Last man standing

[huntedprofessor]

Independent multiverse sideblog for Falling Skies' Tom Mason. A history professor turned survivor, fighting every day against impossible odds to keep his head above water. Themes include horror, violence, gore, and grief. Main verses are Falling Skies and Supernatural.

Rules | Memes | Verses | Open Starters | IC writing

Sideblog | follows from @theprisonerofasgard

OTHER MUSES

SPN Castiel | SPN OC Bern | Multifandom OC Fritz | MCU Loki | MultiMuse

Mun 30+ | Written by Bowie

[gravegotten]

She steadied the bottom of the water glass as it shook in his hands and wished she would've told the House to get her something with a lid and a decent straw. Too little too late, but at least it didn't spill all over him to add to his difficulties. "Easy there, Tom," she said low like she was coaxing some animal out of hiding. "Look, I really appreciate the sentiment but...I'm already dead you don't need to go putting yourself in front of me." Lucy settled back, using the coffee table as her seat as she looked at him sprawled out over the couch. It was luck and only luck that produced that spell, and maybe theft on the part of the House. Lucy was able to keep a hook on his soul with some finagling of a binding spell but getting it back in was really beyond her. The seal on it was old and she didn't have the time to examine it beyond it not having incredible awful side effect like a binding. "No, not really -- I'm not sure what spell exactly they used but whatever it was killed you." Inelegant, but she needed him to understand just how bad this all could have been. "I know, coming back takes a lot out of you. The spell probably kicked everything in your body into hyperdrive for healing so you'll probably be tired for a while. Maybe in a few hours we can get you to a real bed, okay?"

[huntedprofessor]

"Didn't have time to think about it." For once, Tom's voice was strained. Weak. Years of teaching in large lecture halls weren't serving him now. "Just... moved." It was a gut reaction—the spell was aiming for her, so he lunged. In a perfect world, it would have missed them both. Though, it clearly didn't.

Whatever it was killed you. Heavy brown eyes pried open and searched hers, brows buckled as the words grounded, and on their heels was the explanation of what was still wrong with his body. "... I died?" Tom tried to think backward, to the last clear memory, but his brain wasn't exactly firing between the fight and now, it was all a blank. If his family had been waiting for him, Tom would never be able to remember it.

He'd been a corpse. For hours. How and why would Lucy bring him back? Had Lucy really dragged his body into her own home, and played tug-of-war with his own soul? The implications were staggering, and even those were losing their tenuous grip as the couch almost seemed to adjust to cradle him perfectly. Or maybe he was just that tired. Every sense felt like it was lagging three steps behind reality, and the offer of a few uninterrupted hours sounded like the heaven never made it to.

"... Okay.' It was nothing but relief to let those brown eyes fall shut, and Tom was asleep in moments. For hours, nothing moved but his lungs, still drawing air by Lucy's sheer force of will.

[huntedprofessor]

/// he doesn't know what I had to go through to make this fucking icon

[writerswritecompany]

[lady-halibuts-chambers]

[rpmemes-galore]

enemies to…. friends? allies??  … sentence starters

“Don’t touch me. You still make me sick.”

“Fine. Come with. Just stay out of my way.”

“I didn’t even need your help. You can go, now.”

“I didn’t want to admit it, but you were good in a fight.”

“Yeah, you’re funny. You’re also still a pain in my ass.”

“I think they lied to us. We aren’t that different, after all.”

“I hated you. I think I still hate you. But, I need your help.”

“If I have to rely on you for this, will I be able to trust you?”

“This doesn’t mean I like you. I still think you’re insufferable.”

“Is this what your friends always have to deal with? I pity them.”

“No, no, don’t you die, now, I just started being able to tolerate you!”

“You have a point. And that might be the scariest thing I’ve ever said.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. You still disgust me. But you can be useful.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna finally win me over, then go get hurt like that?”

“Maybe… okay, hear me out, maybe we do have something in common.”

“You think this puts us on good terms? You’re still the enemy. You were just convenient.”

“You’re a lot different than I thought you would be. Still not sure if that’s good or bad, yet.”

“I didn’t think you’d be able to change my mind, but now I’m thinking things I never would’ve.”

“Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t touch me. Let’s get this mission over with, then never acknowledge my existence, again, got it?”

