#even though roland is in no way a puppy

[horse-heaven]

kinda grateful that we’re off for obedience training this week bc I’ve got a lot to think about before we go back. our class on Wednesday was messy, to put it lightly, for a variety of reasons, including my own anxieties and frustrations, Roland reacting to my emotions, and the fact that it was storming outside, among other things, but I think another major factor was the instructor. so far, in the three weeks we’ve been doing this class, we’ve had three different instructors, which has been a bit chaotic but has worked for the most part. the instructor we had on Wednesday was the only one who I have not liked working with. I feel like she was far too impatient with Roland and I and didn’t give us much of a chance to work out any mistakes or work through our struggles, leaving me feeling like I was constantly struggling to keep up with the rest of the class. she said that she’s used to working with the more advanced classes, which might be part of why it felt like she wasn’t giving us much time to learn anything.

my current predicament is trying to figure out what to do next. I’m not sure if she’s going to be teaching our classes for the rest of the beginner class (I’m really hoping she isn’t, but idk), but if she is, it’s not going to be very encouraging to try to stick it out and finish. on the other hand, the beginners class is only for about 6 weeks, and then we could move up to the intermediate class. I’ve watched the intermediate classes and seen the instructors and the way they’ve been taught, and it seems like something Roland and I would both do well in. so im thinking i should just suck it up and stick it out and finish the beginners classes so we can move up. surely it can’t be that bad, right?

[martianbugsbunny]

A Slice of Life (An Outlaw Queen Fic)

Hey guys! This is a new pairing for me, I've never written anything OQ before even though I think they're absolutely adorable together, but my pal @stardreamer28 has been having a rough couple of days and was hoping for somebody to write her a ficlet, and since she also loves OQ I decided to give it a shot! Idk what counts as a ficlet vs. a fic, but it's a short'n'sweet one-shot, that's the point. It's kind of an idea of what it would've been like if Regina and Robin got their happy ending and just got to be a family with their boys, because nuts to Hades ruining everything! Read on and enjoy!

Regina watched the boys playing together from a spot on a shaded park bench, one leg crossed elegantly over the other and a fond smile on her perfectly-reddened lips. Henry was teaching Roland some of the sword fighting moves he had learned from David with sticks. Regina imagined it wouldn’t be too long before Robin started teaching Roland some moves of his own—with a bow and arrow, although probably the ones with suction cups on the ends instead of sharp points.

Roland was the sweetest little boy; those big round eyes were absolutely irresistible. They were the reason Regina had gone out for ice cream so many times lately. Besides, he had his father’s puppy dog look when he wanted to spend time with Regina, and Regina could never say no to either of them with that face.

Speaking of Robin…he came up from behind the bench and kissed the top of Regina’s head, waving to the boys. He’d been giving a seminar on wilderness safety at the high school, so Regina had moved her city council meeting back to six so they would still have time for dinner.

“Come on, Henry!” Regina called, standing up. She took Robin’s hand as the four of them walked back into downtown Storybrooke. It gave her a pleasant little warm feeling, right in the part of her heart she had once believed to be permanently frozen, to feel his fingers intertwined with hers, and to catch the little smile on Robin’s handsome face as he snuck adoring glances at her. Even better was the way their sons walked ahead of them, Roland pointing at people who passed them and asking Henry if they were in the storybook. Most of them weren’t, but he was such a curious little boy, and he already knew that nobody knew more about people’s fairytale pasts than Henry.

Dinner was at Granny’s, as usual. Robin and Henry ordered hamburgers, which Regina hadn’t been surprised to learn was one of Robin’s favorite Storybrooke foods. Roland got an order of chicken nuggets (he wasn’t adventurous enough to try to burgers yet), and Regina got fried chicken with mashed potatoes. There was no way she would ever touch one of Granny’s lasagnas—she had standards.

After dinner, they walked back to the house together before Regina had to go to the town hall. Once they were a few streets away, Roland and Henry raced each other back…not that it was much of a contest, with how much longer than Roland’s legs Henry’s were.

“See you later,” Regina said, stopping at the front gate and kissing Robin’s cheek. “Make sure the boys get their homework done.”

“I’m on it,” Robin said, with one of those soft, dashing smiles that Regina could never get enough of. “Have fun at your meeting, love.”

“Very funny.” Council meetings were boring, when there weren’t issues of villainous threats and life and death to worry about. “I’ll be home around eight.”

Regina waited at the gate to watch Robin go into the house. She loved doing that; it was such a joy to her that Robin Hood lived there with her, and that they had blended their little families together there as well. And she looked forward to coming home every night even more than she had before, knowing she had two new people to come home to, and a fiancee to cuddle up with at night.

But first, there was a meeting, and she was already running late.

[apricusnights]

Chapter Seventeen: VNLA Vs. OLIV.

Location: Upper Docks.

Van: "I swear to you it wasn't me!"

Larsen: "I believe you."

Van: "You do?"

Larsen: "You may be a pain in my ass but you're not the kind of person you used to be. Besides, didn't you say you dated that bitch that was on the news?"

Lye: "Date is a strong word...more like she manipulated him and he followed her around like a puppy."

Van: "Annoyingly accurate. Why are you even here?"

Lye: "Saw the report. First instinct was to find you and punch you. Second instinct was that Amorette is a lying bitch and she's obviously trying to frame you."

Both Lye and Van are on guard as a PWSB vehicle pulls up but it's only Jae who steps out of it.

Jae: "Captain." Nodding to Larsen. "Commander Fisher got your message, she's going to get you as much information as possible. I'm afraid we can only buy so much time though."

Viridian makes his way down the dock followed by Nerys and Nava.

Nava: "Whatever she said isn't true. Except the part about me being removed from the company...bitch."

Nerys: "Of course it wasn't true, Van wouldn't do that kind of stuff again!"

Nava: "Again?"

Lye: "We'll go over this later, right now we gotta figure out how to handle the situation."

Viridian: "Let me make a call. I have a plan; it's just going to take a lot of cooperation."

Van: "Team VNLA rides again!"

Nava: "No.."

Van: "Oh come on!"

Location: Hubertus Memorial Lodge, Evergreen Basin.

Violet: "That's a pretty big bounty. Seems a little weird considering we don't even have clear visual of anyone."

Ivory: "I guess everyone is just taking her word for it. She's on the Bundles of Lavender board."

Lapis: "I don't trust her..."

Onyx: "Nor do I however I have to ask the question...why are we all here?"

Violet: "Because I still have your numbers in my aShine and we're all technically bounty hunters. Even if it's first level ones."

Ivory: "I don't mind but Dad is having a barbeque with Mr. Bell tonight, and he won't be happy if I'm not back for it."

Onyx: "Get to the point, what do you want?"

Violet: "I uh, think we should go after Van. Not to ya know bring him in but to talk to him."

Lapis: "You want to get to him before anyone else does, correct?"

Violet: "Well yeah."

Onyx: "Why should we believe he isn't responsible? You're aware of his past are you not?"

Lapis: "Everyone is capable of change."

Ivory: "Uh hate to break up the conversation but everyone else is heading out. We should go."

Onyx: "I want no part of this."

Violet: "Oh come on, we can't have OLIV without the O."

Onyx: "OLIV?"

Lapis: "Cheshire, what else are you going to do? Argue with your father? Watch the bank head eat an entire family size bag of cheese puffs?"

Onyx: "Never again."

Ivory: "Just this once Onyx, help us out and we won't bother you anymore."

Onyx: "Fine, this is the last time."

Violet: "Team OLIV rides again!"

Onyx: "No.."

Violet: "Oh come on!"

Location: Guardian District.

Fisher: "Something about this doesn't feel right."

Amelia: "Bundles of Lavender is being rather protective over their so-called security footage. I've requested it several times and only ever get sent small sections of it or I'm turned away with some legal threats about the military seizing their property or something."

Roland: "I take it this is why you haven't really dispatched anyone to track this guy down?"

Fisher: "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. We're rather busy right now and I'm dispatching our forces as needed based on priority. It just happens this particular situation is low priority."

Kelly: "Amelia, can you come with me? I need your help with a case."

Amelia: "Of course."

Fisher: "Take your time, we've got things under control."

Location: Smokey Gardens.

Nava: "I must admit I'm impressed we managed to get all the way out here without incident. Considering how many people in the city are looking for Van."

Lye: "Well that's easy. Van isn't here, just my twin sister."

Van is currently dressed up in Lye's clothes and wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Van: "I'd say I look ridiculous but look at me, I'm as hot as ever. The tights and the heels make my legs look fantastic."

Jae: "Did you have to flirt with me during the train ride out here?"

Van: "Have to keep up appearances."

Nava: "You don't look as great as you claim. The lipstick you picked is atrocious."

Jae: "We're in the clear, would you please go change."

Van: "Already trying to get me out of my clothes?"

Jae: "I swear if you keep this up I WILL turn you in myself."

Van: "Fine fine, just give me a few minutes."

Van grabs his duffle bag and steps behind a tree so he can change clothes.

Meanwhile, a good distance away.

Ivory is looking through the scope of her rifle.

Ivory: "I've got positive ID on the target."

Violet: "Good job but I have to wonder, how did you know they would be out here."

Lapis: "I work for the Union remember? You think we're not aware of who enters our main district? Especially people known to associate with a wanted criminal."

Violet: "Alleged criminal."

Onyx: "Nevertheless now that Lapis' sources have made our job slightly easier, perhaps you can have that conversation before anyone else arrives."

Ivory: "You know I could probably drop them from here."

Onyx: "Reynard, step away from the rifle."

Ivory: "Fine but if I'm late to the barbeque later you're taking the blame."

Lapis: "Where's Violet?"

Ivory: "Heading directly toward the target.."

Onyx: "Creator help me. Let's go before she does something stupid."

Van steps back out wearing his normal clothes.

Van: "Much better but I will miss the freedom of that skirt."

Lye: "Were you..wearing anything under that?"

Nava: "You need to burn that skirt."

Jae: "Did everyone bring your weapons?"

Van: "Obviously."

Jae: "Good because I think someone is making their way over here."

Van: "Hey Nava, where did you get the staff?" Nava: "None of your business." Van: "Your boyfriend give it to you?" Nava: "Fiancé." Lye puts her hand over Van's mouth before he can say anything else. Jae: "We don't have time for this."

Jae turns and raises his weapon.

Jae: "Halt! Identify yourself!"

Violet: "Whoa whoa wait! It's Violet Goodfellow, I come in peace."

Lye: "Ok but what about the bimbo behind you pointing a rifle at us?"

Ivory: "Bimbo?!"

Violet: "Ivory! Lower your weapon!"

Van: "And I thought Nava had some big ones."

Nava glances down at her chest and attempts to resist the sudden urge to hit Van.

Lye: "Van...now is not the time."

Van: "You're the one who called her a bimbo. She's not even blonde!"

Violet: "Hey!"

Ivory: "Can you stop talking before I put a bullet through you and bring in whatever is left of your corpse?"

Lye: "Why don't you try your luck tits for brains!"

Lapis: "Can you all just shut up for a minute!"

Onyx: "We just want to talk, rather Violet wants to talk. I was dragged into this nonsense."

Nava: "I know the feeling."

Lye: "Wow, he's kinda cute."

Jae: "Aren't you dating the guy from the theater?"

Lye: "Listen we're open to.."

Violet: "Ok listen, I have a feeling you didn't do what they say you did but everyone else at the lodge doesn't really care."

Van: "I didn't. The bitch you saw on tv is an ex..something of mine and she's throwing me under a bus."

Violet: "Oh my god, are you serious? This is one of THOSE situations. Ok ok we just need to get some proof of.."

Before Violet can finish talking a shot is fired. Jae barely manages to dodge out of the way. The shot is powerful enough to split a tree behind him in half.

Violet: "Ivory!"

Ivory: "I didn't!"

Lye: "So much for talking huh bitch!" Lye leaps into the air and kicks Ivory making her fall backwards into Onyx.

The two groups raise their weapons and back up. Violet and Nava are a bit unsure of themselves as they are the least experienced.

Jae and Lapis are the first to clash against each other. Ony squares off with Lye, Ivory faces Van, and Nava goes against Violet.

Jae: "You realize you're currently trying to assault a PWSB officer, right?"

Lapis: "A PWSB officer who is in the process of aiding a wanted criminal."

Lapis and Jae seem evenly matched, much like their clashes on the Hecaball field both find themselves unable to get past the other's defensive skills.

Onyx leaps back and flings out the wires from his gauntlets in hopes of tripping up Lye. Lye however spins around, ducking and leaping over the attempts. Wires whipping through the air as she effortlessly avoids them in a strange sort of dance. She gets close enough to kick Onyx, but he uses his wires to grapple on to a tree branch and pull himself away momentarily.

Lye: "What's the matter cutie, gettin tired already? Don't give up now, you're not a bad dance partner."

Onyx seems a bit flustered for a moment but shakes it off.

Violet tries desperately to create distance from Nava, but the other woman seems shockingly fast and keeps up with her relatively easily. Nava however isn't well trained, and her strikes are still a bit sloppy which leaves Violet plenty of opportunities to avoid them. Violet finally manages to use a smoke grenade to create distance, but the smoke also makes it impossible to aim at her intended target, letting Nava slip away behind cover.

Ivory realizes she can't get the distance she typically enjoys so she switches her rifle to its axe form and takes a swing at Van. Ivory's weapon is heavy and though the swings are powerful they are slow. Something Van takes advantage of, dodging out of the way and landing a few hits against Ivory. She winces as the wind is knocked out of her. Van moves in close but Ivory is able to slam her axe into the ground which sends debris flying toward Van. He shields his face for a moment which allows Ivory to land a strong punch to his stomach sending him stumbling back.

The clashes continue until both teams fall back at the same time to regroup.

Van: "Listen up, we need to switch things up a little. They are probably thinking the same thing. Lye, you go for Lapis. I think you can do better against that defense. Jae, you take Ivory. Rush her, keep her trapped in close combat and keep the pressure up. Nava, stick with Violet. You're both inexperienced here and it's your best bet. She's got pistols, I don't think she's good close up so try and keep to that. I'll go for Onyx. Remember, we're not trying to seriously hurt anyone here but we gotta take them out before anyone else shows up and this gets worse."

Onyx: "Ok everyone come closer. I've been watching how they fight and believe I have a strategy. Fighting them one on one is going to get us nowhere fast. The first thing we need to do is start switching opponents as quickly as possible. If we keep rotating it will catch them off guard. Secondly, we need to work together. They aren't used to each other yet. We may not be either, but I believe we have a better understanding of each other's abilities. Except the siblings of course. So, we need to pull off a few team attacks, listen up..."

Location: Bundles of Lavender Corporate Headquarters.

Kelly leans up against the wall as one of the security guards talks to her.

Kelly: "I know I know Frank but I have to ask again. We need to look through that footage. I know it's not your call but just see if you can do me a solid alright? At least bring it up with the bigwigs."

She waits until the security guard leaves the room before slipping a small device under one of the computer consoles.

Kelly: "No go? You know Commander Fisher is not gonna take no for an answer. I'll probably have to keep coming back here. Next time we'll get lunch or something. Yeah see ya."

She leaves the building and makes her way to a vehicle outside where Amelia was sitting with a laptop.

Kelly: "You good?"

Amelia: "Remote hacking into Bundles of Lavender wasn't something I expected to be doing today but yes, I'm good."

Kelly: "They won't find the device?"

Amelia: "It's designed to become useless after a few minutes. Even if they find it, they won't know what it did. Now let me sort through these files."

"I don't for the life of me know why they don't want us to see all of the footage. I know they claim they cleaned it up as best they could, but I could at least give it a shot."

"That's weird, seems they were in contact with the Lavender family's yacht relatively recently despite claiming they don't know where it is. We'll have to get this to Larsen, see if he can recognize anything they say about a location at the time."

"Here we go, security. Let me see if I can find footage from the supposed riots. Yeah ok, it is a little blurry but nothing I can't fix. Just give me a minute or two."

Kelly: "Hurry up, I need to drive in a minute. Pretty sure they are starting to suspect something." Starting up the vehicle.

Amelia: "Shit, the device is running out of power. I just need to...HA got it...wait that's not.."

Kelly: "Just send whatever you have to Fisher, we gotta go." She smiles at the guards before pulling out of the parking lot.

Location: Smokey Gardens.

The teams are once again in the midst of combat. Van's strategy seems to be working as VNLA gets the upper hand against their opponents save for Nava and Violet who both seem evenly matched. This doesn't last long as Onyx gives a signal and OLIV suddenly pulls away and switches opponents. Van tries his best to adjust, shouting out instructions to anyone who got caught off guard.

Onyx once again signals for a switch, VNLA struggles against the new tactic, but Van notices Onyx's tell. Right before the next switch happens Van instead signals a switch of their own, VNLA once again getting the better of OLIV. Onyx realizes this portion of the plan no longer works but tries to keep his team paired in favorable matchups.

Onyx pulls his team back for a moment before they all suddenly rush forward. Ivory providing cover fire while Violet tosses out a flashbang that forces VNLA to group together. Onyx uses his wires on the blinded VNLA and manages to wind them through the legs of the opposing team which lets Lapis rush forward and bulldoze through VNLA making them trip over the wires and fall to the ground.

Lye: "Ohhhh gonna tie me up now? Kinky.." Winking at Onyx.

Onyx stops and raises an eyebrow which gives just enough of an opening.

As the rest of OLIV approach VNLA Jae stabs his sword into the ground while it's touching several of Onyx's wires. Lye reaches over and sends a current of electricity through the sword and the wires shocking Onyx and blowing him backwards. Ivory and Violet are struck down when Van leaps up and strikes them directly in their weak points rendering them unable to move temporarily, giving Jae and Lye enough time to send them both down to the ground. Van seems slightly confused about how he was able to do such a maneuver.

Lapis is the only one left standing as he's now facing all four members of VNLA. Lapis' defense proves to live up to the hype as he's able to at least for a time fend off the attacks of four opponents. It does however quickly deplete his energy. He's finally disarmed by Nava who manages to use her staff in a way that catches Lapis' weapon and fling it away from him.

By this point Onyx, Violet, and Ivory are slowly making their way to their feet. The exhaustion beginning to set in on both sides. Ivory covers Lapis as he retrieves his weapon but he's barely able to hold it.

Van: "You wanna keep going? I could do this all day.."

Onyx: "No you can't."

Van: "Can so!"

Onyx: "No you most certainly cannot!"

Onyx and Van stare at each other as an alert is suddenly broadcast over the emergency network.

Fisher: "Attention any and all bounty hunters, and local law enforcement. Van Marigold is not responsible for any of the wrongdoing he has been accused of. We have obtained security footage and have cleaned it up. The video you are currently seeing clearly shows that the perpetrator was NOT Mr. Marigold. His bounty is officially cancelled."

Location: Bundles of Lavender Corporate Headquarters.

Amorette: "Damn it, how did that wench get ahold of the footage. Ah well, doesn't matter. They can't pin the blame on us for anything at this point. I'll just issue an official apology. Someone get the camera crew ready, and I need my makeup artist NOW!"

Location: Smokey Gardens.

Violet: "I KNEW IT!"

Van: "Well...this is incredibly awkward, isn't it?"

Another shot is heard. Everyone turns to Ivory but she's looking at the ground between the two teams. A container of sorts is sitting in a small crater. Before anyone can react, the container bursts open releasing some sort of gas. One by one OLIV and VNLA are rendered unconscious. Before he falls Jae manages to tap the PWSB tracker button on his aShine, sending out an alert.

Several individuals in rabbit masks emerge from the woods.

White Rabbit (Biker): "Huh, was kind thinking they'd take each other out but whatever. This could be fun too."

White Rabbit (Scythe): Tilting her head and shifting her rifle back to its scythe form.

White Rabbit (Biker): "Ok, you know what the Queen wants. Load em up and get em out of here before anyone shows up. Let's go sis."

White Rabbit (Scythe): Nods her head and watches VNLA and OLIV get loaded into a vehicle before heading off.

To be continued.

[thelostboylonelyworld]

While Caim tied the man to a metal table inside the cage, torso and wrists tied firmly in a myriad of places, their conversation kept turning back in his head. The guy hadn’t knew truly what were the weakness of a vampire and ended up messing it with fairy lore. He knew Santa Carla’s vamp and no one of them had weakness with silver.

Even Roland being completely delusional, Caim could admire his guts of talking back and how eloquent he was. That was admirable. And then as he turned his back to the table starting to get the tools to shave the blond’s hair he heard: pants.

He moved slowly to stare at the man, his large eyes wide for the first time and as well for the first time giving him the semblance of a lost puppy as his face paled.

I thought you were going to kill me.

He thought he did.

His lips parted, but he didn’t let the words escape. Roland baring his teeth made his heart skip a beat, even though his semblance hadn’t leaked one emotion more. And then he noticed, there were only two sharp teeth! Not rolls and rolls of teeth like the real vamps. The guy truly believed he was a vampire, so much he made a surgery to change his teeth. Caim relaxed with a chuckle as he landed his hand on the top of Roland’s hair, looking down at him almost affectionately.

“That’s nuts, man. I don’t know if I pity you or get sad for you. You really wanted to be a vampire, don’t you?Is a blessing to not be…” He said while caressing the other man’s hair absentmindedly, only now noticing how soft and beautiful it was. As his fingers slides through it and warmth sipped through his skin, a flash of idea passed through his mind. How beautiful the golden locks would look in the Sun, spread out against the grass like a halo of light. Soothing and warm in his fingertips as he played with them until he fell into the dreamland in peace for loneliness and shadows could not follow him, as long as he stayed wrapped into the light of such golden clock. Misery seemed distant then…

Blue eyes opened and they were filled with absurd warmth and devotion and even happiness as it fixed on Roland’s, and then a shadow passed through them and they became dark and angry. Without warning Caim pulled brutally the lock curled against his fingertips and the tuft of hair was now on his hand.

