#he wasn’t supposed to stick around in RH

[just-a-space-nugget]

Huh. How about that.

So do these other characters also exist in Resistance Hunter in some capacity, or is the "Black Mesaverse" just some random thing that Chettmen is just a part of for some reason? Because he sure does seem different on the blog thingy than in Resistance Hunter.

A few of them do and will. Like you remember a CP spy by the name of Pierce right? He is in the Mesaverse. He is also in Anti-Citizen One.

Think about it like this. Mesaverse is the main AU. And my other two AUs, Anti-Citizen One and Resistance Hunter are two separate AUs where the same characters just happen to also be apart of.

But their main stories can and will be found in the Mesaverse.

And yes Chettmen is for the most part the same sly sneaky man he is no matter which AU he is in. But what makes each Chettmen different is the experiences they deal with in their universes.

The main reason I separated RH chettmen from Mesaverse Chettmen is because of how much he has grown as a character.

When I first started RH I had not met my friends and we had not formed the mesaverse yet. Chettmen was also a fresh new character at the time.

When my friends came along and we all started talking about our characters and creating a story, Chettmen began to grow and evolve as a person. It caused him to change from being just an evil twisted man to now having more depth, an actual personality, morals, values, and emotional struggles.

And when I looked back at the beginning of RH when chettmen was first introduced, i realized he wasn’t the same anymore. I have since then tried to rework him in the newer chapters of RH to show that new side of himself, but I didn’t want to have to change the way he was introduced. People have told me they love when Chettmen was being twisted with Gordon and while that isn’t fully him anymore, at least not the true him, i didn’t want to change it.

So I just separated the two.

Besides there are other reasons for separating them that I can’t talk about unless you wanna be spoiled on RH’s ending LOL!

[valyalyon]

2 Red Highway

Chapter 2 of RH just follows Rosalia as she interacts with LJ's gang, with a smut scene half way through. Hope everyone enjoys the scene <3 Previous Post | Next Post SEA Master List OR #LYONSEA DIVIDERS

Rosalia was similar to Lazarus in that they were both transient beings. They didn’t stick around anywhere for too long...

CW: mentions of gang interactions, descriptions of unprotected sex with MC on birth control, explicit language. dub con. MDNI. 1.9k words

...That was something that Rosalia always had a hard time reasoning with. She was always ready to leave places behind, but had kept a few close friends always in the know on her life.

Rosalia: leaving this new place behind, girls. Met somebody.

Celeste: you haven’t even been there a year. Is he hot, though?

Naomi: send cute pictures if you take any, please!

Rosalia never had a lot of things, so in her bag she only packed her favorite stuffed animal, some clothes, some panties, her toiletries in their own little bag. She grabbed her phone charger, her favorite house slippers, some socks, and some hair clips.

Lazarus was sitting on the porch of the house, smoking a cigarette.

She checked over all the items in her bag one last time, and when confident she wasn’t leaving anything important, she walked out of the house.

“That’s all you’re bringing?” Lazarus asked, putting his cigarette out on the porch railing.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t actually own any of the furniture in there… you know all these houses are already furnished for people to just move in and out,” Rosalia adjusted the bag on her arm, before Lazarus grabbed it off her shoulder and put it over his. “You don’t have to…”

“Come on, Rosie, we’re going to go meet up with my gang,” Lazarus spoke, ushering Rosalia down the steps of the porch and towards the motorcycle waiting on the curb.

“Lazarus… can we formally introduce ourselves again? My full name is Rosalia Diaz,” she held her hand out to him for him to shake.

He looked at her hand before he took it, “Lazarus James, Miss Diaz.”

He pulled her into a kiss, and then lifted her onto the motorcycle, helping her into a black helmet he had for her, “definitely not your color, I’ll let you get your own later, okay? But, this is going to be your temporary one.”

“You act like I’m a brat,” Rosalia protested, crossing her arms as she looked up at Lazarus.

“Yes,” Lazarus nodded, pointing at her current body language, “Anyway… my point about the helmet stands. But, it’s on properly now, I’m going to put the screen down.”

“Thank you, LJ,” Rosalia waited for him to hop on, and then wrapped her arms around his waist.

There was a very natural understanding between Rosalia and Lazarus. Rosalia wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to be — she didn’t understand all the rules or ideas behind being a Highway Girl — but, she knew she wanted to spend time with him.

Lazarus drove her along the Red Highway to another town, so similar to the one they had just come from. They pulled up to a strip club and there were about 25 men and 10 girls. Lazarus introduced Rosalia to everybody as “Rosie”.

“Rosie has agreed to be my girl, so all of you need to keep away from her. Don’t want anybody hitting on her,” Lazarus spoke and commanded attention when he did, everyone’s eyes glued to him.

Rosalia watched him, and then started saying hello to everyone. The group of bikers entered one of the strip clubs, and Lazarus slipped away with two other men.

The two men were Finnegan “Fox” and Daniel “Dog”, and their girls were named Fiona “Fifi” and Daisy “Duck”.

Rosalia was left alone with Fifi and Duck, and was trying to figure out if Daisy got the nickname just because of her name, “will I get my own nickname?”

“Yeah, the guys will probably decide later tonight,” Daisy smiled.

Daisy had stringy, uncared for blonde hair. Her eyes were a dark gray brown color, but she wore a tight fitted dress in light blue.

Fiona wore deep green knee-length dress, and had dark red hair that was wavy and knotted in some spots.

Rosalia often thought that maybe their names were tools for the men to keep them under control.

Whenever Rosalia called any of the girls by their real names, there always came a lot disgust and some disagreement from them. They didn’t like to hear their names.

“At some point, you’ll understand… Your name will remind you of a life you knew, but a life you will not get back if you leave here,” Fifi told Rosalia.

Here, I would like to insert a poem from future Rosalia:

The best part was she was right, I never got to go back, but, at The time, I thought there was Nothing to return to, so I was Ready to lose it all.

…

Lazarus had decided on her nickname being “Angel”. The name he enjoyed calling her so frequently was appropriated by the gang to speak to her in public, but Lazarus was content knowing her real name.

And, boy, did he use it.

When they left the gang that night, retiring into a little motel room in one of the many nameless towns, they started to have sex immediately.

Rosalia was getting fucked roughly on the edge of the bed, with Lazarus’ deep voice growling in her ear as he thrusted, “you’re so fucking tight, girl…”

“I… I can’t help it,” Rosalia moaned, clinging onto Lazarus desperately. She found him so sexy. Everything about him.

His beard, his dark hair, his dark eyes, his tall, muscular frame. His dark aesthetic, his lifestyle of running. She related to him, she wanted to be near him, she wanted to learn from him and grow at his side.

She knew she was putting a lot of faith into a criminal, into a man that was probably very capable of lying to her but… he had made a promise and Rosalia wanted so badly to believe that he was a man of his word.

She moved her hips along his cock, meeting every thrust, and then he pulled out and away suddenly, “I want to fuck you against that wall while you’re standing.”

“Yes, sir,” Rosalia said as she got off the bed.

Her long black hair was a mess from the last few minutes of wild sex, and her green eyes were full of desire. Her breasts were perky and excited, swelling from the feeling of being groped and sucked on.

