was stereotypically villainous.

Lindsay bared her teeth again in answer, leaning her head back against the headrest.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

They heard from Ryan first, just as the three entered the Fake Penthouse where they could hear orders being told by Geoff to someone on the phone. Only the Inner Circle and B-Team were allowed in the Penthouse that doubled as Geoff’s main home and the Fake’s more casual base of operations.

Gavin’s phone rang with the opening notes of Sleeping At Last’s ‘Saturn’ before he heard Ryan’s voice muffled by his mask.

“You at the penthouse yet? Need you in the sights right about now.” He grumbled, way too forward, much like how he got when the Vagabond was around.

Gavin nodded, slipping away from his loves to head to his ‘Room’ where his tech was. “Just got in. Computers’ll take a minute before I can get in, found anything yet, Vaga?”

“Yes.” He could hear the eye-roll through the mask and line at the nickname, which was the entire reason Gavin still calls him that. “Traces of blood that are long-dried on a sidewalk about a forth of the way away from the shelter. Quiet street, only a couple bugged places and barely any buildings this way.”

“Alright. Which street?” Gavin asked, his computers up and running and he was already looking through cameras to hopefully find the right one.

“Along the shoulder of the highway. Still considered the main street, but it’s mostly road.” Vagabond informed, rattling off coordinates until Gavin found him in the cameras.

“Ah, gotcha. Okay, checking through the stream. Anything else you got?” Gavin asked offhand as he traced back from the camera.

“Only the blood, I think it was either from a headwound or some area that bleeds a lot from a small wound. Also, a hairclip.”

“Her cat ear hairclip?” He questioned, slowing down his search as he saw Lindsay enter the camera’s view, several hours earlier. He frowned. Lindsay had texted saying she was still in the shelter an hour after this timestamp.

“Yeah, the little black and yellow ear things.” Ryan’s voice came through with a quiet chuckle. “Though I still say it’s a bowclip, not cat ears.”

“You know Lindsay. When she gets something in her head, she sticks with it.” Gavin said without really paying attention, watching the video a couple times before an angry bird trill escaped. “These mofos did something to the stream. They must’ve known about the bugged places and took them down for just long enough to take Linds.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Ryan’s voice slipped back into Vagabond’s. “What do you have?”

“Lindsay appears for a full three seconds before the stream cuts forward a full two minutes later, with only the clip and blood visible, but really small and grainy because of the shite quality. Guessing they did something to turn off the video feed or something.” He continued to mutter. “But it doesn’t make sense, the timestamp says 3:02, but she was still at the shelter at 4…”

“… Gavin, you hadn’t thought about the possibility the assholes were the ones texting you with her phone? It’s the only logical explanation.”

“Shit… She’s been missing longer than we thought. Shit, shit, shit. R-Vagabond, are there any tracks from the vehicle they used? Any sort of tracks? It rained just that morning over there. Streets should still have a bit of moisture to show tracks.”

“This is a busy street, Gavin.”

“Well, what the hell do you suggest, Vagabond?” Gavin snapped, worry pooling in his guts. They had been wrong by about four hours. Leads were already getting cold in his mind, irrational fear clouding his thoughts with the regret that he should have stayed with Lindsay.

“First off, calm the fuck down, Free. Hope isn’t lost. Check other cameras along this street. They can’t have been smart enough to cover their tracks completely. Check earlier in this feed for the car. No one ever thinks about these things, only the current, more important parts.”

Gavin nodded and followed the orders mechanically, distantly hearing his door opening and just knew it was Meg by the faint draft of her cheap perfume she decided to try for the date. She said nothing, but her presence washed over him like a physical aura, reminding him how to feel calm.

Her fingers brushed through his hair and he felt his mind clear enough to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Hang on, I’ll dig what I can get.”

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Lindsay was given a wall clock to watch tick away the time until the stupid bet was called off. She wouldn’t say it aloud, but she was glad to hear something other than her breath when the upstarts left her alone. At least it was a familiar noise that set her at ease, knowing the punks weren’t anywhere near her for the time being.

But, in the same vein, her worry grew with every minute that passed. She watched at it turned to 11pm, and there was still no sign of her rescue.

As it inched closer to midnight, the punk appeared again with a smug smile that Lindsay furiously wanted to deck. He didn’t even say a fucking thing while they waited and watched the time tick by.

“Would you look at that? They aren’t here.” The clock barely struck midnight when the upstart started talking, wheeling around to face her.

Lindsay simply glared at him, knowing he was going to try to get information out of her, but she wouldn’t even for a stupid bet like this. She may not have a lot of power in her situation, but she was going to keep the one thing they wanted close to her heart.

“I believe you lost a pointless bet.” He continued, moving to tower over her, a move she had seen countless punks do to look scarier than they were. If her legs hadn’t been tied to the chair legs, she would have busted his nuts. The only people allowed that close to her was her friends and lovers, not upstart punks who kidnap her.

“If it was pointless, then it should be void.” Lindsay replied, her glare hard.

“No, it was still a real bet, missy. So, how did that bet go? Your people don’t show up, you give us…?” He gave a smirk, dramatically thinking hard. “Oh, that’s right, you answer a question honestly that a friend of mine will ask.”

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The upstart’s ‘friend’ gave off the same vibe Lindsay got when she first met the Vagabond. Cold, weird, impassive. But at the same time, he was nothing like the Vagabond, or Ryan even. He wore a pressed suit, and acted like he was professional assassin or something. This crew was pulling all the levers to look like a cliché gang.

Neither had spoken a single word since the ‘friend’ had entered the room. The upstart had left long ago. Lindsay had raised an eyebrow at the guy briefly, waiting for him to speak first, and now they were in a long silence that felt neither awkward nor comfortable.

Finally, after ten minutes of silence, Lindsay broke the silence with a witty remark. “So, you know that saying, a picture lasts longer? Yeah, might want to take a picture then.” She ends with a sarcastic smile, trying to egg the suited guy on.

But it didn’t seem to be her day. The man blinked a couple times but still wouldn’t respond. Lindsay was getting fed up with this treatment.

“Okay, what’s the question you want me to answer?” She demanded.

This got a reaction out of him. He straightened, and in a tone that was equally as cold, weird and impassive as his body language, he finally spoke. “What are the real names of Rimmy Tim and Vagabond?”

Lindsay had thought she was ready for any question they would try to get out of her, but this one surprised her. They weren’t looking for locations, but names… Oh.

“Why would you want to know?” She asked, playing dumb and hoping to stall for time to think. Like hell would she give their actual names, but she wasn’t sure if they knew Ryan and Jeremy’s names already and were just testing to see if she were telling the truth. After all, if they did some close digging – and had someone like Gavin on the team – they’d be able to figure out their names. “And what does that have to do with getting territory and dealers for your upstart crew?”

It was like the man went on mute again. Not a peep came from him. He was more robot than person, and the familiar vibe the Vagabond gave off ended. This guy was nothing like him.

“Sorry, buddy. I’m not telling you jack shit. You could search everything on me and still not find the Fakes real names.” And it was true, all the contacts were nicknames or codenames each member used the most, just in case she lost her phone or got caught, like now.

“I would rather not have to hurt you further.” The man said. “Unlike my coworkers, I do not have a death wish. But a job is a job.”

“Listen, buddy. Doesn’t matter what you do to me. Everyone in this base is still dead when the Fakes find out where I am. And that’ll include you.” Lindsay held no sympathy to the assassin man. If he didn’t want to hurt someone, he wouldn’t, job or no. “My crew don’t take too kindly to members being kidnapped for ransom.”

“Just tell me the names of Rimmy Tim and Vagabond, and you will not be hurt any more than you are, Miss Rose.” The man ordered, stepping forward and grabbing a large chunk of her hair, making her cry out as he pulled, causing the split skin on the back of her head to reopen.

“I’d never rat out my friends.” She replied with gritted teeth, her eyes narrowed into slits from pain and anger.

They stared at each other for a full minute in silence, a contest of wills, when they heard the distant sounds of gunfire. Immediately the man let go of Lindsay, real emotion showing on his face. He was scared.

Lindsay grinned, laughing loudly. She could practically hear her lovers coming for her. “I told you assholes. I fucking told you.” She bared her teeth again at the man. “Never mess with the Fakes.”

They heard running before the upstart punk burst through the door, his eyes wild. He went right up to Lindsay and punched her painfully hard across the cheek, making her bite her tongue again. “You fucking bitch! How did they find us?!”

She laughed in response, blood bubbling down her lips. “We’re the Fake AH Crew, bitch.”

The upstart growled, turning to the other man. “Untie her and follow me. We have to move her before they find us.”

The sounds of gunfire were getting steadily closer, and Lindsay couldn’t help but find the entire thing fucking hilarious. She laughed as the man untied her from the bolted chair, laughed as they took her out of the room and she saw the rest of the base, which was equally as drab and boring and clichédly villain’s lair as the torture chamber.

She continued to laugh until the upstart turned back and gut-punched her, and her entire being froze with sudden fear for the still-developing baby inside her.

“Shut the fuck up.” The upstart snapped, turning back to continue walking when he dropped with a spray of blood.

Standing at the entrance of a corridor stood wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous Meg, her face dark and thunderously pissed off. Lindsay began to think she saw the punch and had the same fear as she had. She pointed her rose gold gun at the other man with a sneer.

“Let her go and die, or die.” Her tone was laced with hate. “I’d rather not let my beautiful girlfriend get sprayed by filthy blood like yours.”

The man hesitated for a second before he stepped away from Lindsay, his gun dropping to the floor as his hands went up without complaint. He had a calm expression on his face, as if he accepted his fate.

Staying out of the line of sight, Lindsay found her legs shaking as she quickly crossed over, barely wincing at the sound of Meg’s gun shooting before she wrapped her arms tightly around her girlfriend, laughing a little more genuinely than before, and both pretended they couldn’t feel the damp cheeks on the other. Just because kidnappings weren’t a rare occurrence didn’t mean they no longer felt fear for/as the victim.

They stayed for a moment wrapped around each other before Meg let go first, tapping her ear to connect with the others. “I got her. Heading out now.” She looked to Lindsay briefly with a question on her face that she understood easily. Lindsay nodded and her girlfriend ordered no survivors.

No one angered the Fakes and lived long to tell the tale.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

It had been exactly as the Vagabond had said, the idiots forgot to cover them arriving and taking down the cameras along the way to their hideout, though it took much longer than Gavin would have liked.

All the same, when he found where the van had stopped at, it was an easy thing to track through poorly defended camera streams. He told Geoff and Michael first, and then stayed behind to be their eagle eye.

He didn’t like staying behind when it was Lindsay they were getting back, and he was a good shot – better when he was pissed off for some reason – but he understood the others would need help finding their way around the base.

Gavin watched as the Fakes burst into the base, keeping an eye out for any idiot who had the bright idea to flank his friends and lovers, and while he wasn’t there, he felt a surge of glee at each asshole the others shot down.

