#L.A. RATS

[rockstar-smash-or-pass]

John 5?

[icarusredwings]

Subway (b)Rat

Rated Explicit for sexy romantic comedy.

~6k words.

Consider this a gift for my Kinktober fans (I KNOW IT'S THE 29TH SHUT UP) and an apology on the behalf of @bougiebutchbinch for making you all so sad with THIS post.

Authors note: Mentions of cablepool because I think every time this man is mentioned, Logan feels the undying urge to reclaim Wade. The Summer's bloodline is intertwined with his too much, and it's ruining his life lmao. Summers is to Logan how Dinkleberg is to Timmy’s dad.

And yes, I'm aware this is pretty vanilla/Tame, but you know what? You're gonna read it anyway because I wrote it for you. And it would be rude if you didn't. Also, shout out to the font change method because I was STUCK stuck.

CW: Semi public, teasing, an unGODLY amount of kissing, choking, spanking, stretching, praise kink, mind breaking, biting, scratching, blood, cancerous cysts, prostate cancer, mentioned sub drop, physical exhaustion, Lovey dovey shit, Logan being a good top, drippy creampie, self hate talk, mentions of a dead pigeon, breath play, god what else uhhmm, puppy play if you squint, overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, free use, light public humiliation, fourth wall break.

Thinking about how Wade sometimes insults himself too much to the point of comparing himself to a diseased subway rat with mange or a filthy gas station bathroom. How they stink are collectively hated, and everyone abuses them because of how disgustingly ugly they are.

This is Logan's breaking point. He's tired of hearing this. Tired of telling him to shut up. Tired of him truly thinking that he could only love him all dolled up. Well, guess what, honey? Maybe the Wolverine is into naked subway rats. They were scavengers, after all.

So he decided to do something about it. After a joke, when he compared himself to a dead pigeon on the tracks, Logan growled lowly in his throat. It was the final straw. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him off of the locomotive and across the platform deck as he held their bags of household items and their lunch.

"Hey! Peanut, We're gonna miss our stop! I know you don't get the subway because of how old you are and everything but-"

Taking him into the bathroom, he threw him into a stall with a 'omph', slamming the door shut behind them.

"What? Am I in timeout or are you araid to piss by yourself, handsome? Kind of fitting that you picked the grossest one for me. There's piss on the floor right ther-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he growls close to his face. "SHUT. UP."

Of course, he only licked his palm. It's not like he cared, though. He's done far more nasty stuff before. And far uglier people.

Wade always thought that he was Sooooo bad. And soooo ugly, but in truth, he was just an annoyingly loveable idiot with cancer.

That's not his fault. Logan would never judge him for something that wasn't his fault and couldn't help. The only way he'd ever get better is if the CIA stopped killing everyone who cures cancer. Hank got close once, but he got told to stop immediately or else.

Letting him go, he put the bags on one of those purse hooks, moving them so that he was sitting and Wade was on his lap, his dirty white and black, improperly tied converse reaching the floor.

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Aww thanks muffin, Oh wait-" He gasps, "Omg wolvie are you about to fuck me in a dirty bathroom!?"

"Shh! Not if you don't shut up."

"Loagie you know I can't. It's a medical condition." He says in a dead serious whine.

Logan smirked, scoffing as he put a hand on his L.A. idol's. (You know the ones with the rhinestone cross on the ass? Yeah. Something about making his 'butt look good' and how they were 'all the craze back in his day' so now whenever he found them at thrift stores he snatched a pair or two.) And another on his tattered gray New York hoodie, pulling his hood off as he grabbed the front.

Whining a bit, he tried to put the hood back up, but Logan pulled the strings so tight that he couldn't.

"Nice try. Not happenin' I like seein' yer pretty face." He smirks, pulling the strings so he is close to him, showing those canines of his as he smirked in triumph, having felt cocky for thinking a step ahead of him.

This only led him to use his arms instead, putting his face into them instead. "Nnooo... Stop lying to me.."

Rolling his eyes, Logan leaned back against the toilet, shifting his hand to grab at his arms, moving those too. "Are you really gonna fight me for a kiss?"

A small, cheeky nod.

"Alright. But remember, you started this, not me."

Giving his ass a good slap, Wade let out a yip, giving Logan enough time to grab him by the wrists, shifting to pin his back against the stall wall. With the other hand, he gave a little tug at the bottom of the oversized hoodie.

"Wait, is this mine?"

Wade giggled but still tried to hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see at all and now that they've made it a game? Even better.

"Oh yeah? So that's how we're going to be? God, you're such a brat."

Another nod. "Nu-uh."

"Guess you won't mind if I flip ya then?"

"Huh?" Turning just slightly, Logan stole a peck, making him squeal and his face get darker, quickly shoving it back into his arm, giggling.

"That wasn't fair!" He whined, muffled from the fabric.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over how big of a pussy you're being."

Gasping again, he turned to scold him, only to be kissed yet again. "Wolvie!! Not fair!"

"Mmh.. so fair." He whispers, kissing down the part of the jawline, he let stay exposed, nipping his ear and working his way down.

The soft groans into the arms of the hoodie were nice, but he would rather them be clear. Flipping him over, he put his fingers over the side of the stall. "Keep them there, Got it?" He says, Letting a hand run over his sides and another over the hard plastic stones that covered his ass cheeks.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop and force you to wait until we get home."

"Hm..What happens when we get home?"

"You'd have to wait another 6 stops to find out. Do you really want that?"

Thinking for a moment, Wade loved a good tease, a nice edging, but 6 stops?? No, thank you. Far too long. He shook his head.

"So are you going to keep them there?"

A quick nod.

"Good." Again, he slapped him, one of the rougher ones that he always liked. They made him feel wanted and appreciated. Logan knew this because, as embarrassed and growly, he got it whenever Wade stole a slap, he felt the same warm feelings run up his spine into his chest.

"Eehh!! K-keep doing that and you won't even get to touch me." He teases.

"Man you're weird... did you just say if I hit you enough you'll cum?"

"Probably." He shrugs, jolting his hips forward a bit as Logan rubbed over the front.

"I don't know how you could cum at all in pants 2 sizes too small.." he mumbles, leaning his chin on his shoulder as one hand tried to slide in the back but barely could get his fingers half way in the seams.

"They aren't tight tight, I just have a big ass and a boner all the time."

"Or all that squat training you do."

"Mmmh yes... 'squat training’... hey you don't think we could-"

"Shut it. Do your job." Pushing a couple fingers in his mouth, Wade let out a groan, immediately beginning to work on them, sucking and licking all over, a bit of a chew once in a while. Oral fixation and whatnot.

While he did this, Logan began to unbutton the front, slowly unzipping the front, carefully as he knew damn well just by the feeling that he didn't have any underwear on. It's the whole reason they came out, actually. To get laundry detergent and dish soap.

But now he was letting him grind forward into his hand and back into his, less sparkly, rougher looking jeans. Pulling his fingers out a bit, Wade was quick to press them back in, nipping gently as he whined, not wanting him to take away his favorite chew toys.

"Yeah? You like those, don't you?" He asks, putting his nose into his neck.

"Mmmhm~" He was happy here, teased and doing a good job. He knew he was because those fingers were soaked and he hadn't even gagged yet.

He loved being touched and muttered too while pressed up against a wall. It was one of his favorite things. He didn't mind however long he wanted to tease him either but only could hope he'd let him return the favor.

Logan could touch him all he wanted, anywhere, for hours and still not let him touch him at all so when he did let him it was like throwing a dog a bone with meat still on it. A treat.

Taking his hand from between his legs, Wade whined in protest but didn't let him pull out the fingers just yet. He wasn't done with them. "W-mh wohlvie"

Running his hand up under his hoodie, Logan thumbed over every dip, scar, nook and cranny that he could possibly feel, kissing the back of his neck until the hand met him in the front. Grabbing him by the throat, he squeezed a bit.

"Drop'em." He breathed behind him.

Almost instantly, Wade moved a hand to push his jeans down to his knees, shimmying a bit for them to get off his thighs before returning his hands to the top of the stall.

He liked his pants snug. He said they felt like 'leg hugs'. Honestly, Logan thought it just made him look more like a wannabe emo, city boy. The kinds that wore studded belts but their panties still showed on their hips.

“Touch me, Peanut! Please?”

Logan was much different with his pants preferences. He liked his inseems deep, his waist high, and the bottom boot cut.

Putting pressure on his sides, he pushed him until his head laid back against him. "Didn't I tell you not to move those hands?! Hm!? Since when are you fucking deaf?!" The gravel in his voice was enough for Wade to moan through the fingers. "HOh mmh gohd-"

He never knew if he wanted him to completely fuck him up or not. It was only natural for him to feel scared. I mean, a big bad wolfie like Logan holding you by the neck, and within a second, he could shove those claws through your face with how deep his fingers were in his mouth? Almost touching the back of his throat if not curved perfectly? But at the same time, it only made him stand at attention.

When he took his hand away, Wade whined. "Nooo.. I'm sorry! I'll behave! Giv'em back, Wolvie. Please?"

"You sure?"

He nods.

"So you don't want me to shove these right up your ass?"

Pausing, he quickly shook his head. "I do want it."

"Want what?" He teases, drawing the fingers over the curve multiple times.

"I want you to shove'em in me!"

"Hmm..that's it?"

"Erm... please??" Glancing at him, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but his back was already arching at the slightest touches.