[huntedprofessor]

Containment Breach | @garglemyballsack

Prelude

The first hint that something was amiss was sound. Like a cross between whale calls and metal grinding underwater, the phenomenon was faint at first, and then it swelled. From a haunting echo to a cacophony that resonated through concrete, plastic, and bone. Sourceless. Consuming. On its heels came a strange charge in the air, making hairs stand and clothing stick before it seemed to realize there were better options, grounding instead in the electrical systems. Lights flickered, blazed and burst above panicked Russian shouts, adding to the confusion and chaos. Every person in the compound sensed the same ominous conclusion. Something was arriving. Soon.

By design, security systems in certain sectors were prioritized above all else in the event of power failure. Whatever was happening held no respect for those precautions. Above the strange metallic echoes, alarms blared, silenced, and blared again. Automatic doors opened and closed with no regard to the hierarchy of clearance they were meant to uphold. The one room that should never have experienced a disruption of power was damn near the epicenter of that terrible, imminent energy. The gas systems triggered, pouring their entire reserve of sedating fumes into the empty space, only to have the ventilation swallow them within the same minute the entire compound began to shake.

In the chaos, the seal on a cryogenic chamber unlocked, initiating the wakeup sequence that always began upon opening. The fumes that hissed through the open door were bathed in red from the flashing alarms, and the first sound that greeted dormant ears were those teeth-rattling echoes, like a crude mashup of outer space and hell. The shaking was enough to send vials rolling, drawers opening, and unprepared personnel crashing to the ground. A sudden swell of bright light ripped a seam through the ceiling, and the moment it grounded against the concrete below, all sound and movement ceased, and in its wake was a tall, dark-haired man who collapsed like he'd been shot.

———

Red lights burned off and on behind heavy eyelids, followed by the sound of rushing. Pipes or maybe fans were trying to pump something into the room, but all he could taste was air. Air. Tom Mason's jaw unhinged, and he breathed. Deep and desperate. He knew without opening his eyes that he was no longer welded into that metal cylinder, and the relief that washed through him was staggering. It wasn't until the sound of movement reached his ears that lids peeled back and widened at the sight of armed men filling the room, shouting in... Russian? How did they to Boston? If they were there to help, how didn't matter, Tom was just grateful to see fighting-fit human beings. Until three swung rifles in his direction, and Tom's heels dug into the concrete as his arms raised, scooting him back the wall. He shook his head at the shouted words, meaningless to his ears, and jolted as the other half of the room opened fire toward an open, smoking chamber and the silhouette of a man inside it.

Tom's ears rang, and the men turned to join the others in gunning down that silhouette. Bullets ricocheted off metal, and he threw himself behind some kind of control panel, hands behind his head, trying to shrink down as the smell of gunsmoke filled the air and drifted through the opened ceiling. It was only then he realized... this was not the alien structure. Everything in that room was man-made. Before Tom could even begin to process the implications, yet another terrible swell of energy filled the room, and an orange blast of power sent bodies and furniture through the concrete wall behind them.

Limbs were frozen in the silence that settled. Somehow, he knew the silhouetted man was responsible for the unsteady footsteps picking through the carnage. Brown eyes appeared above the console and found a naked form crossing the room, and the still-smoking chamber behind him.

Can I do that?

That chamber wasn't the same tomb, but the thought still struck him for a second. If the man knew he was there, he wasn't concerned, and why would he be? Nine men had lit him up like the fourth of July, and he was the one stepping through that detonated exit and walking away. Tom looked from the dead guards to the opening before he climbed to his feet and snatched the nearest intact rifle. A quick search of the destruction rewarded him with clips of ammo and two protein bars that felt like even more of a victory. The gun was slung over his shoulder, and the rest were stuffed into pockets as he jogged after the strange man who could make his own escape route. Tried to, at least. Something indescribable was still sliding through his veins from whatever Karen's machine had done, and the world was slipping in and out of focus. For once, Tom couldn't say he'd pushed through worse on less—this was the worst and the least by default. All Tom knew was he couldn't stay, so he followed.

[thememedaddy]

[aurora-rph]

reblog this if you're fine with your mutuals sending you asks unprompted

[sammroo167]

Hard choices had to be made sometimes. And when the time comes, how will you be with the hard choice?

I don't know, I honestly don't know.

fascinating, isn't it? Waver is the one Tom trusts both to protect his sons -- and, if it ever came to it, to kill.