He was the first to hear Meg after she got to Lindsay, and then seconds later saw the footage of the two walking close together – whether Lindsay was hurt badly or just needed help walking, Gavin couldn’t tell – towards the nearest exit he told Meg to go to. He saw Michael roar and launch himself at the enemies. No survivors. Michael and the Vagabond were going to fulfill that order with glee, Gavin could easily see that.

Gavin wanted to head off and wait for Meg and Lindsay to return to the penthouse, knowing Michael was going to take a while, but had to keep an eye on the other Fakes so none were overwhelmed. Just in case. He told them where the enemies hid, or where they were trying to flee. If he had a more normal conscience, the sight of his friends murdering fleeing gang members would have sat uncomfortably with him, but he relished in it. They hurt Lindsay. They were not going to be given mercy. The Fakes weren’t the top dogs in Los Santos for being nice ormerciful all the time.

The entire massacre took about half an hour in total, and by that time, Meg and Lindsay had returned, with Caleb looking over her injuries. Gavin was just ending the communications and heading out of his ‘Room’ towards the infirmary when he heard Lindsay ask about the likelihood of punch to the stomach killing a baby.

“It would vary on the assault, and if it was a recurring assault. You’ll have to see another doctor and see if they can check on the baby’s health to make sure it’s going to be okay.” Caleb replied. “But if that baby gets anything from you, it’ll be your luck.”

Gavin entered the infirmary soon after Caleb spoke, causing the three to look at him. The girls relaxed instantly and Meg went to kiss him on the cheek.

“What’s this about baby killing?” Gavin asked.

“The upstarts tried to rough me up a bit, including punching me in the stomach.” Lindsay’s hand rubbed her stomach slowly. “I wanna make sure it’s going to be okay.”

“Shit… It’ll be fine. Like Caleb said, you’ve got the strangest luck in the world, and that baby is going to get it too. I’m sure of it, love.” He assured, heading over to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her softly.

The three stayed in Caleb’s infirmary until the rest arrived, splashed in dried blood and small bits of other stuff. Ryan looked like he was just in a Viking attack with how red his mask looked, but other than various superficial wounds, no one had been badly hurt. Michael went straight to Lindsay and kissed her deeply, and Gavin could tell their girls were happy to see him again.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

As with any rescue mission, there was a long recovering period the victim and the closer loved ones went through before getting back to normal. This time was a little more stressful because of the fetus’s life was at stake for a good week before it was confirmed nothing was wrong, and the baby was still on track to be a healthy pregnancy.

After that scare was over, recovering from the kidnapping was spent with her partners near constantly. Gavin stayed with her when they went to the shelter, with even Meg accompanying them at times to see the two entertain the cats or help around the front desk.

At home, the other three were almost choking Lindsay with affection, but it was nice. There were more soft kisses, more laying across her lap like a pillow, more playing with her hair. They had to be careful with her hair though, because of the stitches from the split skin at the back of her head. It would take another few weeks before the scarring would be the only reminder of this particular kidnapping.

About a month and a half after the kidnapping and rescue, the four were getting ready for Date Night again. Lindsay chose the day so she wouldn’t be busy with kitties, and the others planned around the day. The guys wore button down shirts, and Meg wore jeans and a deep V-neck blouse. Lindsay herself wore a dress and leggings again, as jeans wouldn’t be comfortable while pregnant.

“Oh, you look lovely, babe.” Meg said when Lindsay got out of the bathroom in her dress, twirling her finger to ask her to spin the dress, kissing her sweetly on the lips. “You ready?”

“Yeah, are the guys ready?”

“We’ve been ready for a fucking hour!” They heard Michael shout from the entryway with staged anger. “Hurry up before we leave your slow asses behind and go dancing by ourselves.”

“We’re coming, we’re coming. Jeez, assholes.” Lindsay shouted back with a smile, laughing when Meg quietly made a ‘that’s what she said’ joke as they headed towards the boys.

Each of the four had a certain quality about them that made them dangerous to enemies. Michael and Meg were killers, deadly shots and explosions were they’re favourite methods. Gavin was incredibly smart and the best hacker in Los Santos. But Lindsay’s strength was different.

Lindsay was the luckiest person in the weirdest way possible. She could be shooting at an angle and hit a target dead centre by accident, and then trip over her own feet the next second. She was lucky enough to not be with one person, but three of the most ruthless and beautiful people she ever had the pleasure of knowing, and in only three months, they were all going to be raising the luckiest child in the world.

As they headed out of their apartment, Lindsay wrapped her arms around Gavin and Michael’s waists and held them close to her, Meg walking ahead of them with the gentle evening breeze blowing her hair behind her as she moved.

It was nice, returning to normalcy and having Date Nights again, and Lindsay could never regret how her life got to this very moment in time.

[mtvsims]

Season 1: Ep. 4: Trouble in Paradise

To access the previous episode, click here.

Back at the house...

Aarav: Well, that could have gone better for me.

Chloe: Same. Neither of us really got a huge target out.

Aarav: At least the person you sent in went home.

Aarav: Spencer not going home sucks, but it makes sense, since Frank was a weak ass. I’m not afraid of him, though. If he wants me gone after this, he can go ahead and try to take me out.

Brad: I’m so happy you’re still here.

Spencer: Was not expecting to go in for the FIRST elimination...

Spencer: One of us needs to win the next challenge.

Brad: Agreed. You’re my ride or die, hundred percent.

Spencer: Hundred and ten percent.

Spencer: Sad to see me?

Chloe: I’m not apologizing for nominating you, if that’s what you’re looking for. Go get mad at Aarav. He actually threw you in.

Rei: I gotta, uh... go wash my hair.

Spencer: It was such a stupid move for both of you. Especially you, though.

Rei: Chloe and Spencer are coming to some major blows, and it’s totally because she nominated him for elimination. They haven’t been getting along throughout the season, but now, it’s hitting the boiling point.

Chloe: WTF? How was it stupid? You’re just mad because I’m not obsessing over you like some of these other girls.

Spencer: I wasn’t even going after you.

Chloe: Whatever.

Spencer: I gave you the chance to justify yourself, but you’re not doing a great job at that.

Chloe: Go after me then. I don’t care.

Riki: Why don’t you have a drink in your hand, Geoff?

Geoff: It’s only 9am. I at least wait until 10!

Erica: You boys are NOT prepared for today...

Geoff: How are you feeling about Peggy going, man?

Riki: Sucks. But I’ll just find someone else to hook up with. *looks at Erica*

Geoff: Damn. You mean-

Erica: Don’t bother, Riki. I’m not even into guys.

Erica: I feel like Geoff and Riki are dumb and dumber. But I’ll get friendly and hang out with them, because at least they aren’t drama-magnets like some of these other people.

Spencer: Guys, let’s have a meeting. Why did I go in last round and not Peter?

Charles: That was the plan. I don’t know.

Riki: Aarav wants to get into Peter’s pants, that’s why. You were collateral damage.

Rei (to Erica): I love how you and I were safe.

Erica (to Rei): We have the best social games out of anyone else.

Aarav: I don’t get why everyone is talking about us being a couple all of the sudden. Are you telling people that?

Peter: Cool down.

Aarav: I don’t want to get targeted for being in a relationship with you.

Peter: Because I’m the biggest target right now? Yeah. I get it...

Aarav: That’s not what I meant...

Peter: Apparently I’m bad for Aarav’s game, because everyone wants me out? I literally did nothing but the guys don’t like me because I talk about more than Gym, Tan, Laundry every day. Sorry I’m not a Jersey Shore reject...

Aarav: I don’t want either of us to get targeted. Maybe I’m being an asshole right now, sorry.

Peter: Just relax. 

Aarav: I’m trying.

Alexandria: I’m really the only one training right now? These people are here just to get Instagram followers...

Erica: Looks like Aarav and Peter are making up...

Bree: Lovely! I’m so happy to still be here, guys.

Riki: Congrats on beating Peggy. *slow claps* What an accomplishment.

Bree: No need to be an asshole about it, Riki. I’m PROUD of myself.

Bree: It was huge for me to win the first elimination. No matter what people say, I think I proved myself. And I have the confidence now to go all the way!

Aarav: As much as I like you, I think we need to cool it down.

Peter: What?

Aarav: I don’t want to hurt you. You’re going to end up getting hurt and we’ll both get eliminated because people will see us as a duo.

Peter: Right.. okay.

Peter: Go make love to your treadmill and leave me alone, then.

Peter: Aarav, make up your f*cking mind. You keep giving me mixed signals and treating me like trash for no reason. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m so sick of this house. I feel like no one will give me a chance...

Charles: Score!

Kali: You guys, we deff need to be in an alliance.

Geoff: I’m all for that, Kal. You and Chloe are my favorite girls in here.

Riki: Really?

Charles: I agree with Geoff. You both liven the place up.

Kali: Thanks, Charles. I’m glad I can be the life of the party!

*later*

Charles: You feel really tense.

Kali: It’s the stress of this game. I overthink everything. Especially when those She-Hulk bitches like Erica and Alexandria are in this game.

Erica: I-

Erica: Who does this Kali bitch think she is? I always hear her talking shit about someone. Now, it’s me. Kali, I’m sorry your parents didn’t love you enough and you grew up to be such a toxic creature. Keep my name out of your mouth.

Kali: I think I’m officially de-stressed.

Charles: I could do this more often.

Riki: Making the moves on Charles?

Kali: Wouldn’t you like to know...

Riki: Just try to keep your talons away from his game. We don’t need someone like you weighing us down.

Kali: I take it that alliance talk was just fake then? You don’t really want to work with me?

Riki: I’d rather work with a hunk of dirt. It’s probably more useful than you.

Riki: Kali is so untrustworthy. Yes, I stir the pot, too, but she’s on a whole other level. If it were up to me, she’d be getting the boot next.

Casey: Damn, Spencer. That looks so good. What are you mak-

Rei: Put on some clothes. I’m distracted.

Spencer: Sorry. You don’t like what you see?

Rei: No, I like it too much. You’re taking my head out of the game!

Casey: Uh...

Spencer: I’m liking what I’m looking at, too. Want some of my salad?

Casey: What the Hell, Rei? You’re with me. Remember? Why does Spencer just flirt with everything he sees? And why is Rei acting like I don’t exist when I’m right across the room from her?

Rei: Yeah, I’m flirting out in the open with Spencer. Casey’s cute, but he’s young and also way too serious. If I was looking for my future husband, I would’ve made an eHarmony video, not gone on The Challenge.

Casey: Hey man.

Brad: What’s up?

Casey: I feel like Spencer is playing everybody. Ever since he won that last elimination, he’s acting like he owns this place.

Brad: Don’t worry about him, Casey. He’ll probably get thrown in again soon. He’s making lots of waves.

Brad: Spencer is my boy, and my final 2. But it’s great that he’s pissing so many people off. As long as I can stay the Good Cop to his Bad Cop, I’ll be sitting pretty. Now, let’s get started on this challenge!

