Magpies and Shiny things

I didn't go through the bureaucratic process of changing my Norwegian personal ID number, which encodes gender in it, because having an odd number there made me feel bad.

I did it because for someone with my name and outward appearance, having "man" on my IDs reveals private medical information to everyone who sees the document, information that they aren't entitled to know, which they might act on in deeply undesirable ways.

Taking HRT also isn't something I'm doing to be affirmed, it's something I'm doing because the biological processes signaled by having high levels of estrogen and low levels of testosterone are both something I want, and something that helps my overall well-being and functioning in daily life. Material, real, physiological effects that are well understood, easy to look up, and not about some vague sense that putting estrogen in my bloodstream is a badge of validity handed out by the doctor.

Like at some point I just want to ask these people if they actually believe trans people exist or if they just feel obligated to humor the idea to be nice. Have they actually understood that there are people walking around today with the full effects of transition care already sorted? Have they comprehended that the surgeries exist beyond the occasional picture of someone who's still in recovery?

@thatlittleegyptologist

Anything Roswell, please

a continuation of 1 2

Flint doesn't like Alex. He's annoying and holier than thou and he never listens to Dad no matter what Dad does to him and instead of giving in and making life easier for all of them, he takes beating after beating and makes him watch.

When Dad's hitting Alex, he's stone faced, uncaring and unmoving. When Alex is getting hit, he's all furious glares and bared bloody teeth, like some sort of mindless animal that refuses to learn its lesson.

Alex and Dad are always so completely focused on each other, and it's for the best, because it means neither of them see it when he and Greg flinch.

It's not that Dad never hits him or Greg, never pins them down and uses his strength as a threat, it's just not that often. It's something that other people might not even have a problem with, even, tough love or discipline or something like that. There's no reason for him to take it any further with them. They back down, they back off, they say Yessir and do whatever it is that Dad wants them to and then everything's fine again.

When Alex curls his lip back, derisive and mocking even with blood everywhere, he looks like Mom.

Flint knows that he and Alex look alike in a lot of ways. But he's never looked in the mirror and seen their mother, not like how sometimes he sees her so clearly when looking at Alex.

He knows that Alex thinks that Dad had some sort of sixth sense about him being gay, but Flint doesn't think so. He thinks that before he had the gay thing to pin it all on, it was just that Alex reminded him a little too much of Mom.

Alex's refusal to fall in line makes all their lives worse and Flint resents him for it. But he's still his little brother and as much as he irritates the fuck out of him and drives him nuts and no matter the shit his stubbornness puts him through, Flint doesn't like seeing him hurt. That's half the fucking problem.

He really doesn't want him dead.

It's not looking good. None of his stuff gone. Blood in the shed. All his friends insisting they haven't heard from him. His phone left behind. That fucking hammer.

But it's not hopeless. Not yet.

They haven't found a body.

"We should drive out to the desert tonight," Clay says, chair tipped back while he flips a gold dollar coin between his fingers. Flint hates those things. He doesn't even know why Clay has one.

Greg frowns, arms crossed. He looks tired. He's looked tired since he's shown up. Dad seems to have bought the story of a change of schedule for Greg, but there's no excuse they could give to explain Clay, so he's staying at the only motel in town and the three of them are in his cramped shitty room and Flint has a count in his head constantly reminding him how many days it's been since anyone's seen his little brother.

"For what?" Greg asks.

I would love literally anything you want to write, but perhaps especially Emmerdale, Supernatural, or RNM?

I've seen none of those btw, I just love your takes on them so so so much :)

Have a good timezone <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

a continuation of 1

The first thing Greg thinks when he sees Clay is that he looks like Alex.

Clay doesn't look that different at twenty seven than he looked at seventeen, but Alex had barely been eight when Clay and Mom left. He hadn't realized how much Alex had grown to look like their eldest brother. The same planes of his face, the same lips, the same eyes. He keeps his hair shorter than Alex, he's a little taller, his skin a littler darker, but besides that he's a dead ringer for him.