[huntedprofessor]

Revivify | @gravegotten from here

Tom's entire being felt heavy. His lungs, his limbs, his eyes. Dragging a hand up to scrub over his face took far more effort than it should, and a mild shock stole through his senses at just how cold it was. It took a little doing to get you back up and running. That sentence pulled his brows together, and Tom watched the way Lucy studied him. Or, maybe the air around him.

What happened?

He remembered a witch. Remembered the purple glow of a charging spell. Remembered shoving Lucy out of its path, even the twinge of guilt for doing so because she didn't want to be touched. But, when it hit him instead? That was fuzzier. Air had been sucked out of his lungs, a wave of cold washed in, and whatever its end goal was, he must have passed out before the finale. Brown eyes rolled toward the glass of water, wondering how in the hell he was going to sit up enough to drink it. "... No." Tom admitted at the mention of food. Wasn't craving the water, either, but Lucy was concerned enough as it was, so with a grimace of effort, Tom pushed himself up onto one elbow, and took the glass with a trembling hand to drink. Difficulty aside, cold water felt wonderful against a throat he hadn't realized was bone dry til that moment.

"What was that? A spell of instant coma?" Tom sank back onto the couch, and it felt like heaven under his lanky body. Brown eyes were desperate to close again, and it was a fight to pry them open once more. "I'm sorry, but I'm really tired... I just want to sleep."

[huntedprofessor]

verse | exile

"It's not enough, Tom."

Boots dragged across the metallic floor, shoulders screamed from supporting body weight at such a horrid angle, and brown eyes didn't lift until the ground swung away, shifting as mottled hands pulled him upright and and backward. Tom Mason's spine hit cold metal with a grunt, and be it by miracle or sheer force of stubborn will, long legs held him upright. Exhausted, dehydrated, and starving as he was, they held as Karen strode up to greet him. Her hair stopped growing. Tom wasn't sure why that thought struck him just then, but it was true. Karen had been harnessed by the skitter parasite ages ago, and it was as if she was still frozen at the time of her capture. Eventually, the day would come when every last human cell in her body was overtaken, and Karen would look no different than the six-legged aliens standing guard beside her.

"... What's not enough?" Even in the state he was in, the professor's voice was clear. Strong. Evidence of a past life delivering history lessons to a crowded hall. If it weren't for the harness, Karen would have looked like any one of his students. "Your surrender. It's not enough. You would never do so without an ulterior motive, so what exactly are you trying to distract us from? Your boys? My sweet Hal?" Karen caught the warning flash behind Tom's eyes and smiled. "Oh, Tom. He will always be mine. You can't protect him from me. Not anymore, at least."

A skitter's warning trill rattled him right down to the bone when Tom shifted closer to Karen, and his back met the metal once more. It was then he realized he was in some kind of cylindrical chamber, with the door swung open to his right. "I've been rotting on this ship for days." The shake in his legs betrayed as much, Tom was dying of thirst and food felt like a distant memory. "... If you're gonna kill me, just kill me. I didn't come here to be your pet."

"Why did you come here, Tom? I fear not knowing will be my only regret. But it's a regret I can live with." The professor had to resist the urge to shrink back against the metal as Karen all but negated the space between them. She was just a kid from Boston, but the aliens had warped her into something that made his skin crawl. "I need you out of this war. If I kill your boys?" Karen smiled at the clench of his jaw. "It'll only strengthen your resolve. If I kill you? It would only strengthen theirs, and your suffering would end. I don't want your suffering to end, Tom Mason. I won't allow it to."

A groan of metal snapped his gaze to the right, where the door to the chamber was being swung toward him. Tom lurched forward, trying to clear the remaining gap before a green hand seized him by the throat, and shoved him back hard enough to crack his skull against the casing. A dull ringing swallowed the world, muffling sight and sound, and if it weren't for the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tom might have welcomed the encroaching darkness with open arms. Blurred eyes watched the door snap into place, and he threw his shoulder against it, encouraged by the give it offered. Through the thick glass of the rounded window, Tom watched no less than three skitters push back against it from the other side, while the third used a bright, handheld tool on the seams that sent heat radiating through the metal.

Tom's face went three shades paler. This wasn't a matter of locking the door. He was being welded in.