Next time, on The Challenge...

Our next daily Challenge. Who will win?! And who will get nominated to go into elimination? Sides are forming, and it’s anyone’s game.

[jeremichal-archive]

oooh gosh combine 40 and 28 for Jeremwood? you're a blessing thanks love

carve your marks into my door; feel free to ruin the wood

40. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au28. knocking on the wrong door au

honestly, this is the first jeremwood fic i’ve ever written and i can’t believe it’s taken me this long to write something for them. Also, an alternative title for this could be “Work Through Your Issues Like Adults Please Boys” because honestly.

Pairing: JeremwoodWarnings: Swearing

On the inside of his elbow, written in small black cursive lettering, is the key to how Ryan’s going to survive this next month.

Every so often, he’ll scratch at it; framing the black letters in red lines, doing his best not to wear away the words. Thinking about it now, it probably wasn't the best place to put it, but at four in the morning, while the cold air bit at his fingertips, it seemed like his only option. Plus, it didn't help that his careful planning had been thrown into the wind the second he’d heard the sound of his landlord’s- fuck, ex-landlord's- feet against the cold concrete landing. So, while this might not be the best plan, it’s the only one he’s got.

An address, or, more accurately, Geoff’s address; scribbled down in haste, copied from an old party invite from Geoff’s last birthday. An address, that based on his sources, Geoff hasn’t stayed at in months.

Fourth floor, just right of the stairs, room 408.

Ryan sighs. How Geoff can afford to rent out two damn apartments is beyond him, but then again, he should just be fucking thankful that he can. Doesn't matter that the last time he saw Geoff, the other man was fifty grand in debt and seriously considering selling an organ on the black market.

A lot of things can change in ten months, Ryan guesses, picking up his pace as he climbs the stairs, especially since he’s enough proof of that himself.

It’s on the third floor that Ryan’s mind drifts off. His boots thud with each step he takes and it’s almost scary how close the sound is to that of gunshots. He wonders if this neighbourhood is as bad as his last one, wonders if flashing police lights and ambulance sirens will become another constant in his life. Or maybe, he’ll be able to sleep through a full night here.

Either way, though, he can’t help but wonder what it says about him that he no longer jumps at the sound of gunshots, whether they're real or not.

He’s glad to be rid of the stairs when he finally makes it to the fourth floor, so of course, it's just his luck that trips on the last damn step. His hands blindly grab for something to steady him, but there’s nothing but empty air and an old bannister around to keep him from breaking his neck, so he ends up stumbling. He catches himself before he goes down, but something twists in his ankle and a sharp current of pain shoots up his leg. He lets out a hiss, gingerly testing his ability to put his weight on it as he steadies himself. There’s an embarrassed blush warming his cheeks, but he thanks God for small miracles though, because at least there’s no one out in the hallway when he hobbles out of the stairwell.

He stops by the door for a moment and rests his palm against the drywall, giving his traitorous foot a moment to rest. A small part of him considers leaning his forehead against the wall as well, but he's smart enough to think better of it. It's an apartment building, and a cheap one at that, they're not really known for their cleanliness. Who knows how many germs this place is hiding.

He pulls his hand back, wiping it against his thigh like it’ll make a difference.

There’s something strange about being back here, almost like he doesn’t belong. But then again, he doesn’t. The sudden urge to just yell overtakes him, and he barely manages to hold it in. He wants to test the echo of the hall, wants to see if he can get another tenant to come outside. He just wants to do something. It feels like he hasn't done fucking anything since he left college, and it burns him from the inside out.

But instead, he settles; mumbling out a low, “I really hope they haven't cut the power yet,” as he straightens himself out, tentatively adding a bit of pressure to his ankle.

Habit makes him swipe at his nose, looking for blood where it’s not. He huffs, staring down at his clean fingers with something akin to disappointment. Honestly, he’s not all too sure if that’s actually the right emotion, but either way, he should really stop doing that.

There's no blood there anymore.

Ignoring the throbbing in his ankle, he pushes forward, moving down the hallway with careful steps. His eyes scan the rooms, and when he catches sight of it- a small unassuming wooden door with what looks like a crack running through it from the base up- Ryan’s heart skips a beat.

Deep down, he knows Geoff won't mind. Hell, he’s probably not even going to notice that Ryan’s been there at all, even if he does care. But still, Ryan can't help but worry. It's not as if they’ve really kept in contact in the recent months, so it’s not like Ryan would really blame him. All he can really do is promise himself that he’ll be gone by the end of the month, all the while silently hoping that he’s not just lying to himself.

He hesitates in front of the door when he gets to it, wondering if he should knock first just to make sure. It should be empty, he know’s it’s empty, but it would be awfully awkward if he happened to pick the lock just to find Geoff in his underwear on the other side waiting for him. So he knocks- three quick raps against the wood- and starts counting to ten, just to be safe.

When he reaches seven, the door swings open.

It’s cliché. God, it’s so fucking cliché, but then again, Ryan’s only ever been like that around him and it’s hard to be original when his heart is clawing its way out of his throat- so when he meets Jeremy’s gaze, time just seems to stop. Two and a half years. Two and a half years since they last saw each other- not that Ryan’s been keeping track- and he can’t help but latch onto the fact that Jeremy looks so fucking different now.

Lighter, happier, stronger, he’s fucking bald for Christ’s sake; Ryan can’t take his eyes off of him.

The thought as to why Jeremy’s in Geoff’s apartment doesn't even cross his mind, rather, he just stares, because that’s all he can really do. Which leaves it up to Jeremy to break the awkward silence that’s settled over them.

“I- You- What are you doing here, Ryan?” he asks and Ryan realises he’d forgotten how his voice had sounded. He wants Jeremy to talk again.

“Geoff’s… I was…” he frowns when Jeremy raises a confused eyebrow at him, “what are you doing in Geoff’s apartment?”

“What? What are you talking about, this is my apartment, Ryan.” He runs a hand over his shaved head and Ryan knows that if he still had hair, he’d be tugging at the strands. “Geoff’s is down the hall, I think, or at least, it used to be. I haven’t… talked to him in a while,” he admits, rather sheepishly.

“Neither have I, really,” Ryan mumbles back, shuffling on the spot. Changing the pressure on his ankle sends a spark of pain shooting up his leg, and he hisses through clenched teeth. He’s got no real reason to keep standing there, to be honest. He should just say goodbye and leave things there, but he really doesn't want to.

While they didn't part as enemies, they weren’t really friends either, and Ryan wants to fix that.

“How have you been?” he asks and Jeremy shrugs, slipping his finger inside the belt loop of his jeans. He rests his hip against the door frame and Ryan’s glad to have his full attention.

“I’ve been fine, Ryan.”

“You still running?”

A shadow passes across Jeremy's face. “Uh, no. Not anymore.” He doesn't elaborate, and Ryan doesn't push.

“Ah, okay…” he mumbles, hating how awkward things are between them. He wants to go back in time to when Jeremy would tell him everything, back to when they’d spend whole days tangled up in bed, lazily kissing every inch of the other that they could reach. Seeing Jeremy again, he realises that he hasn't quite moved on as much as he thought he had.

“Go anything published yet?” Jeremy asks, and Ryan can't help but flinch. No, he wants to hiss, of course fucking not. You were all right, so I gave up trying, but he holds his tongue though because his bitterness is his own to keep. “I won't lie and say I haven't been keeping an eye out,” Jeremy continues and Ryan’s heart skips a beat, “you were writing that, uh, that sci-fi book, right? when we… uh-” he shakes his head- “what I mean is, have you finished it?”

“Nah, I think attempted two drafts of it before I realised it was a lost cause.” That's a lie, he tossed it in the trash five days after Jeremy moved out. “It was a waste of time, anyway,” he mutters.

“But, you loved that damn book,” Jeremy replies and Ryan just shrugs.

“You loved running, but I guess love isn’t really enough, is it?” He replies, and Jeremy blanches. He doesn't mean his words to be that poetic, especially when they hit so close to home when it comes to what they were, but then again, Ryan’s always had a way with words. Just not enough to make a living from them, apparently.

Jeremy’s gaze drops to the floor at his words, and Ryan realises he’s put his foot in his mouth. He waits for the lad to tell him goodbye, to close the battered door in his face and leave him standing alone in the hallway, but he doesn't. He looks back up at Ryan, chewing on his bottom lip. “Why were you looking for Geoff, Rye?” he asks and the nickname is unexpected.

He doesn't know what makes him tell the truth. Maybe it’s because he’s trying to trade a secret for a secret; maybe he’s just sick of pretending everything is alright.

Or maybe, it’s because he wants to interact with Jeremy like they used to. Wants to be close again; wants Jeremy to trust him again.

“I know he doesn't live there anymore, I planned to- I wanted to crash there for a month. Just until everything… gets… better?” he mumbles, but it comes out as more of a question than he hoped. Jeremy watches him for a moment, brown eyes seeing right through him, and then he sighs.

“I guess we’re both a bit fucked up, aren’t we?” he whispers, but before Ryan can reply, he steps back and retreats inside. He leaves the door open though, and Ryan takes it as an invitation to come inside. He follows after Jeremy, eyes skimming Jeremy’s apartment as he walks just so he doesn’t have to look at the lad himself. He feels like he’s trespassing, pushing his way into Jeremy’s home even though he’s already had his chance, and even worse, lost it.

“Do you want a drink?” Jeremy asks and Ryan snaps his gaze up to look at him. “I have diet coke, if you’re, uh, still into that…” he mumbles, fidgeting with the can in his hands. Ryan nods, shuffling over towards the kitchen bench before hovering there awkwardly. Jeremy passes him the can, but it’s obvious in the way he deliberately avoids accidentally touching Ryan.

“So…” he begins, staring down at the counter and Ryan wonders why he even bothered to invite him in if his presence makes him so uncomfortable. He’s seconds away from muttering his goodbyes- heart squeezing in his chest- when Jeremy continues. “Is it bad if I… if I say that I’ve missed you, Ryan?” he mumbles, glancing up at him, “I know you’ve probably m-” he cuts himself off, “I mean, it’s been what? Two years?”

“Two and a half,” Ryan corrects and Jeremy snorts.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s just… whatever, doesn't matter.” He shakes his head, thrumming his fingers against the bench. There’s another moment of awkward silence between them, one that Ryan doesn't really know how to break, but for some reason, he still tries anyway.

“I’ve missed you too, Jeremy,” he replies, and Jeremy watches him for a moment through the corner of his eye.

“Why’d you wanna stay at Geoff’s place, Rye?” he asks, and Ryan sighs.

“I got kicked out of my apartment,” he replies, shrugging and Jeremy frowns. “It’s either Geoff’s or I… yeah. I’m screwed either way, I guess.”