He picked her up once she got to the wall, and started fucking her, bouncing her up and down along his cock. He would slide all ten inches in, then take them out and go back in. Every time he had Rosalia progressively louder.

Their chemistry was unmatched, with her body squeezing his cock just right, and their kisses never ending. They were obsessed with one another, horny and desperate for the other’s attention.

“Fuck, Rosalia,” Lazarus groaned, feeling the warmth, the pulsating home of his precious Angel, “you’re such a good girl, you know that, don’t you?”

Rosalia nodded her head, her moans intensifying with every thrust from Lazarus, “you’re massive, Lazarus…”

“But you do so good, Rosie… my Angel, you take it like a champ. Don’t slow down those hips,” Lazarus finally pressed Rosalia up against the wall, and spread her cheeks.

He spit on his cock and started slowly entering her, “I want to fill you up with my cum.”

“That sounds so risky,” Rosalia’s face was pressed up against the wall, her mouth open in a gasp, “I’m on birth control but…”

“Then it’s okay, isn’t it?” Lazarus asked, pumping his cock in a rhythm in and out of her, “look at the way you take me already. I want you…”

“You’re an old man and you want to cum inside my young pussy… you don’t see anything wrong with that?” Rosalia asked, her pretty, green eyes sparkling and staring up with a pout.

“No, the way I see it you were made for me,” Lazarus increased the speed of his thrusts, holding onto her hips with a tight grip, “If you really don’t want me to, I won’t. I just have a feeling you’ll really enjoy it once you’ve felt it.”

“One time… but only once. I don’t want it to be a habit,” Rosalia agreed, looking over her shoulder at the dark eyed man tearing her pussy apart.

He had such a hunger in those eyes, and once he was given her permission, he really doubled down. His thrusts got deeper, fuller, his cock throbbing with every movement.

She felt it all, trembling and crying out his name, “LJ… LJ… be careful with me…”

“I can’t,” Lazarus breathed hotly, pulling her face to be able to kiss her on the mouth, “I can’t… look at you, Rosalia. No matter what I do, everything’s going to hurt you. You’re tiny, cute and easily hurt.”

“Jerk,” Rosalia moaned, her hips still moving to meet every thrust of his.

“Don’t talk back to me, my Angel, I don’t want to hurt you even more,” he set his boundaries in the sand…

But Rosalia stepped over the line.

“I will talk back, you’re a fucking jerk…” she repeated in between choked moans.

Lazarus finished fucking her on the wall and then threw her back on the bed, getting on top of her and immediately continuing to fuck her.

Her pussy, with no breaks from his aggressive, large cock, was trembling in pain. Her cum was leaking out of her, and just as she was about to cum again, she felt Lazarus contracting inside of her.

And then, his massive cock shot his full load into her.

Rosalia was awestruck. The hot, creamy nut filled her tummy and warmed it immediately. Her mind was shocked at how amazing that moment had felt.

Lazarus groaned quietly as he came, kissing her on the mouth and then moving to kiss her neck and then her breasts.

As he finished cumming, he slowly pulled his cock out and made sure to pump a little more as he did, “I wanna make sure you get all of it,” he said.

Rosalia was holding her legs in the air as his cock finished popping out, and she glanced at him and then quickly down at her pussy.

The pretty pink lips were held open by her fingers, as she watched her vagina begin to squeeze out the warm cum.

Rosalia inserted her fingers and pushed the semen back in, swirling it around as she moaned.

Lazarus let out a breath, stood and cleaned himself, and then came back to her, “You better close those legs and stop swirling the cum around.”

“Why? Does it bother you?” Rosalia asked, eyebrows raised, staring at him as she poked the bear.

“Not at all, if anything it encourages me. And you said you didn’t want this to be a habit, so… you better calm down before I put another load into you,” LJ’s voice was harsh.

As Rosalia stared at him, she knew she should fear him. She couldn’t help but want to keep the fight going, though…

“You wouldn’t even try to put another load in me…” Rosalia muttered, looking up into his dark eyes.

Lazarus lifted his eyebrows, and nodded his head, “you’re begging for it… I get it, I get it. Flip over, I want to fuck you doggy.”

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Patch Up - A Jason Todd One-Shot

I talked to @jason-redhood​ about this one a while ago and just got it finished. Thank you so much, my friend! You’re awesome!

Warnings: violence, mentions of graphic violence and some blood but nothing terribly gory

JT/RH tag list: @welovegroot​ @jason-todd-squad​

“You are such an idiot.”

Not the best first thing to hear after waking up from being unconscious. I grunted. “Good morning to you too, Jason,” I mumbled.

“Y’know, we take pretty bad beatings in this life, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get that royally thrashed,” Jason remarked. I peeled my eyes open to see a pair of blue eyes looking at me, a green ring around the pupils.

“Got jumped,” I mumbled.

Jason helped me sit up. “You look like death reheated.”

“I feel like death reheated.” I rubbed my temple. Flecks of red-brown flaked off. Dried blood. “What happened?”

Jason made a face. “Well...”

---

Two Days Ago...

---

I hung on to Jason’s elbow loosely, looking around the crowded room with idle curiosity. I could vaguely hear him introducing our aliases to important people in the room. “Good evening. My name is Maxwell and this is my girlfriend Victoria...” Truth be told I wasn’t paying much attention to him.

I was a simple girl from a simple world. I had incredible powers, but I grew up completely ordinary. The secrets of the upper class world of the rich and powerful were intriguing to me.

Even if the excess was a bit disgusting.

Jason tugged my hand. “Darling,” he said, trying to get my attention.

“Yeah, babe?” I replied.

“This is Thomas Owen, one of the kings of the pharmaceutical industry.”

I thanked past-me for deciding this formal event required over-the-elbow satin gloves, because they hid the fact that my knuckles went white around Jason’s elbow as my grip tightened fairly well. I put on the most false, forced smile I’d ever made. Nothing frustrated me more than jerks like this making bank on the suffering of others. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Victoria.”

“Thomas. I assure you, the pleasure is mine,” the man said, beaming at me genuinely. He was in his fifties with quick eyes and salt-and-pepper hair.

Jason edged slightly into Thomas’ line-of-sight, cutting me off from his view. “My mother worked in pharmaceuticals for most of her career,” Jason said to Thomas.

I tuned out again. I knew exactly why Jason stepped between me and the older man. That man’s salacious grin was enough to make anyone protective of whoever the grin’s target was. Jason knew untoward behavior when he saw it. I’d never been brave enough to ask whether he knew from personal experience or just training with Batman. My best guess was possibly a little of both, but Jason had never been anything but respectful toward me. And every other woman I’d ever seen him interact with---superhero or not.

Maybe he just always assumed every woman he met could probably kick his butt.

A safe assumption, in my opinion.

Jason and Thomas spoke for a few more minutes while I observed the rest of the party. The person we were looking for would be heavily guarded---but if they were smart, the guards were dressed to blend in almost perfectly with the crowd.

That being said, targets of ours were never as smart as they could be. The guards were blatantly obvious. Men in tuxedoes---who most definitely didn’t pull them off as well as Jason did---standing around the perimeter.