Self-preservation swallowed every ounce of weakness in Tom's body, and he threw himself against the door again, and again, sweat pouring down his face as the heat within the cylinder swelled with nowhere to go. Were they just going to cook him alive!? For Christ's sake, put a bullet in his brain and be done with it!!! Tom even pressed his back against the door, planting both feet on the opposite side, and trying to shove through two skitters and an alien welding torch, an animal-like howl wrenching from his throat from the effort. His legs gave out before the door did, and he crashed to the bottom of the chamber.

"KAREN!"

The sheer volume and rage in the professor's voice surprised even him as he clawed his way back to his feet, sweat-streaked face filling the window. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!?" A gloved hand pounded the glass to no avail, it was built to hold far worse things than him. Karen's eyes trailed along the welded seams, and she stepped up to the window, even raising onto her toes to meet his gaze better. "Don't exert yourself, Tom. You're running out of air, you know. I want you to be awake for this."

"Awake for what?" The volume of his voice lowered because—she was right. There were some sort of of vent in the ceiling and the floor, but neither were providing oxygen. "I told you. I need you out of this war. But if I kill you, your boys will never stop. So, I've come up with a different solution. One that ensures they need me alive. And don't worry, Tom." Karen leaned close enough for both their breaths to fog the glass. "I'll take very good care of them."

Tom flinched as the entire chamber jolted, the reverberation rattling through his bones and forcing both hands belatedly over his ears. Brown eyes searched the glass again to find Karen retreating, unhurried, to join two skitters at some sort of control panel. "HEY!" he pounded the door again, the desperation of a cornered animal sweeping in as sound and light began to swell within the chamber, drowning his own words of protest.

Pupils shrank to pinpoints, and every cell in his body seemed to vibrate as an energy he couldn't begin to describe enveloped the metal confines of his prison. Tom was was still trying to undo the welding with human hands and the single cord that rang through a panicked nervous system, wailing that it didn't want to die. Even as it felt like every cell began to pull apart. Separate. The pain was immeasurable, and through it all, Tom didn't realize the agonized screaming in his ears was his own. Metal groaned under the pressure, and the skitters retreated further back, nervous as every light, every powered component in the city-sized facility began to flicker and dim, feeding the reaction occurring above and below Tom's chamber.

Karen was grateful the parasite had enhanced her senses. She got to hear the tortured howl of a damned man. Even as the entire structure lost power in favor of the reactor's greed, even as the skitters all but ran for cover, Karen remained. Her own pupils shrank against the blinding light as Tom's outline was swallowed, and beams were starting to pierce through the tiny gaps in the weld. The entire facility shook under their feet, threatening to crumple one of the legs and send them toppling back down to the ruined city below. Her underlings were all but clawing at the exit themselves, terrified at the raw power of their own technology, and the hubris of a human being who was willing to sacrifice it all.

With a shudder that rocked every surface, the reactor kicked off, and the light vanished from the porthole and seams. The skitters turned to find Karen still standing at the control panel, watching the steam rise off the casing of the chamber. Like an echo of that tremendous power, it almost sounded like whale calls bouncing through the facility, resonating through every surface as if they were submerged in water.

"Beautiful. Isn't it." Karen knew without looking that the skitters had returned to her side, and followed as she approached the chamber. "Even with a test at the fraction of the power, it still sang for us. But not like this." Again, her feet extended to offer the height she needed to look in the chamber window, and this time, the heated glass could not be fogged with either her breath, or his.

Tom Mason was gone.

[huntedprofessor]

verse | exile

"It's not enough, Tom."

Boots dragged across the metallic floor, shoulders screamed from supporting body weight at such a horrid angle, and brown eyes didn't lift until the ground swung away, shifting as mottled hands pulled him upright and backward. Tom Mason's spine hit cold metal with a grunt, and be it by miracle or sheer force of stubborn will, long legs held him upright. Exhausted, dehydrated, and starving as he was, they held as Karen strode up to greet him. Her hair stopped growing. Tom wasn't sure why that thought struck him just then, but it was true. Karen had been harnessed by the skitter parasite ages ago, and it was as if she was still frozen at the time of her capture. Eventually, the day would come when every last human cell in her body was overtaken, and Karen would look no different than the six-legged aliens standing guard beside her.