“Oh, that fucking sucks,” Jeremy replies and Ryan huffs out a bitter laugh. Now that’s an understatement, he thinks, taking a sip of his coke. Jeremy’s eyes track his movement, following the can up to his lips and then back down again when he sets it on the bench. Habit strikes at him again, and when he swipes at his nose, Jeremy rears back like he’s been hit. Ryan only just catches the frantic look in his eyes before Jeremy's turning away and he moves without thinking, leaning over the counter to grab his hand to stop him from grabbing for the tissue box behind him.

“Stop, Jeremy stop. I’m fine. See?” he holds out his hand for Jeremy to inspect, “no blood.”

It takes a moment, but Ryan watches him relax.

Jeremy lets out a humourless laugh; neither of them let their hands drop. “Sorry. Do you… do you still get them?” he asks and Ryan shakes his head.

“Nah, not anymore. They changed my medication,” he whispers. Slowly, carefully, he starts stroking his thumb against the skin of Jeremy’s palm, tracing small shapes into his skin. Jeremy's gaze falls to their hands, and Ryan hesitates for a moment, movement stopping, but when Jeremy doesn't say anything he starts again.

“I got into a car accident, Ryan” he mumbles, and the suddenness of his words make Ryan flinch. “I got, uh, T-boned, about a year ago? This asshole ran a red light, hit me at 50 miles per hour. Nearly fucking killed me,” he whispers and Ryan’s stomach drops.

He doesn't like that, he really doesn't like that. Just the idea alone of Jeremy dying makes his skin crawl, but what makes it worse, is that he probably never would have found out. Dodging Geoff’s calls, ignoring Jack’s ‘surprise’ visits; Gavin pretending he doesn’t exist and Michael to busy to care about how badly Ryan’s fucking up his life.

They’d forget to tell him. They’d forget to fucking tell him that his ex was dead, and Ryan would just continue on, as if the best thing he’d ever had wasn’t gone.

He wants to say something, wants to tell Jeremy just how much it hurts to ever imagine something like that happening to him, but Jeremy just keeps talking. “But, uh, it didn’t,” he huffs, a bitter sound, “it just fucked up my right leg, pinned it and I can’t tell you the medical terms they used to explain it- cause at the time I wasn’t- I wasn’t in a good place, Rye- but I can say, it was really bad,” he whines and Ryan’s up and moving around the kitchen counter within an instant.

He grabs for Jeremy and tugs him towards his chest and Jeremy goes easily, melting against him. He presses his face against Ryan’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut and Ryan rubs long strokes up and down his back, holding onto him for dear life.

“Can’t run anymore. Fucking- took me months of physical therapy just to walk again, but when it comes to running, I just… I can’t manage it for more than a few minutes.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “I hate it, Ryan. I hate it so fucking much. I feel so useless, so fucking angry all the time. Sometimes I run just so it hurts, just so I feel like I’m doing something.”

Ryan knows that feeling. He understands exactly what Jeremy’s trying to say. The thing is though, Ryan understands because he’s a homeless, failed author and not because he sustained life threatening injuries. So he can’t help but feel guilty for comparing himself to Jeremy, because really, Ryan’s fine.

Yeah. He’s… fine.

He squeezes Jeremy tighter and holds his tongue, because he knows him well enough to know that Jeremy doesn’t want his pity. He doesn't want his platitudes or his apologies.

He just wants Ryan.

Which, when he thinks about it, is the complete opposite of what he wanted when they broke up two and a half years ago. Mutual, he reminds himself, it was a mutual break-up.

Heh, he doesn’t think either of them really believe that anymore.

“You’ll be able to run again,” he whispers, “I know it’s daunting and terrifying, and it makes you feel like you’re being pulled under, but fucking hell, you were made to run Jeremy. It’s in your blood, and while it might take some time, you’ll be able to run again.”

Jeremy’s fingers grab for his arm, nails biting into his skin as he clutches at Ryan desperately. “You say it like it’s so easy, Ryan.”

“I’m not saying that tomorrow you’ll be able to miraculously get up and run a marathon again, but one day-”

“One day, huh?” Jeremy huffs, pulling back from Ryan. Something like deja vu sparks in Ryan’s mind and his stomach drops. “Fuck off. I don’t need this shit from you of all people. Where’s your book, Ryan? You said, and I remember, of course I fucking remember, that you were going to, and I quote, ‘make it’” he spits, finger quoting his words.

Ryan takes a step back, and then another, putting distance between them. He keeps his mouth shut, because the last time he didn’t and he ended up fucking everything up.

“Did you make it Ryan? Did you do everything you wanted to do? All the stuff that of-fucking-course you couldn't do with me. Was it worth it?” he hisses, closing the distance that Ryan tried to put between them. He glares up at him, but Ryan can see the hurt that’s hiding behind his gaze.

That somehow makes things worse.

“No. No, I didn’t make it, Jeremy,” he breaks, voice cracking. He sucks in a deep breath and tries to give himself a moment to settle, but Jeremy doesn’t let him.

“Was it worth it?” he repeats, not breaking eye contact.

“I threw that book out about a week after you left,” Ryan spits, clenching his hands into fists by his side. He’s so damn tired of holding it all in, he’s so damn tired of pretending that their mutual breakup wasn’t entirely his fault. “I never finished it. Everything I write nowadays doesn’t make it past the first five pages and I can’t write romance scenes without thinking of you.”

Jeremy lets out an exasperated breath. “God, you’re an idiot. I really don’t understand you, Ryan,” he replies, shaking his head.

His hands move quickly, gravitating towards his head; he lets out a strangled sound, spinning sharply to lean his elbows against the counter, turning away from Ryan. He ducks his head, fingers interlocking as he sucks in a ragged breath.

“You fought me for that book, Ryan. I mean, it was your novel, I wasn’t going to stop you from writing it,” he replies, shrugging helplessly, “but you just didn’t stop. How many times- how many fucking times did you chose that damn thing over me, just to throw it out!” he hisses, slamming his hands down on the counter.

“You were so much more than I was, Jeremy. You were running marathons, and you were training for the Olympics, and I was working in the tech department and barely scraping out a couple hundred words each week on a book that was everything I had. I was scared,” he spits, “I was so scared, and jealous, and envious because you were going to achieve your dream and I wasn’t-”

“And that’s my fault, then is it?!” he yells, body pulling taut like a live wire. Ryan doesn’t need to touch him to know he’s buzzing with electricity.

“No, God no, Jeremy-” he tries, but Jeremy’s not having it.

“It is, of course it is. I was the horrible needy boyfriend desperate for your attention. I was immature, always kept pushing for something. ‘Let’s go on a run together, Ryan!’” he mocks, and Ryan feels sick, “‘Sign up for the marathon with me!’ ‘Let me read a chapter of your book’ ‘Pretend you still love me for a moment and let's do something together, I’ll let you decide what.’” He heaves out a breath, meeting Ryan’s gaze directly, “Fuck me, right? For wanting to include you in my life.”

“It’s not like that, Jeremy,” he pleads, and this time it’s his turn to close the distance between them.

“Yeah, it is. And now I’m nothing, no career, no future, just me and my fucked up legs,” he says and the anger drains out of him slowly. Ryan watches him curl in on himself, unshed tears in his eyes as he rubs at his face. “You must love it, knowing that I’m never going to be better than you.”

“I’m not, I’m not better than you. I’m a shit person, Jeremy. I got so overwhelmed-”

“Please don’t,” he mutters, resting a palm against the counter, “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are, Ryan. It’s done. I don’t care. I think you should go.”

“Just listen, please. Just give me one chance to talk, and then I’ll go if you still want me too, I swear,” he begs, and Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut. After a few seconds, he opens them again and sighs; Ryan doesn’t risk wasting the opportunity.

“I got so overwhelmed with the idea of failing,” he begins, “that I took it all out on you. I’m not going to make excuses, Jeremy. I was an idiot, I handled everything wrong and at the time, I blamed it all on you. I was so hung up on the idea that I was thirty-four and going nowhere fast, that when I saw you succeeding, it felt like you were rubbing it in my face.”

He glances over towards the front door, staring at the ruined wood as if it’ll help him somehow. “I’m thirty-six now, Jeremy. I haven’t written anything in six months. I lost my job, my apartment and you. So at this point in time, it’s safe to say I’m a failed author. I’m not getting published; I’m not going to ‘make it’. It hurts, and as much as I try to pretend it doesn’t, lying just makes it worse,” he whispers, “the thing is, I don’t know how to make things better, I don’t what to fucking do anymore. You said that you’re angry all the time and so am I, Jeremy. I just- I can’t do anything fucking right anymore and it’s eating me alive.”

“You want me to forgive you?” Jeremy asks and Ryan looks back at him.

He can see them, if he tries hard enough.

Not them now, what with their bitterness, and their hurt and their issues, but what they used to be. Back when they’d first started dating. When things were easy and new, and sweet. Back when Jeremy would blush whenever Ryan asked him to stay the night, and when they’d burn their dinner because they were too busy kissing.

He can see them, but that doesn’t mean he can be them again.

“No. No, I’m not asking for that,” he sighs, pushing himself away from the counter. Jeremy watches him closely, but stays quiet, “I just don’t want you to give up hope just yet. You’ve still got plenty of time, and like I said, you were born to run. You’ll be fine, Jeremy, just don’t rush yourself.”

It’s cowardly, but he doesn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he just turns on his heel and takes a few steps towards the front door. It’s better this way, he tells himself, even though with every step he takes away from Jeremy feels like his heart is being crushed. He’s better off without you.

So he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t turn around. At least, not until Jeremy calls out to him.

“Ryan,” he says, and Ryan freezes just a few steps away from the door. “I- I wasn’t lying earlier… when I said I missed you. I-” he pinches the bridge of his nose- “I’m not going to lie, I really tried to hate you afterwards. You made me feel like shit, made me feel everything was my fault, but I couldn’t.”

He shakes his head, a faraway look in his eyes. “But the thing is, we were both horrible at being in a relationship, Ryan. You were the first person I’d ever really loved, and I just, I gave you too much of myself to fast, just trying to keep you with me. And you had your own issues, your own problems and I just-” he sucks in a breath, and Ryan stares at him- “I think it was too soon, wasn’t the right time. You know the saying Ryan, right person wrong time? Yeah... I think that was us.”

“What are you trying to say,” he replies, and Jeremy shrugs.

“I’m not suggesting we try again, at least, not yet. I just think, if you honestly believe that I still have a chance, that one day I’ll be able to run again and that it’ll just take some time, then why can’t it be the same for you?” he responds, and Ryan’s caught off guard by his words. He opens his mouth, looking for the words to disagree with Jeremy, but the lad just watches him with a soft gaze.

“You’re not dead yet, Ryan, and neither am I. That’s gotta count for something, right?” he adds, and Ryan feels his heart skirt a beat in his chest. He stands there for a moment, utterly unsure about where they go from there.

He’s caught between leaving and staying, and in the end, Jeremy makes the decision for him.

“Go crash in Geoff’s apartment. Call him and make a date to catch up again. Start writing again. There’s still plenty of time, Ryan, don’t waste it by feeling sorry for yourself. And if you want to, come back around in a couple of days and we’ll go get lunch together, as friends this time, and we’ll see how we go from there.”