His jaw clenched mercilessly.

He would never have warmth.

Another lock of hair pulled.

He would never be not alone.

One more lock.

Or be at peace.

At each pull more euphoric and desperate he felt and more bloody his hands became. He could not hear any scream, for in his head these cruel voices that sounded so much like himself were too loud.

He had no content.

He would never be happy.

He didn’t deserve to be loved.

And with the last pull Caim’s almost collapsed on the table and onto Roland. If the blond’s torso weren’t tightly tied, easily he would be able to bite Caim’s neck, such was the proximity. He clutched the metal edges with slightly trembling hands. His breath was completely ragged, his face would be completely sick pale if it wasn’t for the angry red around his eyes, evidence of his suppressing tears. He could only feel the cold surface of the table. His eyes looked up then, and he was met with a bloody mess. There were little to no hair in Roland’s head, but blood and wounds in all its extension. Caim’s lips parted, and his face paled even more as he abruptly and clumsily withdrew of the table, hitting the tool table behind him.

The smell of blood was intoxicating an for the first time not in a good way.

He opened and closed his lips a lot but no word escaped him. A tear dared to run from his left eye. He was horrified.

This isn’t personal. This wasn’t personal.

But there was not what he saw right in front of him.

He wouldn’t apologize. He couldn’t. It was his job. But he didn’t want to hurt.

“T-the contractor, they-they think you are handsome, they envy, they- they want to take that vanity out of you.” He said visibly shaken, he didn’t knew how he remembered those words. They told him, when he closed the deal, to say that to Roland, so Roland would know that everything would be stripped of him, even his dignity.

But Caim knew now, as he turned his back to Roland’s table, leaning his hand on the tools trolley heavily, he knew as the almost inaudible sounds of his tears met the metal tray of torture utensils that Roland’s wasn’t the only one whose dignity was being stripped in that fucking room.

@royal-descent

"It is not a tactic I am a vampire. Why would you make the cage out of silver coated metal if I wasn't a vampire? Are you telling me I just fell into this trap I couldn't escape by coincidence?" That was all the more infuriating. He was really jus the victim of bad luck. Terrible luck. "Why should you do me any favors. Please fulfill your charge to it's fullest if you don't have the heart to set me free. What is mercy if in the end I am still bereft of life? Doing it to make yourself feel better I suppose."

The dart hit his chest with a solid thump, it was honestly surprising to the vampire, had he been sharper perhaps he could have gotten out of the way. What was truly surprising though was that he felt the drugs enter him and actually made him sleepy. It started slowly radiating from the point where it hit him. H Is arms and legs felt like iron and he slowly slumped down kneeling. HIs eye lids god heavy. "What in the name of all that is unholy is in this dart." he asked before he was no longer able to think.

Darkness overcame him. A heavy wicked darkness as he fell forward his body too heavy to move. It felt like ages and to a vampire, ages were in fact ages. HIs thoughts were swimming and fuzzy but soon they could form again. His body too heavy to move but his blue eyes shot open and he gasped a deep breath. "AH!" he gasp as he took in air, cold and sharp it filled his lungs.

He panted as he struggled to sit up. Was he bound? The sedative made it too hard for him to move his arms. "I thought you were going to kill me." he hissed his fangs bared at his beautiful captor.

[persephone-uwu]

With Fallen getting a tv show, I thought I’d make another Fallen rant. (Am I still going to watch the show? Absolutely.) the actors look nothing like the book description, But I’m not going to focus on that, but rather, parts of the book I didn’t like and what I hope they fix in the show.

First and foremost, Luce is a Pick Me. The way she refers to others girls as looking “squat” and “lethargic,” is just gross. The only girl she ever calls pretty, she hates for no real reason. And it’s not just Luce, but Arrianne also has a Pick Me moment when she refers to Molly as a “downer”

Yet when men, especially Daniel or Cam, are downers, it’s “broody” and “sexy.” (She doesn’t say this about them, but it’s their descriptions) Daniel acts like a sad puppy, and no one calls him a downer. Speaking of Daniel, he and Luce (especially him) are the most self-absorbed and shallow people. Luce admits she just likes good looking guys, they’re her weakness. It’s the only reasons she likes Daniel, or Cam, or Lucifer.

Like the author tried to portray Lucifer as this toxic, abusive boyfriend because he wanted Luce to declare their love in front of God, and she didn’t want to. She then cries, and Daniel does the bare fucking minimum and comforts her, and she kisses him and they’re like, “true love!!” And then they declare their love in front of God?? The whole reason she was mad at Lucifer??? I kind of get his beef with her. Like goddamn.

Also, why did God curse Luce just because Lucifer asked? You’d think if Lucifer was like, “she’s my ex! Curse them!!!!” God would be like??? Aren’t you??? Trying to rebel against me right now?? Fuck you. Instead he’s like, “alright bet” it just makes no sense. Or how they went through all of the work to find the relics just for God to be like, “enough!” You couldn’t have done that sooner, my guy? Or he just makes everyone pinky promise to leave Luce and Daniel alone as humans, and the Devil just agrees. Even though his entire point is disobeying God. Like what.

Also Molly and Gabbie die for Daniel and Luce, and the only person who cries is Luce. Daniel doesn’t say a soft thank you, or anything nice to these two people for giving their lives for Daniel’s girlfriend. Or how about him never thanking Cam, Roland, and Molly for going against THEIR SIDE to help them break the curse. Also I like that that gets ignored. Even in Unforgiven, Lucifer just seems to have forgotten that Roland and Cam went against him lmao.

I also don’t understand what happened with Cam. He went from the main villain in Fallen to suddenly being on Daniel’s side. That’s never explained why he changed sides, and what his weird relationship with Luce was. I feel like the author liked him too much and just created these new villains, the Outcasts, for Torment. That whole book could’ve ended so much sooner if they just asked the Outcasts why they wanted Luce. Even though their reason was stupid too. They never explained why it HAD to be Luce. She just asks God, who cursed this dumb bitch, to “pretty please let these people who betrayed you back into Heaven uwu” and he’s just like, “omg okay, because you asked so nicely” and even says it’s because it’s “selfless”?? WHAT.

Also, the way Cam and Daniel baby Luce is so annoying. They tell her how brave she is, but yell at Shelby and Miles, two Nephilim who help Lice uncover her true self, and teach her how to travel through Announcers. In fact, they get yelled at. They’re so fucking brave and they don’t get acknowledgment.

Like when Todd dies in Fallen, Cam comforts Luce, and Luce takes off after Daniel; and it’s like, girl. Penn has had your back this entire time, and the boy she likes just died, and you take off? And cry? And make it about you? And Trevor, who she didn’t know, she’s so upset about. It’s traumatic, sure. But the way she talks about it like they were lovers for so long. It’s so annoying.

I also didn’t like the way that Roland was downplayed. Luce only refers to Daniel and Cam as sexy. She says Shelby isn’t “beautiful like Daniel or Cam, or have the energy of Arrianne and Roland” UH. MISS??? Roland has big dick energy and he sounds hot as fuck. Watch your goddamn mouth. And she’s just so arrogant, especially when Cam comes to save her and she says, “it’s like he still couldn’t get over the fact that she chose Daniel over him.” He didn’t even say anything. He didn’t even like you. He only ever loved Lilith (which fuck that abusive bitch)

Like the end of the book just felt rushed. Just for it to end with God coming in at the last second, they didn’t even need the relics, and God just turns them into humans. And they don’t weigh the consequences of this?? Like Lucifer could decide to disobey God. He could get revenge by getting Daniel to sin and end up in Hell for eternity. Their relationship could be doomed. But okay, yeah. They can meet at 17, because omg so cute uwu

Daniel and Luce are such unbearable main characters. Luce is shallow, and a Pick Me. Daniel is self-absorbed, codependent, and ungrateful to his friends who’ve always stayed by his side. Even Cam.

Cam gets his heartbroken by Lilith, and Daniel makes it about him and Luce. All Cam needed was for his favorite brother to say, “I’m here for you,” and instead, says, “all I need is Luce”

Cam says, “I’m lonely” and it was Daniel’s chance to BE there for him, and he wasn’t. He gets mad after Cam for saying that he and Luce are only together because of the curse. (1500 languages and he chose to speak facts)

And Daniel gets mad, and lashes out at him, and says he’s better off without him. Like bro, you started that fight. I have no sympathy for you.

And then in Unforgiven, Lucifer just agrees to let Cam try to win Lilith back? And the entire reason she’s in Hell is because she kill herself. But Daniel said she became a “dark thing” after her split with Cam. That makes more sense why she’s in Hell, but okay. And Hell just seems like another Tuesday for me. Poor family with a sick brother? She steps in dog poop, and she can’t wash it off, so she gets bullied. But like, you can walk your dog. That’s on you. Just walk him. Her brother’s Hell seems worse than hers. Imagine you’re sick for eternity to make someone else’s Hell worse because their brother is sick. That’s all you’re reduced to. And Cam healing the kid, in HELL, makes zero sense. Your mere existence is a plot device, kid. To make Cam look like he’s becoming a good guy.

While Lilith gets zero character development. Lucifer tells her that Cam’s ex killed herself because of him, and she gets so mad at Cam. How is that his fault?? That’s so manipulative. Any adult would know you can’t blame him if she killed herself because he LEFT. After she abused him. Or Lucifer stealing her song book and spreading it, and blames Cam, and she just??? Believes it?? And kicks him out of the band that was his idea. I’m so confused why she just believed that with no evidence. I just hate how much she and Cam fight too. It’s so unhealthy. He does so much for her, and the relationship is so one-sided. He gives her a romantic date, but she never does anything nice for him. He gives more than he gets. It’s just so unhealthy. (That’s why you shouldn’t date teenage girls, creep) It also just ends with Cam taking Lilith out of Hell and two things:

One: you can just take souls out of Hell??? Whenever you want???

Two: she’s fine just leaving her brother and friends in Hell, knowing they’re suffering? I could never. It would kill me to know, that even though they weren’t my real family, they were suffering. And I wasn’t. I left, because I lucked out and had a fancy boyfriend.

Okay, rant over. I have more, but this is the main points. I do love Fallen BTW!

[ruinaimagines]

Can we have nothing there Roland receiving affection headcanons? I love him sm :D

Sure thing! One Nothing There Roland coming right up. Honestly I never really paid attention to the floor realization besides the main stories, but it’s fun to look back and peek at the dialogue to really get a feel for the characters. Also fun because that way you can empathize and really get an idea about how they’re feeling.

It is 1 AM so I apologize for any typos, but I would not rest until I got my ideas out.

Nothing There Roland Affection Headcanons:

Much like any other of the floor realizations, this form of Roland stems from concentrated emotions that have risen up to the surface from underneath, and taken hold of him entirely.

Specifically emotions that happen to center around hollowness and loss. Failing to succeed in an action, which in turn rips and tears away at the inside and leaves only a husk. Emptiness that stems from having nothing, no friends, no loved ones, and ultimately not even yourself. To feel as though you’ve sunk to the lowest of low to the point you don’t exist anymore, only the perception of you does.

Despite this heavy turmoil he’s undergoing as well as the fact that his manifestation has stemmed from an ALEPH, I believe that given any circumstances outside of the floor realizations Mimicry Roland would be surprisingly easygoing.

I mean of course there’s gonna be some level of risk in interacting with him in such an unstable state, but I don’t believe there would be a large amount of aggressiveness or desire to lash out on others.

More than anything he’s just tired and hopeless. There really does seem to be nobody on his side and it clearly has taken a toll. No desire or motivation is left, it doesn’t even feel like he’s in control. It’s a melancholy indifferent feeling that saps at you.

For this reason he doesn’t even have motivation to fight. He might, but there’s not a desire or incentive to. Everything is just numb and there just doesn’t seem to be a reason.

Beware though, because this has potential to lead to possibly unpredictable behavior. He has the equal amount of power to react in a sudden way without remorse because the strong emotions have caused a lack of empathy.

However if you manage to approach him, he’s surprisingly reposed.

Going back on the feeling Roland has concerning the absence of others, I think that affection would actually be really sweet in the Mimicry form. He feels as though there’s no one for him to protect, and no one who really values him.

So I feel as though he’d actually enjoy it a lot. Nothing There does love attachment work after all, and if he’s going on about how he has no one anymore I think he would respond positively to an extent when you try and fill that role.

I say to an extent, because he’d also be confused. I mean he feels like a shell of his former self stripped of its original drive, but you just don’t care about that? I think it has something to do with him not feeling deserving of the care you give to him, so it perplexes him.

Just a warning: Mimicry Roland is clingy. Even if not physically, he’s constantly hanging out near you. He definitely got that from Nothing There, cause as much as an amalgamation that abnormality is it’s ultimately just a meat dog.

He’s lost loved ones and friends, and even though it’s unrealistic and quite literally impossible for you to die in the library, he’s still horrified that you’ll manage it somehow. He isn’t thinking rationally, and if he was he wouldn’t be in this form to begin with.

He follows you around the library like a lost puppy. He’ll try to help with what you’re doing and maybe sort some of the books, but his mind is cloudy and going a million miles a minute so it doesn’t really turn out successful.

You know that thing that dogs do? Not just dogs but any domestic animal. It’s where they sit right in front of you and just stare at you until you give them attention? Yeah, he does that.

I think he’s especially so drawn to you because of the care and concern you offer. He may feel hollow, but you’re offering something new. A warmth. And feeling empty all the time can kinda get boring.

Chances are you’ll have no idea what you’re getting into. You’ll hug him once, and then he’s constantly coming back for more. I hope you’re able to keep up with it.

Speaking of which, be careful of the teeth and spikes. While you don’t have to worry about him hurting you intentionally, it’s not gonna be pleasant if he gives you a bear hug and the hand mace stabs you.

Also a warning for your own sake: I hope you’re okay with the texture of flesh. As cuddly as he is, he is not really made out of cuddle material.

I don’t think he’s necessarily as blood-coated as some other forms, as it’s part of him rather than on him, but you’ll still probably feel like you need a cold shower afterwards.

Try and mind the eyes too, they aren’t sensitive because of Nothing There’s natural regenerative properties, but no one likes being poked in the eye.

While he will go along with you anywhere, it’s probably preferred that you stay relatively in one place. It’s a bit difficult to drag around a hand mace, and I don’t think anyone is gonna be happy about scratched up floors in the library because the teeth spikes were being dragged.

A lot depends on whether he’s in his first or third form. In his first form, he actually has at least one hand, whereas in the third form Roland’s arm becomes a giant scythe and a danger hazard.

He’ll be happy to hold onto you in the first form. Unless it’s impairing your movement, he’ll try to have his hand on your shoulder, arm, back etc. at all times. He does not like the feeling of not being in your presence.

If you want to you can try to hold his hand. I think he’d appreciate it a lot, but you’ll have to beware that his nails don’t dig into you. He’s also very firm with his grip, you can tell that as vacant as he feels there’s an at least subconscious fear of letting go.

I think he would get a bit upset with himself if he accidentally ended up hurting you. As close as he tries to stay to you, he tries to be as careful as can be. However, accidents can happen especially when you have a lot of sharp objects sticking out of you.

He’s worried that if you get injured you’ll get upset at him, turn away, and he’ll be alone once again.

But you reassure Roland that’s not the case. I mean your whole job is getting into brawls, something as small as bumping into a spike really isn’t that big of a deal.

He subsequently engulfs you in a large hug, this time making sure there’s no mistake.

I believe he can mimic speech just as Nothing There could. It’s kind of creepy at times, especially when you hear your own voice or the voices of your colleagues coming from him, but you know it isn’t intended to be that way.

It’s more of ‘hey look at this cool thing I can do’ and he’s trying to impress you.

…It is pretty impressive.

He does say 'I love you' a lot. Exactly the one that Nothing There says to be precise. It's a bit odd to hear something so associated with the abnormality to come out of his mouth, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

If he’s in his third form I will say that you’re probably going to have to initiate the affection more. He would if it was safe, but now he has a whole scythe for an arm and it’s awkward to move around and he doesn’t want to run the risk of accidentally cutting you.

But it’s pretty easy to just make yourself comfortable beside him and lean on him. And he loves it.

For however long Roland will be in this form you will not see the end of it. He tries to be in contact with you at almost all times, even if minor. But hey, it’s pretty sweet when you can get out of work because he won’t let go. Not like anyones gonna approach him and try to make him stop.

[councillor-roland]

"I'm not flying all the way back to Brussels to knock your heads together so you can make a decision!" Roland made the frustrated exclamation in English and then switched back to Dutch and repeated it, just so the prime minister would clearly understand his displeasure. He and the other council ministers had been calling Roland on and off for days about a particular thorny political issue and he was quite sick of it. He'd managed to remain calm the first several times but his patience was growing thin. Continuing the heated conversation as he walked through the hall, Roland sharply turned the next corner and crashed directly into what appeared to be a walking pile of clean linens. They, and the presumed servant who'd been carrying them, fell to the ground and it was all in disarray. The vampire had barely been moved by it aside from the inconvenience of running into someone and his expression soured further as he pulled the phone away and cursed at the clumsy...slave? He blinked as he noted the collar. Wasn't laundry a servant's job?

The prime minister was still yammering away in his ear and while he heard the French curse and stammered apology he was distracted and held up a finger to waylay the slave. It took him nearly a fully minute of rapid fire Dutch to get Alexander off the phone with a dire warning to talk it out or else there would be hell to pay before he finally rid himself of the troublesome conversation and hung up. It was times like these that he missed the old flip phones since it was always very satisfying to hang up with that final snap, or even the landline which you could slam into it's cradle. Jamming his thumb down on a touchscreen, no matter how hard, just wasn't the same.

Letting out an irritated breath, Roland lowered his hand and slid his phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and took stock of the slave who had gathered up the spilled sheets and was smiling sheepishly. Had he said something about delivering the laundry? He must have. Roland crossed his arms and regarded him, his eyebrows climbing at the poor attempt at a joke. "Pas très amusant, petit chiot." He chided, able to smell that the man was a canine shifter of some sort. Calling him a 'little puppy' was more than slightly condescending but then so were all Roland's nicknames for the slaves. It was nice to find someone else who spoke French, though. "Since when do slaves make laundry runs? I was sure we had servants who took care of that." The slave didn't seem familiar and Roland was still in a mood from his irritating conversation. It wouldn't hurt him to blow off a little steam...he pulled out his phone again and navigated to the directory. "Where are you supposed to be taking those?" He asked, absently, finding the other man's picture to put in a rental for the next few hours. "I'll escort you and then take you back to my suite." There was no question in it, it was a statement, as though there were no possibility things wouldn't happen exactly as he'd said they would.

Holy Sheet

Holland huffed in frustration, the weight of the basket of fresh linens growing heavier with each wrong turn. The corridors all looked the same—dimly lit, with cold stone walls stretching endlessly in either direction. He cursed under his breath in French, muttering something about how impossible it was to navigate this place. He had been tasked with delivering the sheets to some guest quarters—at least, he thought that was the task. The directions had been vague, and his mind had wandered halfway through the explanation.

His bare feet shuffled awkwardly on the stone floor as he tried to peer over the top of the basket, which was nearly as tall as he was. He grumbled again in French, “C’est ridicule… Je vais jamais trouver cet endroit.” He adjusted the basket, leaning precariously forward in an attempt to see where he was going.

Then, without warning, he collided with something—or rather, someone.

Holland staggered back, the force of the impact sending him off balance. His legs gave out beneath him, and with a startled yelp, he crumpled to the floor, the basket tumbling from his arms. Fresh sheets spilled out around him in a soft, chaotic heap. His heart raced as he scrambled to gather himself, still muttering a stream of apologies in French. “Merde...” He frowned gently, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he looked up—only to find himself staring at the councilman of Belguim. The sheets lay scattered around them like the aftermath of a small, but very inconvenient, disaster.

Holland’s heart pounded as he sat somewhat dazed, still flushed from the collision. He had only ever heard of Roland from the whispered conversations of the slaves who had given him a rundown on the council members.

Holland’s heart sank. “I—I didn’t mean to—" he stammered, switching back to French in his flustered state. “Je suis désolé, je ne savais pas…” He swallowed, his gaze flicking nervously between the spilled linens and Roland’s unreadable expression. The disheveled collie quickly scrambling to gather the scattered sheets, his hands shaking slightly from the embarrassment. "I was just trying to deliver these… but I, uh, got lost." His voice was small as he looked up at Roland, still flushed and apologetic.

With a sheepish smile, Holland scrambled to his feet, clutching the basket tightly as he stood before the councilman, trying his best to look composed despite the flush still burning his cheeks. "Uh... so... what do you get when you combine a vampire and a dog?" He waited a beat, fangs biting into his lip. "...A blood hound."

@councillor-roland

[passable-talent]

guess what I’m up to?

if you guessed “writing for another obscure hayden christensen character before that movie disappears from Tubi”, you’d be correct!

David Rice x GN!Reader, Jumper (2008)

ik this movie was based on a book but i have not read it. forgive me if, when i play around with the rules of jumping, it violates what the book says a jumper can do. I’m gonna operate with the best understanding i can. also i’m changing the ending woooo

At fourteen, you met a boy. His name was Elliot Rhodes- and he was a jumper. 

At first it was freaky, sure. Finding out that teleportation is real? It would freak anybody out. 