Chuckling softly, Logan gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What a good boy. I've trained you a bit too well with manners, haven't I? But that's not what I meant. You want me to fuckya?"

"Heh- Yeah. Obviously.... sooo...now?"

"Settle down. I'm getting there." He mutters, debating if he wanted to let go of his neck or not. Deciding against it, he went ahead and slid in a finger, the front of his own jeans becoming tight from the noise he made.

"I'm just saying. You're taking foreve-Ahoohoh...fuck."

"Mmh?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Mh... You planned this, didn't you?"

"N-ngh?" He whined questionably, biting his tongue to try to stay quiet, focusing on the fingers with that overly large shit eating grin on his face.

"Wade?"

"Hngh.." His eyes went up to the ceiling.

"You did it on purpose. You wanted me to bring you in here and tell you how much of a fucking liar you are, didn't you?"

Pressing back against them, Wade stepped his feet apart, trying to bend over a bit more. As much as he could in tight jeans and in such a small stall. But that's alright. He didn't mind. Only let him press up against him more.

Wade hadn't noticed much, but his hands slipped from the top of the wall again, still above his head, but now he was gripping his own wrist.

"I have no clue what's even going on.." He muttered, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, grateful that while he pressed back, Logan pushed forward, curling his fingers as he used one to keep him open, The other two slowly pressing in and pulling out with pressure towards the bottom.

Yeah, okay, that checked out.

"Hey.. when you uhm.." Wade starts, as if he just remembered something.

"Yeah?"

"Could you.. oh god this is so embarrassing.. can you be extra rough on my...you know...c-Cancer stuff." He mumbles. "I know, It's disgusting. I'm so gross."

Stepping closer, He made his back bend a little deeper as he turned his head towards him. Kissing him, Logan grunted. "You're not gross.. but yeah. Show me where it hurts, darlin’, I’ll fuck away your pain.”

He blushes, embarrassed. “.. prostate?”

“Heh, sure, I can destroy your prostate for ya."

Wade giggled.

"Sure you wanna do that here, though?"

"I-i rather scream here than with Al yelling at me..." He admits. “She doesn't get it. Sometimes a guy just has to get violently fucked in the ass as part of his pain management plan.” He tells him.

Logan nods, agreeing with him. As stupid as it sounded, by helping his cysts pop, he felt a lot better. Though in Al's defense it did involve a lot screaming.

Sure, he'd help him with his dirty little curse but he wanted to hear those magic words.

“Well.. What do ya say princess?”

“Fuck me like you hate me?” he rubs himself against him further with a high pitched, demanding whine, already impatient.

Logan chuckles at the questioning tone, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

Keeping him close, Logan matched his hand movements with his words, dragging them out if the phrase was elongated, quickly stuffing them back in if he thought he deserved it.

Various whispers of praise fell from his lips.

“Your ass is super tight, you know that?”

Okay maybe some were sweeter than others but come on, This meant much more to wade than just a “You're Beautiful.” though in truth he liked them both equally. He liked any attention even if he didn't believe it… or it wasn't good..

“You're so much hotter than a dead pigeon-”

“PFFT Your fingers are in my rectum and THAT'S what you lead with!? That's like.. the bare minimum! The bar is in HELL!” He laughs.

Embarrassed, he blushes deeply. “I never said I was good at words, damn it. Now shut up and listen.”

“Watch next he's gonna say I'm prettier then the pissy gas station bathroom..”

“No!!... though maybe I should have done this there- at least there was a lock.” He mumbles, knowing he wasn't talking to him rather than you.

Yeah. You.

You freak. Why are you even here? Just wash your hands and leave. God..rude.. Ever hear about privacy? No?? Good. Wade likes to give a good show. Sit down. Just.. watch the pee right there.. unless.. you know …you're into that. But this is New York so.. I hope you're up to date on all your shots!

“Wade!”

“What?” He asks, glancing back at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Huh? What? What did you say?” He blinks.

Logan grunts. “I just- Uugh I just gave this whole spiel about how sexy you are and how I wouldn't choose anyone else over you. How.. How did you miss that!?”

“Look we've talked about this, I don't know what's going on half the time, what do you want from me?”

About to scold him for not hearing a single word of his beautiful 5 full minute long speech, he just groans. “..Just give me all of you and I'll be happy. Okay?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up! You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide, okay!? Were fucking in a bathroom for crying out loud! Literally!”

Wade giggles a bit. “Sorry Wolvie.. Can you say some of the stuff again?”

“You're killing the mood, Mouth!” He growls, becoming a little frustrated seeing as it took a lot for him to put the words together in the first place.

“Oh pleeaasse, Peanut? Pretty please?” He bats those magic eyelashes.

“Fine… Are you listening?” He asks, curling his fingers up, deep within him.

“...You're the one I was meant to find in life. I was never truly happy where I was until you found me. I think you're an idiot for thinking you don't deserve to be loved because... you know you're sexy right? You're gorgeous. You're so damn pretty and you can't see a single bit of it. I mean- genuinely. But I don't even care about any of that and…and- you know what this is stupid..” he starts.

“No, no!! Please! I was almost there-”

“What? Oh- Wade!! What did I tell you about hands!?” Jerking his hand away, he pushes it to his back, growling. “Do you want me to bite it the fuck off!?”

He squeals, a little too excited. “Nooo!! Don't eat me Wolvie- Unless?”

“No, Wade! Bad!”

“Aww….. Anyway, what were you saying before you so rudely stopped me?”

Sighing, he pulls his hip back, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding him with his chin on his shoulder, listening to his breathing lining up with each curl and press of his fingers.

“and.. I love you. I really do. But I LIKE you too, H-heh.. You're funny, you're so smart even though you act like you and puppins share a brain cell.. and she has it most times.”

Wade giggles, which makes Logan smile, gaining enough confidence to keep going. “I love that stupid fucking smile you do when ever you make the most terrible joke in history- and I know- Im 206.”

Another giggle as Wade reached the hand that was on the stall back to wrap around Logan’s neck, Nuzzling him gently.

“I-i love your freaky bright eyes. I mean really, why do they look like that?”

He chuckles, truly listening to every word. Logan didn't speak much but when he asked for Wade's attention, he got it fully. “I really don't know… do you actually like them or..?” The nervousness in his voice made Logan's heart beat hitch, quickening.

“I really do. They're like nothing I've ever seen before… and they change colors. They're white, clear, and milky-”

“Ha! That's what she said-”

“Shut up…” He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing he walked right into that one.

“I was GOING to say they're like my own personal moons to light my dark days, and when they are yellow they are like suns that shine on my face in the morning.. but…That's another thing. You get me… A lot..”

“Oh, Logan….stop..”

“No, I mean it. Really. They told me you were too immature for me but.. you're perfect. I'm tired of feeling old. I'm tired of feeling like there's no one who will be able to be lazy and lay with me when I need it but play around or be rough when I want too… until you.”

Swallowing, Wade pulled his hand from him, turning to stare at him with an oblivious look of realization.

“.. Holy shit.. You really think that.. a-all of it?”

He nods. “i-.. I wasn't done either..”

“There's more!?”

Blushing, the old fart nodded, semi embarrassed.

“Oh my god, baby you're gonna make me cry….Tell me you're lying..”

He shook his head. “No.. I won't. I refuse.”

Pulling him close, Logan hugs him tight, Wade squeezing him back around the back of his neck, teary eyed and trying not to ugly sob. For a few moments they stayed like this before he kissed him, the same way he planned to in a few months once he found a perfect ring.

“I'll never let you go. I want you to be with me until you get tired of me. And even then you'd have to get a restraining order.”

“Oh Wolvie… I could never get tired of you.”

“And you know how you feel right now? That's how I feel about you… Unfortunately..”

“... I love you, Logan.. you're too good to me.. I hope I'm enough for you.. I know you deserve better. To be happier…”

“As long as you're here with me, I'll have a smile on my face, princess.” He teases, leaning up to kiss him again (For the 50th time) “And if it was up to me I'd keep you just like this all day but-”

“Do it, coward.”

Logan snorts, giggling a bit. “You want fucked or not?”

“Yes!! I take it back, You're not a coward, Please fuck me, Mr. Wilde! Pound me with your huge poetic cock!”

Before he could shout anymore, Logan kissed him, shutting him up as he entered, being sure to stay still for a couple of seconds. The deeper the kiss got, the more he pressed in. This was until Wade pushed himself back, breaking the kiss and moaned.

“Hah~ Fuck, not so much of a peanut anymore, huh?”

To tease him, Logan pulls away just to slam back in. The squeal that came from him through the kiss pleased Logan greatly, doing this a couple more times.

Pulling away, his breath was already a little heavy from such tender intimacy. “You good?”

“Best I've ever been, Big boy!” He tells him, cheek against the wall, but something about his smell said he was lying.

“Mmh… spit on these.” He muttered, putting his fingers up to his mouth for Wade to spit, wiggling around back there. Gripping his hips to hold them still, he slipped the fingers in, spreading the slick around before pressing back in.

Wade lets a deep groan fall out of his mouth seeing as his jaw hasn't shut practically since they've been in here, drooly and excited. It wasn't often that Loagie wanted to fuck him in a public space. They already got caught in central park one night, and now were banned from the Subway down the street- the actual sandwich subway, not the public transportation system.

Picking up the pace, He tries to keep him quiet, shoving his fingers in his mouth, Telling him to shut up, shushing him between thrusts, covering his mouth and even (of course) kissing him.