Wires in full view, hands folded in front of them. It was like they really wanted to be seen and noticed. Maybe it was a power play. A display of intimidation.

It wasn’t working.

“Darling, would you care to dance?” Jason asked as the music turned from idle talking soundtrack to acceptable dance tune.

I smiled at him. “Of course, my love,” I said.

Jason and I shared a look that held a gag of irritation. Pretending to be dating was almost awkward after everything our relationship had been through.

We started to waltz around the dancefloor. Jason was remarkably elegant. Much better than I expected of a man of his stature and attitude. He held me so close our chests were touching. His head was bent low near mine. “Six o’clock. Wearing the grey bowtie.” He spun me under his arm slow enough that I caught sight of the target. “There’re too many people here. It’d be unwise to take out the target with this many eyes,” he whispered, lips blocked by my falling hair.

“I agree. We could take on the security guards but not the whole crowd,” I replied quietly, barely moving my lips like a ventriloquist.

“Wait till morning?” he asked.

“Good idea.”

He pulled back enough to look at my face. He gave me a grin---the kind that an outsider would think was lovestruck but I knew was just intensely good acting---and leaned down. I tilted up on my tiptoes to meet him and we shared a quick kiss.

Not long after that, we went to our room in the hotel, a few floors above the party. Jason was kind enough to let me shower and change first before he did the same. We’d agreed beforehand that sharing the bed for one night wasn’t going to kill us and we could be mature about it. So I was curled up on my side, back to the bathroom, when Jason returned.

“Starbeam?”

“Hmm?” I replied, his voice jolting me out of my reverie. I twisted to face him.

“Are we set on the plan for tomorrow morning?” He perched on the edge of the bed and glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Yup.” I nodded.

“One more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you mind if I sleep without a shirt on? They always get too twisted up.”

You are a mature and professional superhero. You are on a mission. Don’t be weird about it, I thought sharply. I shook my head. “I don’t care,” I said, forcing myself not to care.

I heard him strip off his shirt. “Thanks. G’night.”

“Night.”

He bedded down next to me. We weren’t forced to be close to each other by any means---it was a king-sized bed---but once he was under the covers I could feel his body heat. Holy cannoli the man was a space heater. I thought about removing my pajamas just so I wouldn’t overheat.

But I didn’t. I’d be fine.

I rolled so my back was to him again. I wasn’t terribly tired, all things considered, but I knew I’d need adequate rest to take down our target in the morning without being exhausted. Part of the vigilante lifestyle was perpetual exhaustion but sometimes I could mitigate just how badly I wanted to pass out at any given time.

Normally if I wasn’t tired, I wouldn’t go to sleep, but the background fatigue that accompanied my life lulled me to sleep pretty quickly.

If I dreamt, I don’t remember what I dreamt about. It was one of those nights where I blinked and it was morning.

Except morning came abruptly.

CRASH! The door was kicked open, the frame around the lock splintering.

Jason and I sat up and leapt out of the bed on pure instinct. Jason reached for his gun and I started to drum up my energy for my powers.

Before I could even begin to use my telekinesis for anything, one of the intruders---who, like the other four, was wearing all black with a ski mask over their head---shot me with something.

Electricity coursed through my body.

A taser.

A smart move. Overloading my body and mind with energy so I couldn’t focus on my powers or even move my muscles. Part of me was surprised that they didn’t just shoot me with proper bullets though.

I heard Jason shout---but couldn’t make out the words---as the one who shot me approached with a baton. It was wider and shorter than Nightwing’s escrima sticks but I knew what blunt force bludgeoning damage would be like from sparring with Nightwing.

Jason took on the other four on his own while I twitched on the floor, helpless, as the baton struck me again and again. I was aware of the pain, but incapable of doing anything about it. I couldn’t even scream. I got hit hard enough---several times---to split open my skin, blood warming my skin where it oozed from the cuts.

The grunts and flesh-on-flesh sounds from Jason’s fight got louder---and then softer.

Another strike of the baton made my vision blur.

I coughed weakly, not even sure how I was supposed to cry out for Jason. I couldn’t use his name---but did I dare call him Hood? I doubted there was a chance our cover was still intact; but could I risk that?

Heck, could I even move my mouth enough to cry out for him? The electricity was still making me twitch uncontrollably as I was struck.

“He---help!” I managed to gag out, not very loud.

I heard Jason’s grunt as one of the three he was facing went down.

The one with the baton raised it again. I squeezed my eyes shut.

But the blow never came.

Opening my eyes again---vision still blurry---I saw Jason, still missing his shirt, throwing the baton-wielder to the ground.

I blinked blearily, slowly regaining control of my muscles. They shook as I tried to get up.

“Star---Starbeam!” Jason shouted.

My vision swarmed with dots and everything went black.

---

Today...

---

I made a face. “Oh yeah. That sucked,” I muttered, trying to sit up.

Jason put his hand on my shoulder, holding my in place. “Oh no you don’t. You’re staying down. You took a bad beating.”

“But I---”

“Starbeam,” he interrupted, a serious expression on his face. Outside of The Work™, it was rare to see Jason quite so serious. He had a sarcastic, playful, nerdy sort of personality when he wasn’t bashing heads in and blowing brains out. “We’re in a safehouse. It’s okay. Just stay down.”

I groaned. The pain sweeping over me was acute.

Jason leaned over and pulled a washcloth out of a bowl, ringing it out in said bowl before dabbing the cloth over my head wounds. He was remarkably gentle, even though his hands were rough and callused when his skin brushed mine. I sighed, eyes fluttering closed, and leaned into his soft touch, searching for the comfort it provided.

“This is gonna hurt. I’m gonna reapply your bandages,” he warned.

“Mm,” I mumbled.

He disinfected the wounds he’d cleaned off, making me hiss in pain as it stung, but once the bandages were on, it wasn’t so bad.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. You’re the best,” I said.

He smiled---but there was a sarcasm to it.

“Nuh-uh,” I put in before he could say anything. “No self-loathing or insecurity allowed when I’m complimenting you, ya hear?” I sounded like an exhausted but enthusiastic friend. That was good, right?

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. I hear.” He set his hand on top of my head. I cringed away as he pressed against a bruise.

I reached up with a bruised, bandaged hand and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t,” I said. “There’s a sore there.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied, not removing his hand from my grip.

Impulsively and not entirely thinking straight, I brought his hand to my mouth and pressed my lips to his knuckles---which were just as bloody as mine. “Thank you, Jay.”

He gave me a soft smile. “You’re welcome,” he said. Leaning forward, he placed a careful kiss on my forehead. “Get some rest.” His whisper brushed my skin. “I’ll be right here. You’re safe with me, Death Reheated.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Shut up,” I retorted half-heartedly, eyes fluttering closed.

Jason held my hand as I drifted back off, finding my relief from the pain in sleep.