But it... it also explained a lot of things. It explained the way that you’d always wake up in your bed when you swore you passed out on the couch. It explained the way that you’d sometimes walk in the front door, not really remembering the bus ride home. It explained how you’d pop into a different room when you’d only taken half as many steps as you needed to. 

Were you a jumper, too?

You met Elliot when you were fourteen, and life was good for five years. He was your best friend, he was more than that. He helped you learn how to jump, helped you hide it from your parents, from the school. The both of you knew that you should be hiding your ability, could feel that it was a secret you had to keep, but didn’t quite know why. 

Then, five years into your relationship, when you’d finally figured out how to live, how to use your powers to make a living without being found out, when you were just about ready to leave your parent’s place and move into the cabin in Canada his parents left for him-

Death came for you, on his pale white horse. But it was his hair that was white, instead. And he didn’t come for you, exactly. 

Roland Cox. He appeared at Elliot’s home, and killed him. Then, before you even had your hand on your phone to call the police, someone else jumped into the room. 

You’d lashed out at him, throwing him away from Elliot, but he pushed you back, getting right to business. 

He knew who Roland was. He knew why he’d come. He introduced himself, his name was Griffin- and he offered you a chance to help him get back at Roland. 

Griffin didn’t really hold up to his word. He couldn’t trace Roland any better than you could’ve, but you were happy to have an ally, someone who had a mission, and a mission that would keep you out of your grief. You channeled your anger into hunting paladins, just like Griffin did. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he was a good guy... somewhere, deep down. 

He was somewhat understanding of you. He recognized your grief, found it similar to his own. And, in the four years you’d been hanging out with him, you’d become a pretty skilled fighter. You’d learned the tricks- you were a paladin hunter. 

It was a pretty solid new life. Given the superpowers and the dead boyfriend and the newfound target on your back from some ridiculous religious zealots, you could’ve done a lot worse. 

And then, along came David. 

David Rice. You’d seen him a thousand times, even if it wasn’t actually him. He was just another jumper who’d never had a run-in with the paladins, who’d never lost someone to the paladins, just another idiot who robbed a bank (unoriginal), and took his girlfriend on an ill-advised trip (bland). There was nothing exceptional about David Rice. 

Well, he was cute. A little. 

Okay, fine, he’s really cute. He’s a jackass, but he’s got a sweet smile. And he’s still a little puppy dog, following after a girl that he’s not into, but he’s convinced himself he’s still in love with. 

Textbook. You’d seen it a thousand times. It was something that a lot of jumpers did, using their new power and money and suave to find the person they were in love with before things changed, and wooing them. It always worked, at first, but things fell apart, because those amateurs could never keep it together. Even if they did manage to keep their partners out of the claws of the paladins, the secrets or the lying did them in. Most of the time, these jumpers weren’t even in it for the people, anymore. Just like David- he didn’t love her, not anymore. He just loved the idea of getting what he’d always wanted. 

When you saw him, at a bar in London, you had this quick little thought, ‘he’s not gonna last long.’ 

No, no, he was more impressive than that. He showed up at the Colosseum, and Griffin followed, assuming that the paladins weren’t far behind. And he was right, he always was, and you got to have plenty of fun moving around and fucking with paladins. 

“Ya know,” you said with a laugh when one of them had their eyes on you, their cables tearing up another priceless stone wall, “you sure don’t have much respect for history.” 

They managed to get a cable around you, and you felt that familiar tingle of lots and lots of electricity roll through you. But you were used to this, and you slipped out of your outer layer, then using the fabric to hold onto the cable and jump it through a wall, so it couldn’t be yanked out by any human force. Now, it was useless, and they had one less weapon. 

You jumped in front of them, and slipped your jacket back over your shoulders. 

“Loose fabric,” you said with a smirk, then landed a strong punch across his jaw. 

You jumped back to Griffin’s lair with unconscious paladin in tow, and quickly handcuffed him to the usual spot. Griffin wasn’t far behind with the other, but then, David appeared too. 

Griffin kicked him out, fast. 

“Yeah, he’s dead in a week, tops,” you said with a shake of your head. Griffin rolled his eyes, and started his work with the same level of anger and annoyance that he always did. 

A few hours passed in silence. Griffin had a new controller, so you let him ramble on about whatever game he was playing while you stretched out on the short couch you’d swiped from a closing furniture store a few months back. It was the closest to peace you ever seemed to get anymore, at least whenever you hung out with Griffin. But then David came back. He had nagging questions, they always did, when they managed to get ahold of Griffin. It usually didn’t change their fates. 

No, what changed their fates was when someone they cared about died. It happened to Griffin. It happened to you. And when he discovered his dad dead, it happened to David, too. So he wanted to help hunt Roland. 

Join the club. 

David gathered up the most recent intel Griffin had on Roland- which just so happened to be what you’d given him, four years ago. You watched from across the room as he and Griffin got into a bit of a tiff. 

Griffin pulled out the scars on his neck, to prove to David the high stakes he was messing with. That caught your attention- Griffin wasn’t one to be vulnerable. 

“Look, forget it! Forget Roland. Don’t waste your time.” Griffin righted his shoulders, taking a step back. “Just leave it to me.” He went off to his business out of your line of sight, which just left David. You still hadn’t really said a word to the man, too focused on Griffin’s drama to pay the new guy much attention. But you stood, taking a step closer to him, so now you could at least see Griffin working at his safe. Like always when he pulled the key from around his neck, you looked away. David hadn’t yet learned that lesson. 

Just like it had been when you first arrived, David awkwardly turned his back to the safe while Griffin entered it. You still didn’t quite know what was in there, but you knew it was important, and you knew it was dangerous. There were a few obvious conclusions you could leap to. 

“I’m-” David started, letting out a little breath. He really wasn’t prepared for any of this, was he? How long had he been jumping without running into the paladins?

“I was thinking that if we do this together, we could get him.” 

“Oh, no,” you said with a bit of a laugh, laying your head back against the stone wall. “He’s a solo act. He only keeps me around ‘cause I’m so charming.” 

“No, you’re not,” Griffin threw over his shoulder, and you only laughed at him. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t play well with others.” When you heard the safe close, you lifted your head back to the two of them, and watched as Griffin paced toward the doorway. You followed only after David did, and noticed him heading toward one of his vehicles, an old trailer- why Griffin liked to mess with it before he jumped, you didn’t quite get. It wasn’t going to move, anyway. 

“Do me a favor, yeah?” Griffin asked David, “Don’t be here when I get back. Find a rock, crawl under it, stay there.” He turned back to David, and you watched with a raised eyebrow from against the doorway. 

“ ‘Joi woo’, brother,” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “That’s ‘goodbye’ in Chinese.” 

For some reason, you didn’t think it was. 

He stabbed a knife into the tarp and jumped, and though you hoped that was the end of it, David followed him through his jump scar. 

Perfect. Just perfect.  

You followed as well, hoping to at least keep David out of trouble. When he followed Griffin, you just kept pace beside him, sticking to him in a way you knew would annoy him. You were like a bystander, letting the two of them figure out their annoyances with each other, staying out of it. It took him what seemed like half of the length of Tokyo until he finally got around to the point.

“And I know where to find Roland.”

“Why didn’t ya lead with that?” You asked, smacking the back of your hand against David’s shoulder. 

Griffin turned away, but the two of you followed. He swiped a car, you loved when he does that, because it’s always a really nice one, and you get to lean out of it and feel the wind. David took shotgun, and that’s fine, he’s the one with the special information or whatever. Didn’t matter, you could just enjoy the way that Griffin drives. He’s fun. 

All the sudden, David jumped to an airport, and the both of you followed. After a quick conversation, it was time to jump back to the lair, get some weapons together. You pulled on your loosest hoodie, knowing you’d probably need it, if they were bringing cables to whatever fight you were about to have. Was there a plan? It’s not like you were listening, but it didn’t seem to you like David had exactly explained where he planned on finding Roman. 

“Hey, what the hell?” You snarled when he jumped into the lair with his little girlfriend. “Oh, no, no, you can not bring her here. No way.” 

“Look, I gotta keep her safe, alright? Where’s Griffin?”

“Out front. You have to get her out of here.” Your words fell on deaf ears as he charged out to get Griffin, and you watched with a bit of annoyance as the girl followed. What was her name? Millie? Poor lamb probably didn’t know anything of what was going on at all. 

You heard whispering behind you, and turned around with a drop of your heart. Oh, this was bad, this was bad. They’d used- they had a wormhole, right into the lair.

“Griffin!” You shouted, and not a moment later he appeared beside you, the same look of dread on his face that you were feeling in your chest. David appeared, then, and Griffin turned on him instantly. 

“What have you done?”

“Griffin-” 

“Where does this thing go?”

“We gotta go.”

“David, what did you do?!”

The both of them jumped away, and it seemed like you were the only one who had any sense at all. 

You jumped immediately to the mouth of the lair, where you found Millie, looking confused and terrified. Naturally. Good for her, honestly, for keeping it together as much as she was. 

“ ‘ello, love,” you said, “Millie, right?” You took hold of her hands and jumped her away, far away, where she’d be much safer. On the other side, you waited for just a moment for her to get her wits together, so she’d register your words. 

“Stay here, okay? I mean it. Don’t go outside. There’s water and food and power, you’ll be fine. Just- seriously. Stay here.” You jumped back, then, to the mouth of the lair, hoping that when you entered, you wouldn’t be interrupting something important. 

Well, judging by the use of Griffin’s flamethrower, something important was happening. 

There were two men, plus Roland. As much as you wanted to take on Roland yourself, Griffin seemed to have that covered, and there were others you needed to deal with. With just a grab to the shoulder, one of them took a nice fun drop into the Mariana Trench. 

What? You’d read a book on it, once. 

The other was charred to a crisp, it seemed, and so you went looking for the only other person unaccounted for. 

“David?” You called into the lair, and you heard him groaning, along with the crackle of electricity. 

“Where’s Millie?” He asked, and you rounded the corner to see him strung up to the ceiling. 

“Somewhere safe, relax,” you said, shucking your hoodie off of your shoulders to wrap the fabric around your hands and grab onto the cables. Once you had them, you could jump away easily, pulling them off of him. You jumped back, slipping your hoodie back on, and gave him a cocky smile. 

“Loose fabrics,” you said, then jumped away to try to find out what Griffin was up to. 

A double-decker bus, that’s what. Then came Roland, and then came Griffin with the flame-thrower. When they both disappeared into the jump scar, David rounded on you, narrowing his eyes.

“Where’s Millie?” he snarled, and you took a step back. 

“She’s fine, I told you! She’s safe!” 

“Where is she?” David roared, and you shoved him away from you.

“She’s fine! Christ, boy, you don’t even love her, anyway!” 

That caught him off guard. 

“What?”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, turning your head before snapping your eyes to him, more ferocity in your gaze. “You know you don’t. You’re just holding onto the last thing you had when things were normal.” 

“Where is she?” He said again, taking an intimidating step toward you.

“I get it, okay?” You said, though now you were yelling. “I get it. But you’re putting her in danger! David, just let her go. You’re never going to be able to protect her. Not from them.” David’s eyes widened for just a moment, and then he looked down. You could see it as he gave in. 

“Let me take her home. At least let me do that.” 

“Sorry,” you said softly, “The place I put her, I- I can’t let anyone else see it. You gotta understand.”

Before it could get any worse, Griffin threw himself through the jump scar. 

“Nice,” he said as he righted himself, then immediately opened his safe. “The whole lot of them are in that apartment.”

“Oh, you’re finally gonna use the safe?” You asked, watching as he punched a few buttons. 

“I’ll take ‘em all out while they’re still there.”

“That’s Millie’s apartment!” David said, and Griffin turned to him with a shrug.

“She’s not there,” he said, nonchalantly, as though it was obvious. What’s the harm in destroying the apartment if no one innocent dies in it?

Griffin readied the safe and jumped away, leaving you and David behind. You turned to him, raising your gaze to his. He still looked vaguely angry. 

“She’s-” You turned your head to the side, before you could finish the sentence. You hadn’t told anyone about the cabin, not even Griffin. “She’s in Canada. Near a lake. She’s got water and power, nobody knows about it but me. She’s fine. But-” You gestured toward where the jumpscar to her apartment used to be, “Now she’s got nowhere to go back to.” 

“I know where her mom lives,” David said, shaking his head. “I’ll take her there.” You nodded slowly, then brought your gaze to his. He had- he had really blue eyes. Strikingly blue. You knew he couldn’t get to the cabin without following your scar, so you made him wait for you, made him wait until this moment ended. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, thanks,” he said after a moment, “You got her out of there.” He was speaking a bit gentler now, and this tone of voice you could certainly get used to. Was he being genuine with you? That was new. 

“Well, she seemed important.” 

“Yeah,” David said, a small smile finally growing on his face, and even though it was dark, you could swear you saw him begin to blush. Bashful little fucker. “We never even- Rome, I-” 

“Save it,” you said with a smile, reaching out to take his hand, which was surprisingly warm. You jumped him to the cabin, and found Millie curled up on the couch, looking out the window at the lake. 

“Sorry about all this, love,” you said, letting David have his moment. 

“Just take me home,” she said with a bit of a whimper, and you shook your head, even as you walked to the cabinet to grab a packet of crackers. 

“Sorry, love, that apartment’s gone. Kinda had to. Hope you understand.” 

“What?” Millie asked in disbelief.

“Really, (Y/N)?” David asked over his shoulder, before taking Millie’s hands and jumping her out of your cabin. 

You were meant to move here, with Elliot. This wasn’t even technically your place, even though you’d taken it up. Every now and again, you still missed him- but now that Griffin had taken care of Roland, it didn’t hurt so bad anymore. 

Four years was a long time to heal, maybe. But you’d needed it. And now that you had, and Roland was gone, and the world was just a bit safer for you- maybe you could consider trying again.

Maybe with someone that had strikingly blue eyes. And surprisingly warm hands. 

-🦌 Roe

[shutupandshipit]

Blood and Diamonds - Part 1

Summary: "Welcome to the stage... Lilith.”

Or where Neil is a stripper at the Days' strip club when Ichirou doesn't need him for family business, and Andrew is Kevin's bodyguard. It's only Andrew's second month as Kevin's bodyguard and it had been pretty boring up until then, but it only takes one night in the Days' club for things to get just a little more interesting. For both him and Neil.

Pairing: Andreil

Rating: M

Part 2: Gold -> Next

Part 3 -> coming soon

Author’s Note:  This is going to be a three part work, but most of the chapters are going to be pretty long compared to my usual. Anyway, this is literally a major fuck it fic for me, to be honest. I am writing this solely for the pleasure of doing so.

Part 1: Lilith

Andrew wasn't one for strip clubs. He didn't like them. He didn't like the people that frequented them. He didn't like the look of them. Most of them were dirty and degrading, dark and damp with lust. Plus, most of the strippers were usually women unless you went to a very specific club. If he really needed to get off that badly, he had other means of finding a source.

Still, he found himself wandering into an all genders club at Kevin's side, eyes skipping from one table to another.

Being Kevin Day's bodyguard had been as tame and boring as he'd imagined it would be. They did get into trouble from time to time, running about on whatever adventure the heir to Kayleigh Day's drug empire wanted. He'd only had the job for a short month, and was ready for something new to spice it up.

He just hadn't imagined that thing would be the strip club that his father and the Days ran as a cover for their drug laundering.

“It'll be fine, Minyard. Try to have some fun. Find someone you like. Drink a little. It is an all genders club. There's someone out there for everyone,” Kevin said when they paused just passed the front doors to look over the dim room and black stage with its two shiny poles leading up to the towering ceiling. The room was almost too dark to see, lit with sultry crimson light and candles in red vases on every table. Barely noticeable waiters and waitresses in conservative black uniforms moved silently around the room, taking and delivering orders.

It was a much cleaner and classier set up than Andrew had imagined. “If I found this fun, I wouldn't have to be dragged along under the guise of work.”

A waitress looking like she was on the verge of crying stopped at Kevin's elbow. “Sir, good evening. We haven't seen you in awhile.”

Kevin's mouth went from scowling to his people-winning smile in an instant. The smile he wore for the public, for his sick mouth. “Raven, evening. How have things been around here?”

“Fine. Josten got into a fight with Leverett again, but Boyd and Wildes broke it up pretty quickly,” she told him, jumping on the question like a puppy hoping to be praised.

Kevin sighed. “Again? Over what? How were they even in the same room with the schedule the way it is?”

“Something about stealing Leverett's customer. She came in on her off time to argue with him.”

“Typical.” His eyes drifted towards Andrew, musing. “He is the best though, and Leverett is... inattentive. When is Neil supposed to perform tonight?”

Raven glanced down at a watch on her wrist, small and discreet. “Ten minutes, and then at closing with the rest of the Foxes.” Kevin nodded at her, and she filled the silence before there could be any. “Jeremy and Thea are upstairs entertaining in the VIP room tonight. Mr. Moriyama is visiting, and they came in on their day off to minimize potential collateral damage.”

Kevin nodded, glancing towards the stairs leading to the upper floors as his smile struggled to remain in place. “Right, he told me he'd be here. I'll have to give them a bonus.” Turning to Andrew, he said, “Well, I'm going to go speak with Riko. Make yourself at home. Watch some of the acts. We're staying here tonight, and Nicky should take over soon, so get drunk. Take from Cracker Dust. Take someone to bed at the end of the night. I don't care, but if I come down here and you're not three sheets to the wind, I'm going to strangle you.” He said everything with a smile before turning, Raven following at his elbow.

“You don't have the balls,” Andrew spat back.

Kevin didn't stop, but flipped Andrew the bird over his shoulder.

Nicky showed up thirty minutes later, high fived him, and headed up to the VIP room to read a book outside the door. If Nicky was downstairs, he'd drink. And if he drank, he wouldn't stop. Kevin didn't mind them having a drink or two on shift, but they all agreed that being drunk was unacceptable.

After Nicky took his leave, Andrew found a spot at the bar, accepting a drink from a familiar bartender. “You work here too, Roland?” he asked, watching his old hook-up walk back and forth along the bar as he prepared drinks and set out trays.

Roland grinned, coming to a stop to lean across the bar at Andrew, smiling. “The Days pay better than Eden's. Plus, I get more hours. Speaking of which, haven't seen you around lately, and then you just happen to turn up here? What's the deal with that?”

Andrew tipped his head towards the ceiling. “Mr. Day dragged me here?”

“Ah, so Kevin's the culprit. Rat bastard. Well, I'm going to get you drunk on his dime then.” He set out a shot that Andrew knocked back happily, sliding the glass back towards Roland. “The show is about to start. Neil's our best. He really get the blood flowing. Then it's Allison. Maybe after my shift is done, we can find a place to... chat?” Roland's smile was flirtatious.

Andrew didn't answer, only raising an eyebrow.

Roland shrugged, unperturbed. “The offer is there if you want it.” He bustled off towards his other customers, and Andrew turned to watch the stage.

The stage was lit with a soft lilac light, and as he watched, the patrons began to snuff out the candles on their tables until it was the only light in the room. Overhead, a soft deep voice made introductions. “For those of you who have been here before, you know what time it is.” A short cheer rose before going quiet as sensual music filtered into the room. “For those of you who may be first timers, your life is about to be changed. Next up, we have the Prince of the Stage, the man who can cut out you heart without spilling a single drop of blood, the diamond of dance... Welcome to the stage... Lilith.”

Wild applause disturbed the air, quieting only when the music grew loud, replacing the conditioned air with the thrumming of cello strings. A man stepped barefoot onto the stage, tight black diamond studded shorts stopping just below the curve of his ass. They strained around toned thighs, a black sleeveless shirt draped loosely over his chest and stomach, plunging in the back to reveal rippling muscle. His arms were as tones as his legs, and scared from fingertips to elbows. Everything that was usually on display by a stripper was covered, but what was on display was a nice display.

Muscular, but not overly so. Neck long and elegant. Skin tanned and dusted silver. A steady mix of masculine and feminine as he moved across the stage.

Wild curls looked black beneath the lilac light, but lacked the same depth as black hair. Probably a brunette or red head. The curls flopped over the top edge of a glimmering half-mask that resembled a fox's snout, the shadow covering the rest of his face, but not the cut of his jaw.

Andrew thought every stripper danced the same, that there could be no variation except between genders. He wasn't sure whether this was particular to the club or particular to this dance, but Andrew's mouth watered as he swung around and around his pole, sliding to the floor and arching his back before wrapping his legs back around the poll to hoist himself up.

Bills landed on the stage, but Lilith never stopped moving, climbing and careening around the stage.

He looked like he was trying to run from something, and Andrew wondered what the something could possibly be.

It had been awhile since Andrew had had such a visceral reaction to another person, his pants growing tighter with each passing moment and movement. He never moved, exactly like the others around him. Even the bartenders had come to a stop to watch the man at work.

What Andrew found curious and intriguing was the lack of actual stripping. Lilith never removed a scrap of clothing, only pulled and tugged at the fabric in suggestion. There was a flash of dimples and strap of a thong above his ass, a peak of tight curls beneath the waist of his shorts, a smear of lipstick across his jaw. His performance drove the crowd wild, but when Andrew caught a glimpse of raised scarring beneath the shirt, he knew it was to hide and not to tease. He'd wager even frequent customers had never seen more of Lilith's skin than what was already being shown.

And that was interesting.

He was intrigued in a way he knew he shouldn't be. No one with a good, stable life was stripping for a living, and Andrew's life was already messy enough without adding someone else's issues.

Nobody stripping for the Days had a stable life.

When Lilith spun to a stop at the end of the song, chest heaving, he stared across the room.

Andrew could have sworn he caught the flash of icy blue eyes staring at him.

…..