"Hey," he says when Clay draws closer. Flint is distracting Dad at the range so they'll have free reign of the house and Greg thinks he's grateful that he doesn't have an audience for this. He's not sure if he should salute him or punch him or hug him or what. He doesn't know what the rules are for something like this. "I could have picked you up."

"I prefer having my own ride," he says, nodding outside towards the massive SUV that he'd rented at the airport. The vague friendliness drains from his face and settles into something grim. "What've you got?"

"He's been missing for about two and half weeks," he reports as he leads him towards the shed. "He skipped the last week of school and no one's seen him since even though the graduation ceremony is next week. He talked to Maria DeLuca about skipping town early because Dad wanted him to enlist, so she's not concerned. Liz Ortecho left on a roadtrip with her older sister Rosa, but their father confirmed he saw them off and Alex wasn't with them. Kyle Valenti doesn't know anything, but they stopped being friends freshman year, so that's not a surprise. From what we can tell, none of his stuff is gone."

They step inside the shed and Clay's eyes catch on the blood immediately, then the hammer. He crouches down, looking at the splatter but then scanning the rest of the floor as well. "What's Alex weigh these days?"

Greg shrugs. "One sixty? Seventy? He's five ten but pretty dense."

That had been something that drove him nuts during the years Dad had forced them all to train together. Greg was taller and the fastest runner, but Flint and Alex packed on muscle like it was nothing. It was especially annoying with Alex, since he didn't even really follow Dad's nutrition plan like Flint did.

"Dad's back still messed up?" Clay asks.

He gets it then. "Depends on the day. He could probably carry Alex if he had to, but there'd be consequences." Clay just waits and Greg shrugs again. "I haven't noticed anything and neither has Flint, but Alex was already missing a week by the time he came home."

Clay hums. "You found his phone?"

Greg pulls it from his pocket and hands it over. "We charged it, but we don't know the password. We tried his birthday, the year his favorite albums came out, the phone manufacture year, and nothing. He hasn't received any calls."

"Not that many texts either," he says, eyebrows pulling together. "Who's Guerin?"

"What?" Greg looks down. He's unlocked Alex's phone. It's been his hands less than a minute. "How did you - what was it?"

"Mom's birthday," he answers. There's a beat of silence where the unspoken question hovers between them - should they bring Mom in on this? - then he moves on. "We don't have anything definitive. There are plenty of explanations that we haven't ruled out."

"But?" he prompts.

"But," Clay sighs, "Alex turns eighteen in a couple weeks. An eighteen year old runaway isn't actually a problem, legally speaking. So if something did happen..."

His stomach lurches. "He just has to wait. Alex told his friends he was planning on running, he's an adult, and it's not like school or anything will be checking up on him."

Alex could just disappear. If Dad killed him, there's not really anyone or any reason to point a finger at him. Even if Alex's friends eventually get worried about his silence, they're not going to think something happened to him Roswell, but in whatever city he supposedly ran off to.

"Dad and Sheriff Valenti are friends," Clay says. "We're going to need some actual evidence of foul play before going to him." He swallows, the veneer cracking for just a moment. "Or a body."

I will love literally anything you write, but I'd especially like a continuation of Living Blood, the emmerdale vic&aaron fic, or anything for rnm or spn :)

Love love love love <3 <3 <3 <3

Greg sees a call come in from his brother and almost doesn't answer it. But he can't really remember the last time Flint called him for anything, so he sighs and accepts the call. "Hey."

"Hey," he echoes, a strange tone to his voice that has Greg's stomach dropping. He's still in the midst of convincing himself that it's a ridiculous reaction when Flint continues, "Got home from basic a couple days ago."

"Okay," he says, purposefully not lifting his voice into a question, but he's sure Flint picks up on it anyway.