[linaofthemyscira]

White House Down

Pairing: Secret Service!Jason x Fem!Secret Service!Reader

Words: 881

Prompt: Duke Thomas, the President of the United States of America, is a huge target for the world. However, Jason Todd, one of the best Secret Service agents in the White House, doesn’t let President Thomas out of his sight. Then you come along, and let’s just say you’re a bit of a distraction. While Jason wrestles with your presence, the White House is attacked which throws his whole world off. Now Jason must work with you to save one of the most important people in the world and the fate of the United States.

Warnings: foul language

A/N:  I am SUCH a sucker for the secret service AU so here it is. Also, I’m unoriginal so I stole the title of “white house down” even though it doesn’t share the exact same plot as the movie. Lastly, this is a fem reader story, so read at your own risk. I felt it was appropriate for this AU, and you have a problem with this, then I’m sorry, just don’t read it.

••

The only sound in the halls of the white house was the aggressive clacks of Agent Jason Todd’s dress shoes as he stormed to his colleague’s office. He hadn’t been informed of this change and, quite frankly, he was pissed. What the hell was Dick thinking? Not to mention he was winning an intense game of poker with the President, Roy, and Tim and now he had to deal with this shit.

“Well, Ms. L/N, after deep thought and careful consideration, I am happy to say welcome to the team,” Dick leaned back in his chair with a smile. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Really? Oh my god, Mr. Grayson, thank you so much! I promise I won’t let you down.” You stood up so you could shake Dick’s hand. Dick stood and grabbed your hand to give it a firm shake.

“I hope not. 4 years in the marines and 2 years as an undercover agent for the FBI really gave you leverage there. I think your squad leader will be impressed because I sure am,” Dick stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Who is my squad leader? Also, do I start today? Do I need to wear a special uniform? I brought an extra pantsuit just in case,” you started rambling. Dick gave you a soft smile and opened his mouth to answer questions, but he spotted Jason through his office window, approaching rather quickly.

“Well, speaking of your squad leader, he’s right there,” Dick nodded behind you just as Jason practically busted Dick’s door down.

“DICK!” he yelled.

“Language, Agent Todd!” an agent outside yelled at Jason. Jason ignored them and walked into the office, shutting the door behind him. You turned to face Jason, taken a little off guard at his grand stature and piercing blue eyes.

“Can I help you, Jason?” Dick asked calmly.

“Yeah, would you care to explain why you’re assigning a new member to my team?” he asked angrily. Ouch, that stung. You awkwardly looked down, figuring Jason didn’t know that it was most likely you.

“Because Kori is pregnant and you need a new team member to take her place,” Dick explained.

“She’s coming back!” Jason protested.

“No, she’s not. I talked to her and she said she was resigning,” Dick told him. You admired Dick for staying level-headed even with Jason yelling in his face. You wondered if Jason was always like this, so angry and uptight.

“What?!” Jason shouted.

“Jason, calm down. You can always visit her. Anyways, the decision is final. Lucky for you, you get to meet your new team member right now,” Dick clapped his hands together with a cheeky smile.

“Fine. Where is he?” Jason asked, looking around, completely ignoring you.

“She is standing right next to you. I’m [Y/N] [L/N], nice to meet you,” you finally piped up. Jason looked down and to his right, then did a double-take. No way. That could not be his new team member.

“No.” Jason turned back to Dick with a simple word.

“Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!” you snarled.

“Jason, give her a chance. She has experience, I think she could be a real asset to your team.” Dick told Jason.

“I’m standing right here!” you said, waving your arms to get their attention.

“She’s like fucking Bilbo Baggins. She’ll break in the next few hours, I bet you,” Jason slammed his hand on the table.

You were starting to get aggravated by Jason’s irrational behavior, especially because he was talking about you like you weren’t even there.

“Ahem, excuse me!” you yelled. Finally, both men turned and looked at you.

“Okay, I’m standing right here! If you want to talk about me like that, at least have the decency to wait until I’m not here!” you told them.

“And you…” you turned to Jason, “you have no idea who I am, or what I can do so before you start diminishing me and my skills, bring your incredible ego down a couple hundred notches and see what I can do. The last thing I deserve from anyone, especially my own squad leader,  is to be judged like that. So get that stick out of your ass and be a fucking leader.” you went off on Jason until you backed him up against a wall in Dick’s office. Dick was impressed that you stood up to Jason, but Jason himself was stunned, he didn’t even know what to say. He hadn’t expected you to tell him off like that, especially that early in your career. He had a newfound respect for you, but he still wasn’t happy about it. It didn’t help either that he thought it was hot, but he had to keep his dick in his pants.

“Okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. Let me show you around and introduce you to the others in our team,” he pushed himself off the wall and brushed off his suit jacket.

“Thank you,” you said and stuck your hand out for a proper handshake. Jason took your smaller hand in his big one and shook it. Dick watched with a small smile as you started leaving with Jason.

“Thanks again, Mr. Grayson!” you waved. Dick waved back and scoffed in amusement.

“Have fun!”

••

TAGGING:

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[jouissezduprintemps]

Uninvited

Rating: T Word Count: 1,861 Summary: Ed can’t find Roy, and the colonel doesn’t make his life any easier when he finally does.

Ed crumpled the piece of paper in his pocket, fuming. Of course, that bastard was never where he was supposed to be. All he needed was a signature, one scribble on a dotted line. He had already gone through the trouble of actually writing the letter for him. Dammit, this was supposed to be a quick trip!

The military had placed a hold on his discretionary fund, citing his frequent, large payments to a certain “Rockbell Automail.” The teller at the bank had the audacity to suggest that he was committing fraud. Ed grit his teeth, stopping only because the noise made his skin crawl. All of his funds were frozen; he had twenty cens in his pocket, a stick of gum, and nowhere to stay.

Al was still being repaired back in Risembool; Winry had insisted that Al’s armor needed a thorough cleaning and oiling. Ed hadn’t seen any signs of rust on his brother, but he knew better than to argue. So he’d made the trip back to central all on his own, wishing for company. As soon as he hopped off the train, he ran to Central Command, but the doors to the colonel’s office were locked.

“Sorry, Ed. Not even Lieutenant Hawkeye works late on Fridays.” Maes Hughes had given him a remorseful smile after finding him tugging at the doors. “They’d all had a pretty rough week. Should I give the colonel a call?”

Ed huffed. “No, he probably wouldn’t answer, the lazy son of a bitch.”

Maes chuckled, unable to argue. Calls from work never got answered. “What do you need him for?”

“I need a CO to sign this stupid piece of paper so they’ll give me my money.”

“You know, you could always just leave it with Hawkeye. I’m sure she’d be happy to make sure it’s seen to.”

Ed arched his eyebrows. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Of course, the lieutenant was more reliable than her commanding officer. Even if he had given the paper to the colonel, he wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up lost. “Thanks, Hughes!” He had already started running off down the hallway.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight?” Maes called after him, hoping he was still in earshot.

Ed lifted his arm above his head and gave a thumbs-up. Not entirely sure what that meant, Maes set off to find a phone to tell his wife that they would – maybe? – have a guest.