"... What's not enough?" Even in the state he was in, the professor's voice was clear. Strong. Evidence of a past life delivering history lessons to a crowded hall. If it weren't for the harness, Karen would have looked like any one of his students. "Your surrender. It's not enough. You would never do so without an ulterior motive, so what exactly are you trying to distract us from? Your boys? My sweet Hal?" Karen caught the warning flash behind Tom's eyes and smiled. "Oh, Tom. He will always be mine. You can't protect him from me. Not anymore, at least."

A skitter's warning trill rattled him right down to the bone when Tom shifted closer to Karen, and his back met the metal once more. It was then he realized he was in some kind of cylindrical chamber, with the door swung open to his right. "I've been rotting on this ship for days." The shake in his legs betrayed as much, Tom was dying of thirst and food felt like a distant memory. "... If you're gonna kill me, just kill me. I didn't come here to be your pet."

"Why did you come here, Tom? I fear not knowing will be my only regret. But it's a regret I can live with." The professor had to resist the urge to shrink back against the metal as Karen all but negated the space between them. She was just a kid from Boston, but the aliens had warped her into something that made his skin crawl. "I need you out of this war. If I kill your boys?" Karen smiled at the clench of his jaw. "It'll only strengthen your resolve. If I kill you? It would only strengthen theirs, and your suffering would end. I don't want your suffering to end, Tom Mason. I won't allow it to."

A groan of metal snapped his gaze to the right, where the door to the chamber was being swung toward him. Tom lurched forward, trying to clear the remaining gap before a green hand seized him by the throat, and shoved him back hard enough to crack his skull against the casing. A dull ringing swallowed the world, muffling sight and sound, and if it weren't for the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tom might have welcomed the encroaching darkness with open arms. Blurred eyes watched the door snap into place, and he threw his shoulder against it, encouraged by the give it offered. Through the thick glass of the rounded window, Tom watched no less than three skitters push back against it from the other side, while the third used a bright, handheld tool on the seams that sent heat radiating through the metal.

Tom's face went three shades paler. This wasn't a matter of locking the door. He was being welded in.

Self-preservation swallowed every ounce of weakness in Tom's body, and he threw himself against the door again, and again, sweat pouring down his face as the heat within the cylinder swelled with nowhere to go. Were they just going to cook him alive!? For Christ's sake, put a bullet in his brain and be done with it!!! Tom even pressed his back against the door, planting both feet on the opposite side, and trying to shove through two skitters and an alien welding torch, an animal-like howl wrenching from his throat from the effort. His legs gave out before the door did, and he crashed to the bottom of the chamber.

"KAREN!"

The sheer volume and rage in the professor's voice surprised even him as he clawed his way back to his feet, sweat-streaked face filling the window. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!?" A gloved hand pounded the glass to no avail, it was built to hold far worse things than him. Karen's eyes trailed along the welded seams, and she stepped up to the window, even raising onto her toes to meet his gaze better. "Don't exert yourself, Tom. You're running out of air, you know. I want you to be awake for this."

"Awake for what?" The volume of his voice lowered because—she was right. There were some sort of of vent in the ceiling and the floor, but neither were providing oxygen. "I told you. I need you out of this war. But if I kill you, your boys will never stop. So, I've come up with a different solution. One that ensures they need me alive. And don't worry, Tom." Karen leaned close enough for both their breaths to fog the glass. "I'll take very good care of them."

Tom flinched as the entire chamber jolted, the reverberation rattling through his bones and forcing both hands belatedly over his ears. Brown eyes searched the glass again to find Karen retreating, unhurried, to join two skitters at some sort of control panel. "HEY!" he pounded the door again, the desperation of a cornered animal sweeping in as sound and light began to swell within the chamber, drowning his own words of protest.

Pupils shrank to pinpoints, and every cell in his body seemed to vibrate as an energy he couldn't begin to describe enveloped the metal confines of his prison. Tom was was still trying to undo the welding with human hands and the single cord that rang through a panicked nervous system, wailing that it didn't want to die. Even as it felt like every cell began to pull apart. Separate. The pain was immeasurable, and through it all, Tom didn't realize the agonized screaming in his ears was his own. Metal groaned under the pressure, and the skitters retreated further back, nervous as every light, every powered component in the city-sized facility began to flicker and dim, feeding the reaction occurring above and below Tom's chamber.