Neil sighed, pulling his mask off and staring at the smeared lipstick across his jaw where he'd fended off one of the regular female customers before going on stage. Sweat beaded on his brow, tracing down his temples. His shirt was completely soaked through, and his shorts were stuffed with bills from grubbed hands at the stage edge. No matter how classy Kevin claimed the club to be, the dancers were still strippers and the majority of customers were still gross and horny. He'd slowly started to pull the bills out when Dan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Great job out there, Neil! You really got them riled up, and you're still as popular as ever!” Dan exclaimed, ruffling his curls with a grin. Her smile fell into a neutral line as she wiped at the smudged lipstick. “You know, you don't have to do this, right? Just because you got us the positions. You've got your own work to handle.”

Neil smiled at her. “I know, but whatever I make here, I get to keep. I'm still paying off my parents' debts, and I can't do that and live at the same time if I'm just using what I get paid normally.”

She sat down beside him, turning him to face her so she could fix his makeup. “I know that, but Kevin had offered to help which is a miracle in and of itself. He's offered more than once, so you know he means it. Wouldn't he be better than Ichirou?”

Neil wanted to shake his head, but also didn't want his throat ripped out. Dan was applying small crystals to his freckled and would murder him if he ruined her work. “Ichirou is not the problem. We practically grew up together despite our fathers' best efforts. It's Lord Moriyama and his useless second son that are the problem. Lord Moriyama still doesn't trust me after my father didn't pull through on his side of the deal, and then let my mother run back to the Hatfords. No, I can't trade one thumb for another.” Neil was giving too much truth, and he felt his throat trying to constrict around his words with his need to clam up, but every one of the Foxes deserved his truth. After what his father had put them all through... They'd been through too much together to get a lie.

Dan sighed again, and sat back. “There. All fixed. Now change your shirt and shorts. You're disgusting.” Turning to glance over her shoulder as Neil followed her order, she shouted, “Allison, they're waiting for Aphrodite on stage!”

Neil gently pulled Allison to a stop before she passed him, pulling her down to whisper in her ear. “Can you check out someone for me? Blond. Short. Seated at the bar in a black suit. He's new, but doesn't look like a customer.”

Allison pressed a kiss to his temple, murmuring, “Sure thing, hon. I'll let you know what I collect after I make my rounds tonight.”

“Thanks.” Neil waited until Allison was gone and Dan had focused on him again to wave at his face. “What's all this for? I thought I didn't go on again till closing.”

“Right, but someone requested you.”

Narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, he said, “I didn't put anything out saying I was taking requests tonight. You know that.” Neil only took requests when he was desperate for more cash, and Dan knew that as well too.

Dan nodded. “I know, but I wasn't able to turn them down this time. The request came from Kevin for someone else. He put down five figures. I figured you wouldn't mind if you were getting paid that much.”

Neil's mouth went dry. “How much if five figures? How does Kevin even have that much to throw around?”

“Fifteen thousand.”

“Jesus. Does he want me to fuck this guy on stage or something?” Neil asked jokingly, but Kevin with Riko could be unpredictable. He had to have faith that Kevin wouldn't ask something like that of him, and he didn't want to have to pull rank as a Wesninski and the Butcher's Son in the club. Even then, he'd only be able to pull rank on Kevin, not Riko. If it came down to a battle with Riko, the night would end with someone's blood on the walls. There was a lot of abuse and humiliation he was willing to take from Riko, but not that.

“Oh, come on!” Seth shouted from across the room where he was painting his chest bright orange, “You don't even get naked! Why are you getting paid the big bucks? How good are you at giving head, exactly?”

Neil didn't point out that he only ever 'gave head' to one person as he didn't have a choice in the matter. That wasn't information Seth should be privy to. He'd never hear the end of the gay slurs. He already got enough shit for being demisexual as it was.

“If you put half as much effort into your performance as Neil does, maybe you'd get paid more too. Unfortunately, you only attract one gender, and that's not enough,” Dan shot back at him as she smiled. Again, she returned her gaze to Neil while Matt intervened before Seth got himself killed. “So, the client is in a private room, last door on the left. Maybe he'll tip.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “You think it's a guy?”

She shrugged. “Kevin doesn't have any women in his group, but who knows. Maybe he picked one up and is showing her a good time.”

“I doubt that. He just picked up three new bodyguards a month ago, and I don't think Coach would let women on his team with Riko around.” Neil pursed his lips, staring at the rust red of them in the mirror. After a moment, he fitted his mask back into place and stepped into a pair of lethal black heels. “I guess I'll see you in an hour or so.”

Dan waived, smiling cheekily. “Try to have some fun, Neil. Who knows? Maybe he has a sense of humor.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he ducked out of the dressing room.

…..

The private rooms were for entertainment. Most of the time, that meant lap dances and some conversation. That's what they were meant for. For the customers to get a better look at their coveted performers. What a performer did in a private room with a customer was their business though. Most of the performers were willing to do a lot for a little bit more if Kevin turned a blind eye. His only stipulation was that they stay clean, free of any drugs that he wasn't pushing and STIs.

Some customers pushed for more than the performers were willing to give, even when they said now.

Neil wasn't innocent. When he needed money and there was an easy way to get it, he didn't waste time tiptoeing around options, but he had his boundaries.

The Foxes had made a name for themselves in both the pole dancing circles and sex worker circles. When it came to the private rooms, their word was law. After several bloodied noses and broken wrists, most everyone knew that when a Fox said no, it meant no. There was no pushing. There was no coaxing. There was no wheedling. They weren't afraid to kick a customer out, and they sure as hell weren't afraid to get violent if hands were put on them. The Foxes were known for their dances and their convictions.

Customers who requested them knew not to push.

That didn't mean the Foxes weren't willing to push the fold themselves.

Neil didn't push anything. After his mother had beat the desire out of him and Lola had taken what she'd wanted, he refused to touch anyone unless he was desperate. Even desperate, the furthest he would take it was a handjob and a few unenthusiastic kisses. He made enough money on stage most nights to cover living expenses, but feeding two people got expensive after awhile. Not including the clothes and doctor visits and shoes. When he didn't need money, he kept as much distance between himself and the customers as he could.

He rarely found a need to put himself in a private room, and he always had the same reaction at first. Nausea. Shoulders pulling tight. A sense of vertigo washed over him as he slipped into the dimply lit room and closed the door behind him.

The room was dark like the main room, all black and crimson curtains with accents of gold and dusty pink interspersed throughout. Candle light flickered along the walls, and soft rolling music played through hidden speakers. Allison's song choice thrummed through the ceiling, pulsing in his feet.

Neil knew there were microphones hidden for the performers' protection. He'd been the one to suggest their installation. If the performer ever uttered their safe word or 'No' three times in a row, guards would pull the performer out immediately.

Across the room, the man Neil had seen sitting at the bar turned to look at him. He was short, shorter than Neil at about five feet even, but his presence was overwhelming as he stared at Neil blankly. He wore all black from his shiny shoes to his belt to his tie. His hair and eyes were the only splashes of color.

Hazel eyes slid up and down Neil's body, but the man didn't move to come any closer.

Neil didn't know what he was supposed to do with this lack of reaction.

…..

Andrew was collected from the bar by Nicky just as the next dancer, a woman with long blonde hair and legs for miles, stepped out. Nicky led him upstairs, a sly smile on his lips.

Andrew narrowed his eyes in response. “What's going on? I thought Kevin wanted me to get too drunk to stand. He's ruining my streak,” he groused even though he hadn't really been drinking with purpose. He'd been sipping on his whiskey as he chatted with Roland about the dancers and skirmishes they got into. What problems could be found around the club. Which were related to Kevin and which weren't.

Really, he'd just been doing reckon, but Nicky didn't need to know that.

“A present from Kevin,” Nicky said vaguely as he opened a door and closed it behind Andrew.

Andrew knew where he was without having to be told. He'd been in a backroom like this at Eden's Twilight with Roland enough times. Granted, this was nicer, but it was also actually meant for entertainments where Eden's looked like it was simply where people went to hook-up. They were all the same in the end.

A place to have a tryst. A place to get a lap dance. A place to do business that wasn't of the body variety.

He wasn't happy Kevin had sent him there, but he was also mildly curious to see who Kevin had sent for. Who Kevin thought would be interesting enough to keep him busy.

After ten minutes, Andrew considered sitting down, but didn't want to give the dancer anything to assume. He wasn't there for a lap dance. He wasn't there for a blowjob. He was there without consent, and he knew most of the dancers had to have been pushed into situations they didn't want either.

The dancer from the first performance -Lilith- slipped into the room. He'd changed, but the outfit wasn't much different than the one before. Black shorts that were seemingly painted on, tassels of diamonds hanging from the waistband to tinkle quietly around his hips. Black top of nearly see through material with gauzy sleeves that draped around his arms. New red lipstick painted his mouth, almost the same color as his curls.

He was towering in black heels, his mask still in place as he leaned back against the door.

Andrew couldn't stop his eyes from dragging up and down the man, taking in his posture, how he seemed a little off kilter. He wondered if it was Andrew himself, the room, or just the situation that was causing him such visible discomfort.

A long, tense silence passed between them before either spoke.

“You're Kevin's new bodyguard. I didn't realize earlier. You, your twin and your cousin just joined his security detail. Renee said she knew you guys from before,” Lilith said, shoulders still pressed to the door with his back arched away from the fabric covered wood.

“And who are you to Kevin?” Andrew asked, suspicious and curious at once.

“A performer. An asset. Someone to take care of the dirty work.” The words rang with truth despite the mirth there, and Andrew had to wonder if the song and dance were familiar. “But for you? I can be anyone.”

Again, suspicion reared its head. With Riko in the same building, he couldn't be too careful, even if Kevin was the one who sent Lilith. That didn't mean people couldn't be paid off. “Why's that? Is that part of your gag?”

The man shrugged, a sly smile playing across his lips. Half lidded blue eyes looked out at him from the shadows of the mask. “Kevin paid fifteen thousand for me to be here, so I assume he wants me to make you happy. By whatever means that may be.”

Lilith sounded a little sick at the prospect, and Andrew didn't miss that hint in his voice. He was a good actor otherwise, his posture never changing.

The words made Andrew sick, and he wanted to strangle Kevin. Instead, he could just waste his money. “Stop standing like that.”

Those blue eyes blinked wide, and Lilith asked, “Like what?”

“Like you're trying to showcase something. It looks painful.”

A startled laugh fell from Lilith's mouth, and he relaxed against the door. “It kind of does,” he admitted.

“Take the shoes off.”

After a pause, Lilith sighed and stepped out of the shoes, dropping down much closer to Andrew's height. “Thank god. Those are torture. Have you ever tried?”

“No.” Andrew sat down on the couch that was across from the door, leaning back with his arms across his chest. He pointed to the cushion next to him. “Sit.”

Irritation flashed across Lilith's mouth as he hesitated. It disappeared as he padded over to the couch. His body was lithe and strong like he was aware of every aspect of himself. Sitting down, he left a substantial twelve inch gap between them, but turned to face him. “This is... unconventional. Most people want me to be naked by this point. Not that they get what they want, but...”

“I'm not people.”

Lilith laughed. “Clearly. So, is there anything I can do for you?” He crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his hands in his lap. “You've got fifteen thousand dollars worth for activities.”

Andrew let his eyes wonder over the man, considering. He knew what his body wanted. He knew that he wanted to spite Kevin for this. He knew that no matter how convincing the man was or what he was indirectly offering, Andrew could spot a liar a mile away. This man was a good one, practiced and adept, but not good enough. “Let me take off your mask, yes or no?”

Lilith tensed, but nodded. “Yes.”

Andrew spanned the space between them, reaching into Lilith's hair to rifle around for the string. Puling the bow open, he set the mask aside and sat back into his seat, opening the space between them again. He stared at the man's face, at the long lashes and gems glues to his face, the curls brushing his forehead, the highlighter on his cheekbones. “What's your name?” Beneath the makeup, he could still see the bumps and rises of burns beneath an eye.

“Neil Josten.”

Andrew sat the lie in the flutter of his eyelashes, just a minor drop. “That's not your real name.”

“No.”

“You prefer to go by Neil.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Neil's eyes darted up to Andrew's face, surprised. “I-” He swallowed, dropping his eyes again. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to meet Andrew's again, conviction in their blue depths. “What now?”

Andrew considered, chewing carefully on the inside of his cheek. “Take your shirt off, yes or no?”

“No,” Neil said immediately, flinching away from his eyes. He sputtered out a correction. “U-un-unless you really want me to.”

Interesting. “No. It's fine,” Andrew said, sliding further along the couch to give him more space, “Okay, but why? You're a stripper who doesn't take off his clothes. What are you hiding? We're playing a game here, Neil. Truth for truth. You give me a truth and I'll give you a truth.”

Neil stared at him silently for a long time before sighing. “Scars.”

“How many?”

“A lot.”

“As bad as the ones on your face?”

Neil's hand jumped up to press against the scars beneath his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. “No. Worse.”

Andrew nodded, accepting that answer and motioning him to go.

Blinking in surprise, Neil dropped his hand. “What's your name?”

“I thought you already knew my name.”

Neil smiled. “I do, but you have a twin. I want to hear you confirm my suspicions.”

“Andrew Minyard.”

“And your twin is Aaron. Nicky is your cousin. He's nice. Always gives me a good tip when I take one of his requests. Never gets handsy unless I let him. I like their significant others too, even if I only know them from a distance.” He must have seen the unease flash across Andrew's face because he quickly said, “Sorry. Kevin's an important person to me and my family. I go overboard researching the people he's involved with so he doesn't get himself killed.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't really fault him. It wasn't hard to research Aaron and Nicky anyway as their lives were documented on one or more social media pages. “Who gave you all the scars?”

Neil's jaw tightened, but he answered anyway. “My father and his associates.” His voice was tight, bitter. He sounded almost like he wanted to puke as he said, “Lola.”

“Lola,” Andrew mused, and again, Neil flinched, “What a stupid fucking name.”

Neil chuckled, the noise sounding forced to Andrew's ears. “Yes. Why did you decide to work for Kevin? How did that happen?”

“Riko tried to recruit me for his operation, but I don't work for homophobic piss babies. I needed a job, and Kevin -well, more Wymack- needed someone who could field Riko when he tries to overstep his line. Kevin and Wymack also agreed to hire my family. Riko didn't.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Which way do you swing?”

Neil smirked, and Andrew wondered how often he'd gotten the question. “I don't. I'm demisexual.”

“Interesting.”

Neil opened his mouth to ask his next question when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Instead, with wide eyes, he asked, “Can I touch you, yes or no?” mimicking Andrew's way of asking for permission. “Whoever that is, I need to convince them I'm doing my job.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed and was surprised when Neil straddled his lap, sliding his fingers deep into Andrew's hair. The way Neil kissed was gentle and exploratory despite the situation. When Andrew gripped his thighs, he unconsciously arched into him.

The door opened without a knock, and Neil broke away a second later to stare over his shoulder accusingly. “What, Jean? I'm busy.”

“Clearly.” His eyes trailed up and down Neil, disgust etched into the curve of his lips. “Little Boss just called bother Riko and Kevin. You are to call him at your earliest convenience.”

“Thanks for the message. Now get out.”

“Putain,” the man muttered as he slammed the door closed.

Neil didn't move as his footsteps disappeared down the hall. With a sigh, he looked down into Andrew's impassive expression. “Well, guess this is ending a little early.”

“I suppose.”

Still, Neil didn't move, a sly smile pulled at his lips. “I'd like to kiss you again. It was pleasant. Also... do you want me to take care of that for you?” He pointed between their bodies where Andrew pressed hard against his ass, but politely kept his eyes on Andrew's.

Andrew was achingly hard in his pants, but he wouldn't ask for anything Neil didn't want. He didn't even know if Neil actually liked men or not. He needed to look up 'demisexual' when he had a moment. “Are you asking as part of your job or because you want to?”

Neil smiled at him, carding his fingers idly through Andrew's hair. “Because I want to. Because you listened when I said no, and didn't expect anything from me. Because you went out of your way to make me feel comfortable. Those shoes really are the worst after awhile.”

“Save it for another time,” Andrew decided.

This time, Neil beamed. “Sure thing. Bit I will ask for another kiss.”

“Demanding,” Andrew commented, but obliged as he tangled a hand in the curls at the back of Neil's head and pulled him down. When they pulled apart, he asked, “When will I see you again?” Because he was weak. He was weak for a pretty face and shady back story and the ability to listen.

'And to keep an eye on him to make sure he's not a threat to Kevin,' he told himself, even though it was a blatant lie.

“So eager,” Neil flirted, lifting himself from Andrew's lap to straighten out his clothing, “Probably sooner than you might imagine.” He plucked up his mask from beside Andrew.

“That's not an answer.”

“My schedule is never for sure, but I'm here most night. Come by any time. Ask for my by name instead of my stage name, and they'll send someone back for me. If you keep treating me like a gentleman instead of a whore, you won't even have to have Kevin pay for me.”

Andrew sat up straight. “I didn't-”

“I know. Just teasing. I'll see you soon, Andrew, and...” Neil trailed off, head ducking as he stood in the doorway and tugged his heels back on. When he finally lifted his head again, there was a sad smile gracing his lips. “Thank you. I mean it.”

And then he was gone.

Andrew dealt with himself quickly, using the supplies he found in a back corner to clean up before stepping out. He sat down heavily beside Nicky outside the VIP room. “I'm done for tonight if you want to drink.”

Nicky shook his head, but put away his phone and turned eagerly to face Andrew. “So, how was it?”

…..

Neil slipped from the room and immediately downstairs to call Ichirou. “Lord Moriyama, what can I do for you?” he asked politely because he knew Ichirou thought it was arbitrary. It made him uncomfortable, and being brothers, it was fun to needle him sometimes. “Oh, sorry. Slip of the tongue. Little Boss, what can I do for you?”

“I've told you not to call me that, Nathaniel,” Ichirou quipped back, “Either of those things.”

“Not as long as you keep calling me that.”

Ichirou chuckled quietly before his voice turned stoic. “I need you tonight. I've told the other to two stay clear for the night. I understand they're at the club currently?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Your man is already here. I'm having Moreau come in to begin set up.”

“Understood.” Neil shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the dressing room, not looking at himself in the mirror as he pulled a wig with long rust red curls into place. The hair cascaded down his back, ending at his waist. “I have to take care of one small thing before I change and head in. Is that possible?” He shimmied into a silver shimmery dress with a plunging back, the only one he ever wore into the VIP room.

“Do as you need to take care of Jane,” Ichirou told him, “I hope to see her again soon.”

“This weekend. Dinner,” Neil said, tying his mask back into place. Dressed as he was, he could almost believe he was a woman.

“Good. See you soon.”

The line clicked dead, and Neil dropped his phone back into his drawer. Renee and Matt stared at him with worry as he stepped into high silver stilettos.

He turned to them, holding out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Stunning. As always,” Renee sighed, and stepped close to fix his smeared lipstick. “We need to invest in that kind that stays forever. You go through so much lipstick. Will you need me tonight?”

“Later. I'll have Jean call,” he sighed. Before he hurried out, Matt grabbed hold of his arm.

“Don't let him push you around, Neil. You're not an object,” Matt whispered so Seth couldn't hear him.

Everyone, but Seth knew what happened to Neil in the VIP room, knew that he was one of the only ones it ever happened to. Knew it happened to degrade him and nothing more. They'd all had to pull him back together one night or another.

They worried, but worry never saved anyone.

Neil sighed again and pulled free. “Not my choice, Matt.”

“Not yet, but it will be.”

Neil smiled his wide, fake, plastic smile. “I can only hope.”

Nothing would get better for him until Kengo Moriyama finally found himself in the grave.

…..

He knocked on the door to the VIP room, not glancing at Andrew or Nicky as they eyed him. He could only hope that Andrew didn't recognize him with the long sleeve and hair and dress, which was for the best. If they made eye contact, that might not have been the case.

“Enter!” came Riko's imperious voice, and Neil repressed a growl.

He pushed open the door to purple satin and blue light, and Riko with Thea sitting on his knee like a very pretty dark doll. A scowl graced her painted mouth as Riko's hand played idly with the strings of her corset. When his hand drifted between her thighs, she slapped his hand away. “No means no.”

Neil was glad to see she hadn't lost her fire. She'd always been the strongest of them, but he wished Kevin would just get the guts to ask her out instead of shooting angry glares towards them while Jeremy sat against his leg and laughed generously. The best thing about the situation was that Jean wasn't there also mooning over Jeremy.

God, the VIP room was just a roiling pool of sexual tension. He wished Kevin and the others would get themselves into a happy polyamorous relationship.

“Ooooh, the Silver Fox is here!” Jeremy crowed, jumping to his feet and folding Neil in his arms. In his ear, Jeremy whispered, “I didn't know or I would have found a way to stop it.” When he pulled back, he trailed his lips along Neil's cheek.

Neil caught the front of his corset, whispering back. “It's fine. He didn't call for me today. Something else.”

Jeremy was beaming as he pulled back, leading Neil over to Kevin. He dropped onto the left arm of Kevin's chair, pulling Kevin's arm around his hips and tucking his fingers between his legs, unashamed.

Neil smiled seductively, leaning into Kevin's right ear as he gripped his wrist. “Can you grab Jane from the babysitter tonight? Ichirou...”

Kevin turned into Neil's neck and whispered, “Yes,” against his skin.

When Neil pulled away, he pressed a long kiss to Kevin's mouth. He beamed as he pulled back. “Well, that is all the time I have tonight,” he announced, turning back towards the door and hoping he'd get away, but Riko's voice filled the room again.