Nothing seemed to work though, especially when Wade spread his legs, letting him have further access, his body just begging to be held down and used.

And who was Logan to deny that?

“Lo- Ooh shit- Oh shit- Oh fuck shit damn!” He calls through breathy moans and tries to keep his knees from buckling by shifting his weight, though Logan doesn't want any of that. Who does he think he is? Trying to get away now? Not going to happen.

Biting the side of his neck, he made an animalistic noise that made Wade's knees shake, the pain from both the teeth seeping blood out of his neck, and his ass being obliterated.

He can't help but smile through the skin in his teeth, letting out a huff of a chuckle. Really? Fuck shit damn?

“Ooh- Ow- Mmh fuck! Ow- Shit! Ohh mmMy God Loagie it hurts so good!” He whimpers, reaching up to hold the top of the stall, becoming still and instantly quiet.

This was always the part where Logan got nervous. Scared that he had actually hurt him somehow and he just didn't want to say anything in fear he'd be mad at him.

“yuh gud?” He asks through the mouthful.

Silence. His eyes were closed tight and he was tensing slightly, as if trying to hold still in this exact position.

Letting go of him, Logan slowed. Immediately Wade began to plead with him, begging him not to stop, pushing himself against him in hopes he'd get the gist.

“Are you-”

“Harder.” He says and immediately Logan understands, giving a nod. Adjusting himself, he holds him in place, thrusting up a few dozen times. Harder.

The squeak that came from Wade and watching him grit his teeth. It said all he needed to know. Kissing his shoulder blade, he listened to each quiet whine, felt each tense in his legs, and could smell the discomfort.

Logan has come to train himself that he was allowed to keep going, having usually backed off at even the slightest sign of pain but he understood that what he was doing was best for him. He’s seen the clots, boils and welts that happened so he could only imagine what this felt like on the inside. Just thinking about it made him want to stop. To tell him no more.

But this was Wade's request. And probably why he's felt so down here recently, it was hard to feel handsome or pretty when your insides hurt like this.

“Breathe.” He reminded him, feeling Wade hitch his breath and still, tensing his legs up as he let his head hang. This one hurt. He knew it did just by how he felt.

But he didn't.

“Wade?..Breathe for me.” He whispers, trying his best to get this over with as fast as he could. He knew how painful it was just from him shutting down, no longer moaning or even saying ‘ow’. Just silence.

The sound of slapping and the jangly hinges of the stall were all that was at the moment until He let out a large gasp, sounding more of a “Hah-” of relief.

Before you could blink, Logan stopped, pulling away as he held him up, beginning to kiss all over the back of his neck. “There's my good boy. Breathe. You're okay. I got you. Bit a blood never killed anybody.” He reassured him, noticing that more than usual was dripping down his leg, his dick covered in the hot infectious red slick.

Nuzzling his cheek, Wade had tears in his eyes, giggling a bit embarrassed but happy with the bit of praise and care he was receiving. “Sttoopp..” he whined. “You're so embarrassing..”

“Oh sure like I'm the one about to be screaming here in a minute-”

“What?”

He flips him around, shoving his back to the wall again as he kisses him, nipping at him and tugging at his lip.

Blushing, Wade squealed. “Jeez Wolvie! What, you got a blood kink or something? You freak!”

“I got a ‘helping you' kink, Asshole. There's a difference.” He grunts in between bites at his neck, sending his head back to give him a big moan.

The best part about busting a prostate cyst is that it meant what once was hiding it, was now gone. Meaning Logan could hit it as many times as he wanted.

Giggling, Wade yelped when picked up, hands placed on the back of the stall, his legs immediately retreating to around his waist. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay.” He growls, shifting his hands to get a better hold of him. “You know what I want.”

And with this, it started. The first couple of times, Wade gasped through, whimpering from the residing pain only to grin, letting his head lean back as tried to focus on holding the stall and not running his hands through those thick locks of his. “H-oH Fuck!”

As the moans flowed through each messy smooch, Giggles, praises, dirty talk, the whole nine yards in this tiny space of theirs, Logan didn't even stop when he heard someone walking in. Since the door had flown open a long time ago, He only glared at the passer byer who stopped for a second to look, Only to jump back and leave when full on snarled at. (Because if not you'd probably die today)

“What the fuck are you looking at!?”

In fact he only fucked him better, rolling his hips up to him, pulling Wade's hips into him enough to make him give a high pitched scream of joy and pleasure. “AAAH!! Logan!! Oh fuck- Logan! Logan, please- Please fuck me- No kiss me! Kiss- mMPhm mh, Mh, MHMmh!” Even though the kisses he'd let everyone in this station know who was fucking him.

Logan.

“Don't be ashamed if you wanna scream my name, sweetheart~” he purrs into his neck, trying to keep his breaths stable and resist the urge to put more holes into him.

“Ah!! H-hah! Logan! There! Yes! Ohh- Yes! yesyesyesyes-” He grunts under his breath, now letting out whiny moans. “Oh Fuck!! Yes! Right there! Cable could never hit there-” he blurted out through his screaming whimpers of pleasure, clawing at the side of the bathroom stall as if Logan was trying to drag him down to hell.

For a split second he stopped, pulling his waist back, hand on his stomach as he positioned him in a certain way again.

Wade whines, assuming Logan quit, starting to complain in a high pitched voice of sexual frustration. “Nooo! That's not fair you know I can't contr-” Only to gasp loudly, like a thick new breath of air would help him any.

He failed.

Sinking his teeth in, Logan began to hit this spot on purpose, Over and over and over. He knew Wade didn't mean it. He said all sorts of random thoughts of his brain decided to say without his consent, but it still made him jealous enough to decide that he didn't give a fuck if anyone heard him anymore, he wanted to ease his brain into that numb state of babbling to him his own name.

How could he ever forget such a thing when someone so hot as Wade was screaming it?

“EEHHh!! Please! Please- Logan. Oh god oh god oh god- Fuck! Logan-” The screams grew quiet, evolving Into more of a pleading whimper, whispering under the harshness of the breath he was trying so desperately to keep and yet couldn't keep anything inside at the moment.

“Logan.. Logan please.. Logan fuck- Logan” he whispers, breathy moans into his face, letting his hands finally drop, coming to hold around his neck, scratching his back instead.

“Oh Logan please- please.. yes.. yes fuck- Logan, hold me- please..”

Logan could have come right then and there from the babbling. It was his favorite part. The perfect balance of his mind drifting into a deep subspace, being relieved from pain, and filled with intimacy.

He knew these moans were just for him, and only him. Quiet enough just so he could hear the sweet sympathy that his loving boy could make for him.

“Logan- Logan.. L-Logan! F-fuck- Logan please.”

He was close. He knew he was. He could feel it from how tightly the coil in his stomach was causing him to stiffen, he could already smell the precum, feel his toes curling in his converse, the hot blood still dripping from him onto his legs.

“Logan.. logan- fuck- Logan.. Logan!” He cried, breaths unevenly hitching as tears came to his eyes. It could be a lot. The pain, the intensity, the numbness in his mind that couldn't quite validate the reason for said pain and intense feeling in his lungs. Subconsciously he was asking for help, to regulate himself and his emotions.

The soft panic of overstimulation that was settling in made Logan slow a moment, taking his time to push himself into the perfect places. Kissing him gently yet hungry, letting out small purrs of appreciation to restart the brain, keep him leveled.

“Hi, bub.” He whispers, kissing away his tears knowing by now just how mindbroke he truly was. And he loved it. God he was so sexy like this. Calling his name, begging him to save him, worried that he'll drop. Both physically and metaphorically. “Shhh. You're alright. I won't drop ya, I got you… ready?”

Wade nods, practically salivating at the offer, arms tight around his neck and much happier despite knowing he would be a bit sore on the ride home.

Taking another bite out of him, He was shoved against the wall in a way that made him gasp and moan deeply, the other kind of sounds Logan adored. Sure, he liked the high pitched ones too but something about that deep voice of his made him go a bit insane, trusting into him like a buck in a rut FINALLY given what was his.

With every balls deep slap of skin, Wade groaned lowly. Shifting his hand position from on his back to placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his head, petting him as he gripped A fistful of curls, pulling him closer. Pressing his teeth deeper into his skin as he decided to grunt and growl with each thrust, nails digging into Wade’s hips as if it were his birthright to breed him in a dirty subway bathroom.

“Ah fuck- gimmekitsgimmekits PLEASE gimmekits” he mumbles, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes as he held him, legs unwrapping to let him use him how he pleased, trusting him fully not to drop him.

The orgasm hit stronger than a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Logan kept their hips together, keeping him pinned, his ass almost touching the wall as he bucked a few more times, wanting as deep as possible. It was only natural for him to pump him full. Not like Wade minded either, having already made a mess on the hoodie and now was limp against the wall.

With his head back, he breathed heavily, beginning to chuckle, moaning at a final buck. Bringing his hands to his hair, Wade giggled, pulling his chin up for a sloppy kiss.

Moving to hold his cheeks in his hands, he smirked. “Who's a good boy?”

Logan scoffed, grumbling a bit, blushing.

“... me”

“That's right. My big strong boy~ Fucks me so good!” he coes, making Logan chuckle, shaking his head. “You're a freak..”

“I'm not the one that dragged me in here.”

“.. touché….. Alright. I guess we better get going before the cops come or something.”