Ryan nods and the pressure in his chest lifts just enough for him to breathe. He takes a moment, letting himself memorise the little parts that make Jeremy, Jeremy. The way he stands, the way he looks, the way he sounds and moves, just so he won’t forget about them again, and then he turns around.

He’s halfway out the door when he hesitates, tossing a look back over his shoulder at Jeremy. “I’m really hoping that this is the right time then, Jeremy,” he whispers, and Jeremy blinks back at him.

“Yeah, me too, Rye.”

[vagrantblvrd]

I love things like this so much?

But also?

FAHC AU where something similar applies, because reasons?

Could be supernatural/urban fantasy/general AU?

Early days for Ryan in Los Santos and he gets sent on a job and his beater of a car maybe kind of gets wrecked or set on fire/blown up in the process. (It happens, okay. Don’t judge.)

There aren’t any cars he can aggressively borrow nearby and he’s too tired to trek out to the main roads to do so. Figures hey, why not call a cab? (Kind of embarrassing because Vagabond? But whatever. It’s been a long night and he still has to deal with insurance and the whatnot, so.

The first couple of cab companies hang up on him once he gives the address. One straight up laughs before they hand up. Someone curses him out and then hangs up.

It’s the last one that bothers to hear him out, seems a little hesitant but he supposes he sounds a little at the end of his rope at that point.

The person he’s talking to tells him to hold on for a moment and they’ll check if there’s a driver willing to go out there this time of night.

Ryan doesn’t get it? But sure, okay. Maybe this one will pan out so he waits. They don’t even put him on hold, is the thing, so he can hear the person on the phone yelling to the cab drivers asking if anyone wants to make double their fare (Ryan may have tried to sweeten the pot a little) and he can hear the responses.

They vary from derisive laughter to angry yelling (???) to this short pause and then someone distinctly yelling fuck it, why not and then the person Ryan’s talking to tells him they’re sending a cab to get him before hanging up.

He waits around a bit, notices there are these weird little cold spots all over the place as he does. Weird noises. Flickering lights and shredded awnings that move without a breeze.

All the typical things and shrugs it off because hey, Los Santos is kind of a weird city to start with, you know?

Half an hour or so goes by before he hears the cab, sees it cruising along the street, driver side window halfway rolled down and the guy behind the wheel - kid, really, clearly searching for Ryan.

And, like an idiot, Ryan steps out in front of him and, scaring the poor cab driver who just stares at him like he’s an idiot.

Ryan’s still wearing the mask - Halloween’s in a few days and, again, Los Santos is just weird enough that no one will care - and the cab driver puts the car in park and gets out.

Looks around them for a moment, eyes narrowed before he snorts and walks to to Ryan.

And then he pokes him in the chest.

Pokes him, what the hell???

“Oh, good,” the kid says, and flashes him this smile. “You’re real.”

Ryan...has no damn idea what to make of that so he just tips his head to the side and the kid laughs, gesturing to Ryan to get in so they can get the fuck out of there already.

Tells him about the ghost fares and such the cab companies used to get before they instituted new policies and such. Chatters on about it and tells him stories he’s heard from the people he works with while Ryan is just sitting in the backseat like what the hell kind of city did I come to?

Can’t decide if the kid’s fucking with him or not and a little leery of being kicked out of the cab in the middle of nowhere so he keeps his mouth shut.

When they get to the address Ryan gave the kid he turns around and after the stories he’s been telling Ryan he's half expecting him to be a ghost himself. (All those stories Ryan heard growing up. One with hitchhikers who are the ghost or the driver who picks them up being a ghost, all those.)

But no, no.

Just this kid with this Boston accent and brightly dyed hair.

“Don’t know what you were doing out there and I don’t care,” the kid says, proving he’s not a complete idiot as he holds out a business card. “But if you ever get stuck out that way again give me a call and I’ll come get you.”

He grins at Ryan and happily takes the fare money, tips him this little two-finger salute as he drives off and Ryan watches him go because bar none, that was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Ryan heads home, place a couple of streets over because paranoid, and after a shower and change of clothes gets on his computer to look up Los Santos’ ghost stories to read up on as he makes himself something to eat.

Finds the ones about the cab companies getting stiffed by ghosts (???) and other places of note.

Tragic deaths and other unexplained things and sits back to let all that sink because it’s a lot, okay?

And then he thinks about the phenomena he experienced for himself out there - or maybe they were coincidences or fluke of nature or who the hell knows.

Can’t quite shake that feeling he was being watched, though. That he thought he could almost hear people talking around him when he knows for sure he was alone out there. Just the recent dead and him, and okay some rats and mice and other gutter dwellers.

Shakes it all off because he’s tired and it’s been a long night - did he mention that before? - and it was probably his mind playing tricks on him because clearly ghosts aren’t real.

Fast forward a few years and other moments and situations Ryan can’t explain away, so he doesn’t try to. Just sets them off to the side and pretends he doesn’t know what the hell any of it was and joins up with the crew or whatever.

Realizes they all have their little ghost story moments here in sunny Los Santos and doesn’t volunteer any of his own because no thanks?

But then Geoff brings in this kid from B-Team, right?

Hair’s dyed a different color from when they met and his accent’s softer now, but the smile is still the same.

Ryan’s never needed to call the number on the card he gave him way back when, but he kept it all the same. Tucked it away in his wallet for safekeeping and almost forgot about it.

(Considered calling when he had those ghost story/unexplained moments because there was something to the way the kid talked about that stuff that said he knew something about it, you know? But for whatever reason he never did.)

And Jeremy, because of course it’s Jeremy, grins like an idiot when he sees Ryan.

Remembers that fare he took years and years ago now, idiot who got stranded in the heart of spooky central (nickname the cabbies he worked with had for it) and goes over to Ryan and fucking pokes him again to the confusion/consternation of the rest of the crew.

“Still real, huh?” he asks, cheeky as hell because there are rumors now that say the Vagabond is just another spirit haunting Los Santos.

Vengeful and all that, lock your doors if you see him.

Ryan sighs, because he gets so much shit from the others for that and it looks like Jeremy’s not going to be any different. (Wouldn’t expect anything else, really.)

The other are a bit ??? when Ryan doesn’t do anything about being poked - honestly, they don’t know what they’re expecting because this situation hasn’t come up before, but who knows, right? - they dismiss the whole thing as just another weird Ryan Thing.

And when they find out Ryan and Jeremy (sort of) know one another/met before neither of them explain it? Just let everyone’s imaginations run wild and play along when someone proposes possible scenarios that range from working together for a crew to former former government agents/spec ops team and the completely ridiculous.

They are pretty fond of that last one though, and since they make a damn good team start calling themselves the Battle Buddies and just kind of never stop?

And yeah, okay. There are times they get into situations where ghosts and the whatnot feature and Jeremy may or may not punch a few here and there.

Might know more than he lets on when the crew steals a cursed artifact from some rich asshole while they’re also stealing other shinies from him.

Might get into the kind of situation where he has to bail the others out of trouble with some supernatural being or other. (Something to do with his true love and Ryan in trouble and forced confessions and Ryan all :O because the Pining he’s been doing all this time is mutual???)

All that good stuff and just shrugs because it’s this whole Dooley family business kind of thing, no big deal guys, really.

(I kind of lost the plot here, but you get the idea I’m sure.)

[teenagemutantmidlifecrisis]

Rumors of how the Fakes came together have been around for as long as they have. Some say they met in prison and broke out together. Others say Geoff scouted the world for them and still others say that crew, in need of a leader, found Geoff, a down and out drunk with big dreams. In truth, Jackqueline "Jack" Pattillo was the one who brought them together. Sick and tired of being passed over for jobs and shunned for simply being a woman. Told she could never had kids at seventeen thanks to a freak fluke in her biology. She started going by Jack in her late teens because hell, everyone treated her like a man anyway. She worked as an RA for the vast majority of her life, wanting to help people. One night, Geoff stumbled into her ER, bleeding and bruised, barley able to walk on a shattered knee. Jack didn't ask questions as she fixed him up; she had heard of Geoff and she knew that a truck had crashed through the window of a downtown bank, one that had a track record for robberies and hold ups, that same night. She placed cute kitten band-aids on his cuts, sewing up the larger ones, and set his knee. Geoff slipped a card into the pocket of her scrubs. She called the number and Geoff told her he didn't have much above a dream, a so-so reputation and a shitty apartment, but he needed a partner like her, one with medical know-how.   A year later, Jack is chatting with Geoff over the phone while scouting a joint for a heist. She's a cute, somewhat chubby, middle aged woman; no one would suspect her of being aligned with the gangster Geoff Ramsey. She's heading back to her car when someone bumps into her. She wouldn't have noticed if not for the mumbled 'sorry' she barley hears. A thin man stumbles away from her. He looks like a walking shadow, as if he'll vanish before her eyes. She hangs up on Geoff and tails the man. Her hand hovers over the switchblade in her back pocket as she gently takes his arm and asks him if he's okay. He turns to face her and she's stunned by how young he really is. He barley looks a day over seventeen. He introduces himself as Gavin Free and it's obvious he hasn't eaten properly in weeks. He's gaunt and covered in cuts and bruises. He had just come over from England, running from a horrible childhood and an even worse gang. He looks at her like a kicked dog, as if expecting to be hit, but she only guides him to her car and takes him back home. On the way, she calls Geoff back and lets him know. At first, the man nearly blows a gasket. But when they get home and Geoff sees the state Gavin is in, he eases up. If he was left on the streets any longer, he would have either been beaten or starved to death. Jack nurses him back to health, giving him a warm bed, food and a place to come home to.   An angry, trans boy runaway, too fucked up in his family's eyes to stay in New Jersey is next. He hitches a ride to Los Santos in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and enough money to buy shitty gas station food. He seeks out Jack himself after hearing rumors of a Gang Nurse who would help you if you needed it. Again, Jack doesn't ask why an obviously female face is insisting his name is Michael Jones and he needs help. So Jack takes in another stray, another member for her growing family. Him and Gavin instantly bond, and soon they're inseparable. Jack gets Michael on testosterone to help him transition and therapy if and/or when he needs it.   Another year passes. Jack is coming home from the grocery store when she spots a bloody and branded man in a grimy purple hoodie. She takes him home, who gave his name as Ray Navarez Jr., and tells him that his brand, a wound from another gang he tried to leave, would heal if he took care of it properly. Geoff knows a guy who can do a badass cover up tattoo when he was ready, if he wanted. Just like that, another baby bird comes to the nest. Jack makes a mental note to get Geoff, Michael, and Gavin to teach that gang a lesson.   That same night, the crew is roused out of bed by a distressed rapping on the door. Jack opens the door to a half dead, fully traumatized man in his early to mid thirties. He manages a broken "heard you could help me" before collapsing on her doorstep. Jack races to help him while Geoff keeps the boys. She forgoes sleep, staying by his bedside all night and through the following day and night, until he wakes up, until she's certain he'll make it. He eventually gets around to introducing himself as Ryan Haywood. He quietly regales her with stomach churning tales of what had happened to him in his last gang. She adds the gang's name to the mental note. She shows him the first love he'd gotten since he left his mother and Georgia behind. They're in the process of moving to a new place, so she keeps him there, in the quiet and among her beloved roses and hyacinths and daffodils. Slowly, she starts integrating the others. Geoff and Ray first, since they're the calmest and Ryan's still on a hair trigger. As much as she loves all of he boys, Gavin and Michael together is a force to be reckoned with and not at all what Ryan needs right now. As the new house comes to life, Ryan relaxes. He loosens up around everyone - now that he's sure they won't hurt him like the last gang did - talks more, eats even more. One sunny afternoon, he shyly asks Jack if they can go to a garden center for a few plants for his room. That's when Jack knows for sure; Ryan is going to be just fine. Next to join the family is a daughter named Lindsay Tuggey. She comes to Jack beaten, bruised, sobbing, begging for help and showing all the symptoms of sexual assault. Lindsay was in an abusive relationship, which kept her alive and off the streets. The bastard beat and hit her regularly but tonight was the first time he had raped her, and when he was done that's when she ran. Lindsay knew the Gang Nurse Jack was around here somewhere, and Jack would help her. But, Lindsay was terrified the boyfriend would find her and kill her. This is when the Fakes first get a glimpse of Ryan's scary taste for murder. Who they thought was a scarred, closed off, yet oddly sweet guy, could also be the scariest, most murder happy fucker they had ever met. That day they all made a silent vow to never double cross Ryan. Michael, on the other hand, instantly takes a protective, almost romantic liking to her, promising to protect her from her ex and get her revenge for what the scum did to her.   Fresh out of their freshman years in college, on the run and scared for their lives, Jeremy Dooley and Mica Burton are last to join the Fakes family. Jack finds them, Mica curled up under a thin coat and Jeremy slowly freezing to death up under a newspaper one night in January. It may not get polar in Los Santos, but it does get pretty cold. Her heart breaking, she takes the two home and gives them food, a hot shower, and beds. They're keeping up with and almost matching Gavin and Michael's energy in no time. Mica picks up cosplay, becoming the best dressed - equal to Gavin, of course - as best disgusted of the Fakes. Her crazy matches Ryan's; the two bond instantly.   Lindsay is the one who first calls her Mom. One night, she's snuggling with Geoff on the couch, watching some trashy, late night talk show when she hears sniffling and crying from Lindsay's room. She untangles herself from Geoff and slowly lets herself into the younger woman's room, making sure Lindsay knows she's entering the room. Lindsay is sitting straight up, covered in cold sweat and bawling. Jack says nothing, but she sits down next to Lindsay and pulls her into her chest. She wraps her in a surprisingly strong grip around her midsection as Jack mutters reassuring nonsense until Lindsay calmed down. It's then she tells her she's the best Mom in the world. Did Jack cry happy tears into Geoff's shoulder when she got back to the couch? Geoff will take that to his grave.   Gavin, Michael, Ray and Jeremy pick up the affection with no problem at all. Gavin wonders how he didn't think of it earlier. Ryan, since the two are close in age, picks up a different sort of affection. Every year on Mother's Day, she gets a huge bouquet of peonies from Ryan, cementing her place as a mom of six, sister to one, and lover to another.