“Wesninski,” Riko called.

Kevin stared at him with a warning in his eyes as Neil winked and turned.

Stepping up to Riko's side, he snarked, “How may I help you on this fine evening, sir?” He smiled, and tried to keep the venom out of his words.

Motioning him down with two fingers, Riko wrapped a hand around the back of Neil's neck. “Next week, you will be here. We have an appointment to keep.” His hand slipped down from Neil's neck, following the curve of his back and slipping beneath the edge of his dress then the strap of his thong. “Think about the baby.” Riko hand pulled away, but gripped the back of his thigh hard enough to bruise. “Don't miss our appointment again. Understand?”

Anger and revulsion welled in Neil's chest, but he only barely managed to keep it contained. “Yes.” He stood straight, and gave the room another blinding smile. “Have a good night.”

Stepping out into the hall, Neil only managed to contain himself long enough to not slam the door. Instead, he threw a fist at the wall. He hissed at the pain that spiraled up his forearm, cursing at the split skin across his knuckles. “Fuck! God fucking dammit! Jesus fuck! Fucking Riko, piece of fuck! Nasty ass hands!” He dug the folded bills out of the strap of his thong, throwing them at the floor. He punched the wall again.

He'd forgotten Andrew and Nicky were outside the door until he heard their chairs move.

“Stop.” Andrew's strong, steady voice said behind him, grabbing his wrist as he made to punch the wall again. “You're going to break your hand. You're already bleeding.”

“Neil,” Nicky said gently, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Neil growled harshly, but couldn't stop from looking at Andrew.

Andrew glanced at him, recognition there, but nothing more. He dropped his eyes to Neil's hand, flexing each finger and then his wrist. “Nothing serious. Maybe a jammed finger or two. You should get that cleaned, bandaged and iced as soon as possible.” He didn't comment about the tears on Neil's cheeks.

Taking a step back, Andrew bent down to pick up the bills and pressed them into Neil's uninjured hand, meeting his eyes. “Whatever this is, it's not worth hurting yourself over.”

“'Kay,” Neil whispered, flabbergasted as he stared through the guise of his mask, but he felt like Andrew could see right through him. It made him uncomfortable.

His mouth was dry.

Swallowing, he turned. “Nicky, I'm sorry for yelling,” he said.

Tears filled Nicky's brown eyes, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Oh, Neil, honey!” he cried, enveloping Neil in an all encompassing hug that made Neil want to cry while simultaneously drying out his well of emotions.

“Thanks, but I have to go now, Nicky. It was... it was nice to meet you, Andrew. See you guys soon.” Trying to contain his shakiness, Neil strode away. He needed to change, fix his hand, and get to Ichirou before he started asking questions.

Because Ichirou didn't know.

And Neil never wanted him to find out.

…..

“He was trying to sabotage a shipment.” Ichirou, dark and lithe and several inches taller than Neil, stood over the whimpering man as Neil pulled on the gloves Jean had set out for him. “He was caught with a detonator in his hand. Cheep. Clearly homemade. It might not have even worked.”

The man had a head of mousy blond hair that was streaked red with darkly tanned skin. His fingers were laced behind his back, wrists tied to the simple wooden chair like his ankles. A gag had been shoved in his mouth, ear plugs wedged in his ears, and a blindfold covered his eyes.

“Who do you think he works for?” Neil asked, stepping towards the chair and unceremoniously throwing his aching fist. The impact against the man's jaw made his knuckles bleed all over again, but he held back the flinch of pain. He should have just hit him with his left hand. “Do you think this is going to be a problem?”

Ichirou looked around to where Jean stood against the wall, eyes sharp and narrowed and as dark as his brother's. “Moreau. Out. Watch the door. No one is allowed in.”

Jean bowed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Turning back, Ichirou said in a low voice. “I think he works for my brother.”

Neil paused where he was considering his tray of tools, eyes wide. “What? Why would he sabotage his own shipment?”

“Profit; if he exports than he can sell at whatever price he likes and keep everything for himself. Blackmail; he may be trying to ruin Kayleigh and Kevin. Favor; if he knocks them out of standing with my father, there will be an opening to step into. There are too many possibilities to consider. He doesn't realize he'll never be apart of the family the way he wants to no matter what he does.”

“Why Riko specifically though? Are there any clue to his immediate involvement?” Neil stared at the man in the chair, eyes narrowing. There was a cold, hollow spot in the middle of his chest that he was all too familiar with. It's where he retreated when Riko degraded him, when he killed, when he remembered his parents. “You don't think it's just my father's loyalists?”

“No. There have been shipments going missing more and more often. Riko's spending had increased. When the shipments are stolen, there is little to no casualties. Also, the raven tattoo behind his ear. It might be a coincidence, but...”

Neil allowed his father's ugly smile to pull up his lips. “Well, let's ask then.” He ripped the plugs from the man's ears and the gag out of his mouth. He yanked the man's head back by the hair at the back of his skull. “Who do you work for?”

“I-I-I-I don't know.”

“Wrong answer, handsome.” Neil held the man's head still before driving his fist straight into his nose. Cartilage shattered beneath his knuckles and blood gushed down the man's mouth. “Try again.”

“I don't know!” he shouted.

“Still the wrong answer.” Neil spent several long minutes like that, asking the same question and systematically hurting the man more when he got the same answer. Blood splattered his face, dripping down his cheek. His fist ached in its glove.

The man only spoke after Neil had broken his index finger. “Okay! Okay! I'll tell you what I know!”

Neil paused where he'd been bending the man's second finger back towards his wrist, relaxing the tension.

The man dragged in a shuddering breath. “I don't know what his name is. I really don't. I just know he's part of some big important family or something. They call him the Raven King or some stupid shit like that. I never met with him face to face. There were middle men. Idiots dressed in all black who move completely in sync. It's terrifying. I was paid thirty thousand to blow up half the shipment and take the other half. I got caught before I could do anything. I don't know anything else! Please don't kill me!”

Neil and Ichirou made eye contact over the man's head. “Were you working alone?” Neil asked, “Where were you supposed to drop the shipment?”

“N-no, but she ran off when she saw me get snatched. I've never met her before tonight. I don't know her name. I don't know anything about her.” He was breathing harder. “I was supposed to drop it off at some sports stadium. It's not used anymore. The sport never got off the ground or something.”

“Hm. What about the tattoo behind your ear?”

“Drunk night when I was sixteen.”

Neil stood, walking around behind the man. He waited for Ichirou's nod to continue. He gripped the man's head. “Thank you for your cooperation.” The snap of his neck dissipated from the room quickly enough, absorbed by black sound proofing and heavy curtains. “What do you want me to do about this?”

They both knew he wasn't walking about the body. He never disposed of the bodies, just like his father never had. That was someone else's job, but he usually paid Renee a pretty penny for her services. He trusted her more than he trusted any of the lackeys walking around the estate.

“I'm giving you permission to gather evidence against my brother for this. You may use whoever and whatever means you see fit. Once you have what we need, given my father's approval, you will kill my brother.”

Neil's blood began to boil with anticipation. When he finally got his hands on Riko, he'd rip him to shreds. They wouldn't be able to tell Neil's work from his father's.

[multiverseforger]

Fav game character

Tina and her parents were sold to Hyperion to become test subjects for Jack's slag mutation experiments, an event which led to the deaths of her parents. She escaped their fate using a grenade that she had hidden in her dress at her mother's insistence, and once she was free of Hyperion's reach she vowed revenge on the man that had sold her family: Flesh-Stick.

Involvement

Borderlands 2

Tiny Tina's demolitions expertise is called into action when a Hyperion supply train believed to be carrying a Vault key needs to be stopped. With that objective in sight, she then sets the Vault Hunters to the task of finding two rockets (which she refers to as 'badonkadonks') to carry a 'suicide'-bomber toy each, and then to set them on target.

Her collaboration with the Vault Hunters continues when she has them gather items and guests for a very special tea party. During the final mission Tina will contact the Vault Hunters and wish them luck in stopping Hyperion and even reads them a poem repeatedly telling the Vault Hunters to 'kill Jack'.

Mr. Torgue's Campaign of Carnage

Tina appears in a supporting role in Mr. Torgue's Campaign of Carnage. Initially she is hired by Mad Moxxi to help the Vault Hunters train prior to battling Motor Momma, but also asks their assistance in obtaining the autograph of her third favorite mass-murderer, Sully the Stabber, as well as walking her "puppy", a Badass Fire Skag named Enrique. She also provides commentary on many of the Vault Hunters' actions throughout the course of the DLC.

Tiny Tina's Assault on Dragon Keep

Tina takes on the role of the 'Bunker Master' for the game 'Bunkers & Badasses', where she is shown to be bad at this, by fumbling in such ways as creating impossible fights early on and not balancing the gameplay in certain areas. The real problems underlying Tina's mental state (at that time) start becoming more apparent as the player progresses, being obsessed with eating only crumpets and constantly trying to insert a manifestation of the now deceased Roland whenever she wants to, to the dismay of the other Vault Hunters. Tiny Tina's character develops over the course of the campaign and she learns to accept Roland's death.

Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel

Tina makes her first appearance during the game while Lilith was interrogating Athena, inviting the Vault Hunters to play another round of Bunkers and Badasses, but was turned down. Later, after Athena finishes telling her story, Tina introduces herself and requests Athena to tell a story about fighting a raid boss. As she had no idea what a raid boss was, she "came up" with a story about fighting one (in this case, the raid boss being an enhanced version of The Sentinel). After that, Tina requests Athena to tell the story of her working for Handsome Jack again.

Borderlands 3

At the time of Borderlands 3, Tina is presumed to be around 20 years old. She is still part of the Crimson Raiders B-Team along with Brick and Mordecai. The team is hired by Wainwright Jakobs to rescue his partner Sir Hammerlock, but after they fail to report back on their progress, Jakobs requests the Vault Hunter to go The Anvil to investigate setting up the story mission Hammerlocked. Tina's code name during the mission is 'Crunk Bunny'. Tina requests 'ingredients' for her 'Pizza' (bomb), composed of 'sauce' (nitroglycerin), 'onions' (wires) and 'ham' (a detonator). She then asks the Vault Hunter to deliver the pizza, which is to blow up the door to the structure where Hammerlock is being held. After successfully rescuing Hammerlock, she declares that the B-team's work is done and they leave Eden-6. Tina is found later on Devil's Razor back on Pandora, where she or Brick will give the mission Boom Boom Boomtown. She asks the Vault Hunter for help in winning back their new home and base of operations, recently named by Tina as "Boom Town", by fighting off COV that have been sneaking in thru a tunnel that Brick is keeping the COV locked inside.

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Appearances

Borderlands 2

Mr. Torgue's Campaign of Carnage

Tiny Tina's Assault on Dragon Keep

Commander Lilith & the Fight for Sanctuary

Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel

Borderlands 3

Quotes

"Come on iiiin, you are missing the Fuun!"

"All around the Sta-actus plant, the stalker chased the bandit, the stalker thought 'twas all in fun - POP! Goes the bandit!"

"Oh haiiii!"

"Roland told me you were comin' - I still owe him for all that buttcrap with General Rancid. So, you gotta hijack a train, hunh? Chiiild's play! Lemme introduce you to my ladies."

"Runnin', runnin', runnin', I'm runnin' over here, run, run, run-run, run."

"This here's Mushy Snugglebites, and this is Felicia Sexopants. These fiiiine-ass womens could stop that train for yas, but I'ma need their badonkadonks first, and they got stoled by the bandits a few days ago. Go get 'em!"

"Naptime!"

"That's right, bitches - my big brudder's about to teach you some MANNERS. Nobody steals Mushy Snugglebites' badonkadonk and lives!"

"That's Mushy Snugglebites' badonkadonk. She's my main squeeze. Lady's got a gut fulla' dynamite and a booty like POOOW!"

"Got the badonkadonks? Best day evaaaa. Bring 'em back here and I'll use 'em to make some fine-ass damsels who can hijack that train for yas."

"Hey I told ya'z to get outta heeya, get out or do I gotta shank a bitch?"

"Get-outta-my-shop-or-I'll-punch-yo-butt. That's-how-Tiny-Tina-roll."

"(Singing) Put a little bomb in the hot ass damsel, blow stuff up and make people die."

"I'm a little teapot, bloody and cut. Here is my handle and here is my butt.*explosion noise* Oops."

"Squishy. Squishy squishy squishy."

"Oh daaaaaayum, you lookin' good, ladies. Let's get to work."

That's right. Twin sisters, man. Hhhahhhhhh. Take 'em. Take 'em take 'em take 'em take 'em."

"Just put my damsels near the choo-choo track and set 'em off! Good plan? Great plan!"

"You're cordially invited BITCH!!!"

"When you are ready to begin the Tea-Party, please smack Mister Flesh Stick in his bitch face."

"Gonna eat so many goddamn crumpets, it's going to be a Crumpocalypse."

"Ten... Nine..." *launches rockets* "I got bored."

"BURN ALL THE BABIES!!!!!"

(Cute yawning noise)

"Make it RAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!"

"Sup, sucka? It's Tina. I wrote you a poem and it goes a little somethin' like this BREAK IT DOWN. Ahem. Kill Jack. Kill Jack. Kill Jack kill Jack kill Jack KIIIILL JAAAAACK! Kill Jack. A poem by Tiny Tina."

"Climb the pipe to the train or you'll go insane wut wut. That's a rap song I wrote."

"Get some cookies, so you can eat 'em and grow up big and strong and kick Piston in the butt-butt."

"Real badasses eat chocolate chip cookies, I'ma gonna get that tattooed across my back in Old English font."

"Wait a minute. Those cookies weren't chocolate chip. Those...are...raisins. WHYYYYYY-HY-HYYYYY?! SHAWTY, DESTROY ALL THE FOOD DISPENSERS! WIPE THE RAISIN ABOMINATIONS OFF THE MAP! I JUST WANTED CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES! WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE?"

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Do you know who just arrived in Beatdown? SULLY THE STABBER! He's my THIRD favorite mass-murderer in the ENTIRE WORLD! You HAVE to go get his autograph for me."

"Get his signature on this. Please. PLEASEpleasepleasepleasepleaseplease! If you don't get his autograph I'm gonna DIEEEEE. He's my favoritest. He killed every living person on the Bathymas with nothing but a rusty butterknife. If you don't take it I'm gonna start crying. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. [making a song out of it] oh-baby please please PLEASE! That was 'Please' by Tiny Tina with Vault Hunter on bass."

"He said...no? Well. There's only one thing to do -- look him in the eye, nod politely, and KILL THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF HIM!"

Commander Lilith & the Fight for Sanctuary

While idle

Some of the idle chats are mission related and can't be heard again once the mission in question is completed.

"You come up in my face, and you DON'T GOT BOMB PARTS, you KNOW I'm throwing hands."

"Oh, hello! I didn't see you there. I was just on an important mission to save my friends and AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE DOING THE SAME THING?!"

"Gonna go blat-blat-blat on the vine-freaks. \n Rat-tat-tat till their brain leaks. \n Chill, girl, just droppin' some bars. Go do the thing."

"I wanna shoot the cannon again! AGAIN! But Lil said no. BLEEPING CURSE WORDS!"

"You kiddos killed that butt-bot so, so good! (cackle) Butt-bot."

"Come on, Mordy. You got this! You gonna be all right."

"MORDY'S ALL BETTER AND ELLIE FIXED THE CAMP'S COFFEE MACHINE AND I CAN'T STOP YELLING ABOUT EITHER ONE OF THOSE THINGS!"

"Yo yo yo. You kill that vineyman up on vineyville yet?"

"I left some reeaaal sexy bombs back on Sanctuary. Oh, just thinkin' bout 'em... come on, think about 'em with me. Yeeeeeah. Together now. Hohhhhh."

"That. Was. The BIGGESTEST BOOM OF ALL TIME! Gotta give it to Lilly-of-the-valley, she knows how to kill a baddo in style."

"Seriously, though. Vaulty-Vault, you was there for me in the dark times. That's fo' life."

"So, just saying, it's probably my birthday, and you ain't got me nothing. Mini-moonshot cannon. Just wanna put that in your head."

Notes

The photo of Tina and Roland

She is introduced as an old friend of Roland's and she has a picture of them together in her room. Roland also mentions beforehand that, "I've saved her life a few times, and she has saved mine more times than I can count."

In Borderlands 2, there are a few unique weapons that are associated with Tiny Tina. These weapons include pink hearted camouflage and/or stuffed bunny image decals.

Teapot

Cobra

Boom Puppy

Tina's voice is performed by Ashly Burch, sister of Anthony Burch - lead writer of Borderlands 2. (The two are also a part of the web series Hey Ash, Whatcha Playin'?.) She is also credited with the voice of the cursed gun, Bane.

Tina has unusual gender-specific dialogue, referring to both male and female Vault Hunters as "girl". She also makes a number of sexual comments in an appreciative manner in regards the female members of her tea party, whilst during the Assault on Dragon Keep storyline she confesses to liking Maya in The Siren's invitation, asking if Maya likes her in turn. Additionally, her original motivation for helping the Vault Hunters train for Mad Moxxi was going to be due to her having a crush on Mad Moxxi.

Tina switches verbal mannerisms frequently. Her speech styles include a stereotypical inner-city American speech pattern, little girl speech patterns, stereotypically pretentious British English speech, to randomly violent and murderous speech, and others.

Trivia

There is an Easter egg related to Hey Ash, Whatcha Playin'? in the Mr. Torgue's Campaign of Carnage. On the back of Tiny Tina's bus is a pixel drawing of Papa Burch riding a unicorn from the HAWP episode 'Sleep Is Death'.

Roland recognizes her as one of the greatest demolitions experts on Pandora and a picture of the two can be seen inside of her home.

Tiny Tina is mentioned by Brick on a mission in Sawtooth Cauldron as he recalls carrying her on his shoulders as they fought together. In the end credits, it is shown that they worked together again in this manner cleaning out the remaining Hyperion forces.

ExotropiaTina has an intermittent exotropia (lazy eye) in her left eye. This was originally due to a glitch, but the developers enjoyed it, so they purposefully left it in. This has also passed on to Borderlands 3, as her left eye will occasionally twitch while talking.

In NowGamer, an interview revealed that there is part of a mission removed from the main game involving Tina. Originally, when telling of Roland's death, the players were to head out to Tiny Tina's home and tell her the sad news. It described her being deeply affected by it, thanking the players for telling her, asking them to leave, and locking herself in her workshop to mourn. Anthony Burch, lead writer and the source of this news, says they regret they could not include this scene into the game. It was supposed to be the only moment in the game she loses her peppy mania [1].

Her tea party place card is labeled "Lady Tina of Blowupyourfaceheim"

On May 24, 2013, Tina took over the @ECHOcasts Twitter (previously owned by Krieg).

Tiny Tina's parents have officially been confirmed dead as of the sixth episode of Inside the Box, entitled "Fart Jokes and Tragedy".

In the Commander Lilith & the Fight for Sanctuary DLC, Tiny Tina, Mordecai and Brick form a team simply named "The B-Team".

Tiny Tina refers to Brick as "Brick-papa" and Mordecai as "Mordy-mom". This is further mentioned when Brick says "Don't talk like that to your mom." to Tina.

It is revealed in Sheega's All That that Sheega is an ex-girlfriend of Tiny Tina.

ECHO logs in Devil's Razor reveal that Tiny Tina has dated multiple individuals, broke up with all of them, and staged a wedding to make money from the wedding gifts sent by her exes.

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[theseviolentdelightss]

Counting Paths XVI

Series Summary: After a lifetime on the run from the Empire, Reader makes a move that could have drastic impacts for both friend and foe. A Reader insert/fanfic. Gifs belong to their respective owners.

Word Count: 3921

Author’s Note: Sorry again for the wait.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI Part XII Part XIII Part XIV Part XV

“Wait, what?”

It had been too long a day for Penny to expect you to understand her own special brand of sexual pseudoscience.

“Fuck, do I really need to put training wheels on for you again?”

Glancing over the top of your cocktail you nodded. Trying not to chuckle as the younger rebel sighed. Dragging her fingers through her hair in frustration.

“It's simple. For every ten pounds an overweight guy looses he gains a visible half inch.”

“Of dick?” You deadpanned.

“Yes! Finally she gets it!” Penny shouted, throwing her arms in the air and catching the attention of half the fellow cantina patrons. Penny may have been small but what she lacked in size she more than made up for in personality. A fiery thing with the hair to match, all red and wild curls.

“So you're telling me that you're into chubby guys because they're literally growers not showers?”

“Exactly.” Penny answered with a smile. Winking at you as she finished off her glass before pushing herself out of her seat and towards the bar.

Roland had waltzed in a few minutes ago and Penny was just waiting for the chance to pounce. It seemed so odd at first that a bubbly little pixie like Penny would have a crush on one of the most unfit impolite rebels on base but as time went on you could sense a genuine affection growing between the two.

Perhaps opposites really do attract.

Shaking your head to clear the haze you watched from a distance. Today had been long. Though it was technically your vacation you had spent the last six hours trying and failing to repair the capacitor coils on Penny's ship. It was tedious work but at least the weather had been beautiful and you could still feel the sun's heat clinging to your skin.

“Need a refill?”

Cassian's voice broke through the hustle and bustle yet still somehow managed to sound quiet. Withheld. 

“Thanks.” Reaching forward you handed Cassian your glass and waited as he made his way to the bar. Things had been busy on base lately, leaving the cantina much less crowded than usual. Giving the corner you sat in a comfortable sense of privacy.

“Here.” Cassian returned only a few moments later, handing the cool glass of dark raspberry liquor over to you.