As he walked, Ed attempted to smooth out the creases in his letter, regretting that he had balled it up earlier. He had plans on throwing it at the idiot colonel’s head, but the lieutenant didn’t deserve that. Had he thought about bringing it to her earlier, he probably would have sat down and rewrote the letter in the first place. Well, what was done was done. He paused and held the letter against the wall of the apartment building as he ran his automail forearm over the paper. Satisfied that the paper would at least stay straight, he shuffled down the hallway, reading the numbers on the wall as he went.

He'd never admit it, but he relied heavily on pneumonic devices to remember essential information. Riza Hawkeye. RH. Rhodium, number 45. Weight 102.91. Round it up. Ed stopped in front of apartment 103, mentally double-checking himself. This was it, right? The building only had three floors, so it couldn’t be 450, and 045 didn’t exist. Was it 291? Was he supposed to round that up to 300? Damn it, he knew the connection was weak.

Worst case scenario, he’d be knocking on plenty of doors. He might as well get started. He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against door 103. Excited barking came from the other side, and Ed breathed a sigh of relief. While he didn’t know if the dog was Black Hayate, its presence increased the odds that he was at the right apartment.

The instant the door opened, Ed fell back against the floor. His arms flew up instinctively to cover his face. “Hayate!” Ed exclaimed, trying to fight off the dog’s loving attack.

A sharp whistle caught the puppy’s attention, and it obediently jumped back off the alchemist. Ed sat up and narrowed his eyes, but the dog just grinned and wagged his tail as he sat in the doorway. He used his hands to push himself back onto his feet before indignantly brushing himself off. “Thanks.”

“Never thought I’d hear that from you, Fullmetal.”

Ed’s head snapped up so quickly that he strained a muscle in his neck. There he was, that smug jackass. Colonel Roy Mustang stood in the doorway, barefoot and clad only in a pair of loosely-tied, grey sweatpants. He was too focused on pulling a dog treat from the jar beside the door to notice the death-stare Ed had pinned him with. Hayate jumped up and put his paws against the colonel’s thigh, barking excitedly. Roy handed the puppy his biscuit and scratched his head; Ed knew that the lieutenant would never reward that type of behavior. The lieutenant…

Before he could stop himself, Ed blurted “What the fuck are you doing?”

Roy couldn’t hide his surprise at the outburst. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Damn, all he did was give the dog a bone. Riza would be pissed that he rewarded him for jumping on Ed, but, come on, it was the runt.

Ed stammered, not sure what to say. It wasn’t one of his finer moments when he extended his arm and pointed at his commanding officer. “You don’t live here!”

Roy blinked, arching his eyebrows. No shit, he didn’t live here. His townhouse was on the other side of the city, much closer to Central Command. Ed knew that. “No, I don’t…” Roy stated the obvious, trying to figure out why the kid looked so damned angry.

“Where’s the lieutenant?!”

Oh, so that was it. The colonel bit back a snicker and fought to keep his amusement hidden. Of course. Ed was attached to Riza since they’d met. It made sense that the boys would look to her as a maternal figure. But Roy Mustang wasn’t too big a person not to screw around because of that. He made a show of looking over his shoulder and into the apartment before declaring “She’s busy.”

Ed bristled. The lieutenant was too smart to let herself get mixed up with the colonel. Wasn’t she? She was smart, caring, beautiful, straightforward, and gentle. The colonel was just… the colonel. As he thought, Ed glared at Roy, the gears clearly turning in his head.

Roy let him stew for a minute before asking “Did you need something, Fullmetal?”

Ed sapped back to reality. “I want to see her.”

After glancing at the clock on the wall, Roy shook his head. “It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night, Elric. Not exactly the time for a social call.”

“You’re right.” Ed’s admission took Roy aback. Without skipping a beat, the kid continued, “I’ll leave when you do. We don’t want to be rude.”

“Just go home, Fullmetal.”

“No.”

Roy couldn’t believe the balls on this runt! If anyone else had said that, he would have assumed they were joking. “What the hell do you mean ‘no?’”

“I mean what I said, jackass. And would you put on a damned shirt?!”

Astounded at the insubordination, Roy grabbed the doorknob and quickly shut the front door. His progress was impeded when Ed stuck his automail foot in the way. “Oh, for the love of…” He opened the door again. “What do you want?”

Ed had had enough. He forced himself through the doorway, past Roy and into the small living room. Discarded boxes of Xingese food sat on the coffee table.

Roy gaped at the pipsqueak. “You can’t just-”

“Hey, Lieutenant Hawkeye!” Ed called into the apartment, ignoring Roy completely. “Some asshole broke into your apartment!”

“You realize… you just…” Roy spoke to himself, astounded at Ed’s complete lack of situational awareness. It was a miracle that someone hadn’t killed him yet.

Riza quickly appeared in the doorway to her bedroom. She had wrapped herself tightly in a bathrobe, her hair dripping onto the absorbent material. In her right hand, she held a pistol. She faltered when she made eye-contact with a very surprised Edward Elric. “Ed?” She turned the safety back on and put her pistol on top of her dresser. She pulled the collar of her robe closer together as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I… uh?”

“Is everything alright?” Riza asked, genuinely concerned. When he didn’t respond, she looked over his shoulder at Roy, who had turned his back on them, his shoulders shaking as he laughed silently into his hand.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Ed looked down and away, suddenly fascinated by the pattern on her decorative rug. “Are you?”

“Am I…?” Riza repeated, quickly understanding the situation. “Colonel,” she snapped, earning his immediate attention. “I think your shirt’s probably dry by now, don’t you? Why don’t you go get it?”

Roy knew better than to argue. “Right, okay.” He coughed nervously before walking out into the hall, completely forgetting to put on shoes before heading to the laundry room.

Riza sat down on her couch and motioned for Ed to do the same. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone far less accusatory than Roy’s had been.

“I need the colonel to sign this,” Ed admitted, handing her the letter. Riza scanned it, getting the gist of his situation. “Lieutenant?” he asked hesitantly. “You… the colonel…?” He didn’t know how to word what he wanted to know.

“He came over for dinner and spilled his takeout down the front of his shirt,” Riza explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “What did he tell you?”

“Well, nothing, really. I just…”

“Listen, Edward. It’s very sweet that you’re so protective of me, but sometimes you have to trust that I can handle myself.” Riza reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “There’s nothing wrong with the colonel having dinner and watching a movie here, just like there’s nothing wrong with me inviting Lieutenant Havoc over.”

“So… you’re not…”

“There’s nothing at all for you to worry about,” she reassured him. “I trust my comrades. At the end of the day, they’re your comrades, too.”

Ed made a face but didn’t protest.

“And, besides, you know I’d shoot any of them if I thought I was in danger.”

At that, Ed cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Riza patted his hand affectionately. “Sweet boy.” She stood up and walked back into her bedroom, turning back once she thought of something. “Edward?”

“Yes?”

“Let the colonel back in before you go. He left his wallet and shoes.”

Ed grinned deviously. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring them to him.”

“Edward-”

“No trouble at all, lieutenant! I’ll see you on Monday!” Ed called behind him as he snatched Roy’s things, running out the door. When the door clicked shut, Riza sighed. So much for finishing her shower…

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Worth the Wait 

Summary: 

“He likes this song.”

"How can you possibly know that?"