“Why would the cops come?”

“Oh I don't know. Public indecency, you screaming your lungs out bloody murder, it looks like a crime scene in here, Wade.” he mutters, holding his thighs as he pulls out with a groan.

Almost immediately their foreheads came together to watch as the cum spilled out onto his jeans and continued to drop down his legs.

“Aw my pants..”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Certainly not the last.” He commented, now glancing away. “Well uhm.. thanks for.. you know.. turning my guts into strawberry jam..”

He pulls his chin to face him, kissing him again with that shit eating grin that really made wish he could get pregnant just so his children could have the same stupid smirk.

“Darlin’ I'd do it even if you didn't ask me to.”

About 10 minutes later between Logan cleaning up his mess by licking up his thigh (only for more to just replace it seconds later), Helping a jelly legged Wade get dressed again, and slobbering all over him as he kissed him to death- Logan now stood with Wade on his hip, like holding an oversized sleepy toddler in his one arm, their shopping in the other.

Wade's tired snores into his neck was music to his ears as he snuggled up to him, used to the screeches of the train's brakes and nonsense being blared over the speakers.

At time's he would kiss his head, not minding the fact that they both now had Cum stained onto their fronts and just how soaked Wade's bottom was. Either way- He was beautiful like this. Happy, relieved of his pain, and filled to the brim with such love, mixed bodily fluids and- Logan had a feeling he was forgetting something.

He forgot their lunch bag...

“...well shit.”

Hello, if you made it this far, congratulations! ⭐️ you get a gold star. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it.

[bella-rose29]

beautiful people

requested by anon: hi hi! Can I request Anthony Lockwood x reader fic inspired by the song beautiful people by ed Sheeran?

lockwood x gn!reader (made it gn bc there wasn't a gender specified, hope that's alright anon <3)

I am so sorry that this took so long anon 😭😭😭

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: set after the empty grave but I don't think there are any actual spoilers (but you've been warned anyway), I think that's the only thing? edit: there is a very big huge massive spoiler that's mentioned in one sentence so be careful

tag list (I just copied and pasted from deck the halls bc I'm tired and couldn't be asked to search through everything, so feel free to not read this if you don't want to): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12

Lockwood was buzzing with unreleased energy, which made sitting next to him on a plane incredibly difficult, since Y/n just wanted to punch him in the face. They loved him, but they didn't need his jitters when neither of the two of them had ever flown before, let alone been out of the country.

It was a private jet they sat in, the vehicle sent by some rich person from America who had invited the famous ghost hunting agency from England to a week in Los Angeles. While George had initially seemed sceptical of the plane and it's abilities to carry them safely across half the world, he'd deemed it good enough for travel. Lucy and Holly were joining them too, although both were far less happy about it than Lockwood.

"It's basically a huge shell of metal that hurtles through the air. Why do you think I've been for three nervous pees in the last ten minutes, George?!" Lucy had stressfully said to George after he had questioned her multiple trips to the toilet.

Y/n had gone along because Lockwood had asked, despite them having only a vague connection to the agency's work. As a member of the general public, they didn't often get involved in the actual ghost hunting (Talent had never turned up for them which meant fighting was extremely dangerous, and they quite preferred being alive), but often could spot things that the others couldn't when looking at the history of a building, or a family, or pick up on the more human things in meetings as opposed to being solely focused on the Visitors.

Their other link to the agency was a lot stronger, because they were dating Lockwood.

Naturally when he'd asked if Y/n would be joining them on the agency's one week trip to America they couldn't say no, not when he was smiling at them the way he had been, and now they found themselves wondering why the hell they let him have so much of a hold on their heart.

It was the middle of July, too, and there was a freak heatwave as they were leaving England. It was nothing compared to the temperatures they would be met with in L.A., but the English were never made for heat.

"Oi," Y/n said softly, prodding Lockwood in the leg closest to theirs. "Stop bouncing, you're making me more nervous."

He cast them a small smile, tilting his head to look at them. "Sorry, my love." They could tell he was nervous too despite all the smiles and bravado he'd shown earlier, more so than when he went out and risked his life every night, and they grabbed his hand.

"People do this all the time, right? And George very kindly worked out the likelihood of us dying in this thing-"

"One in a million chance!"

"Thank you, George!" Y/n sighed, turning back to Lockwood. "But my point is, we're gonna make it there, and then we'll have an incredible, completely free holiday, and then we'll make it back to Portland Row, alive and in one piece, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Hey. We're Lockwood and Co. And you're Anthony bloody Lockwood." He smiled wider at that, a huge grin taking over his face and making him light up.

"That we are," he replied, pressing a kiss to Y/n's forehead.

~~~

They had only been in America for about an hour, and already the agents were exhausted.

It didn't help that the plane journey was long, or that their internal body clocks were telling them it was well past their normal time to go to bed despite it being barely evening in Los Angeles. It seemed to be that the darker it got, the more people there were, which didn't make sense to any of the agents. While ghosts were no longer being created, many still hung around and caused fear, and it was strange for Lockwood and Co to be walking around in the dark with no rapiers, or even a spare flare.

Fancy cars drove past, one of them stopping (on the wrong side of the road; how did anyone drive correctly if they were doing it backwards?!) and opening its door to let the agents in. George squeezed in first, then went Y/n and Lockwood, and Lucy and Holly pushed their way into a seat a moment later. How they fit the five of them combined with the ten? eleven? people already in there Y/n wasn't sure. Music was blasting through speakers that weren't even visible (seriously, where was the music coming from?) and coloured lights flashed across the interior of the car. They had cars in England, of course, but this was much fancier than anything they had on their side of the world. People were drinking and dressed in fashion that looked futuristic to the five of them, and Y/n could feel the others shift in what little space they had as they looked down at their own clothes.

Then there were the questions.

At first it was difficult to understand their voices, since the accents were thick and everybody was talking at once, all trying to be heard over the music. Then it was difficult to answer their questions, because they were asking about phones and movies and music that none of them had much knowledge of in their technologically-different world. When they learned that Y/n wasn't even an agent, they wanted to know what exactly their role was, which was also difficult.

"He's my partner," they shouted (it was too loud to talk any quieter), pointing at Lockwood.

"So you're not... you're not an agent? You're just here?"

"Uh... yeah. I help on cases sometimes though!"

"Oh, cool!" the woman yelled, then immediately moved onto the next conversation. Y/n settled back against Lockwood, feeling his arm come around their shoulders. They looked at George, noting his bewilderment at the hidden speakers, and then at Lucy and Holly who were trying to figure out how to use the phone that someone had given them. It didn't even look like a phone; it was far too flat and small to be of any use to anyone.

They were all just trying to figure everything out, but even those who were being really nice to them could tell that the agents from London didn't fit in too well.

~~~

The party was far bigger than anything Fittes had ever thrown, and the five of them felt very underdressed, despite how fancy they had gone with their clothes.

Two hours in, Y/n was trapped in a conversation with a group of people about some event that had happened recently and was apparently a worldwide controversy, and they were being asked their opinion on it.

"Uh... I don't really know what's happening, to be honest." It was awkward, being looked at like they were some sort of alien, and Y/n felt themselves shrinking the longer they were stared at.

"Do you not have the news over in England?"

"We do, but normally it's... English news? Our technology got severely stumped growth-wise because of the whole 'there are ghosts now and they can kill you' thing, so..."

"Oh, yeah, sorry! I forgot that you guys are behind!" It wasn't said with any malice or anything, but it only served to make Y/n feel worse about not fitting in with these people. They tried to inconspicuously look around for Lockwood, but within seconds he had appeared at their side and was spewing some excuse about needing to borrow them.

He took them outside to a balcony, and although it was still crowded there was at least a cool breeze. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Thank you for that."

"Anytime," he smiled, pressing a kiss to their cheek. He seemed jittery again, and Y/n wondered if all the flashiness was finally getting to him.

"Are you alright?" they asked, startling Lockwood slightly.

"Oh, yeah." He wasn't particularly convincing in his answer, and Y/n raised their eyebrows at him. "I mean, I know I'm always going on about being front page all the time, and getting famous, which we are on the front page, and we did get famous, but this is... it's a lot." He paused, looking around at everyone gathered on the balcony. "It feels... weird, too. I'm not sure what the right word is yet. Everyone is almost too fancy, if that makes sense."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I keep thinking I'm really underdressed and should borrow a really shiny bin bag instead," they joked, noting someone walking past who was dressed in something that looked very similar.

"You don't need to change a thing, my love. You look stunning as you are." Y/n felt their face heat up at his compliment, and hid their face in his body. His laugh made both of them shake, and his arms came around to hold them close to him. "I mean it. I don't think you could look more incredible if you tried."

"Lockwood," they whined, dragging out the syllables in his name as their face lit up more and more. "Stop it, seriously."

"What, I'm not allowed to tell my partner how wonderful they are?"