Digging into your pocket you retrieved your money but Cassian simply waved it off. Thanking him for the drink you gestured towards Penny's empty stool. Not likely that she would be returning anytime soon. Silently the captain took a seat. One elbow propped against the table as he slowly began rubbing his temples. Eyes closed tight as the wrinkles formed like shallow valleys atop his forehead.

“Draven again?” You asked, carefully sipping at your newly filled glass, afraid the slightest hitch or movement would send it rushing over the brim and into your lap. The bar tender working tonight always had a heavy hand when it came to pouring drinks. Suffice it to say he was also your favorite.

“He thinks we need to lock down our smuggling routes to a set of small specific ports.” Cassian replied, running a tired hand over his face as he spoke. Strands of hair falling onto his forehead like always.

“Why in the hell would he want to do that?” You couldn't stop your voice from climbing an octave or two. When it came to bad ideas this one fell right in the 'lets set ourselves on fire to keep from freezing' column of stupidity. 

Not to mention it effected you directly. As in 'you're now ten times as likely to die on the job'directly.

“Says it'll be more secure, less chance of drawing attention.”

“That is so painfully backwards I don't think I have the current mental capacity with which to explain it.”

Chuckling softly Cassian nodded his agreement. Popping off the top of his drink to take a large swig.

“What's going on over there?” He asked, tilting his head in the direction of where Penny and Roland sat at the bar. Each inching closer to the other by the minute.

“Puppy love and way too much scotch.” You laughed, smiling at the beautiful absurdity of it.

“You think that's a good idea?” Cassian asked cautiously, his eyes scanning your face as you smiled. The fire from the liquor beginning to flicker in your eyes. You could feel the warmth of it coursing through your veins. Making you feel bolder than usual. Most times you would have understood Cassian's hesitancy; yet ever since Maiv's death, moments like this seemed to carry more weight. You had always known that life was fragile, unstable, and uncertain but now you felt it in earnest. Causing you to open your mind to doors you would have otherwise left closed.

“Yea, I mean why not? We're at war after all.”

“And that supports your argument how?” Cassian asked. A wrinkle of confusion forming in between his brows as he glanced between yourself and the odd couple at the bar.

“Simple: death is what gives life meaning. To be surrounded by it constantly. To know your days are numbered and that any moment could be your last...it makes them all that more precious.”

“That's a pretty sentiment.” Cassian replied.

He was right, it was a pretty sentiment but it wasn’t realistic, at least not in your experience. It seemed as if every time you allowed yourself to feel such things it inevitably led to suffering. Not once or twice, not mere coincidences, but a pattern of poor luck and bad timing that had began at your birth and continued on to this day. Always it left you wanting, feeling more alone than before. As if you could feel that stark empty space inside your heart growing bit by bit. Whispering words of doubt. Insisting that it was better not to hope for such things. Ashamed of how easily you tossed your feelings onto your sleeve the moment you got a bit too tipsy.

“So what's stopping you?” Cassian asked so softly you weren't sure you had heard him correctly. It wasn't like the captain to be so direct with his questioning when it came to things like this. Why address the elephant in the room when it is so much easier just to dance around it?

Things had changed between the two of you. There was no more denying it.

Nearly two weeks it had been and yet you could still smell his cologne clinging to your hair. The feel of his warm arms draped around your waist. How he pulled you close in his sleep, burying his his face in the crook of your neck.

Taking another long swig from your drink you straightened your back. Trying to calm the climbing rate of your heartbeat as you turned to face Cassian. His eyes a dark sea of emotions. Impossible to pin down. Typically he was easier to read but lately his actions; the stolen glances, the light touches, had left you at a loss.

The silence hung between Cassian and yourself as you racked your brain for a response. How does one convey so much, so many thoughts and emotions into a series of simple words? It was hard enough admitting it to yourself even as you laid in his grasp. The flutter of your heart racing as you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You finally defected. It was a poor move on your part but you didn't have many other options.

“Ah that's not fair!” He insisted, pulling his stool closer to the table as he spoke. “I asked you first.”

“What are we five?”

He was so close now that you could feel his arm brush against your own. Could see the quick intake of his breath. The short yet heavy sips he took from his bottle. 

He was nervous.

“I'm serious.” All the childish humor made a sudden albeit clean break from his voice.

“Maybe I'm afraid.” You muttered, circling the rim of your glass with wet fingertips until it began to hum.

“You're never afraid.” Cassian stated surely. As if it were as obvious a fact as the knowledge that humans require oxygen to breathe. If only he had been right.

“Who says that I'm not?” Your eyes shot up to meet his as your hand dropped to the table. The once growing hum silenced in an instant.

“Well I've seen you put down two heavily armed troopers single handily, watched you take on a dozen goons on Nar Shaddaa, had to stop you from running into a pile of burning ruble to save a stranger, and half the rebels on base have started calling your the 'Ravanger reaper'.”

“Please tell me that's not a real thing.” You groaned, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Courtesy of your curly haired co-pilot.” Cassian replied, leaning his bottle in Roland's direction.

“Ah the poet of Yavin IV.” You chuckled, hoping to swiftly change the subject. “Such an honor.”

“Doesn't mean it isn't true.”

Damn it, Cassian knew you to well.

“Take it from me, I'm afraid of plenty.” You assured him.

“Like what?”

“Hmm...small spaces, sharp objects, sink holes-”

“You’re just naming off things that start with the letter ‘s’!” Cassian argued.

“No I’m not!” You insisted though the laughter in your eyes said other wise.

“Y/N please...”

You couldn't suppress the shudder that escaped your lips nor the prickle at the back of your neck. Cassian normally called you 'Ash or Ashara' just like everybody else. After all it was what you had wanted. It was safest. Still you couldn't deny the way the sound of your true name rolling off his lips made you feel. It was as if you were back in the cramped alley on Nar Shaddaa. You could almost feel the pressure of his hand atop your hip. His warm breath as he rested his forehead against your own. Lips sore from feverishly dancing with one another.

“I'm scared of ending up by myself.” You admitted, thanking whatever deity that may be reigning above that saw fit to bless the galaxy with alcohol. How else could you have managed to keep your nerves in check if it weren't for the sweet liquor coursing through your veins? “After everything that's happened...I guess I'm just scared of ending up alone.”

“You can't be that blind.” Cassian scoffed, narrowed eyes glancing around the cantina as patrons slowly began filtering in.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Look around you.” Cassian said, his voiced laced with a pinch of aggression.

Turning atop your stool you took in the tables nearest you. Truthfully most of them were acquaintances you had worked with in the hangar or on missions together. Some looked away as soon as your eyes met while others merely returned your gaze. One, a handsome ginger haired X-wing pilot named Orno, even winked as he tilted his drink towards you. “See?”

“It's not like that.” You replied, a tad hurt by his assumption.

“Than what is it?” He asked calmly despite the fact that he was now drinking from an obviously empty bottle just to keep his hands busy. “What are you so scared of?”

Cassian hadn't intended to bring this up today. He hadn’t intended to bring it up at all, but certainly not here of all places; yet, he couldn't help himself. For months you had infected his thoughts and for months he had managed to push it aside, bury it beneath his work yet for the last twelve days it was as if you had consumed him entirely. Body and soul. No matter what he did his mind constantly found itself wandering back to you. The way you had molded yourself into his side. Your delicate fingers twirling strands of his hair in your sleep.

You had just opened up your mouth to reply when you heard it. The loud unmistakable blast of the base's siren system.

One set of three short blasts meant the arrival of a high ranking member of the rebellion. These were fairly common, occurring once or twice a month. More often than not most everyone ignored them.

A second indicated sever weather. Yavin IV's climate was typically temperate but the occasional cyclone would spring up. Requiring the grounding of all flights while the pilots scrambled to get any ships docked outdoors into the safety of the hangar.

A third alerted a code black. An Imperial sighting. The base would black out and go into a complete lock down. Ships in the air would be redirected while all signs of life were hidden deep beneath the belly of the massive temple that served as the Rebellion’s head quarters.

At the first alert most patrons simply turned their attention upwards, some ignored it completely, too engorged in their drinks. The second sent a chorus of grumbles and sliding chairs as pilots rose to their feet in no great hurry, ready to spend the next half hour shuffling ships into safety. The third was followed only by silence. A momentary disbelief in what had just been heard.

“Clear channels to control room, this is General Draven. All forces on base prepare to execute code black on my command.”

General Draven’s deep voice filled the room with a sense of authority despite the fact that he was currently speaking through a crackling intercom system.

“Did I just hear him say code black or am I losing my shit?” You turned to ask Cassian but his answer was obvious. He was already on his feet and moving as he reached across the table to take a hold of your hand. Pulling you towards the back exit without so much as a word.

When the rebels had first settled on Yavin they immediately put the temple's tunnel system to good use. Insuring that every major hub or communal area had access in case the need for a quick escape arose.

“We need to move now.” Cassian insisted as you dug in your heels. Trying to get an eye on Penny and Roland but it was of no use. Cassian would have carried you out if need be. Rushing into the tunnel you had to squint your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Thankfully Cassian had a tight grip, his fingers laced between your own so tightly you could feel his pulse through them.

“Break, break, break, affirmative all stations to sub level D. Lock-down in t minus five minutes.”

One might expect a situation such as this to be loud and hectic but the Rebellion had trained its soldiers well. All around you everyone moved in silent haste. The only echo to reach your ears was the steady thudding of boots as workers rushed to their stations while others hurried to hide any sign of occupation. Beneath a certain point in the ground even the best Imperial thermal scans would fail. The lower levels of the temple were sanctioned off into dozens of smaller compartments. Making it easier to spread out those inside and hide any heat signature.

“This is a code black alert. Three Imperial squadrons have entered our air space. Prepare for lock down protocol.”

Above you the sirens continued to reign as Cassian pulled you through the crowd. The tunnels weren't particularly wide and soon the number of people around you had grown substantially. You were elbow to elbow with Cassian as you rounded out of the tunnel and into the nearest stairwell. The steps were already covered with other rebels and slick with the moisture of so many bodies crammed into a single space. Thankfully you had a sure footed companion to lean on as you hurried further and further down.

The massive blast doors were as sweet a sight to your eyes as the end of the stairwell had been. Hurrying pass the guards you followed Cassian inside the massive bunker. Eyeing all those around you for familiar faces and finding none.

“Captain Andor! You're needed in the control room!” A young staff officer shouted as he pushed through the crowd towards the two of you.

“Are you alright?” Cassian asked, taking a hold of your shoulders and turning you to face him.

“Yea.” You nodded, slightly touched by his tenderness. “Just need to catch my breath.”

“Stay here.” He instructed, hands sliding down your arms to take a hold of your hands once more. “I'll come find you.”

With that he was gone, disappearing into the fold.

“Where is she?” A lanky rookie gasped as he ran towards you. Sliding his feet to a halt as he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “She said she was going back for you!”

“Who the hell are you talking about?” You shouted, struggling to hear over the massive orchestra of noises echoing off the bunkers stone walls.

“Zara.”

There are times in everyone's lives that define them. Rather it be decades of work or a single moment. For you that moment had came and went long ago. For all intents and purposes you knew who you were; yet even now you found yourself with that inkling of doubt. That instinctive stomach churning moment between decision and action. In a breath it was over and you gave in, allowing your instincts to take over. Ignoring the shouts to come back as you cut through the crowd and began taking the stairwell two steps at a time.

“Zara!” You yelled into your comm link. Damn the chain of command. You weren't losing another ally to the Empire. Not today. “Zara where the hell-”

“Clear all channels to control room!” An aggravated voice shouted on the other in.

“Fuck your control room! Zara where are-”

“I don't know!” Zara's frantic voice cackled through your comm link. “Its the tunnel-I can't-I can't find my way out!”

“Yell for me as loud as you can.”

The burning in your legs was beginning to return as the adrenaline began to wear off but you couldn't slow. Not when seconds might determine the difference between life and death.

“This is a code black alert! All stations to sub level D. Lock-down in t minus two minutes.”

A guttural scream tore through the tunnels, echoing like a howl in the night. Gritting your teeth you pushed forward, yelling for Zara to keep it up as you followed the sound of her voice. With each step Zara’s screams seemed to grow more frantic yet blessedly closer. She nearly collapsed in your arms when she finally stumbled through the darkness. Eyes wide with fear.

“We have to move!” Grabbing a hold of the young girl's wrist you yanked her to her feet and fled towards the stairwell. Gliding down them more so than running. There were moments when you could have sworn your feet hadn't even touch the ground. “Hold the door!”

A few yards ahead you could see the blast doors closing. The space between safety and uncertainty growing smaller by the second. Zara was now screaming too. The panic from before intensified by ten fold. With the last strength you could muster you rushed forward. Shoving Zara ahead of you and squeezing through the narrow gap a second before the blast doors shut with a thud.

Glancing up from where you sat on your hands and knees, gasping for air like a trout thrown a shore, you caught a glance of the guard who had seemed untouched by your pleas. A face you recognized easily. One you had made sure not to forget just in case an instance such as this arose.

One last surge of adrenaline brought you to your feet and your fist did the rest. Sucker punches weren't typically your style but it only seemed fitting to return the favor.

“That's for hitting me with your gun you twat!” You eyed the man carefully, waiting for a counter attack but he merely turned away. Spiting out a mouthful of blood and what sounded like a tooth.

Sighing heavily you dragged your feet towards Zara. Bending down you gripped her under the arms and pulled her to her feet in haste. Dragging her away from the two guards and out of ear shot.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You half shouted, cheeks red as embers and just as hot. “And don't you dare say you went back for me.”

“I-I just...” The poor girl was already panicked, having very nearly been left behind seemingly for dead. Now she bore the weight of guilt as her caramel eyes began to gloss over.

“On with it!” You pressed, holding her tightly by the shoulders as Cassian had with you only minutes before. “What was so damned important you risked dying for?”

The first of the tears escaped, followed promptly by a second as she reached under her coat, retrieving an item wrapped in dark silk. Glancing around carefully before she delicately pulled the fabric back. You could feel your breath hitch in your throat at the sight of it. The pounding of your heart against your chest like a war drum.

“It was my sister’s, she was supposed to....” Zara stuttered. “I thought it died with Maiv but-but it didn't...it's all I have left.”

The girl was on the verge of sobbing as she held the silver hilt in her hands. Reaching a hand out gently you ran your finger tips from the grip to shroud. The hairs on your arms standing up as a shiver ran down your spine.

“You show this to no one.” You stated coolly, staring deep into her wide eyes as you hurriedly wrapped the object in her hands tightly before shoving it back inside her coat. “You tell no one. You keep it secret and you keep it safe. You hear me? Zara! We clear?”

“We’re clear.” Zara nodded, composing herself somewhat as she readjusted her coat. Closing your eyes tightly you felt the room around you begin to wobble, even more so as you opened them. You wanted to say something to Zara, some comforting words that may give her strength; yet, from one orphan to another you knew there were none.

Reaching forward you pulled her into a tight embrace, simultaneously releasing the flood gates. Zara's tears drenched your curls as she apologized again and again. You hadn't noticed the way the sounds around you grew quiet, the way the edges of your vision began to blur or the weakening of your grip until you lost it. Eyes rolling back into your head as you crumpled to your knees.

That day you learned two valuable lessons.

One: to trust you intuition. Even if everyone else tells you otherwise. Even if they say it is folly to try, it is up to you to remain firm behind your convictions, to look them in the eye and show them just why they're wrong.

And two: never run the equivalent of three miles in under five minutes with nothing in your stomach but liquor and nerves.

[unfolded73]

Transformative (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

A Stevie Budd character study: she navigates being David's Best Person at the wedding reception. This fic explores an idea I've been playing with that Stevie is aro. Although this is set at David and Patrick's wedding, they exist mostly in the background of this story.

This is dedicated to my fandom BFF, @j-philly-b. After eleven years of dragging each other from one fandom to another, I literally don't know what I would do without you in my life.

Thanks to @startswithhope aka @language-of-love for giving this a quick beta read.

Rated Teen, 3260 words.   (ao3) / (schitt’s fic masterpost)

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Stevie is making a concerted effort not to drink too much at the wedding reception, and not only because she tends to try to make out with people when she gets boozy. There is also the very real worry that the tears she managed to keep from spilling over during the ceremony, while David and Patrick said their vows, will overflow if she gets drunk.

And no, before anyone asks, it’s not because she’s still hung up on David, God. She got over that not too long after she told him she had, her face-saving lie becoming retroactively true. It’s just emotional, seeing her closest friends making each other so happy. Especially when she thinks back to what David was like when he first got to Schitt’s Creek, to see him so euphoric now is… it’s a lot. It makes her emotional, and Stevie is not a fan of being emotional in front of people. She’s not a fan of doing much of anything in front of people, but between the musical last year and being David’s best person today, she’s been forced to get used to it.

Which reminds her, she has to give a fucking toast in a little while.

Well, maybe one more drink won’t hurt. For courage.

She makes her way over to the bar and orders herself a glass of white wine (as long as she stays away from the hard stuff, she’ll be fine). When she thanks the bartender and steps away, she almost collides with a guy in a charcoal suit holding a bottle of beer.

“Oh! Sorry,” Stevie says.

“No worries. It’s Stevie, right?” the guy says, reaching out with his free hand to shake hers.

“Yeah.” She’s probably supposed to ask his name, but she drops his hand and waits for him to volunteer it if he wants to.

“I’m Tim. One of Patrick’s cousins.”

Stevie eyes him. She met several cousins at the rehearsal dinner, but she can’t remember if this was one of them. “He has a lot of cousins.”

Tim laughs. “Yeah. I’m not even sure how many of us there are.”

There’s a lull that Stevie doesn’t know how to fill. “Okay, well--” She starts to step away, back toward her seat at the head table.

“So you’re David’s closest friend, I take it? Since you were his best…”

“‘Best Person’ is what we went with.”

“Not that you’re full of yourself or anything,” he says with a grin.

Stevie doesn’t feel like doing this. She doesn’t feel like bantering with a guy (even a reasonably good-looking one like Tim) at a wedding. She doesn’t feel like at some point making the decision between going to bed with this guy and not. She doesn’t feel like doing the walk of shame from his hotel room (she assumes hotel; she’s pretty sure he’s not one of the wedding guests staying at her motel) and figuring out how to get back home without bumming a ride from her one night stand. She’s so… tired of all of it.

“It’s just, when I heard Patrick was engaged to this guy, I googled him, and…” He shrugs. “I mean it’s not that I don’t trust Patrick’s judgment, but…” He seems to be leaving a blank for her to fill in. What, does he expect her to agree with him? Yeah, dude-I-just-met, my best friend is a shallow slut who’s going to break your cousin’s heart, you got it out of me!

Stevie blinks at him and pastes on a fake smile. “But what?”

“No, I mean, nothing,” he flounders.

Another similar-looking guy comes up and claps Tim on the back. “Whatever he’s saying, ignore him; he’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, that was starting to become clear.” She does recognize this one from the rehearsal dinner. Another cousin from Patrick’s never-ending supply of cousins, one who actually had some kind of ushering responsibility, if she remembers correctly.

“Tim, I think I saw some kids loitering around your car,” the new cousin says. “You might want to go check.”

Tim gets a panicked look on his face and bolts away.

“Thanks,” Stevie says. “Sorry, I know we met last night but I can’t remember your name.”

“It’s Dennis. And don’t worry about it, no one deserves to have to make conversation with Tim for any length of time.”

“Yeah, he seemed like a real prince.”

Dennis winces. “He didn’t say anything homophobic, did he? Because I told him--”

“No, nothing like that. Just… David-phobic, I guess.”

“Aren’t you David’s closest friend?” he says with an eye roll. “Sorry, I called Tim an asshole when clearly I should have said ‘stupid asshole’.”

Stevie laughs at that.

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, Patty’s always had a good head on his shoulders. Okay, yeah, I guess he took a while to figure out , you know… what he needed in a partner,” he says, gesturing over to the dance floor. Patrick is currently laughing at something David is saying and attempting to restrain him from leaving to sit down when the DJ starts to play ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca.’ “But he’s clearly figured it out now. So David’s okay in my book, because he’s what makes Patty happy.”

Stevie bites her lip about ‘Patty’. She’s not going to make fun of Patrick about the nickname today, oh no. She’s going to save it until after they get back from their honeymoon, and then she’s going to pick her moment and tease him mercilessly. She might call him Patty for an entire week if she doesn’t get bored with it.

“Patrick’s what makes David happy too,” she says, surprised that something so sentimental would come out of her mouth to a near-stranger. “Okay, I gotta…” she says, gesturing back to the head table before escaping from Dennis. She doesn’t gotta anything at the moment, really, but the escape feels necessary.

Necessary but short-lived, because Stevie can barely take another sip of her wine before Alexis is dragging her out on the dance floor. The song is one of David’s favorite Mariah ballads, and Alexis pulls Stevie into a slow dance like they’re a high school couple at prom, her bony arms slung over Stevie’s shoulders. The fact that, as part of the wedding party, they are wearing matching dresses makes the tableau look even weirder, or so Stevie assumes. Still, she puts her hands on Alexis’ tiny waist and dutifully sways to the music.

“You couldn’t dance with Ted to this?”

Alexis huffs. “Ted is doing shots with Ronnie and Jocelyn.”

“Oh my God, they are going to drink him so far under the table--”

“I know,” she says with an eye roll. “He’s such a lightweight.”

“Alexis… David is married,” Stevie says, because even though she’s been along with him and Patrick for the entire ride, the fact that David Rose is a married man… it’s like learning that a starfish has mastered calculus.