[criminalslovefiction]

The Mad Assasin

Chapter Two : Two Plans, Two Goals. : Fakes

Links : AO3 Wattpad 

Gavins Point of View

Well fuck my ass. Okay, okay. It’s gonna be okay. Just wait for Geoff to start explaining his plan and the fear will subside… bollocks no it won’t.

“Now, for those just joining us here’s the jist. We are trying to recruit The Vagabond, the only way we can do it is for The Cock Bites to put a price on Gavin's head and have him go after our Golden Boy. Top priority is safety over getting the Vagabond. Got it?” Geoff said in a quick burst, he seemed kind excited. Gavin looked around and saw a mix of emotions on everyone's faces as Geoff continued.

“I have a general plan or idea of what to do,” He held up a smaller folder to the entire group, “but as you know I need my whole crew's help to work out an entire plan. My ideas so far are pretty simple to follow.” He hands a paper to each one of us, Gavin started to skim mine as he starts explaining, “Of course, we will need Golden Fuck over here to screw around with The Cock Bites, ya know, blow up a few transports, hack into their accounts, fuck up a few heists. We need to make it look like you are completely pissing them off with your antics. Which shouldn’t be hard considering he’s done it enough times.” He turns his gaze pointedly at Gavin, slight annoyance and playful accusation in his stare.

“Alright, look here, I was just havin’ a laugh when I shot those fireworks at the truck. I had no idea that the truck would explode or that the truck had over a million bucks alright.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, but hey you know what it’s true. I was just having fun. At least Geoff was there after he hear the explosion and paid them back for what they lost...Okay maybe I shouldn’t have done that.

Geoff just rolled his eyes at Gavin, “Well, Gav, I’m gonna need you to do that again, and again and maybe like four other annoying tasks that could warrant a hit on you. This way the Vagabond just thinks that they’re annoyed of your shit, and take the hit for like...what? You think he’ll take about 6 Mil. for Gavin alive?” Gavin had felt a weird warmth in his chest. He thought I was worth 6 Million dollars. Aww, I was sure he would only go to one million.

Gain gave him a warm smile and he started to snicker because, never the less, he was putting a price on his head and all Gavin did was smile happily at him... Fuck it, I’m still god damn flattered.

“Geoffrey?” A random thought entered Gavin’s mind.

Should I really ask though? I mean I already called for him I suppose, and hey it’s important to me… I wonder if it’ll get me trouble? I mean this is a serious discussion. Though I should be able to ask whatever the bloody hell I want to ask since my heads on the line. I wonder how much someone would pay for my head on a literal line. Like would someone pay for a Golden boy head necklace thing or-

Though Gavin’s train of thought was interrupted by Geoff giving a few large and over dramatic coughs to catch attention back back to him. Gavin quirked his left eyebrow in question to see what he wants.

He gives an exasperated look, “Don’t give me that look, you called my name, the fuck do you want?”

Oh yea I forgot, “Haha sorry, I got lost thinking about how much someone would pay for a necklace of my head. Anyways, how much do I get to spend on blowing up The Cock Bites shit?” There were burst of laughter from around the table, Michaels was the loudest. “Wot? It’s a legitimate question.” Everyone except Gavin, Geoff and Jack were losing their shit.

Jack put a hand up to Geoff before he could either make an annoyed retort or answer the question. “Wait, how the fuck did spending money on blowing shit up turn into head necklaces?” Well…

“I mean it’s not that odd, we talked about how much I was worth and price of my head.”

“OKAY! Back onto the fucking topic at hand. Gavin. You will have one, all the explosives we have available in the building so use those first. Two, $5,000 spending cash for whatever extra trouble you want to cause. Finally, number three, you have Michael to cause havoc with.”

Gavin and Michael go out of both of our chairs and high-fives across the table, “Yeah! Got my boi!”

“Fuck yeah you got me boi, I AM the god damn explosions expert. I need to make sure you don’t blow yourself up again!” ...That was one bloody time.

“Yeah Vav, you kind of need to be alive so we can send a murder happy sociopath after your ass!” Gavin turned to Ray and saw a shit-eating grin on his face, you were the one who bet me to blow it up you bloke and thanks for the reminder about having to be bait for one of the most creatively fucked up people in all of Los Santos.

“Oh whatever X-Ray, you shithead. Alright, what happens after the hit Geoff?” Might as well get this show on the road. Get it all over with quickly and hope that I don’t get god damn killed.

“Well, you are already the only one of us who saunters through the city without care since your stupidly overconfident. So, continue with that. Apparently he likes to watch his targets for several weeks before he hits his targets. Hell sometimes he even interacts with them and gets to know them to ‘further his studies,’ but I just think that it’s to fuck with his target like a predator when it plays with it’s prey.”

‘So it’s basically a game of cat and mouse?’

“Yeah basically,” Bollocks, I said that out loud, well at least it wasn’t anything too embarrassing. “However, to make you more of an appealing target you will also have to start staying at your second safe house apartment in MourningWood. Some nights, like after a heist you can clock out here, but on regular nights you need to stay there. Don’t worry either, we’ll set up cameras around the area outside and inside the apartment. I’ll also pay to have a full computer set up there for you so you can still talk with us and practice ...hacking? Or whatever the shit you do without us there.”

...I do more then hacking you sausage, why the fuck does he think I spend so much on equipment if it were just for hacking into a bank, I mea- You know what fuck it. It’s whatever.

“Sounds doable. I mean, I’m shite at shooting, but I can hold my own in hand-to-hand combat though I might need someone nearby or somethin’ like that. While I’m there too I might as well use my time to collect some info on this bloke, I’m also assuming that you’ll want me to start stayin’ there by tomorrow?” Geoff had seemed startled for a moment, a small look of pride on his face at the fact that Gavin was really thinking this thing through and not just messing around like normal. Maybe the good parts of him were really rubbing off on the kid. Maybe.

“We will absolutely have either Michael, Jeremy or Trevor and Ray nearby. I will have Matt, Treyco, Mica and Larry head over to the house as soon as I get a list of supplies from you that you need for the setup of everything and have them put it together. Also, you and Jack need to go shopping for regular essentials to have because there isn’t shit there.”

Geoff gave Gavin a notepad and pen, Let’s see, I’ll need from four to nine monitors depending on room, surge protectors, it might take too much time to build it from scratch so I’ll have them simply buy the computers. Two keyboards, one mouse, cables, and xbox  and playstation to keep me busy, a new camera for “surveillance”, a fishing pole so he could ‘catch’ The Vagabond, mini fridge since that’s the room I’ll basically live in and what else…

After the list was complete he handed it over to Trevor who glanced at the list and gave him a roll of his eyes at some of the more ridiculous requests of his. He turned to his crew and motioned his head towards the door to indicate that it was time for them to leave and get everything. They all walked out the door with a small wave from Matt at the end.

When the door was closed off again Jack began to speak, “Alright, so that was pretty much what we had of the plan that we knew was most likely to work. However there is an in between from giving him the contract to capturing him and well, forcefully talking to him about our contract… Okay we are still working the whole capture talk thing out. For now though, you need to know that you will be on your own in the in between. We can run an interference if things get a little heated, but only Jeremy or Ray can since, besides you, no one really knows their true identities. Jeremy always wears shit to ridiculous for anyone to focus on his looks and Ray is always at his perch. So-”

“Ey, hold up, just so you know Vav. I’ve been fucking with you, but you are my best friend and if lays a hand on you that you aren’t comfortable with being there I will be there watching and will shoot him right in the goddamn face. Got it?”