"Not this much in one go!" He only laughed again, and Y/n couldn't prevent the smile that came onto their own face.

~~~

Their last night had been spent much like the others, only this time it was only Lockwood and Y/n and the driver of the posh car they had been loaned for the week (once people remembered that the five English visitors couldn't drive, they had been provided with a driver as well as just the car).

The week was basically over, complete with drives in convertibles, gifts of expensive designer clothes, trips to fashion shows, constant questioning from people wanting to know who they were, and what they do, and who they know. George, Lucy, and Holly had stayed back at the hotel they were staying in, too tired to do anything else, but Lockwood had taken Y/n out, saying he wanted to spend their last night in Los Angeles together just the two of them.

They seemed to drive for hours, in reality not travelling that far from their friends, but the lack of destination meant that they were doing constant laps of the city. Not that it mattered, because neither Lockwood nor Y/n had any idea where anything was. Everything was tall, and imposing and fancy and bright and beautiful, and for the most part Y/n sat staring out the window, watching all the lights as they passed.

Lockwood was watching them, a fond smile on his face, seeing the lights reflected in their eyes like stars.

There had been constant lights the whole week, people with cameras at every event they attended, and while Lockwood was more used to bright things (since he had such strong Sight he often had to use sunglasses to stop the glare from a death glow), Y/n was squinting against the flashes. At one point Lockwood had brought out his sunglasses, despite the darkness of the sky, and handed one to Y/n while putting his own pair on his face. He kept his arms around their body at all times, whether it was just carelessly slung over their shoulders or tightly wrapped around their waist, because he didn't want to lose them in the crowds.

The agents really didn't fit in well in America, but they couldn't help it when they were just being themselves. He had figured out what the word he had been looking for on the balcony all those days ago was, too. He realised it as he gazed at Y/n, who had propped their face up on their hand, resting their elbow on the car door. All those people that they had met, at fashion shows and parties and everywhere else they had been, were too perfect, too fancy, too beautiful. It felt far too extravagant, even for Lockwood, and although he had thoroughly enjoyed his time in America he was looking forward to going home.

Because that's who Y/n was to him, and he knew that he was home to Y/n. It didn't matter if they went back to wearing their second hand clothes that were worn out and cheap, and it didn't matter if none of them understood how to use a smartphone by the time they left tomorrow morning, because that was who they were.

They were Lockwood and Co.

[falloutboylyricss]

Fall Out Boy and Names

note: this post includes only specific names of people or groups of people (such as band names), both real and fictional

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend

"I can be your John Cusack" - Honorable Mention

"Obscured by the stand-up arcade and the sound of the Descendants" - Switchblades and Infidelity

"And listen to the Misfits 'Where Eagles Dare' to swallow whole" - Growing Up

"And we're all in the back singing 'Roxanne'" - The World's Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys In A Broken Down Van)

"A simple contradiction could shake my whole foundation, Parker Lewis can't lose" - Parker Lewis Can't Lose (But I'm Gonna Give It My Best Shot)

Take This to Your Grave

Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today (title only)

"Pete and I attacked the laws of Astoria with promise and precision" - Saturday

"Me and Pete in the wake of Saturday" - Saturday

"Hey, Chris, you were our only friend" - Saturday

From Under The Cork Tree

7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen) (title only)

I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me (title only)

Infinity On High

none

Folie à Deux

She's My Winona (title only)

What A Catch, Donnie (title only)

"Miss Flack said, 'I still want you back'" - What A Catch, Donnie

Tiffany Blews (title only)

Save Rock And Roll

"We're all fighting growing old in the hopes of a few minutes more to get, get on St. Peter's list" - Rat A Tat

PAX AM Days

none

American Beauty/American Psycho

"She wants to dance like Uma Thurman" - Uma Thurman

"I got those jet pack blues, just like Judy" - Jet Pack Blues

"Do you remember when we drove, we drove, drove through the night and we danced, we danced to Rancid" - Favorite Record

"I can't remember just how to forget, forget the way that we danced, we danced to Danzig" - Favorite Record

MANIA

"I'm 'bout to go Tonya Harding on the whole world's knee" - Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) (title only)

"And if death is the last appointment, then we're all just sitting in the waiting room (Mr. Stump?)" - Church

"I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice, kill me twice like my name was Nikki Sixx" - Young And Menace

So Much (For) Stardust

"We were a hammer to the Statue of David" - Love From The Other Side

"I can't stop, can't stop 'til we catch all your ears, though, somewhere between Mike Tyson and Van Gogh" - Flu Game

"It breaks your heart, but four of the Ramones are dead" - The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

Misc.

"Yeah, streets are full of seasons, saw what they did to Jesus" - Dear Future Self (Hands Up)

"'Cause everyone loves Bob Dylan, I just want you to love me like that, yeah / Would you bury me next to Johnny Cash? I'm obsessed" - Bob Dylan

"Captain Planet, Arab Spring, L.A. riots, Rodney King" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Oklahoma City bomb, Kurt Cobain, Pokémon / Tiger Woods, MySpace, Monsanto, GMOs / Harry Potter, Twilight, Michael Jackson dies" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Kim Jong Un, Robert Downey Jr., Iron Man" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Obama, Spielberg, explosion, Lebanon / Unabomber, Bobbitt, John, bombing, Boston Marathon" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Trump gets impeached twice, polar bears got no ice / Fyre Fest, Black Parade, Michael Phelps, Y2K / Boris Johnson, Brexit, Kanye West and Taylor Swift" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Sandy Hook, Columbine, Sandra Bland and Tamir Rice / ISIS, LeBron James, Shinzo Abe blown away / Meghan Markle, George Floyd, Burj Khalifa, Metroid / Fermi paradox, Venus and Serena / Michael Jordan, 23, Youtube killed MTV / SpongeBob, Golden State Killer got caught / Michael Jordan, 45, Woodstock '99 / Keaton Batman, Bush v. Gore, I can't take it anymore" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"Elon Musk, Kaepernick, Texas failed electric grid / Jeff Bezos, climate change, white rhino goes extinct / Great Pacific garbage patch, Tom DeLonge and aliens" - We Didn't Start The Fire

"SSRIs, Prince and The Queen die" - We Didn't Start The Fire

[at0micc0la]

Surprise meet up

a/n: I had a dream where I was Quackity's classmate and we walked around the city together, my friends tried to forced me to "confess my love for him and he completely ignore me. So I ended up daydreaming about this

Relationship: Quackity x hispanic!reader

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Creating a community is a complicated work, working your ass off and somedays feeling like is not enough hurts more than one wants to admit, but your hard work allowed you to make friends and acquaintances along the way, and fortunally for you one of those is Quackity, an energetic Mexican boy who seems to want to kiss any man who walks in front of him.

Your friendship started in a Minecraft server called Squidcraft Games where you were teammates and had the mission to finish the different task the "God's" gave the participants, and you two bonded with your dramatics

"I need a priest to confess some things I regret" you screamed looking at your ceiling, fake crying

"Wait wait, let me" the man fixed his mic and added reverberation to his voice "I'm her for you, tell me all your sins" he giggled and tried to read the spamming chat

"FATHER! I've been naughty" you shifted looking at his character "I was the one who tried to push Rubius so he would die first when we were in the chainsaws" your fake tears entertained

"Eeehhh" the norwegian protested, everyone ready for the drama "You disgusting rat!" the man punched your character while you tried to escape and Quackity following

"Don't worry, child. I would also do it, old first" Quackity cackled, starting a fight with the older man.

Since then you two spend good times playing with the other streamers every other day he decided to show up. The warmth the mexican radiated helped you considering him a close friend, so when you had the opportunity to travel to L.A you were so excited to finally meet him.

Luzu helped you, since you never knew if he was in the state, having the man to not raise suspicion was amazing, so that's how you two came up with a plan. Luzu was going to invite Quackity to a coffee shop because he needed to give him something and somewhere along the way you would come up to the man pretending to be a fan and ask for a photo and see if he would be able to recognize you.

Quackity wasn't really excited about going to a public place, he barely slept the night before, but the spanish man told him he must go or he would haunt his soul for eternity. The coffee shop was beautiful, there were little to no customers, an old couple, a group of teenagers, two friends gossiping near the window and Luzu sat on the opposite side

"Luzu, friend"

"Beanie duo meeting" the older man hugged him and sat back, but before Quackity was able to sit he was stopped

"Excuse me, Are you famous mexican streamer Quackity? Can I take a picture with you?" botched english reached his ears and he turned around and started apologizing

"Sorry, maybe later, I'm kinda busy" he umcorfortably apologized, his eyes almost close thanks to his 'I'm sorry' smile

"¿No te vas a sacar una foto con tú fan N°1? Se me cayó un ídolo" [You wont' take a picture with me? You are no longer my idol] he looked at you, truly looked at you and his surprised face made Luzu and you laugh at the man who hugged you, the happy smile he had was unforgettable.

Lana (Luzu's wife) recorded the meet up and after the friends stopped hugging she sat next to Luzu, who was laughing at Quackity

"I can't believe you didn't recognize them, their "english voice" is not far off from their normal one"

"Estoy crudo Lusuuu" :c [I'm hungover Lusu]

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