In which Cisco is given seven months to fall in love with Barry Allen. It's admittedly a little weird - what with Barry being unconscious and all - but since when was anything normal nowadays?

Fandom: The Flash (TV show)

Words: Chapter One: 2,319 (will be around 12k total) 

Warnings: None

Pairings: Barry/Cisco 

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

***

“I’m expecting a package at 3:00,” Dr. Wells announced and kept rolling by, straight to his office, leaving Cisco staring with a slushy straw dangling from his lips. He exchanged a look with Caitlin.

“Please alert me when it arrives.”

That was all. The door closed with a sharp ‘click.’

“A package?” Cisco hissed, nearly toppling off his chair in an attempt to get at Caitlin. She was sequestered in her own, doctor-y environment, a field of important looking test tubes the only thing that kept Cisco from actually plowing into her. He settled for punching her arm instead. “A package!”

“Is this Christmas?” she asked snidely. Which okay. Fine. Maybe he was a little worked up over this, but—

“A package,” Cisco said, breathing it a third time, trying and failing to convey the significance of such a seemingly innocuous thing. “C’mon, Cat—”

“Don’t call me ‘Cat.’”

“C’mon, sourpuss. When was the last time Dr. Wells ordered something? Huh? You know, since After?”

Cisco imagined the capital ‘A’ in his mind, a clear divide between Before and After their particle explosion. He saw the exact moment Caitlin got it too, her face smoothing over and one hand moving up so she could nibble at her thumb. Because yeah, Dr. Wells really hadn’t ordered anything in the two months since their lab went ‘boom,’ which was hella weird for a rich dude in love with all the finer things in life. They used to get mail by the truckloads back in the Before, all the necessary workings for STAR Labs along with the latest toys for Dr. Well’s favorites to play with—Cisco included. He remembered reverent donations to the connecting museum, the daily boxes of fan mail that never failed to make Wells cringe, the time a freaking mountain of new gloves had shown up because one woman down in Bio-engineering was allergic to the latex and really, the man didn’t know how to show his appreciation except with over the top gestures—”Don’t think on it, Dr. Marten. After all, I can’t have you breaking out in hives, now can I?” STAR Labs used to be a thousand moving parts of completely awesome things, all of them coming and going in an endless, chaotic stream. Now it was just... them. Just him, Caitlin, and a distant Dr. Wells. And they were awesome, sure, but it wasn’t the same.

The last package Cisco could remember were the new ramps and... yeah. That wasn’t much fun.

“What do you think it is?” Caitlin asked, jarring him from his thoughts. Cisco knocked his fist firmly into his palm.

“RH-50 Dale Resisters,” he said. “Dr. Wells is re-embracing particle acceleration. He’s finally building the proton pack.”

Caitlin gave him a withering look. “Ghostbusters? Really?”

“Well what do you think he ordered?”

“The latest journals,” she said simply, turning back to her tubes. “Dr. Wells is a professional. Now that he’s back on his feet—” Caitlin winced, ignoring Cisco’s raised eyebrow. “Metaphorically. Now that he’s stronger he’ll want to re-start his research. It only makes sense that he’d begin with the latest literature.”

“Boring,” Cisco said, even if, truthfully, he’d kill to see the man reading anything science related. He didn’t know what Dr. Wells did locked up in his office all day, but he never came out in a good mood. Or even a not-glacial mood.

It was freaking Hoth up in here and Cisco was slowly losing his mind.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” Caitlin said.

“Yeah...yeah.”

Cisco went back to his half-melted slushy. A glance at the clock told him he’d be waiting another three hours and twelve minutes to solve this mystery. He huffed and threw himself into his chair. No way could he focus on his Suit right now. Curiosity was a bitch.

There was collection of boardgames under the Cortex’s bridge and he actually opened his mouth to ask Caitlin if she wanted a round or two of Settlers of Catan... but no. There hadn’t been much buddy-buddy stuff between them lately.

Not that Cisco could blame her.

“He slimed me,” Cisco muttered and briefly pressed his palms against his eyes. He settled for some solitaire instead. Freaking fitting.

Time passed at a snail’s pace.

It did pass though and after a massive stretch of “World’s Most Adorable ____” Youtube videos, Cisco finally heard the little chime that alerted them to someone at the Lab’s main entrance. He de-activated the security system in just a few clicks, only slightly surprised that Caitlin was out of her seat as well.

“Curious cat...” Cisco muttered to her and tried to pretend that Caitlin’s smile was a little brighter than it actually was. “Dr. Wells! Your package is here!”

He didn’t wait—couldn’t wait—not when routine had been eating at them both for weeks on end. The two of them power-walked out of the Cortex before Dr. Wells had even opened the door. Cisco knew how stupid this was, but he couldn’t help it. Anything to break the monotony.

“Twenty bucks says it’s awesome,” Cisco said, speeding down the corridor.

“Define ‘awesome.’”

“More interesting than freaking journals.”

“Deal.”

He grinned, willing to hope that Caitlin was doing the same beside him. Cisco was thinking about buying some new manga with twenty bucks, or just a whole bunch of candy, and it took his scheming mind a second too long to notice the voices.

As in plural. How many people did you need to deliver a package?

Caitlin had a similar ‘wtf?’ face going on, all pursed lips and squinty eyes. They picked up the pace and right before they left the hall they had to fall back, a whole damn team of people charging them by.

“Excuse me,” a woman said, barely sparing Cisco a glance. He gapped as a parade of people came flowing into STAR labs. The majority were in doctor’s coats like Caitlin, though a few minion-looking guys carted big boxes of something or other, or rolled equally mysteriously things by on wheels. Cisco was about to grab someone and demand an explanation when he caught sight of what brought up the rear.

It was a bed, complete with a quarantine canopy and a whole slew of monitors attached, all of them beeping at different frequencies and sounding super eerie in the echoey hall. This was some full on E.T. shit. Dawn of the Dead contamination unit. Cisco was torn between rushing forward and pressing up against the wall or getting closer when he actually caught a glimpse of what was inside.

No alien or zombie in the making. It was just a guy. A really handsome guy.

“Holy shit,” Cisco whispered. “Dr. Wells bought the science equivalent of a rent boy.”

***

Well, that wasn’t quite the right answer. Caitlin had hit him for that little comment, though Cisco still got the twenty bucks. He flapped the bill in front of the new guy’s face.

“I’lll give you this if you open your eyes,” he said.

No movement.

“Forty then. Actually no, sorry, thirty-eight and some leftover Twizzlers. Whaddaya say?”

No change on the monitors.

“Greedy gus.”

It was actually sort of creepy, that bad Sci-Fi flick feel again. Cisco rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms, confident that no one was around to judge him for having the heebie-jeebies. They’d spent all afternoon and half the night just getting this craziness set up. If someone had walked in this morning and said, “Hey, Cisco, later today your boss is going to stick a coma patient in the middle of your work room, have fun with that!” he would have laughed. Then admitted that was a little cool. Then laughed again.

And truthfully it was cool. Definitely a break in monotony.

But also kind of creepy.

It was something to do with the dim lighting now that Dr. Wells and Caitlin had vacated; too many tubes and not enough color in the guy’s cheeks. The clock striking 1:00am sure as hell didn’t help.