Ray was looking at Gavin intensely as he finished speaking, his normal goofy and annoyed personality was gone. Only his concern for his lifelong friend was left.

Gavin gave a sincere smile to his best friend, they may have fucked around and gave hurtful comments that weren't meant to hurt. Now though, how much they cared for each other was truly shown.

‘Awww X-Ray. That’s so sweet’

Ray’s intense gaze became slightly more relaxed as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, Gavin knew that he accidently spoke aloud and decided to just take it in stride.

“You are the best friend I could have ever gotten X-Ray, of course I’ll give you the normal sign of the shrug and two hands behind my back signal if I feel like he needs to go down alright?” Ray nods his head and his face completely softens at Gavin’s words.

Everyone at the table can’t help themselves from admiring the two best friends. Throughout their entire lives they managed to stay together, learn together, kill together, cry together and most importantly love together. Love themselves and each other, never leaving the other behind. Their friendship was what most criminals could only hope for one day.

Jack looked between the two and smiled as she began to talk, “Don’t worry Gav, we got you. Hell, if you really are in a predicament you can easily put on your facade and get yourself out. He may be a little hard to use it on since he’s...well The Vagabond, but your good. You’ve managed to salvage a lot of shit with The Golden Boy.”

Gavin visibly grimaced a bit, he didn’t really want to have to use The Golden Boy on a potential crew member. He liked being Gavin and Golden yes, but he just didn’t like using him on people he trusts. Well for this, on a person he may have to trust soon, someone who may not trust him after seeing how easily he can change and become someone else completely.

She was right though, his facade had helped out the crew a lot. He always put on his mask if he would be interacting with people outside the crew that he didn’t know during a mission. That mask become a poster for the crew, just like Geoff with his suit and mustache and Jack with her silly hawaiian shirts. Though only The Fakes and few others crew knew that he wasn’t as cruel and smooth as the world saw him.

“I know, I’m going to try going in as Gavin though. I’ve never met…” Gavin picked up the file in front of him looking for The Vagabonds real name, “Ryan. I’ve never met Ryan. He has also never met The Golden Boy, if he does much surveillance then he’ll simply think that those knobs we deal with are exaggerating or somthin’ like that about me being scary and shit. He’ll probably think it’s Geoff’s way of protecting me since everyone knows that I’m kind of like a son to you. A british son, who kills, that steals all your shit, and has two personalities I can control.”

Geoff had tried fighting off the grin that wanted to escape his lips. Though his efforts worked to no avail as he was smiling like an idiot at Gavin. His features soften than before, still hard in some places though since he was trying to be serious.

I wonder if I really am a true son to him. I mean I love him like a friend who acts like a father, a father who tries to stick random shite up my ass. Prick.

“Good thinking Gav. If he does try to come talk to you to get info or some shit. Just stay calm and be your dorky self. Maybe even try to get to know him a bit, we may know his real name, address and general fake like, but we don’t know him personally. Anything you can get about the real him, not just The Vagabond, but Ryan. That would be good, we could see how well he may fare here if he decides he wants to be more personal with everyone.” Geoff spoke with a confused admiration. The admiration aimed that Gavin was taking this all more seriously than he had originally thought. Of course this is why he was confused as well. It didn’t matter though, their plan was coming together.

“Haha, hey Gavin, he actually looks like your type. His picture without the creepy mask or scary face paint is on page 7. Who knows, maybe you’ll get to know him pretty ‘personally’” Michaels voices was laced with a challenging amusement.

Does this fucker actually want me, as regular Gavin and not Golden Boy, to try and seduce the bloody Vagabond? … The mask and war paint actually doesn’t look bad on him… ‘Holy fuck he’s actually really damn hot. How the hell is this bloke this cute’

Ray started to snicker as Gavin, for about the third time today, said his thoughts aloud. However Geoff wasn’t having any of it. He whipped his head around and glared at Ray to get him to shut the fuck up and then to Michael as if challenging him to keep talking.

“Oi Geoff, come off it. It’s alright, it’s just a joke. He would never actually want to bang me, he’s a sociopath and if he did I’m well hard to get.” This time Michael and Ray couldn’t keep in anything and burst out laughing, “What?!” Gavin squawked.

He heard Jeremy give a small chuckle from behind him, “Dude, you fucked, what, like three dudes last week?”

“So?! I was just feeling up to it last week!”

“Yea Vav, you felt up a lot.”

“OKAY THAT’S ALL I NEED TO HEAR! BACK TO THE TOPIC!” Geoff was red in the face, Gavin wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, anger or pure awkwardness from hear about his sexual activities. “God that didn’t last long, but it was as uncomfortable as dicks.”

“...Lasted longer then Gavin.”

“GOD DAMMIT RAY!” Geoff just put his head in his hands and spoke in an exasperated and tired tome as to indicated that he was done with all their shit, “Gavin. Jack. Please go to the store, I think we made enough progress for today.”

“Sure thing Geoffrey! C’mon Jack!” Gavin bounced up from his chair, hooked Jack by the arm and practically ran out of the room trying to avoid anymore jokes about his sexual activities.

Hopefully Jack won’t bring up anything about it or The Vagabo-er Ryan during this trip. I might as well get used to using his name now so I don’t flub it later on. Who knows, maybe we’ll even become friends...Ha, yea right.

[allhallows-art]

PRIMAL - 1

So it’s been like forever since I did writing but Achievement Hunter has just made me love it again. Anyways, this is partially based off of the video game Thief but with a modern setting. Let’s hope I can do this good. Reblogs would really be appreciated but likes are also cool.

Words: 1816

Characters: Mainly from Jeremy’s perspective but Ryan will also eventually be a heavy character. Each character in each chapter will be in the tags

Warnings: just some curse words from Michael Jones

QUICK NOTE: this writing is mainly because I made a Jeremy Dooley style dnd character and since I can’t play dnd for a while (my whole team is on holiday) i’m having to use writing as a way to entertain myself. So, I apologise if this isn’t normal Jeremy. I’m trying my hardest to keep the balance between what I want and what others would like. Hope that makes any sense

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They had to forget. Forget everything they knew about the past. It was the only way to get through this war. But no one ever expected to lose their memories for real. The room was quiet. Silent almost if it wasn’t for the breathing coming for the other figures in the dark. Jeremy’s hands felt around on the floor, trying to recognise his surrounds. Cold. Cold and solid. The rough texture signalled stone and the scraping he heard as someone stood confirmed his thoughts. How he got here, he had no idea. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything before this room. Had he always been here? No, he can’t have. He held his breath for a moment, trying to figure out how many more people were in the room. He could make out two definite others near him. Squinting his eyes and letting them adjust to the dark, he could guess there were at least three others on the opposite side of the room. Suddenly, a bright light blinded Jeremy, his arm over his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. He could hear the murmurs of annoyance, no one wanting to say anything more. Jeremy’s eyes soon adjusted, looking around the room as the others still recovered. The room was all stone, like some sort of creepy basement. A small round table sat in the middle and Jeremy could see a little card sat upon it. Before he could go over to the table, the man to his left strode over and grabbed at the card. Jeremy recognised something about the man, scanning over his harsh face and then his outfit. He seemed ordinary apart from the black and blue leather jacket that added some flare. The man’s eyebrow raised as he read the note, glancing to meet Jeremy’s gaze. “You’re that Dooley kid. The young one that got sent to fight because of some ability.” His words were factual but Jeremy was amazed he knew anything about him. “Uh, yeah. I’m that kid,” he mumbled, his head suddenly turning to the voice behind him. “Michael!” the British accent echoed loudly through the room as the slim figure quickly made his way past both Jeremy and Mr Leather, as Jeremy had named him. This British man slammed his body into a curly haired guy only slightly shorter than him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Jeremy assumed that was Michael. “Jesus fucking Christ, Gavin. Get off me you fucking prick.” The shorter of the two was frantically pushing Gavin off himself whilst Mr Leather just sighed and shook his head. By now the two-other people in the room had stood themselves to their feet and looked to the two on the floor. Jeremy turned his attention back to Mr Leather. “What does the card say?” he pressed, pushing a hand through his lime green hair. But his words went unnoticed as a rather punk looking man approached. “Ryan, they can’t seriously be needing us again. This shit has been gone for years. How can it suddenly just reappear?” he muttered frantically, stumbling over a few of his words. The guy Jeremy saw was noticeably larger than the others, with a large red beard that allowed him to pass as a pirate if he really wanted. “Geoff, you can’t be sure that’s why we’re here. Perhaps it’s just a friendly crew meet up,” the red head spoke, trying to calm the surprisingly nervous punk. Ryan shook his head though. “There’s no way they’d dump us all back here with a new guy if it wasn’t about that.” Jeremy just looked back and forth, confused. “What on earth are any of you talking about?” he asked, started to get frustrated. Just before anyone could answer, a door behind Jeremy opened, him surprised he didn’t notice the steel door earlier. Inside stepped a tall, slim man with hair as blonde as it could be yet black eyebrows. The expression on his face was smug for a spilt second but went serious as soon as Ryan glared at him. “Ah, Crew, it’s lovely to see you all again. And I hope you made your new member feel very welcome.” His hands were held behind his back, him being dressed noticeably smarter than the rest of them. The guy was in a fucking button shirt and tie with braces for god sake. “Wipe that smile off your face, Trevor. You said that we were done. You promised us we wouldn’t haven’t to return to this hell hole,” Ryan began harshly with his words, a look of anger on his face. Fear seemed to flash across Trevor and he quickly brought his hands up in defence. “Hey, look, I may be the head of this department but I’m not the one that gave me orders to get you guys back here.” Trevor was rambling now, his voice almost shaking as if scared of Ryan’s temper. Jack gave a small sigh, stepping just in front of Ryan but behind Jeremy. “Trevor, just explain what’s going on,” he spoke calmly, trying to be the logic within this chaos. “We’ve heard reports of The Gloom being used to create sort of mutant villains. Our proof? Soldiers are dying all over the damn place but some are being found with black blood. Care to follow?” Trevor took a step out of the room and gestured for them to follow, Ryan taking the lead and walking after him down the corridor. Each of the other crew members followed quietly, Jeremy having to tag along at the back of the line. Despite being told he was now a part of this group, he was certainly feeling the lack of care the others had for him. “Some of the blood was brought back to our labs and, after a few tests, it is definitely linked to The Gloom. But it’s different this time. It seems to try and fuse with the person and not just take them over and transform them into those horrifying abominations we had to deal with last time.” “You didn’t have to deal with anything,” Ryan grumbled and Trevor nodded “Okay, I’ll give you that but whatever. None of that matters now. What this all means is that they somehow preserved The Gloom and have been improving it. It still seems to react badly to the primal stone samples we have in the labs but how on earth you can use that to fight these mutants is a mystery.” They continued walking down the tiled corridor, passing many sealed doors, until they turned a corner and came to a rusty door. The handle seemed worn down, a wooden board where a glass panel used to be. “Welcome home, boys,” Trevor said with a smile as he unlocked the door to reveal the room. It was substantial in size, big enough to fit three bunk beds along with a living area, kitchen area and even a table to seat them all. “I suggest you get a good night’s sleep and then we can start doing training checks on you tomorrow.” And with that, Trevor returned down the dimly lit corridor, leaving the six of them alone. Gavin and Michael immediately pushed their way into the room like excitedly little kids, jack, Geoff and Ryan stepping in after them. Jack settled himself on the dull brown couch, Michael and Gavin both clambering on to the top bunks of the beds. Geoff began checking the kitchen to find the cupboards and fridge stocked with food and drinks galore. Meanwhile Ryan remained stood in the doorway, Jeremy just behind him. Ryan turned and flashed the green haired boy a smile. “Welcome to The Crew, kid. I’m Ryan Haywood. Although people call me Vagabond.” He held out his hand towards Jeremy, Jeremy shaking it softly. “Come on in and I’ll give you a quick catch up.” It wasn’t long before Geoff and jack were on the couch, distracting themselves with tv, whilst Michael and Gavin spoke across the bunk beds about all the crazy things they’d done whilst apart. Ryan and Jeremy were sat at the dining table, a diet coke in front of Ryan. “So, what’s all this about?” Jeremy questioned, stirring the straw around in his glass of coke. “Well, where do I start? The five, sorry, six of us are called The Crew. We each have some sort of mutant or special ability. And there’s these things called Primal Stones. They’re neat littles that are attracted to people with powers but only come to those people at the right time. I’m going to assume you have one, even if you don’t know what it is yet.” Ryan paused, taking a sip of his drink. “these primal stones are also the only thing that can destroy the Gloom. It’s like some mutant virus thing that none of us really understand but we just fight it.” “Wait, what’s your Primal Stone?” Jeremy asked, curious. Ryan reached into his pocket of his jacket and pulled out a flat iridescent stone, turning it in his fingers. “Mine’s nothing special,” he mumbled before returning it to its pocket. “Anyways, quick bits about the guys. Gavin is weirdly smart. Like, he can be stupid most of the time but he can hack into a system in a matter of minutes. Geoff is great at deception. He plays card tricks all the time and has learnt to use his telekinesis to his advantage. A floating card trick is way cooler, trust me. Jack has super strength but a kind heart. If possible, he’s always ready to save one of us. Michael is totally useless out of the field. But, when fighting, he’s one of the best. His aim is always perfect.” He took another sip of his drink, Jeremy raising an eyebrow. “What about you?” “me? Well, I have the ability set fear in one’s mind. I can make someone so scared that they have no idea what they’re fighting for. I’m like everyone’s own personal nightmare.” Jeremy seemed a little taken aback as Ryan had been the only one to show any kindness towards him. But then his mind flashed back to his earlier interaction with Trevor and it was no longer surprising. “Well, what about you, kid? What do you have to give?” Jeremy thought for a moment before slowing raising his hand and clicking his fingers. A small flame appeared at his fingers before a puff of his breath extinguished it. Ryan smiled, impressed with this fresh meat. “We have long day tomorrow. Get some rest.” All six were soon stripping down to boxers and clambering into their bunk, Geoff taking the last top bunk whilst Jack, Ryan and Jeremy took the bottom three. It wasn’t long before Jeremy could hear the soft breathing of his sleeping roommates, him only able to stare at the bunk above him.