The silence stretches between them. Finally Flint says, "Haven't seen Alex."

"What are you talking about?" he snaps, lips strangely numb. "He's graduating in two weeks."

"Haven't seen him," Flint repeats.

"Maybe he's just avoiding you." It doesn't mean anything. Alex is seventeen, he's a dumb teenager, there are a thousand explanations. "What did Dad say?"

"Not to waste time worrying about him," he answers. Greg is trying to figure out what to say to that when Flint asks, "Can you come home?"

"Yeah," he says, the word leaving him like he's been punched.

Flint hasn't sounded like that since before their mother left. He and Alex are at each other's throat more often than not. He hates asking anyone for anything.

He'll tell his CO it's a family emergency. His brother is missing. Maybe missing. He could just be off with his stupid friends and he'll go home and find Alex drinking and getting high in the desert and then Greg will beat his face in for making him go all the way back to Roswell for nothing.

~

Flint meets him at the airport the next day, picking him up in Dad's truck. It's a couple hours back to Roswell and they let the radio fill up the silence.

It's not until they're pulling in to the house that Flint says, "Dad's at work. It doesn't look like anything's missing from Alex's room, no gaps in his drawers or anything, but I don't know. I tried asking DeLuca if she's seen him and she says she hasn't, but," he shrugs.

Maria knows that Flint and Alex don't get along. Even if she knows where Alex is, she probably wouldn't tell Flint. "I'll ask her."

They try talking to Alex's friends and don't get anywhere. Rosa and Liz are gone, some road trip that Rosa apparently agreed to go on at the last second. They left last week and Arturo says he saw them off and swears Alex wasn't with them. Maria glares at Flint while he sits in the truck, but she does speak to him. She says that she hasn't heard from Alex and he didn't show up for school. "You don't seem worried," he prods.

She shrugs. "He was talking about leaving early because your dad wanted him to enlist. He's probably laying low in Albuquerque or something."

Without any of his clothes? Without his backpack or duffle bag or deodorant or toothbrush? Not likely.

He doesn't say that.

They go to Kyle next in pure desperation. They haven't been friends for years but Kyle knows how Alex thinks.

He raises an eyebrow at them. "Why the hell would I know where he is? So he skipped the last week of school, whatever, it's not like he was going to college."

As if their dad would let him.

Greg sits in the truck and runs a hand over his face. Finally he asks, "Did you check the shed?"

Alex loves that shed. Dad doesn't usually bother to follow him out of the house unless he's really pissed.

"What, you think he's been hiding out there the whole time?" Flint asks sarcastically.

Greg just rolls his eyes and takes them back. Dad's going to be home soon and he's going to have to come up with some sort of excuse to explain his presence here. Flint follows him to the garage even though he thinks it's a waste of time, but all it takes is one step inside for him to stop complaining.

There's blood on the floor.

Not a lot, Greg observes clinically. Not enough for someone to bleed out.

Then they see the bloody hammer on the counter. Flint goes white and still. Head wounds actually don't bleed all that much after the heart stops beating.

Greg looks over the poster covered walls, the messy bed, and he goes cold.

Alex's phone is on the floor.

They knew it was going straight to voicemail, but Alex could have just blocked their numbers. Except it's right here, next to the bloody floor and bloody hammer.

"Greg," Flint says, sounding like a little kid again. "Do you think-"

He stumbles out of the shed, desperate for clean air and sucking it in greedily. It's not proof. It's not anything.

His fingers are shaking as he dials a number he's never actually used before. He hears it pick up and doesn't give either of them a chance to breathe before saying, "I think Dad's killed Alex."

There's an intake of breath on the other side. Then a voice he hasn't heard in ten years says, "I'm on my way."

His eyes burn and he's terrified. "We don't know for sure. But no one's seen him and he hasn't taken anything and we found his phone and there's blood and a hammer and-"

"Breathe," Clay advises, voice softening. "I'm on my way."