Truthfully though, it was way more than that. Cisco was no Caitlin, but he understood enough about the human body to get its general response to fear. It was all about the unknown. The creep factor stemmed from the danger inherent in ignorance and right now Cisco was feeling reeeeeally ignorant.

A fact that he’d been more than happy to announce.

“Why is there a coma dude in the Cortex?” he’d asked, finger swinging towards all the different personal doing, yep, personal things. Like hooking up more IVs. And re-inserting a catheter.

Dr. Wells looked up at Cisco. He still wasn’t use to that.

“He was struck by lighting,” he said, as if that explained anything. Like why lighting apparently equaled coma. Or why he was here.

Before Cisco could start pointing all that out though Dr. Wells leaned forward in his chair, eyes intent on the work going on around them. He drummed his fingers on the armrest and slowly—ever so slowly—let out a breath that Cisco heard even over the clamor.

“It was a freak storm that did it, Cisco. About two months ago.”

Oh.

Dr. Wells rolled away, creating literal and figurative distance between them. Cisco let him go.

Because what the hell was there to say? The weeks following the explosion had been consumed by recuperation and physical therapy, but Cisco still saw Dr. Wells enough to spot the weight loss; the angry bags under his eyes. Mobile again he’d thrown money at the problem—to repair buildings, lasting electrical damage, all the cars that had crashed in the chaos—but people couldn’t be patched up so easily. Money couldn’t fight against the fear and crushing disappointment. It sure as hell couldn’t bring back the dead.

Cisco still had nightmares. Not just about the explosion, but the little things too. Like Caitlin’s expression when Dr. Wells had offered to pay for Ronnie’s funeral expenses and how he was sure, utterly sure in that moment, that Caitlin would strike him. She hadn’t, but her trembling lips had said it all—as had Dr. Well’s averted gaze. He was trying, even if it was all pretty useless.

This though? This kid definitely needed money. Or a miracle.

“‘Cause this sure ain’t normal,” Cisco said, shaking his head at the hundred and some medical supplies that had flooded their home. Caitlin had been beside herself, asking so many questions even she realized she was being a bit of a pest, but the other medical staff had answered everything with a strange, almost desperate patience. It took them both a good hour to figure it out: that they’d be back to their three (four?) person lab by the end of the day; that Caitlin was meant to be this guy’s primary caretaker.

“But I don’t know anything about coma patients!” she had shrieked, even as she’d dialed back the guy’s fluids like she’d been doing it for years. The other professionals looked mildly relieved. Cisco and Dr. Wells exchanged a glance that almost felt like old times.

She could do it too. If anyone could not only manage, but somehow wake up this cup of crazy, it was Dr. Caitlin Snow. Cisco should have realized immediately that even a beaten Dr. Wells wasn’t made up of altruism; he wouldn’t take in just any old boring, normal case study. The real reasons came out in pieces over the next couple of hours. How the lightning strike should have fried the kid easily—at least burned him head to toe—but he’d been found untouched except for burned clothes. How he’d come into contact with a whole host of other chemicals at the time and no one knew exactly what kind of chaos that had wreaked. How he’d been coding, again and again for months, yet always came back and never seemed to be the worse for the experience, at least according to endless MRIs and CAT scans.

How he just wouldn’t, couldn’t wake up.

No wonder Dr. Wells had taken him in. Cisco had the upmost respect for his mentor, sure, but he wasn’t blind either. This guy wasn’t just a charity case, he was a scientific anomaly.

Dr. Wells loved that shit. Cisco did too.

“Just as long as you’re not a zombie,” Cisco muttered, the empty lab and all these thoughts of dying really starting to get to him. Morbid, much. Time to fix that.

So Cisco got some tunes going, confident that it wouldn’t bother his roommate and, really, it wasn’t like he was sleeping anytime soon. He grabbed Doritos from one of his many stashes, reached for the Suit’s notes, hesitated, and then grabbed for his laptop instead. Cisco pulled up a chair and settled next to Mr. Anomaly.

Handsome anomaly.

“I want to know more about you,” he said slowly, booting up Chrome and stuffing three chips into his mouth. Cisco settled in and, after only a moments consideration, kicked his feet up onto the bed. His ratty sneakers nudged the guy’s right knee. “C’mon, c’mon. Let’s break the ice and all that. We are basically going to be living together.”

Google awaited him. Cisco leaned forward and snagged the hospital bracelet still looped around the guy's wrist.

“B. Allen,” he said aloud. “Alright...” It took Cisco all of five seconds to hit gold.

“Oh... oh, dude. You are lucky you’ve got a pretty face because god, Bartholomew? That’s almost as bad as Francisco, I am so damn sorry. The hell were your parents thinking?”

Not much, apparently. Given that one was in jail and the other in her grave. The former for causing the latter.

“Well shit.” Cisco scrubbed at his eyes. He thought about leaving his research at that, but...

“Nah. Not like you’re awake to yell about boundaries. C’mon, Bartholomew. Tell me more.”

[joneswilliam72]

The Great Recession of 2008, desperation, and the documentary of the Great Cocaine Treasure Hunt: meet director Theo Love & Rodney Hyden.

We love a great based on a true story flick at The 405 Film. It's one of our favorite things to cover for a variety of reasons, but above all because – quite often – truth is indeed stranger than fiction. Such is the case in Netflix's wildly entertaining, documentary tale of quintessentially American desperation, dreams of wealth, and the power of mythic storytelling: The Legend of Cocaine Island, out now on the streaming giant.

The Legend of Cocaine Island tells the true story of a Florida man (Rodney Hyden) who came into hard times – like so many – with the Great Recession of 2008. Hyden owns a construction business in central Florida (a state hit harder than most others) which was booming until the real estate bubble burst and triggered a huge part of this story.

Yet, what makes the story different is the tale Rodney was told by his neighbor Julian. You see Julian lived in Puerto Rico for a time years before, when one day he found a suspicious… package, on the beach. Inside – according to Julian – was roughly $2 million worth of cocaine. Apparently, a trafficker mistakenly dropped it either out at sea or in the air and it washed up on Julian's beach.

As Julian did not want to involve Puerto Rican police, who likely would not have believed he was innocent in all this – he generally wanted to avoid that hassle – he decided to bury the package near the trailer he was living in at the time and leave it there.

This became a "southern fairy tale" as it got passed around bonfires in Florida with each telling from Julian and others who heard and retold it. That is, until Rodney Hyden heard it, and decided he was going to try to find the cocaine and cure his post-Recession financial woes. Will he succeed? What will happen with this strange tale of desperation and the American dream? You'll have to watch the film to find out – trust me, you won't regret it.

Theo Love – the mind behind the 2013 documentary Little Hope Was Arson, about a series of 2010 church arsons in East Texas – director of Cocaine Island, took a novel approach to telling this story. Rodney Hyden plays himself in the film, with his daughter and wife also making appearances. It was a tremendous gamble which really paid dividends in Love's final product that is the film.