[airadam]

Episode 123 : Count On It.

"...we see people as numbers and we make 'em check a box."

- Invincible

I couldn't not acknowledge the numerical sequence in this month's episode number! The episode title ties into that, but also the consistency I pride myself on when it comes to getting the show completed; on time, every time. As far as the tunes this time out, there are a few that play on the theme, plus we remember the great Sean Price on the 4th anniversary of his passing, as well as a bunch of other interesting tracks both old and new. 1, 2, 3, let's go!

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Geto Boys : 1, 2, the 3

I'm opening with this track just on principle, but only including Scarface's opening verse - if you want the whole thing, look up "The Foundation" album. That Tone Capone (who gave us the classic "I Got 5 On It") groove is wicked though...

[Pete Rock] Ed O.G. : Right Now! (Instrumental)

It's always good to hear a Pete Rock beat, and the re-issue of "My Own Worst Enemy", his album with Boston legend Edo G, has a full set of instrumentals 👍

Sean Price ft. St.Maffew : Weed & Hoes

Disrespectful on multiple levels - but so good. Not sure who produced this, but that's a brilliant bit of sample manipulation to turn gospel vocals into the hook for this thugged-out track. Sean's verse is definitely the one, but Maffew Ragazino (performing under an (in)appropriate alias) does his thing here too. If you can find it, this track is on the "Kimbo Price" mixtape. I can't believe this is ten years old already!

Heather B : All Glocks Down

A classic anti-gun record from the mid-90s, with this BDP affiliate taking no kinds of shorts on the mic at all! In fact, she would say she was "Takin' Mine", as her debut LP was titled. Kenny Parker works an old soul classic for the beat.

Termanology ft. Bun B : How We Rock

I don't know why I haven't played this one until now - it's been a headphone favourite for a long time, as you can tell by the reference to "Obama '08"! Lawrence, MA and Port Arthur, TX in combination here as Termanology brings in the legend Bun B of UGK to add his gravitas and gravelly flow to this DJ Premier-produced track. "Politics As Usual" is definitely worth a listen if you don't know it, and a re-listen if you do - there are a good number of quality tracks on it.

Papoose : Numerical Slaughter

Every time I think of Papoose, I now think of the late Combat Jack (RIP) - that said, I'd like to think even he couldn't deny this one! In a thematic blend between "Alphabetical Slaughter" and something like Emanon's "Count Your Blessings", 2019 Papoose runs through the numbers one to nine over a dramatic DJ Premier beat. Bars like this show that the title of his new LP ("Underrated") is an accurate one.

Jel : Loop/Truncate

We take a break from the rhymes to hear some pure SP1200 wizardry from Anticon's Jel, taken from the appropriately-titled "10 Seconds" album. That drum programming clearly took some serious work - those who've ever tried it will understand the difficulty level of some of those fills! 

Bumpy Knuckles ft. Big Gov, V Stylez, and Kuye Mason : In Love With The Game

The "Pop Duke, Vol.1" LP is a heavy collaboration with the producer Nottz which is a recommended pickup if you love that boom-bap sound. While there are some big guests on the album, this track features some less well-known artists - Big Gov and V Stylez from Detroit, plus NYC's Kuye Mason on the hook. The beat grinds along like a drunk and grimier version of EPMD's "Headbanger", and after all the guests have eaten, Bumpy Knuckles comes in at the end to do what he does best - clean up like a pro.

Freddie Gibbs : Fuckin' Up The Count

Dark drug business from Gangsta Gibbs' "Shadow of a Doubt" LP. If you were a fan of "The Wire", you might recognise the intro voiceover, bridge, and the outro (if you can hear it) from some classic scenes taken from that monumental series. Speakerbomb, Frank Dukes, and Boi-1da merge some melancholy piano and bass which match the theme with some clean trap drums for that speaker shake.

Portishead : Numb 

The classic "Dummy" album, Portishead's debut, is twenty-five years old this month! This was the lead single, and one hell of an introduction to this Bristol trio. Hip-Hop heads would immediately be able to detect the presence of kindred spirits in method and influence, if not direct style. A track like this wouldn't be the same without Geoff Barrow's scratching filling in the breaks between Beth Gibbons' killer vocals. If you don't know this album, sit in on an evening and give it a front-to-back listen.

Marco Polo ft. Sean P & Rock : I'm So High (Remix)

It was completely coincidental I ended up choosing two weed-themed Sean P tracks this month! This one is new to me, but is a winner - reuniting Heltah Skeltah on a fire Marco Polo beat. The original version of this track, minus Rock, is at least seven years old, so it's not a posthumous piece as such - Marco and Sean definitely worked together on this. "The Green" mini-album compilation is a whole project of ganja business, which I can at least appreciate on a music level even if it's not my experience :)

MFSB : Something For Nothing

Even if you don't know this song, it'll be familiar to quite a number of you because it's been sampled so many times! I'm playing this from an old dusty 7", but that's just a single release from the 1973 self-titled debut album from the house band of the mighty Philadelphia International Records.

The Left ft. Invincible : Statistics

I believe it was Vicky T's "Rhyme & Reason" show that introduced me to this track. The Left is a Detroit crew made up of Journalist 103 on the mic, Apollo Brown on production, and DJ Soko with the cuts. Local mic flamethrower Invincible is the featured artist on this selection from the 2010 "Gas Mask" album, and both MCs paint pictures (one first-person, one not) of hard lives in the face of an uncaring, bureaucratic system.

Rapsody ft. GZA and D'Angelo : Ibtihaj

Now this is what you call a big co-sign - Rapsody rhyming over a tweaked version of the "Liquid Swords" beat, and getting GZA himself to contribute a guest verse! If that wasn't enough, the notoriously reclusive D'Angelo comes in to perform the hook. That kind of weight lets you know that this MC is the truth. She commands the mic with strength and confidence, and it feels like the start of a coming-out party. The new "Eve" album is a sixteen-song collection where every track is names after a woman Rapsody admires - in this case, the American Muslim hijabi fencer Ibtihaj Muhammad. Enjoy listening here, but the striking video is definitely worth a watch too!

Camp Lo : Superfly

This Camp Lo demo is dope as-is, but one that I wouldn't have minded hearing done again for the "Uptown Saturday Night" LP. As it is, this is a track that was unknown to most of us until the release of "On The Way Uptown", which collected together a lot of the demos and sketches from that era. Boom-bap, sparkle, and slang in abundance.

DRS ft. Enei : Count To Ten

Last episode you heard DRS in Hip-Hop mode from his most recent LP, but here we go D&B as we wind it all the way back to his debut LP, "I Don't Usually Like MCs But..." DRS delivers his lines with a measured aggression and is never hurried by the track - like an MC version of the T-101. For the instrumental, Russian producer Enei keeps things stark and dark.

Kev Brown : Victorious

Beat-heads will enjoy Kev Brown's short concept beat tape "Delve Into Classical Moog" from which this is taken; not only does he make heavy use of the sounds of the synth of the same name, but also samples the words of the great Robert Moog himself. I've extended this track a bit to make it more suitable for the show outro voiceover, and it was one well worth playing right to the end.

Redman : Da Countdown (Saga Continues)

This might have been a more appropriate pick for episode 321, but if I'm lucky and energetic enough to get that far, that's over sixteen years away - which would make this track officially an oldie! As it is, this is the highlight of the 2004 "Ill At Will" mixtape by Redman, coming out on his then-new label, Gilla House. The beat is bombastic, and Red is not coming meek and mild with it either! The  sample on the hook should sound familiar to those who've been listening since the 90s - it's from the final NWA album. Ironic that the saga did not continue in the way they might have expected...

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

  Check out this episode!