a/n pt2: sorry if it's not that cohesive, it's almost 3 am and I'm having cramps, but a small fluff for my spanish speaking gremlins ♥

[mayamistake]

"Frank Sinatra's self-inflicted tough-guy-party-animal-Rat-Packer image was not only childish and tiresome, it belied the fact that he was well-read, thoughtful, and a committed free thinker. In this 1963 interview with Playboy magazine, Sinatra speaks frankly (sorry) about the hypocrisy and dangers of "the witch doctor in the middle"--his term for organized religion.

Playboy: All right, let's start with the most basic question there is: Are you a religious man? Do you believe in God?

Sinatra: Well, that'll do for openers. I think I can sum up my religious feelings in a couple of paragraphs. First: I believe in you and me. I'm like Albert Schweitzer and Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein in that I have a respect for life — in any form. I believe in nature, in the birds, the sea, the sky, in everything I can see or that there is real evidence for. If these things are what you mean by God, then I believe in God. But I don't believe in a personal God to whom I look for comfort or for a natural on the next roll of the dice. I'm not unmindful of man's seeming need for faith; I'm for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers or a bottle of Jack Daniel's. But to me religion is a deeply personal thing in which man and God go it alone together, without the witch doctor in the middle. The witch doctor tries to convince us that we have to ask God for help, to spell out to him what we need, even to bribe him with prayer or cash on the line. Well, I believe that God knows what each of us wants and needs. It's not necessary for us to make it to church on Sunday to reach Him. You can find Him anyplace. And if that sounds heretical, my source is pretty good: Matthew, Five to Seven, The Sermon on the Mount.

Playboy: You haven't found any answers for yourself in organized religion?

Sinatra: There are things about organized religion which I resent. Christ is revered as the Prince of Peace, but more blood has been shed in His name than any other figure in history. You show me one step forward in the name of religion and I'll show you a hundred retrogressions. Remember, they were men of God who destroyed the educational treasures at Alexandria, who perpetrated the Inquisition in Spain, who burned the witches at Salem. Over 25,000 organized religions flourish on this planet, but the followers of each think all the others are miserably misguided and probably evil as well. In India they worship white cows, monkeys and a dip in the Ganges. The Moslems accept slavery and prepare for Allah, who promises wine and revirginated women. And witch doctors aren't just in Africa. If you look in the L.A. papers of a Sunday morning, you'll see the local variety advertising their wares like suits with two pairs of pants.

Playboy: Hasn't religious faith just as often served as a civilizing influence?

Sinatra: Remember that leering, cursing lynch mob in Little Rock reviling a meek, innocent little 12-year-old Negro girl as she tried to enroll in public school? Weren't they — or most of them — devout churchgoers? I detest the two-faced who pretend liberality but are practiced bigots in their own mean little spheres. I didn't tell my daughter whom to marry, but I'd have broken her back if she had had big eyes for a bigot. As I see it, man is a product of his conditioning, and the social forces which mold his morality and conduct — including racial prejudice — are influenced more by material things like food and economic necessities than by the fear and awe and bigotry generated by the high priests of commercialized superstition. Now don't get me wrong. I'm for decency — period. I'm for anything and everything that bodes love and consideration for my fellow man. But when lip service to some mysterious deity permits bestiality on Wednesday and absolution on Sunday — cash me out.

Playboy: But aren't such spiritual hypocrites in a minority? Aren't most Americans fairly consistent in their conduct within the precepts of religious doctrine?

Sinatra: I've got no quarrel with men of decency at any level. But I can't believe that decency stems only from religion. And I can't help wondering how many public figures make avowals of religious faith to maintain an aura of respectability. Our civilization, such as it is, was shaped by religion, and the men who aspire to public office anyplace in the free world must make obeisance to God or risk immediate opprobrium. Our press accurately reflects the religious nature of our society, but you'll notice that it also carries the articles and advertisements of astrology and hokey Elmer Gantry revivalists. We in America pride ourselves on freedom of the press, but every day I see, and so do you, this kind of dishonesty and distortion not only in this area but in reporting — about guys like me, for instance, which is of minor importance except to me; but also in reporting world news. How can a free people make decisions without facts? If the press reports world news as they report about me, we're in trouble.

Playboy: Are you saying that . . .

Sinatra: No, wait, let me finish. Have you thought of the chance I'm taking by speaking out this way? Can you imagine the deluge of crank letters, curses, threats and obscenities I'll receive after these remarks gain general circulation? Worse, the boycott of my records, my films, maybe a picket line at my opening at the Sands. Why? Because I've dared to say that love and decency are not necessarily concomitants of religious fervor.

Playboy: If you think you're stepping over the line, offending your public or perhaps risking economic suicide, shall we cut this off now, erase the tape and start over along more antiseptic lines?

Sinatra: No, let's let it run. I've thought this way for years, ached to say these things. Whom have I harmed by what I've said? What moral defection have I suggested? No, I don't want to chicken out now. Come on, pal, the clock's running."

[wineworshipped]

@babydxhl has known me for an embarrassingly long time

It’s no Studio 16, but then, this isn’t a Warner Brothers’ lot. Hell, this isn’t even L.A., or a poor man’s L.A.. It’s just fucking Gotham, gangster capital of the world (sorry, Chicago) and not exactly an artist’s paradise. It’s a shit hole, but the studio’s slightly less of a shit hole than anticipated, and that’s enough for Dio. Why they couldn’t start the touring show somewhere more glamorous, he still didn’t get—but, like his agent looooves to point out to him, he’s paid to act, not think.

Note to self: find a new agent. After this tour, Bette can go choke on her own shit.

Collar upturned against the wind, Dio hustles out into the cold and finds a quiet corner out of the wind to smoke in. This fucking city. Crime rate through the roof, infrastructure in the toilet, the streets reek of bum piss, and it’s colder than the dead rock Hera calls a heart: are there any redeeming qualities out here? Probably not.

Dio shields his lighter from the wind as he touches the cigarette to it, shaking it out to put it away out of sheer force of habit. The scene practically writes itself.

EXTERIOR: a city studio late at night. Just in not two hours before, our haggard hero sucks down a cigarette to stave off his increasing agitation before he has to go deal with the suits again. The show he stars in is usually a hit children’s comedy, but tonight, it’s a darker sort of a flick. Maybe a noir crime story. Close up on the smoke he exhales as the shadows in the alley take new form, the driving force behind this plot, unbeknownst to and unseen by our star.

Dio snickers to himself. Maybe he should’ve been a screenwriter all along. —Until he hears a sound further down the alley. Shit. Is this a horror movie now instead?

I’m better than a back alley pre-credits kill.

“Are you a rat? ‘Cause only rats skulk. People confront, even shit-dick back-alley muggers. Get out here.”

[imaginesbymk]

RESERVOIR DOGS PREFERENCE

PUTTING (EUPHORIA) MAKEUP ON THEM

Characters: Mr. White (Larry), Mr. Orange (Freddy Newandyke), Mr. Blonde (Vic Vega), Mr. Pink, Mr. Brown + “Nice Guy” Eddie 

Tags: swearing, tarantino characters not appreciating the beauty of makeup ??

Taglist: @locke-writes​ & @aryn-the-bearheart​

A/N: i am currently planning a reservoir dogs/pulp fiction x OC AU fic that's euphoria-themed, but i feel like its just hyper fixation and my untreated adhd will just make me abandon it entirely and bounce back to fixating on HBO war fics :P enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^

( i added links to the makeup looks they have lol! its highlighted so you will see )

━︎ MR. WHITE ( LARRY DIMMICK )

He thinks you're joking, but you're so serious

Mr. White laughs out loud. "C'mon. Don't do that to me, y/n. I'll wear those things the day aliens land and go clubbing in L.A."

One time he's so drunk from the bar that he comes home and gets too curious when he sees you organizing your makeup station. "All right, I'll bite. Make me look like a doll."

He's not sober so he moves too much, and you're struggling.

"Finally done!"

He checks the vanity. You went simple but bold on graphic eyeliner. "Ho-ly shit!" He laughs. "I could pick up women and men at the bar if I went out like this earlier."

━︎ MR. ORANGE ( FREDDY NEWANDYKE )

Freddy has a nice eye shape, so you decide to give him a smokey eye look with glitter tears

He lowkey doesn't mind it, he knows he's good looking so why not add more shine to it?

"Stop moving, Freddy. You'll make me mess up."

He checks the mirror. "How do you come up with this?"

You take a lot of photos of him, and he keeps it on for the whole day that he'll forget that he's wearing makeup

Officer Holdaway from the police department visits him at the apartment with some case files he picked up for him. "What the FUCK happened to you, man?"

━︎ MR. BLONDE ( VIC VEGA )

He thinks it's too girly, and would only appreciate it if it was worn on someone attractive

Mr. Blonde mainly likes red lipstick and loves it when you leave lipstick stains on him

You're actually worried that he'll touch his face too much that it'll ruin his makeup (he touches his face too much)

He's so annoyed that he finally gives in and lets you experiment.

You let him choose the colours on the palette. "I dunno, that one."

He hums when he looks in the mirror. "Yeah. It's cool." He kinda likes it, but he immediately makes you wipe it all off.

━︎ MR. PINK

There is absolutely no way Pink is ever gonna wear makeup, let alone let you put a dab of blush on him

He will literally swat your hand away and try to throw you off the couch when you pounce on his lap with a powder brush in your hand

He's passed out on the couch and you slowly and carefully apply pink liner on him