“Right?” Alexis says. “I literally never thought this day would come. Like, ever.” Then Alexis’ eyes wander the room and a grin unfurls on her face. “That guy you were talking to earlier is watching us. I think he might be into you.”

Stevie starts to turn, but Alexis quickly says, “Don’t look. The cute usher. Dennis, I think?”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s probably looking at you, Alexis.”

Alexis simpers. “I get why you would think that, but I’m pretty sure it’s you this time.” She wiggles her body, and Stevie feels the undulations of Alexis’ hips under her hands. “Stevie’s gonna get some!”

“No, I’m not gonna fuck one of Patrick’s cousins, but thanks for your well-wishes.”

“You could, though.”

Stevie sighs. “I know that given my past and my low standards--”

“Like David,” Alexis says with a giggle.

“--that this might come as a shock, but the thought of hooking up with someone at this wedding, even a cute boy, is a painfully dull idea. I think I’m past that.”

Alexis gives her a serious look. “You don’t want to do meaningless sex anymore, I totally get that.” She gives another wiggle of her hips like she’s a happy puppy. “So what we need to do is, we need to find your soulmate.”

Stevie drops her chin to her chest. “No, that’s not…” She sighs, and then looks back at Alexis. “That’s what everyone always says. ‘You haven’t met the right person yet’ or ‘Let me fix you up with my friend’ or ‘You just need to put yourself out there.’ But what if I’m… happy like this? Running the motel, helping Mr. Rose plan the Elmdale expansion, hanging out with my friends, or just being by myself in my apartment? What if I’ve only been looking for a romantic relationship because everyone tells me I’m supposed to, and not because I’ve ever actually wanted one?”

Alexis looks pensively at her, taking all of that in.

After Emir, Stevie spent a lot of time thinking about her feelings -- more time than she ever wanted to spend thinking about her feelings. She’d liked Emir a lot and the sex had been fantastic, but she realized that a lot of her heartbreak when he made it clear he didn’t want anything more than an occasional hook-up was because of what she thought it said about her. That she was provincial and small and worthless. Even her feelings for David, when she’d really interrogated them after he stole Roland’s truck and ran away, were rooted in insecurity about herself. David Rose was the very definition of experienced and worldly, and the idea that he might care even a tiny bit less about her than she cared about him had been excruciating. It wasn’t that she loved David, at least not that way. It was that she couldn’t bear to watch him inevitably lose interest in her as a person. She’d wanted so much to keep David in her life. The sex was incidental to that, except for its inherent power, in her experience, to keep men interested.

Alexis is giving Stevie a soft smile, one that would have been completely foreign on her face a few years ago. “If you’re happy, babe, then that’s all that matters.”

The Mariah ballad is reaching its vocally excessive climax, and Stevie notices the DJ signaling her. “I guess it’s time for me to do this stupid toast now.” Her stomach flutters with nerves. Despite her foray into the world of theater, she feels a little like she’s headed to her own execution.

Walking over, she takes the microphone as someone presses a champagne glass into her hand. The song fades out, and the sound of her throat-clearing comes blaring out of the speakers. There’s some glass-clinking from someone, and then everyone quiets down. Stevie pauses, looking out over the crowd. She sees Patrick and David standing side-by-side, arms around each other, smiling at her.

“Hi, everybody. I guess it’s my job to give a toast to the grooms, so, uh, here goes.” Stevie flinches at the whine of feedback on the first few words and adjusts the position of the mic in front of her face.

“I remember the first time that Patrick walked into the store while I was there, probably helping David do something that he was too lazy to do on his own.” There is a smattering of laughter from the assembly, and it makes her feel a little bit better. “It didn’t take more than a few minutes of watching them talking to each other, kidding around and trying to one-up each other, that I knew there was some kind of spark there. Apparently I was the only one who knew, though, because David invited me to come on their first date with them.” More laughter. “I mean, they did figure it out eventually, based on the fact that I caught Patrick with a hickey on his neck at the store a couple of weeks later. And the fact that they were desperate to fool around together in my apartment when they couldn’t find privacy anywhere else.” Patrick puts his face in his hands at that, shaking his head. Stevie thinks fleetingly that she should feel bad saying all that in front of the parents of the grooms, but she very much does not. “I mean, when you think about it, there’s no way David and Patrick would even be together now if it wasn’t for me. It’s a favor they may never be able to repay, but I’ll take cash if you guys want to try it.”

That gets her a really big laugh, and Stevie beams.

“My point is, I’ve had a front row seat to all these milestones between these two, and…” She pauses and swallows on a dry mouth. She once told David she was incapable of sincerity, but she is going to attempt it now. “I’ve heard that love can be transformative, and I always thought that was bullshit. But watching Patrick and David, the way their differences complement each other, the way they support each other through good times and bad times, the way they love each other…” Her voice breaks on that; Stevie struggles to hold it together but she is rapidly losing her battle with tears. “I guess it might be true. So anyway, I’m glad I got to watch them fall in love, and I’m glad I got to be here today to watch them promise each other forever.” Holding up her champagne, she finishes with, “I love both you idiots. To David and Patrick.”

There is a rousing cheer and a chorus of ‘To David and Patrick,’ and Stevie hands the microphone back to the DJ like it’s made of snakes and hurries off the stage. She looks down at her glass, realizing she forgot to take a drink after her own toast.

Swigging down the champagne and setting the glass aside, Stevie looks up to see David approaching.

“Don’t you dare hug me, David.”

“I’m going to,” he says with a smiling head-shake, that smirking smile he has when he can barely contain his happiness.

His tuxedo fabric is smooth against her cheek, his arms enveloping her in a warm embrace. Stevie returns the hug, settling into it like a comfortable blanket.

“You made me cry, so you get a hug whether you like it or not,” David says.

“Please, you’ve been crying off and on all day; you can’t blame me.” She pulls away, then reaches out absently to brush away any trace of her makeup (expertly applied by Alexis this morning) from the lapel of his jacket.

“True.” He’s giving her a knowing look. “You know, you can be quite the romantic.”

“About other people’s relationships, yes I can,” she says with a sage nod. “Like, I can appreciate another person’s cute baby without wanting my own baby.”

David shudders at the mention of babies and makes a disgusted face.

“How does it feel to be somebody’s husband, David?”

David turns to look behind him, and Stevie follows his gaze to the dance floor where Patrick is dancing with Mrs. Rose. Stevie grins, wondering who’s leading in that pair. “So far, I guess it’s okay,” David says with another smirk, his eyes shining, then he looks back at her. “I love you.”

“How dare you,” Stevie says, the lump in her throat growing larger.

“I know. Come on, let’s dance.” David takes her hand, and Stevie lets herself be led.

Much later, as she watches the people on the dance floor and catches her breath, Mr. Rose makes his way over. “So I was thinking about the new motel,” he says by way of greeting.

“You were thinking about the new motel at your son’s wedding?” Stevie asks, not really surprised but enjoying the chance to shame Mr. Rose a little.

“Well, I don’t mean…” He opens and closes his mouth a few times before explaining, “I was thinking about it last night.”

“And what about it?” They were breaking ground on the Rosebud Motel in Elmdale next month, which, for reasons that still mostly surpassed her understanding, was going to be styled in much the same way as the original Rosebud Motel. Hipsters like the aesthetic, Alexis had told them. Even the use of the term ‘motel’ contributed to a sort of ironic realness, she’d said, a statement that gave Stevie a good laugh at the time.

“When the new motel is built, someone will have to run it and I was thinking, why not Stevie?” Mr. Rose says with a big grin.

“I already run a motel.”

“I… I know that, Stevie, but the new motel is going to be bigger, and in a town with a lot more going on. Better restaurants, better culture, more to do. It might be an interesting opportunity for you if you want it. We can hire someone else to run the original Rosebud.”

She blinks. Stevie Budd has spent her entire life in Schitt’s Creek. She went to high school here, spending her Friday nights learning to shotgun beers or giving a fumbling handjob in the backseat of a car. She’s always expected she’d probably die here in her shitty apartment, maybe with a couple of pet cats to round out the lonely spinster aesthetic.

“I don’t know, Mr. Rose. My friends are here.” She gestures toward the dance floor, where Ted and Twyla are flailing around to ‘Don’t Stop Me Now,’ and then cringes at the idea that she would actually miss a lot of these people if she moved.

“Well, Elmdale isn’t that far, so you’d still be able to spend time with the gang here.” Mr. Rose pats her gently on the shoulder, his body language filled with hesitancy. “You can stay in Schitt’s Creek if you want to, of course you can. But I want the choice of which motel to run to be yours.”

She can’t decide if she wants to bask in the fatherly smile he gives her or flee from it. “Thank you, Mr. Rose.”

“And who knows, if we keep expanding?” He holds his arms out wide. “Think what the future might hold!”

“Uh huh.” She looks back out at the dancers, but she can feel Mr. Rose’s eyes still on her.

“You know, Stevie, I hope you know I’m not… I’m not just giving you this opportunity out of some kind of fatherly impulse.”

The war between basking and fleeing intensifies. “Fatherly--?”

“It’s because I’ve been watching you since we hired more staff, and you’re very good at managing people -- getting them to do what you need them to do. I hate to admit it, but you might be better at it than I am.”

Stevie blinks. She didn’t expect to be getting a performance review at David’s wedding, but that seems to be what’s happening.

“So I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather see running the new motel. It’s not only that you deserve the opportunity, Stevie. It’s that I’m confident you’ll succeed.”

“Oh.” She feels her eyes welling up with tears for approximately the fiftieth time that day. “Thank you.”

He gives her a warm smile. “We can talk about it more later. You should go dance with your friends.”

She goes. Stevie dances in a loose circle with the people who have gradually wormed their way into her heart over the last few years, with the people who have made her feel like her life is full. Smiling and closing her eyes, she soaks up some of that transformative love for herself.

[chiseler]

Lost in the Blues: The Search for Dyin’ Dog

In June of this year, an unidentified seller posted a Jewel Records promo single on eBay. The asking price was $20. The simple accompanying description read:

“DJ PROMO RECORD 45 rpm  70s blues/R&B . Condition is Used. Bought this puppy at an estate sale for the late, great Stan Lewis. The artist is Dyin' Dog; I never heard of him but it's a pretty good record. I picked up two of them and thought I'd see what it's worth. It's a hand cut acetate DJ promo so I figure it must be pretty rare. Date on the label is 1975.”

This was only the second time I had seen proof of the physical existence of a Dyin’ Dog recording. I immediately contacted the seller, who informed me the single was “Bury My Bone” b/w “River Runs Dry,” but he was unable to tell me anything more.

It’s not surprising the seller, or anyone else, doesn’t remember raucous Louisiana blues singer Dyin’ Dog, as he never officially released any records, and never performed in public.

My own search for Dyin’ Dog, whose real name, I’ve since learned, may or may not have been Alvin Snow, began back in 2008, after stumbling across another Jewel promo 45 at a record fair in Jersey City, NJ. Like the seller on eBay, I had never heard of Dyin’ Dog, but the fact I hadn’t heard of him piqued my interest, along with the fact it had been a Jewel release. The seller, who was from Arkansas and specialized in rare indie label blues and R&B singles from the Sixties and Seventies, could tell me nothing about the artist, and couldn’t even remember how he’d come across the promo in the first place.

I brought the record home and put it on the turntable. As rough and minimalist as the production was, I could tell immediately this was unlike any other standard blues being produced in the mid-Seventies, or any other time. In spite of the modern instrumentation, it was raw and primitive, the song structure more akin to the American proto blues coming out of the rural South  of the Twenties than the more urbane sounds coming out of the New Orleans or Chicago scenes in later decades.

Overpowering the band was Dyin’ Dog himself, a voice that shrieked and roared a howl of the most abject anguish from the lower depths of some personal hell we hope we never know. The Howlin’ Wolf influence was clear, but Dying Dog, whoever he was, had taken what Howlin’ Wolf wrought and dragged it with heavy iron chains into much darker, much more horrifying territory, some barren landscape where redemption is not possible.

After all my years of researching the mostly forgotten corners of blues history, how was it I never heard of him? I went to the bookshelf and pilled down all the standard reference works—Kunstler, of course,The Cambridge Guide to Blues and Gospel, Nothing But the Blues, several years worth of the journal American Music and a few others—but search as I might there was absolutely no mention anywhere of any performer who went under the name “Dyin’ Dog.” I did an Internet search, and not only were there no recordings posted anywhere, there was no mention of this character. Had I heard a ghost on that record? Maybe more likely a demon.

The next obvious step was to contact Stan Lewis.

In 1948, Lewis opened Stan’s Record Store in Shreveport, Louisiana. Within a few years the store had expanded into a minor regional chain, and by the end of the Fifties Stan’s Record Store, with it’s huge selection of titles across every popular genre you can imagine, had become the largest mail-order music shop in the American South.

Deciding to expand the operation, in 1964 Lewis founded Jewel Records (joined soon thereafter by the subsidiary labels Ronn and Paula). Lewis signed hundreds of acts—country, R&B, jazz, blues, gospel, rock’nroll, whatever sold—and his stable of artists included, among others, The Blind Boys of Alabama, Memphis slim and John Lee Hooker.

After a successful twenty-year run, Lewis was forced to declare bankruptcy in 1983. In the late Nineties all of Jewel’s master tapes were obtained by the online company eMusic, and at present the rights to the entire Jewel catalog are held by a New York-based holding company, Fuel 2000. Lewis himself passed away in July of 2018 at age 91, which explains the above-mentioned estate sale.

I had the opportunity to speak with Lewis two or three times in the Nineties while researching other Jewel acts. He’d always been friendly and willing to offer as much as he could, so I reached out again in 2009 to see what he could tell me about Dyin’ Dog.

When I’d spoken with him earlier, Lewis could not only share entertaining anecdotes about any act I was curious about, he could cite contract details and sales numbers from memory. But when I mentioned Dyin’ Dog he drew a complete blank. He had no memory of him whatsoever. I even played the single over the phone hoping that might spark something, some kind of memory, but while he admitted he was clearly impressed with the performance, the name rang no bells. He did, however, invite me to pore through the Jewel archives in Shreveport to see what I could find.

The voice I’d heard on that record, guttural, unearthly, scraped to the sinew, continued to haunt me. I couldn’t even tell if Dyin’ Dog was black or white. I had to find out who was behind that sound, and how he got there.

I was able to schedule a trip to Louisiana two months later, and after a week of digging through cardboard boxes overflowing with contracts, press releases and sales reports, I at last came across my first solid lead. In a brief series of correspondence dated early 1975, a young musician named Roland Sheehan sang the praises of a wild new blues singer he was working with. The description sounded decidedly like Dyin’ Dog, though the name Sheehan used was “Alvin Snow.” More exciting still, another note from Sheehan made reference to some demos recorded by Snow and a small band headed by Sheehan on keyboards. He mentioned a few titles—“The Dog’s Dream,” “Pass for White”—which made me even more excited. In his encouraging response, Lewis, who was clearly acquainted with Sheehan, tentatively agreed to put Jewel behind Snow, adding, “But need to do something about the name. And the cursing. He curses too much.”

That was it. There was no further correspondence, no evidence the records were ever released. No press releases, no sales reports, nothing at all. Just those tantalizing hints Dyin’ Dog/Alvin Snow was real.

The next step was to contact Sheehan. He was not hard to find. He was still alive and living in Ruston, Louisiana. With no important business pulling me back to New Jersey, I rented a car in Shreveport and drove seventy miles to the north, to a small town near the Louisiana Tech campus. It was a typically sultry Louisiana afternoon in late July when I knocked on Sheehan’s door. He invited me in and offered me a beer.

Unlike Lewis, Sheehan, a burly man of 58 at the time with the unmistakable accent of a native, could remember Snow well, and was eager to talk about him.

“”Yeah, Alvin and Dyin’ Dog were the same,” Sheehan confirmed. “But Dyin’ Dog came along later. Close to the end. That was Stan’s idea. He thought Alvin needed a bluesier name, so we were Dyin’ Dog and the Mongrels.”

He said he first encountered Snow on the street in Ruston around 1974. Sheehan was in his early twenties and had been playing keyboards for a local blues rock band called The Alliance. He recalls that when he first saw Snow, he mistook him for Johnny Winter.

“He was hard to miss,” Sheehan said. “Ruston’s an itty-bitty town, and you don’t see many albinos just walking down the street here.”

I nearly did a spit take. Dyin’ Dog was an albino?

“Yeah,” Sheehan nodded. “White hair, chalky white skin, everything. Except he had these real pale blue eyes, not pink.”

What really caught his attention, he said, was less Snow being an albino than the song he was singing.

“Just belting it out as he was walking down the street. Screaming it almost. But he was good, like nothing I’d heard.”

So Sheehan stopped him, and the two started talking about music.

“I never really learned that much about him. His personal life or past or anything. He told me once he was raised in an orphanage, but that was it. I think he may have mentioned that his mom was black and his dad was white, or maybe the other way around, I’m not sure. I do remember his birthday was January thirteenth. Always liked to say he was born on Friday the thirteenth. I think it was 1938 or ’39, but I could be wrong. He was living with this nice older lady who had some money. We all just knew her as Miss Lillian. She really loved him. And he had this little dog. Chester, after Chester Burnet. I think someone had abandoned it or something. Its back legs were crippled, so Alvin made it this little cart or chariot or whatever. A thing with wheels so it could pull itself around. Ugliest little thing you ever seen, but Alvin was crazy about it.”

The picture that was coming together of Dyin’ Dog/Alvin Snow in no way corresponded with the picture I’d imagined after hearing that single, but that shouldn’t have surprised me.

Snow, Sheehan said, had a headful of songs, but didn’t know how to read or write music and couldn’t play any instruments, so the two of them would get together and Snow would hum or sing and Sheehan would transcribe the music.

“It was really wild stuff, really not like anything else. And if you’ve heard his voice you know. I mean he worshipped Howlin’’ Wolf. Really almost literally worshipped the guy, but I think he was doing something different.”

Sheehan pulled together a small backup band and they began rehearsing.

“Everything was coming together. We recorded ten or twelve demos at little studios in Shreveport, places Stan liked to use. I had Stan interested. And then I set up this show. It was going to be kind of a showcase with Dyin’ Dog and The Mongrels opening for my band The Alliance. That was gonna be in January of ’76. The thirteenth, Alvin’s birthday. But then he vanished just a couple days before. No word, nothing. E just vanished.”

Sheehan says a number of things happened in the weeks before Snow disappeared. His beloved dog died in an accident. Then Miss Lillian, the older woman he was living with, passed away on January tenth, three days before his first live show. And though it may be nothing but a strange coincidence, Howlin’ Wolf/Chester Burnett died the same day as Miss Lillian.

“To Alvin, that must’ve been like hearing God Almighty himself had up and died,” Sheehan commented.

Sheehan never saw or heard from Snow again. He also claimed to have no knowledge of what became of the master tapes of those first and only demos.

The ten years following my research trip to Louisiana witnessed enough detours, dead ends, red herrings and smashed hopes to fill a very long and frustrating book. Even with what I presume was his real name and his date of birth, record searches yielded nothing. I can find no information at all about Snow dating either before or after his time in Ruston, ca. 1974-’75.  You would think there would be at least some mention somewhere of an albino named Alvin Snow, whether or not he was still singing, but it was like he had emerged from that barren landscape I heard on that first record, then returned there again.

But now with the emergence of a second promo recording, it’s clear the story isn’t over yet. Someday, I’m confident, we may know what he did those first three and a half decades before he materialized singing on a Louisiana street, and what became of him afterward. Or maybe he’ll join the enigmatic ranks of Emmet Miller and Henry Thomas, and these two remarkable singles will remain the only record we’ll ever have.

by Paul Lyllyde

[scootsaboot]

rhysothy western au from patreon a few years ago. follow up to this

It’d been nearly a year since Tim had escorted Rhys safely across the desert to what was left of his family’s legacy out in Eridium Blight. Rhys had easily taken control of the ATLAS mining facilities there; he’d gotten in touch with former employees who’d left after Rhys’ father passed, promising them things Tim wasn’t sure Rhys could really deliver on. Money, health benefits, a safe place for them and their families. It shouldn’t have worked, not after the brutal and bloody murder of Rhys’ father, Thomas Caplan. It’d been big and showy on purpose--meant to scare people away, to leave to ATLAS facilities free for the taking.

Tim could admit that he’d perhaps underestimated Rhys’ charisma, his ability to manipulate people into doing exactly what he wanted them to. Tim was still here, after all. He had the money Rhys had promised him, and then some, but every time Tim thought about moving on, maybe heading back to that little nowhere bar he’d grown so fond of, something stopped him.

Rhys’ hand wrapped around Tim’s arm, stopping him from climbing out of bed. “Don’t go.” Rhys said when Tim turned to look at him. His hair was ungelled and messy from sleep. It made him look soft, what with those pouty lips and that baby face. “S’too early.” Rhys murmured, craning his neck to press a kiss to Tim’s hand.

“It’s nearly eleven in the morning,” Tim replied, keeping his voice low in spite of himself. A quick look out the window showed the sun high in the sky, peering in through the drapes of Rhys’ lavish bedroom.

Their bedroom, Rhys always insisted on calling it, but Tim never could. This arrangement was only temporary, he told himself. He’d be on his way soon, start looking for work again. Real work. Being Rhys’ keeper paid well enough, but it wasn’t as if Tim was rescuing him from bandits. Anyone could do this job. Plus, Tim had some notions about the separation of business and pleasure. His relationship with Rhys hadn’t been professional for a long time now.

He let Rhys pull him back to bed. Tim rested his hand on Rhys’ boney hip and kissed his forehead. “Ten more minutes,” he said. “And then we’re getting up.”