Karen was grateful the parasite had enhanced her senses. She got to hear the tortured howl of a damned man. Even as the entire structure lost power in favor of the reactor's greed, even as the skitters all but ran for cover, Karen remained. Her own pupils shrank against the blinding light as Tom's outline was swallowed, and beams were starting to pierce through the tiny gaps in the weld. The entire facility shook under their feet, threatening to crumple one of the legs and send them toppling back down to the ruined city below. Her underlings were all but clawing at the exit themselves, terrified at the raw power of their own technology, and the hubris of a human being who was willing to sacrifice it all.

With a shudder that rocked every surface, the reactor kicked off, and the light vanished from the porthole and seams. The skitters turned to find Karen still standing at the control panel, watching the steam rise off the casing of the chamber. Like an echo of that tremendous power, it almost sounded like whale calls bouncing through the facility, resonating through every surface as if they were submerged in water.

"Beautiful. Isn't it." Karen knew without looking that the skitters had returned to her side, and followed as she approached the chamber. "Even with a test at the fraction of the power, it still sang for us. But not like this." Again, her feet extended to offer the height she needed to look in the chamber window, and this time, the heated glass could not be fogged with either her breath, or his.

Tom Mason was gone.

[safetypinned]

"down by the lobby. hall to the right. things went south really quick. too quick. ended up getting separated. was circling back to find him and then this happened." chin inclines towards the hallway where the spirit howls in the distance. or not. it's so damn hard to tell with the acoustics in this place. could be right beside you. or ten halls ahead. or backwards. maybe it was just that damn good at throwing its pitch. sam'd rather not think about that option. means nowhere is safe if they're relying on the one thing hunters rely on above everything else.

not lore. not knowledge. not experience. though those certainly help.

their instincts. without them? they're dead in the water.

which is what this feels like. dead in the water. not seeing dean. having no clue where he is. now? with a stranger that appeared out of nowhere looking like he knows what he's doing and now swerving out to take the lead. confusion stamps upon tapered brows. "sounds like it gets into your bones. doesn't it?" barely above a breath, he whispers only loud enough for tom to sort've hear.

"and.. uh. sam. sam winchester. yeah. i'm a hunter." for someone so knee deep in the thick of things, obviously not out of his element. sam's tone says he wished he was anything but.. yet. here he is. doing this. again. curt nod and he's ready to follow, taking up the flank and making damn sure nothing's going to catch them off guard at any angle.

[huntedprofessor]

"Hall to the right," Tom recalled the old building plans in his head. Sometimes it felt like he went into cases over-prepared, but not this time. Hours of digging and research had paid off. "There's a basement access near there. Maybe that's where its lair is after all." At the assessment of the ghost's wails, Tom could only grimace, and Sam would have to lean in to hear his whisper. "It does. Human suffering will do that."

The older man had been ready to step out when a name was offered. Sam. Sam Winchester. Boots halted in their tracks, one hand braced against the door frame as Tom froze, and then glanced over his shoulder, brows drawn in as he searched Sam's face in a new light. It took all of a second before Tom was moving again, jaw tight, shoulders tighter. As if sensing that shift in emotion, the wailing echoed again, not as distant as they'd like, and Tom was forced to pull in a deep breath and let it out slow as they moved. Level out. This kid has nothing to do with it.

Tom moved like the average hunter, but he didn't have the instinctual silent stalk the boys had. It was serviceable, but it didn't speak to an entire lifetime of hunting. Several years, but not decades. What Tom lacked in experience, he made up for in preparedness, leading Sam through the crumbling halls he'd memorized, and right back to the lobby. Blind ghost meant flashlights were fair game, and Tom's fell on a sawed-off lying at the top of the basement access stairs. Not good news. Meant the brother was unarmed at best, unconscious at not-so-great, and dead at worst. Tom made as if to go first and halted, that strange expression flitting across his face again. He waited for Sam to grab the shotgun, and raised the flashlight so his silent lips could be read. Do you want to lead? Or follow? For some inexplicable reason, giving Sam a choice in his brother's rescue seemed important.

[gayhaircut]

honestly if someone tenderly cradled my face i think at this point i would probably blackout

[huntedprofessor]

/// Like/comment for a starter or send me memes

[2nd-massachusetts]

Tom Mason in Falling Skies S02E02