He wakes up all groggy, annoyed, and confused as to why you're smiling and laughing so devilishly. "What's the fuckin' matter with you?" He goes into the bathroom and looks in the mirror. "Y/N L/N YOU ARE SO DEAD."

━︎ MR. BROWN

Brown will only say yes as long as you don't make him go out in public

"Fine," he huffs. "But I want a Madonna glam."

You agreed because he couldn't stop talking about Like A Virgin the whole day.

As he's watching you look at the eyeshadow palette, you decide on the neon colours for the 80s vibe.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," he says to you.

He keeps bombarding you with questions about the brushes. "There's a whole routine to makeup?! Jesus."

"I guess I do feel kinda pretty," he chuckles to himself in the mirror.

He messes up his makeup because he kept scratching his eyes!!!!

━︎ NICE GUY EDDIE ( EDDIE CABOT )

"No fuckin' way, y/n. Do I look like a lab rat?"

"I promise I'll make it look cool." You bribe him to do it. You'll do extra hours with Dove if he lets you do his makeup.

He's in his office chair and you're sitting cross-legged on his desk, working on his face like an artist with their canvas.

He's sweating and constantly checks the door because anyone can walk in, even Joe or the Dogs, and see him wearing makeup. He would have to crawl into a turtle shell and go into hiding for the rest of his life if his Dad caught him.

"Jesus, are you almost done?"

"Just about done." You put the lid back. "Do you like it?"

He checks the tiny mirror on the wall. "Oh." He nods. "Did you superglue gems on my face?!"

The door opens. Mr. Blonde is standing there, jaw dropped on the floor.

[carrionfourth]

tagged by @moldwood for top 10 most played songs rn

1. peach by future islands

2. unseen girl by emily brown

3. wolves by the barr brothers

4. one by metallica (binged it bc of the me if I was lobsta video and now here we are sgdhdhdghf)

5. the rat catcher by wrekmeister harmonies (if you've seen me tag posts as ratcatcher yes this song is the namesake for my new oc and the last 4 songs are also on this list bc I put them on his playlist)

6. I wear this because life is war! by l.a. salami

7. chewing gum - piano version by georgia train

8. hypochondriac by lung

9. I'm an expert by warmer

10. wound man by conan neutron & the secret friends

tagging @wholemleko @reversewerewolf @xanzusx @smokeys-house @smooth-goat @clichenuance @cozypeachtea @ms-nishakadam

[rockstar-smash-or-pass]

Nikki Sixx?

I already did 80s Nikki, so I hope you don't mind older Nikki

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Frank Sinatra's self-inflicted tough-guy-party-animal-Rat-Packer image was not only childish and tiresome, it belied the fact that he was well-read, thoughtful, and a committed free thinker. In this 1963 interview with Playboy magazine, Sinatra speaks frankly (sorry) about the hypocrisy and dangers of "the witch doctor in the middle"--his term for organized religion.

Playboy: All right, let's start with the most basic question there is: Are you a religious man? Do you believe in God?

Sinatra: Well, that'll do for openers. I think I can sum up my religious feelings in a couple of paragraphs. First: I believe in you and me. I'm like Albert Schweitzer and Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein in that I have a respect for life — in any form. I believe in nature, in the birds, the sea, the sky, in everything I can see or that there is real evidence for. If these things are what you mean by God, then I believe in God. But I don't believe in a personal God to whom I look for comfort or for a natural on the next roll of the dice. I'm not unmindful of man's seeming need for faith; I'm for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers or a bottle of Jack Daniel's. But to me religion is a deeply personal thing in which man and God go it alone together, without the witch doctor in the middle. The witch doctor tries to convince us that we have to ask God for help, to spell out to him what we need, even to bribe him with prayer or cash on the line. Well, I believe that God knows what each of us wants and needs. It's not necessary for us to make it to church on Sunday to reach Him. You can find Him anyplace. And if that sounds heretical, my source is pretty good: Matthew, Five to Seven, The Sermon on the Mount.

Playboy: You haven't found any answers for yourself in organized religion?

Sinatra: There are things about organized religion which I resent. Christ is revered as the Prince of Peace, but more blood has been shed in His name than any other figure in history. You show me one step forward in the name of religion and I'll show you a hundred retrogressions. Remember, they were men of God who destroyed the educational treasures at Alexandria, who perpetrated the Inquisition in Spain, who burned the witches at Salem. Over 25,000 organized religions flourish on this planet, but the followers of each think all the others are miserably misguided and probably evil as well. In India they worship white cows, monkeys and a dip in the Ganges. The Moslems accept slavery and prepare for Allah, who promises wine and revirginated women. And witch doctors aren't just in Africa. If you look in the L.A. papers of a Sunday morning, you'll see the local variety advertising their wares like suits with two pairs of pants.

Playboy: Hasn't religious faith just as often served as a civilizing influence?

Sinatra: Remember that leering, cursing lynch mob in Little Rock reviling a meek, innocent little 12-year-old Negro girl as she tried to enroll in public school? Weren't they — or most of them — devout churchgoers? I detest the two-faced who pretend liberality but are practiced bigots in their own mean little spheres. I didn't tell my daughter whom to marry, but I'd have broken her back if she had had big eyes for a bigot. As I see it, man is a product of his conditioning, and the social forces which mold his morality and conduct — including racial prejudice — are influenced more by material things like food and economic necessities than by the fear and awe and bigotry generated by the high priests of commercialized superstition. Now don't get me wrong. I'm for decency — period. I'm for anything and everything that bodes love and consideration for my fellow man. But when lip service to some mysterious deity permits bestiality on Wednesday and absolution on Sunday — cash me out.

Playboy: But aren't such spiritual hypocrites in a minority? Aren't most Americans fairly consistent in their conduct within the precepts of religious doctrine?

Sinatra: I've got no quarrel with men of decency at any level. But I can't believe that decency stems only from religion. And I can't help wondering how many public figures make avowals of religious faith to maintain an aura of respectability. Our civilization, such as it is, was shaped by religion, and the men who aspire to public office anyplace in the free world must make obeisance to God or risk immediate opprobrium. Our press accurately reflects the religious nature of our society, but you'll notice that it also carries the articles and advertisements of astrology and hokey Elmer Gantry revivalists. We in America pride ourselves on freedom of the press, but every day I see, and so do you, this kind of dishonesty and distortion not only in this area but in reporting — about guys like me, for instance, which is of minor importance except to me; but also in reporting world news. How can a free people make decisions without facts? If the press reports world news as they report about me, we're in trouble.

Playboy: Are you saying that . . .

Sinatra: No, wait, let me finish. Have you thought of the chance I'm taking by speaking out this way? Can you imagine the deluge of crank letters, curses, threats and obscenities I'll receive after these remarks gain general circulation? Worse, the boycott of my records, my films, maybe a picket line at my opening at the Sands. Why? Because I've dared to say that love and decency are not necessarily concomitants of religious fervor.

Playboy: If you think you're stepping over the line, offending your public or perhaps risking economic suicide, shall we cut this off now, erase the tape and start over along more antiseptic lines?

Sinatra: No, let's let it run. I've thought this way for years, ached to say these things. Whom have I harmed by what I've said? What moral defection have I suggested? No, I don't want to chicken out now. Come on, pal, the clock's running

[richieratsanders]

Hey, Rat! Everyone in Galloway is like..In L.A. right now! Just letting you know so you don't think we got abducted. (i mean, they kinda did, but that doesn't matter because I did it and I'm chill.)

oujh man ,dude i wus wodnerjgn wear u guys wer!!!

thout rand jist got tired of me or sumthin hahaa

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Just finish watching the losers. Btw did you have any spicy gossip about Chris during that time?

Well, it filmed in 2009, on location in Puerto Rico. He did go out partying in San Juan a couple of times with JDM and Zoe. He's on tape about not really liking filming there, because of the heat. Oh, and there's a hilarious story about a rat in his trailer that's on video somewhere on YouTube if you want to look around for it.

He also shot Scott Pilgrim up in Vancouver that year.

Otherwise, back in 2009, he was still very much in his L.A. party phase. Tons of pap photos if you want to look around for them. There weren't any photos with a steady girlfriend, or rumors of a steady girlfriend, although I'm sure he was dating around alot. In Boston, he was partying a lot with that Michael Winter guy, if you know those old rumors.

[antisociallilbrat]

Losers Hc's

I have so many personal Loser Hc's that just live in my head and I just want to share them. I wanna put them somewhere so I'm putting them here. Some hints of Poly Losers

Ben

He has a peanut allergy, idk why, it's the vibes

Until he met Bev his wardrobe consisted of nerdy t-shirts with awful puns. You know what I'm talking about.

Secretly loves Twilight (him and Richie watch it together)

His favorite drink is lemonade, iykyk

Keeps fish! Like really big aquarium set ups and he actually designs some of the decor. Can't keep any aquarium plants alive tho

Mike

loves the smell of cashmere and just collects candles in general

I've mentioned picnics with him before (the ones he takes with Bev and Eddie) but he also likes to make little finger sandwiches and wears fancy sun hats on said picnics

hates the taste of olives, my man is anti olives

bringing this up again, but he had a stuff tigger as a kid and when he's an adult he keeps it in a shadow box

also he's a bit of a technophobe, he had a flip phone until the Losers literally made him upgrade, it was difficult for group texts

Eddie