--

An hour later, Tim and Rhys were washed and dressed and headed to Rhys’ office. The housing district was a ten minute horse ride from the mining facilities, and the path between them was well worn, with imprints of hooves and boots alike.

“So,” Rhys said once they’d made it inside, away from the noise of drilling. “I have some news.” He took a seat behind his large oak desk and leaned back in his chair, sliding one leg over the other.

“Good or bad?” Tim ask, slumping into the seat across from him. It wasn’t as nice, just a little cushion on hard wood. Tim was pretty sure Rhys kept the shitty chairs because he liked making the people who came to talk with him uncomfortable. It had to be a power thing. Rhys held all of it here in the heart of his little ATLAS compound, and if you asked nicely, he might make you think you had some too.

“Mmmm…” Rhys hummed, tilting his head to the side. “Bad.”

“Well, lay it on me, boss.”

“It’s your brother.” Rhys said.

Tim blinked, looking at Rhys’ face, met his eyes. He didn’t look like he was joking. Tim sat up a little straighter. “Jack?”

Rhys nodded. “I got a letter from Vaughn a few days ago. Jack was in Concordia causing some trouble, I guess. Some woman was with him.”

“What kinda trouble?” Tim asked with a frown.

“The murder-y kind.” Rhys said. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out what must have been the letter he received. Rhys unfolded it and slid it to Tim. “He killed someone called the...meriff?”

Tim laughed, couldn’t help it. “Yeah, that’s as dumb as it sounds. Sheriff and mayor all rolled into one. Can’t remember the guy’s actual name.” He picked up the letter and skimmed it, eyes trailing over Vaughn’s familiar script.

“Sounds like a tool.” Rhys said agreeably. “Anyway, Jack and his friend have killed a few other people, they robbed a bank…”

“That’s--I mean, that’s what Jack does.” Tim said, eyebrows furrowing. He put the letter back down without finishing it.

It was the truth. Jack had been a troublemaker since they were kids living out in Sanctuary. He’d only done petty crimes back then--pickpocketing, vandalism, stole a couple horses. Tim had even accompanied him on some of those sprees. As they’d gotten older though, Jack decided that he wasn’t happy with his lot in life. He wanted more. He wanted to be rich and powerful--he wanted to be everything a street kid wasn’t. He wanted to be a hero. Jack figured the best way to do that was to become a bounty hunter--though he never called himself that. He and Tim hunted bandits together for a few years, had gone what seemed like halfway across the globe chasing down dangerous men and women.

Eventually, that wasn’t enough for Jack either. He had a very single minded way of doing things, and when someone got in his way...well. Tassiter had been the first, but certainly not the last who’d tried to keep Jack on a leash. It didn’t end well for him. Tim decided to go out on his own not longer after. His brother was violent and unpredictable, to put it mildly, and Tim had decided that seeing him scoop out some poor fuck’s eyeballs one time was one times too many. He hadn’t seen him since.

“Why’s this important now?” Tim asked.

“Vaughn...sent something else along with the letter.” Rhys said, sticking his lower lip out. He looked concerned enough that it worried Tim, made him want to lean over the desk and smooth out the wrinkle between Rhys’ brows.

Rhys slid another sheet of paper across the desk. It was a poster, ripped and stained in a few spots, but easy enough to make out. Tim’s twin brother’s face was staring up at him, his usual smirk in place, one eyebrow quirked. Just beneath the picture it read in large, blocky letters:

Timothy Lawrence

Man With Two Faces

wanted Dead or Alive

For bank robberies and murder of Huxter T. Meredith

There was a reward listed for ten thousand dollars.

“This…” Tim started, staring at the poster, his hands tightening and wrinkling the paper. “He…”

“I don’t know if he’s been saying he’s you, or if there was a mixup with the marshal's office,” Rhys said. “But everyone in Sanctuary thinks you’re the guilty one. There’s no way Roland hasn’t sent someone to come after you.”

“Fuck.” Tim hissed, anger boiling in his veins. Fucking Jack. No way this was a mistake. Jack did this on purpose. He wanted Tim’s attention, wanted him to come back maybe. Tim set the poster back down on the desk with a little more force than necessary.

“Look,” Rhys drawled, “either way...I can’t have a fugitive hiding out at ATLAS. It’s bad for business.”

Tim looked up, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Rhys’ words were like a slap in the face. Tim didn’t expect anything from Rhys, didn’t expect his protection, but to be tossed out like yesterday’s paper? Tim thought...well, he’d thought Rhys liked having him around. He certainly pulled Tim into his bed often enough. Was Rhys tired of him?

“Oh stop with the puppy eyes,” Rhys said. “I’m not kicking you out, Tim. Well, I am, but I’m going with you.”

“You--huh?”

“Well, no one’s going to believe you if you go to Sanctuary and tell them it wasn’t you. So we go find Jack and turn him in and get your name cleared.”

Tim swallowed, feeling a warm flush crawl up the back of his neck. There was relief somewhere amid his embarrassment. Rhys didn’t want him to leave--Rhys wanted to help him. Tim pursed his lips.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He said. God knows what Jack had planned for when Tim caught up with him. It couldn’t be anything good. Tim didn’t want Rhys anywhere near his brother. “I can find him on my own.”

“I’m going with you,” Rhys said again. “End of story.”

--

And Rhys did go with him. They set out not long after that conversation. Rhys left his CFO in charge and had her tell his employees he was going on a business trip, which was probably one of the whiter lies Rhys had told this year.

They found Jack nearly two weeks later, in the heart of the bandit-town Lynchwood, under the blazing hot sun. Jack was sitting on the wooden step in front of a run-down looking inn, leaning his back against the post. He was twirling a revolver in his hand, snapping the barrel open and then shut again, over and over.

“Jack.” Tim said, resting his hand at his hip, over his own gun.

Jack looked up from beneath his wide-brimmed hat with an even wider grin. “Heya Timmy.”

Tim took in his appearance with a start. The scar was new, etched deep into Jack’s skin and carving an upside down ‘v’ into his face. His left eyes was a milky white where the scar ran through.

“What, this?” Jack gestured to his face when Tim continued to stare. “Ya like it? Makes me look pretty badass, don’t’cha think?” He rubbed his chin. “Might have to change my nickname though. Handsome Jack is kinda false advertising. You wanna trade me?”

“What happened?” Tim asked, stepping closer to his brother. Anger stirred inside him, at whoever’d done this to his brother. Jack might’ve been a violent outlaw, but he was family, and he and Tim had always had each other’s backs even when they were miles apart.

“Met the business end of a brand,” Jack said, his smile turning sharp. “That redhead bitch Lilith was holdin’ the other end. Ooohoo, don’t you worry Tim, she’s gonna get what’s comin’ to her.”

Jack’s eyes shone with dark promise. Tim felt Rhys step up behind him, his finger’s brushing against Tim’s. Jack’s gaze slid from Tim’s face and landed on Rhys, looking him up and down.

“Who’s the kid? Here I thought were just having a nice family reunion.”

“You know why we’re here.” Rhys said, coming to stand beside Tim. He stood nearly a whole inch taller than Tim, and he used that impressive height to look down his nose at Jack, his arms crossed. “And I’m not a kid.”

Jack tipped his chin up, not intimidated by Rhys in the slightest. “Sure, sweetheart.” He looked back at Tim. “Yeah, I know, that little mix up in Sanctuary. Don’t give me that look, baby brother.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “It wasn’t a mix up. You told them you were me.”

“Yeah, so what if I did?” Jack shrugged. “What’s the point in sharin’ a face with someone if you can’t trade identities sometimes?”

“They think I murdered the sheriff, Jack.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists.

“Meriff.” Jack corrected him. “He was the mayor and sheriff. Tacky son of a bitch.”

“Whatever he was, it doesn’t matter! Roland’s sent someone after me because of it. I can’t--I don’t--I have a real job now, Jack. A life.” Tim’s throat threatened to close around the words, around what he hadn’t known was true until he said it outloud. Something he wasn’t willing to give up. “I can’t have some bounty hunter knockin’ on my front door.”

Jack looked between Tim and Rhys again, something like recognition lighting behind his eyes. “Oh, I get it now. Pretty boy takes you home and now you’re too good for anything else.”

“Don’t even start.” Tim said. He pointed a finger at Jack. “You fucked this up, you’re going to fix it.”

“Yeesh.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your undies in a bunch. Look, Lilith oughta be rolling back into Sanctuary right about now, she’ll tell Roland the poster’s got the wrong mug on it, and you’re off the hook. Then you and your kid can get back to the dollhouse.” Jack puffed out a breath of air. “And it’s not like I’d be able to do it again.”

Tim...deflated, his shoulders dropping. “I’m...still mad.” He said with a frown.

“Sure,” Jack got to his feet, holstered his gun and brushed the dirt off his pants. “Come on inside, you can stay the night. Nish’ won’t mind.”

“Jack--” Tim tried, glancing at Rhys.

“Won’t even charge ya for it.” Jack talked over him and held open the door to the inn. “Come on.”

Rhys met Tim’s eyes and after a quick, silent conversation, they both followed Jack to the door. As Rhys stepped over the threshold, Jack followed him with his eyes.

“Hey princess, you got a name to go with those long legs of yours?”

“Rhys,” Rhys said as he breezed past Jack without so much as looking at him. “Rhys Caplan.”

Once he’d stepped into the Inn and up to the bar on the far side of the lobby, Jack leaned in towards Tim. “You always did like the bitchy ones.”

Tim shoved him. “Shut your damn mouth.”

--

Later, after they’d met Nisha and she drank Rhys and Jack under the table, Tim and Rhys retired to one of the guest rooms.

“Your brother…” Rhys started, his words a little slurred, his cheeks pink from alcohol. “Is a real asshole.” He was struggling to unbutton his shirt, his fingers slipping on the metal.

“Mhmm,” Tim nodded in agreement and gently pushed Rhys’ hands away so he could undo the buttons for him. “He’s been that way forever. You get used to it. Eventually.”

“Ugh.” Rhys groaned. “Can’t believe we came all the way out here for nothin’...”

Tim slipped the shirt off of Rhys and reached for his pants--he folded them both and set them aside on a chair. “Think of it like a vacation,” Tim said, pulling his own shirt over his head and leading Rhys to the bed. “You needed one.”

“You needed one.” Rhys grumbled, stumbling over his feet before safely landing on the bed with a quiet laugh. Tim pulled him close under the covers and kissed his forehead. Rhys closed his eyes and settled in, curled up in Tim’s arms. Tim wondered how he ever thought he could walk away from this man.

Tim sighed and reached over to turn off the oil lamp, leaving the room dark. He tucked his face into Rhys’ neck and smelled the alcohol on him, the dust from their travels. No doubt he’d want a bath in the morning. He’d whine in Tim’s ear until he got one, with warm water and bubbles and one of those fancy soaps he liked so much. He’d whine about his hangover and he’d whine about breakfast. The feeling of fondness rather than annoyance at the thought maybe should have alarmed him, but Tim only pressed a kiss against Rhys’ neck and closed his eyes for sleep.

[ruinaimagines]

Hi I hope you’re having a good day/night! I just wanted to do a small request (if you’re ok with it that is) which is petting werewolf Roland (Cobalt Scar). I know he would murder me or any nugget but.... but puppy, doggy, doggo, wolfie.... these giant hand paws are just so dumb I love them.

THIS IS A FUN ONE. I’m absolutely okay with writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! Once again, can be interpreted as platonic or romantic as you please! Also hcs just cause that’s the default and didn’t specify otherwise. Have a good day/night as well, thank you for requesting!

Petting Cobalt Scar Roland Headcanons:

Now realistically I would not recommend approaching Roland in this state, as he would most definitely attempt murder as predicted. However this is fiction and I’m gonna say that somehow you managed to approach him in a state where he’s calm enough to put the murderous tendecies on a hold.

That being said, the behavior and reason for him to manifest the E.G.O Cobalt Scar still stands. An individual who’s filled with so much grief and anger that results in rampaging behavior, and a vast gluttonous hole inside that seems to never be able to be filled. Someone who feels as though his fate is predetermined, and bound to fill the violent role as expected. There’s a lack of hope for change.

While this ‘hunger’ he experiences is most likely metaphorical, given that the influence from Big and Will be Bad Wolf is big enough, it might actually be enough to sate him temporarily with some actual food. With this distraction, it may allow you to get closer, just as you would feed an actual wild animal to gain their trust.

Say this works and you’re actually able to get close. First of all, great! This might imply that other realizations can be dealt or aided in ways outside of violence… but that’s not really the point.

The point is: you see how fluffy this half-wolf form is, and you can hardly resist the reckless urge to pet it. What? The library doesn’t really allow pets, and you haven’t been able to experience the enjoyment of animals in quite some time.

Obviously when you begin to creep closer to Roland, he is immediately defensive. If you don’t have something in your hand to give him then I really doubt he’s gonna do anything else other than swipe at you. Have a snack with you at all times. Where to get it? Just pull it out of a book, there has to be one nearby. After all, it’s not like Chesed just gets his coffee out of nowhere.

And when I say bring food, I mean A LOT. Big and Will be Bad Wolf is known for their starved nature for a reason. If you can somehow convince one of your fellow librarians to help, I recommend it. Though you’ll probably have to be very charismatic for someone to follow you in this plan.

He makes a lot of sudden movements so be careful with that. Even if he isn’t intending to hurt you, he might jump or lunge towards something you give him and that can result in some injury. I also imagine that the tail probably thrashes around a lot, might have to watch out for that because as fluffy and soft as it may be, it’s equal in nature to a whip and it hurts.

So you get close enough to him, whether he notices or he’s too focused and singled on the gifts you have for him to really have a sense of spatial awareness you don’t really know. But you plant a hand on the fur of him, and he freezes for a second.

Honestly you’re preparing to lose your head. Yet you execute the plan you had, even if poorly, and just toss him something else to eat. And it works?? Something tells you that it really shouldn’t and every moment you’re standing here is numbered.

You make slow movements, raking your hand through the hair and fur of Roland softly. Now the blood covered parts are pretty nasty, but if you avoid those spots it’s actually surprisingly smooth? The fur is tangled in some spots, specifically in places with lots of movement, but you can tell that’s not the natural texture.

It’s thick too, especially in his hair, but that’s not a negative whatsoever, there’s just a lot of it. When you sink your hand in it, it almost gets lost if you didn’t happen to have an arm connected to it.

Speaking of hands, you’re probably gonna need to wash them after this. As lovely as wolf Roland is, he’s also covered in blood splatters and that’s gonna get on the books and that’s all gonna be a big mess.

But you knew what you were getting into the moment you devised a plan to get where you are in the first place.

There’s enough fur to wrap around yourself like a blanket and fall asleep in, and you’re starting to consider the idea.

DO NOT TOUCH HIS EARS. Unless you get really, really lucky, or Cobalt Scar Roland is a normal occurrence and you somehow get trust through the distortion-like mentality then you will probably die. They’re sensitive, but also he hears through them so he might misinterpret it as you trying to attack a weak spot. Either way I’m just saying the reaction is probably not gonna be in your favor.

But generally I think that at least some part of him would enjoy the petting. Big and Will be Bad Wolf enjoyed attachment work, and while they’re not the same entity it’s clear that Roland has been influenced by the abnormality. If you’re careful with the approach and aren’t super aggressive you might get lucky.

I still recommend having something distracting him at all times, but I think the friendly touch offers some form of comfort even if subconsciously. He may lean into it without realizing, or the quick and abrupt movements will slow down.

It doesn’t fill the hole or hunger that caused him to manifest in this werewolf-like form in the first place, but it does feel warm. Maybe even a bit relieving under all of the frustration. I think that while your main intention is just to enjoy petting him, it does actually help even slightly.

He’s still impulsive and violent, especially when you decide to depart and he goes back to his previous state, but at the moment he’s calm to an extent.

While it doesn’t erase the problem, having someone to sit alongside you and relax while all these emotions are welling up offers a bit of hope out of the isolation.

Roland speaks in the realization about being perceived a specific way even before you take action, and fulfilling that role because everyone expects you too and there’s no hope in changing what they think. You can probably see the symbolism in that and the ‘big bad wolf’ story tale.

So to not be treated as a rampaging beast (even though he was kinda trying to murder people so you can’t blame them for self defense) contradicts the idea that he will only ever be seen as one way.

He’s not thinking straight at the moment, but this does impact him and the feeling sticks with him when he returns to normal.

Now then, for the giant paw hands. Those are… Well they’re a bit difficult to describe. While the first choice is to just say they’re soaked in gore, they’re also just textured a bit differently from the rest of his wolf features? You can’t really tell if some of it is just naturally red or not.

Fret not, they still feel like normal paws though. Very sharp, but paws nonetheless. If you somehow get your hands on one of these I’m impressed. Much like the ears, hands are really vital to function and I think he’d be extra aware of them.

I’d suspect this would happen after you two are sitting there for a while, just petting him gently until there’s a visible decrease in stress and tension. You’ll have to be patient, but eventually you might be able to reach out and grab one of those oversized paws.

Yes, the bottom of them feel like paw pads, and yes you can squish them.

They’re also extremely large?? I mean it’s clear from a distance, and even more so up close, but when you place your own plan in the middle of them or trace the creases with a finger it really dawns on you how giant they are.

Like if he were to close his hand right now you would lose sight of your hand and a large portion of your upper arm.

If you’re feeling even more reckless, which let’s be fair you are because you’re doing this in the first place, you might take a look at the claws. They are sharp, but not razor sharp. You won’t hurt yourself holding them, but the danger lies in the strength behind sweeping a wound up arm.

This is likely as a result from some dulling from using them in battle. It happens to metal weapons just as much as it happens to natural ones.

Overall it’s a relaxing experience if you don’t mind the risk, and so long as you don’t run out of food.

But who knows, maybe after how long you’ve sat there doing nothing to harm him, your life might be spared if you accidentally fall asleep.

[meggtheegg]

could you do a rating/ranking of evan & jared duos too?

Of course! Interestingly enough, I’ve never seen an understudy on for Jared! But, I’ve been able to see a multitude of Evans, so I’ve gotten a decent number of combinations.

MLB/Will Roland - Honestly, these two are my favorite pair. They always worked off of each other so well and their dynamic felt so genuine. You really feel Jared’s desperation for Evan’s approval, and Evan’s inability to see that desperation. When he pushes Jared away, you understand both sides of the situation. You get why Evan is being cold, but you also see how much that crushes Jared. By the time Good For You happens, their falling out already feels inevitable, but it’s heartbreaking, nonetheless.

Colton Ryan/Will Roland - These two work off of each other really well comedically, but you don’t feel the emotional ups and downs quite as much. Where it feels like MLB and Will were close once, Colton’s Evan seems tired of Jared from the get-go. In this scenario, though Will’s acting is pretty much the same, Jared becomes a lot more clueless. Where his teasing with MLB!Evan feels like it comes from a place of intentional social self-preservation, with Colton it feels like he genuinely thinks they are joking around together and just always takes it too far. 

Taylor Trensch/Will Roland - Aaand this may be my least favorite pairing. Again, Will’s acting stayed relatively unchanged. He tends to figure out what he wants his character to be and sticks with it. But Taylor did not work off of him as well as MLB and Colton, comedically or emotionally. Because Taylor’s Evan was so smiley and personable, he never acted like he noticed when Jared made fun of him and some of Evan’s lines that are usually played as snarky comebacks got played completely straight, so the comedy was lost. But, when Evan starts pushing Jared out, there’s no clear build-up as to why he’s doing so. He never acted like he had a problem with Jared, and now he’s suddenly being a dick to him for no reason. I will say, Jared’s anger in Good For You felt the most justified when these two were paired together.

Roman Banks/Sky Lakota-Lynch - First things first, there was something really incredible about seeing an all-POC Connor Project. That felt really special and I am so glad I got to witness it. I will say, though, I’m still trying to wrap my head around Sky’s Jared. He’s really goofy and over-the-top, and definitely more of a class clown than a bully. Will Roland really made Jared an asshole, but he found a way to make it make sense and still earn the audience’s sympathy, because he was just a kid who hid his insecurities behind mean jokes. Sky doesn’t seem to take that route and fully embraces the idea that he’s there for comedic relief. Roman’s shy, sweet Evan felt like he’d probably always followed Jared around like a puppy dog, but because Jared had such a big personality and always demanded attention, he was naturally pushed into the background. The change in their relationship felt more based in Jared being jealous of Evan’s sudden popularity, rather than being jealous of the people he replaced him with. Also, Will Roland’s Jared could easily be interpreted as having feelings for Evan (and I’m almost certain that’s what Will was going for) but Sky’s Jared is almost definitely straight and even if he isn’t, he gives no indication that he sees Evan in any sort of romantic light. He’s just his buddy who he likes to make fun of.

MLB/Sky Lakota-Lynch - Roman took a lot of his cues from Michael Lee Brown, so the dynamic with him and Jared was very similar. The only major difference is that MLB’s Evan isn’t quite as soft-spoken and I’m pretty sure he’s physically taller than Roman, who’s pretty tiny. Where Roman’s Evan seems to look up to Jared and naturally takes on a sidekick role, MLB seems like he’s only the sidekick because he’s so afraid to put himself out there. Once he becomes more confident, he actively rejects that role, where Roman kind of just forgets about it and moves on. He shows more disdain for Jared, because he finally has the confidence to admit that the jokes he thought were so funny actually hurt his feelings and it was about time he cut it out. Jared, who seems unaware that he was being an asshole, gets angry at Evan for seemingly ditching him for no reason and refusing to be his sidekick, all while making him very aware that he doesn’t actually have as many friends as he thought he did.