red shorts this, red shorts that, consider him wearing overalls! He has a whole collection for every kind of weather and they're adorble

not much of a gamer but went through a really intense minecraft stage, the other losers refused to play with him

he loves traveling. Sonia never allowed him to go anywhere so as an adult he goes everywhere. Constantly taking trips and planning the next place to explore. Also he tries to travel with the Losers if they're going somewhere for work. Richie to L.A., Bill to London, Bev to Italy for fashion shows

secret huge ya novels nerd (don't tell Bill)

he's really into fancy coffee. Has an espresso machine in the kitchen and tries to make little designs in the foam and is constantly watching aesthetic coffee videos

Richie

pretends to like horror movies but is actually baby, he covers his eyes the whole time

He owned a ferret, his name was Todd. Eddie and Stan pretended to hate it but the creature grew on them

allergic to cats, cue the ferret, his skin will break out in hives if he's near one, but he doesn't care. He will pet that cat and the others Losers have to stop him

LOVES Futurama, he has a tattoo of Bender on his ass

Actually enjoys doing yard work. His mind is constantly going but when he's doing yard work, running the weed wacker or the lawn mowers, he can't hear himself think. Or if he's raking leaves or cutting bushes, his mind is too zeroed in on his task. It's strangely therapeutic for him

Bill

constantly has ink on his hands, from drawing or his typewriter, it's always there

had adult braces, IK I've said this before but I'm very passionate about 20 year old something Bill with a full set of braces. Yes I had adult braces too, why do you ask?

Sticks his tongue out when he's really focused on something and gets a wrinkle between his brows

he is dumbest smart person you will ever meet. He is an idiot. Everyone thinks he's supposed to be smart bc he's a best selling author but no, this man will try to pry something open with a knife with his face too close to said knife. He has no self preservation instincts, it's only bc of the Losers he's made it this far

has a weird obsession with Cherry Coke

Bev

again, i've said this before, but Bev always wanted a pet and she can't give the emotional care a cat, dog, rat, ect needs so she keeps reptiles. They're really cool and besides their basic care, they don't need anything else from Bev, they're perfectly content to be watched by her on the other side of the tank

speaking of that, her favorite reptile are geckos and she's actually based a couple her designs on their patterns

went through a phase where all she did was play the Sims. She was obsessed. The losers would go to bed while she was playing and wake up and she was still playing it. Yes this overlapped with Eddie's minecraft phase.

believes in Bigfoot. Like for real.

complete roller coaster fanatic, loves going to amusement parks to ride the most extreme roller coasters

Stan

has a deep passion for the Law & Order shows, they're his guilty pleasures

had a mental breakdown in his twenties and dyed his hair blue. The others losers where surprised and yes Stan regretted it. It was Impossible to get out and he basically just had to grow it out

believe it or not he is a horrible driver. He insists he's a great driver but the other losers refuse to ride with him. He doesn't get it. It's not like he's hit multiple curbs and gets massive road rage

he is constantly cold, over half the sweaters in the house belong to him and he's always under the blanket when watching tv. His cuddles are rare but during winter with no hesitation he will snuggle up under the human space heaters (Richie, Ben, and Mike)

he gardens! Has a rose garden out front with a bird bath and feeder. hates dirt though so when he's out there he has gloves and a little garden apron on

I have more too

[megamanrecut]

More Return to the Night, will try to finish this little interlude in 2-ish more parts.

Return to the Night, Part 4 (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, or Ao3)

Proto and Turner took off from the apartment building and down the lonely street in a quick stride. All was silent, save for the occasional sigh of a warm, smoggy L.A. summer wind drifting aimlessly down the deserted street.

"So, how's sharing a room with Elec Man?" Proto asked to lighten the mood, for beside him Turner walked with his hands held stiffly at his side, his face wooden.

"Oh…uh, Elec Man insisted. All his idea. You see, he wanted to protect me. He's more suited for combat than I am, and our affiliation attracts danger. Of course, I'm alright on my own," Turner replied lazily, yet his eyes darted away as though this wasn't the full truth.

"Uh-huh, sure."

Proto was about to ask another question when they turned into an alley and nearly collided with a pair of androids. One had curly dark red hair beneath a striped beanie and numerous ring piercings on his ears and lower lip, the other had spikey silver hair that slouched lazily to one side and a dull, flat expression in his black eyes.

"Whoa, check it out. It's Break Man and some other pretty boy dork human," muttered the one with piercings, nudging the other in the ribs.

"Weird."

"Oh hello there, gentleman," greeted Proto brightly, recognizing them. Of all the times, why now? He had more important things going on than to deal with losers like Ring Man and Magnet Man!

Turner whirled accusingly on Proto. "We've been followed?!" he hissed.

"Uh…no? We like didn't even know you'd be here," said Ring Man. "We were just running some errands and stuff."

"Yeah," muttered Magnet Man, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he scowled up at Proto.

Without warning, Turner drew a laser pistol from a hidden holster strapped to his back, cocked it, and pointed it at Ring Man. "You'll regret following us," he uttered coldly.

Both Ring Man and Magnet Man went tense. Ring Man took a huge step backward, his back hitting the alley wall, his wide eyes locked on the pistol. 'What the—hey!" he complained, raising his hands. "Chill out, dude! We weren't following you! We didn't even know he was going to be here, Break Man's supposed to live in New York with his stupid creator!"

Proto quickly stepped between them, "Whoa whoa whoa, stand down, they're not worth it!" he told Turner.

"Break Man, what the hell's going on? Are you teaming up with gangsters now or something?" demanded Ring Man, sounding annoyed.

Smiling coldly, Proto turned back to Ring Man. "As if I'd tell you…but I'll cut you a deal. Let's just pretend I didn't see you, and you didn't see me, and no one ends up at the bottom of a river, got it?"

Ring Man's eyes twinkled. "Really? Thanks!" he snickered, motioning to Magnet Man. "Smell ya later, dorkface!"

They scampered like rats down the alley and out of sight.

Turner watched them go, his entire frame as rigid as the nozzle of the laser pistol remained on Ring Man's retreating back. "And you best forget our faces or I will hunt down everyone you hold dearly and make them suffer!" he called.

Though Ring Man and Magnet Man were out of sight, they heard Ring Man's taunting response echoing between the building. "Um, yeah, whatever? Don't get your fancy pants in a twist, we're going! Dork, heh. Yeesh!"

"Easy junior! Those bots aren't that bad, they're kinda lazy morons, actually. Relax!" said Proto, barely holding back a laugh.

Turner glared at Proto. It was a moment before he finally lowered the laser pistol. "…Are they really not dangerous?"

"Pff, no. Playground bullies are more threatening! Their names are Ring Man and Magnet Man."

"Who do they work for?"

"Dr. Wily."

"Who?"

"Man, you Angelenos are really out of the loop…Dr. Wily, America's most wanted mad scientist?"

"And he calls himself Dr. 'Wily'?

"…Yeah? I used to work for him, but now we're archenemies or something."

Turner raised a brow at Proto, looked back down the alley, and sighed. "You're really not what I expected."

Proto grinned. "Maybe not, but it's alright, kid! They're gone! You can relax, you're with me! If we really get jumped I'll take care of it—and don't worry about those two, they had it coming, all you did was rough up a couple of robo-punks."

There was no response. Turner was looking down at his hand, which was trembling.

Watching Turner keenly, Proto asked in a low voice, "Fighting's not your thing, is it? Gee, you don't rake after your brother after all!"

"I don't know what you mean," muttered Turner brusquely, his fist clenching as his eyes shifted to a distant point on the opposite side of the alley.

He was fooling no one. Proto was beginning to have second thoughts about this. "Hey, uh…do you want to stay behind?" he asked bracingly. "Where we're going might get ugly."

Turner's pale eye snapped toward Proto. "No."

Proto took a small step toward Turner. "I dig your enthusiasm, kid, but if someone tries to come at ya like this—"

In demonstration, Proto made a lunge for Turner's pistol, yet in a swift, elegant movement, Turner spun out of his reach further down the alley. Non-plussed, Proto tried again, and again, but Turner continued to evade with the easy grace of a feather riding the wind.

"Okay. Impressive," Proto admitted finally, realizing he wouldn't be able to disarm Turner so easily.

"I'm staying with you," Turner said firmly, placing the pistol back in its hidden holster. "Now, lead on. And if any of your other moronic associates attempt to jump us, well, let's just say they've got another thing coming."

"Whatever you say, junior," Proto replied with a shrug, amused by Turner's empty threat. One thing could be certain—Turner certainly didn't follow the typical Syndicate mold (no matter how hard he tried) but despite the danger, he was gravely worried about Elec Man above all.

Continued in Part 5

[omegaremix]

Spring 2015 Mixtape.

Grimes ft. Blood Diamonds “Go”

La Sera “Break My Heart”

Capital Steez “Last Straw”

Honeyblood “Super Rat”

Happy Meals Apero

Fisherman Remixed

Raveonettes, The “Sisters”

Godspeed You Black Emperor! “Piss Crowns Are Trebled”

Eternal Summers “Together Or Alone”

Dinner “Going Out”

Ye Olde Maids “In The Palms Of God’s Hands”

Death Grips “Inanimate Sensation”

Gateway Drugs “Night Swimming”

18+ “OIXU”

Raveonettes, The “A Hell Below”

Polysick “Barry Talks”

Ronnie Laws “Always There”

Sweet Mixture “House Of Fun And Love”

L.A. Boppers “Saturday”

Pharmakon Bestial Burden

Prurient Pleasure Ground

Tantor “Niederwohren”

Pop Eye “Lazy Haze”

Chocolate Star “Stay With Me”

Disco Ruido! “Prisma”

Soft Moon Deeper

Uniform “Footnote”

Dinner “Say What You Want (Love Is Death)”

Big Youth “Every N*gg*r Is A Star”

Sauveur Mallia “Future Vision”

Metric “The Shade”

MNDR “Lock & Load” (f. Killer Mike)

Uniform “Buyer’s Remorse”

Prurient Frozen Niagara Falls

Steve Moore “Zero-Point Field”

Disco Ruido! “Sol”

Rockwell “Childhood Memories”

Black Lips “Bad Kids”