(L-R) Rodney Hyden and Theo Love at a 2018 event for THE LEGEND OF COCAINE ISLAND. Source:IMDb

Check out our interview with Hyden and Love below – we talk film-making, myth-making, great movies, the Florida Man Challenge and much more. And check out The Legend of Cocaine Island on Netflix worldwide now.

Hello Theo and Rodney.

RH: Hey, how you doing?

I'm great. How are you guys?

RH: Good.

TL: Doing good. Doing good. We're excited to be putting the movie out but a little nervous, too.

It was fantastic, and I just have to ask as the first question. Not totally related, but a little related. Have either of you guys done the Florida Man Challenge that's going around social media right now?

RH: No.

TL: No, I haven't. I just heard about it today. This is the second time it's come up, so I should probably do this today. Rodney, we should do it together.

[Laughs] Could be interesting.

RH: Tell me what I'm getting into first before we make that decision, Theo.

Yeah, it's googling "Florida Man", then your birthday (month and day), and you're supposed to share the first article that comes up.

RH: Oh, wow.

Like for instance, mine was Florida Man gets sent back to jail after not paying taxi that picked him up from jail.

[Both Laugh]

TL: That's a good one.

But yeah, it made me think of that with this story's very Florida-centric nature. Yeah. Rodney, what was going through your head when you finally decided to pursue Julian's story?

RH: Nothing was going through my head until I was approached about it. That's as simple as I can answer it.

Interesting. Did you ever think that something like The Legend of Cocaine Island would come out of it?

RH: Absolutely not. I mean, come on. When Theo called me, I didn't believe it would ever happen. Come on. It's surreal. Totally surreal.

TL: Yo. Yo Rodney, you said that you were waiting for somebody from Hollywood to call you when I first called.

RH: Yes. Hollyweird.

Rodney Hyden in Florida. Still from THE LEGEND OF COCAINE ISLAND. Source:Netflix

[Laughs] Well, there you go. Theo, I was curious, what was it about the story that made you wanted to do it in a documentary format versus doing it in a more conventional format like a fictionalized true story or based on a true story?

TL: I look for true stories, and I am leaning towards narrative. That's a goal of mine, but a lot of times when you are researching these true stories, the real people who lived the events are better than any actor you could get, and people like to tell their own side of the story.

Absolutely.

TL: Rodney wanted to make sure that this was accurate, and that we portrayed him the way he was. Frankly, we were a tiny little indie film, and we wouldn't be able to do it justice. But kind of doing it in the documentary form allowed this to have that anchored in realism to it.

Another interesting thing about it that I found really cool was the way that you did it almost as mythic storytelling. Mythic in the sense that it's a big story, it's what you would think would be an improbable story, and I was curious what your process was like in writing it to accent that?

TL: Yeah. Pretty early on, we realized that this was a story about storytelling, and the power of storytelling. Growing up, and honestly still to this day, a lot of times when I'm hanging out with my friends it's sitting around… and drinking, and we're smoking and telling stories. Rodney and his group of friends out there in Archer [Florida], they had the life that I wish I could have, but I'm in L.A. making movies. But just the whole atmosphere of how this came about was really attractive. Then, when I actually met the storyteller, Julian, he's this barefooted hippie. He looks like kind of like Gandalf, and he's just larger than life. Wouldn't you describe him like that, Rodney?

RH: Pretty much except ... yeah. Don't forget the bottle of wine. He loves wine.

TL: Yeah.

Gandalf if Gandalf lived in Florida [Laughs]. Yep.

RH: Mm-hmm (affirmative).

A question for both of you, I'm sure there's probably many, but any funny or memorable moments that stick out from the process of filming?

RH: Yeah. The digging scene, I'll never forget it 'cause Theo makes you do it about a hundred times. That ground is solid rock, believe me.

[Laughs]

TL: That's hilarious. Rodney agreed to act, and I fully pressed him for it, and I think it wasn't ... at the end of the day, Rodney, are you glad you did it?

RH: Hey, let me say this, I work with two of the most brilliant people and their staff. Now, their crew was excellent, and the little I know about movie and film-making, I think you should call Theo "Mr. Innovation" and that's all I need to say about it.

Nice.

TL: Oh man.

RH: Who else has brought a guy in that lived it and did it, and said "look, you're gonna be a part of it if you want to. I think it was a great experience."

Absolutely. Quite the novel and effective approach.

TL: Rodney, you're gonna make me cry.

RH: I'm being serious.

Yeah.

TL: We just honestly had a blast making this film. We really did, and we got to know all the people who were involved, their friends, and yeah. I hope the audience has half as much fun that we had making this film.

Julian in Florida. Still from THE LEGEND OF COCAINE ISLAND. Source:Netflix

You know, I think they will. I had a hell of a lot of fun watching it. I'll tell you that.

TL: Well, thank you.

RH: Thank you so much.

My pleasure. Thanks for telling the story. Let's see. Looking for that next question there. Rodney, what do you hope people will take away from your story?

RH: That it could happen to anybody. This story could literally happen to anybody, Wess.

Interesting.

[At this point, we had an issue with the phone connection which was quickly resolved]

Let's see. Rodney, if you could do it over again, would you?

RH: No, absolutely not. Absolutely not. In the future, hell no. Absolutely.

TL: It's this attitude, Wess, that I heard on the very first call where I called Rodney. I just cold called the guy.

Having worked in sales I have great admiration for that approach Theo.

TL: Called him at this business, and this is how he talks. He is self-aware, and he's able to laugh at himself, and if that was the case for everybody else, it's just a good story. It's just a good story. Is something that we recommend people doing in the future? No, but we might dare you to, but we don't think that you should. But yeah, you could.

Yeah didn't mean to imply that you're recommending it because the film doesn't. There's definitely that playful suggestion at the end which worked really well with Cocaine Island considering the film's tone though.

Julian in the reenactment of the original tale. Still from THE LEGEND OF COCAINE ISLAND. Source:Netflix

Let's see. This is one I had for both of you, although you might be answering it separate. What were the challenges like?

RH: Go ahead, Theo. I want to bother you first.

TL: What were the challenges. Honestly, I think that it was the creative decisions that we were making. It was a bold choice to cast Rodney in these movie moments, these recreations, whatever you want to call them.

Definitely. That was a gamble that paid brilliant dividends.

TL: We were really gambling on that. But when we thought about it, we were like, man, I think that this is just ridiculous enough to be good. That thought that ... and we really felt like we were going out on a limb like, "Oh my gosh, man. The documentary community, they might hate us. We're not making a serious documentary."

[Laughs] the blasphemy! Wonder how many were clutching their pearls?

TL: It shouldn't be this fun making a movie in the Caribbean. It was kind of a dream scenario. As a filmmaker, I feel like I'm never gonna have a more fun set.

That's great. That's excellent you guys had that experience. Theo, one question I like to ask all filmmakers that I talk to, what movies and directors would you consider as the most prolific influences over you?

TL: I would say that ... I grew up watching just the big blockbusters. My family didn't even have a TV until I was in middle school, and we didn't live in a place where there was movie theaters. By the time I got into movies, it was just the big Steven Spielberg blockbusters. When I'm in high school, the big Michael Bay movies.

TL: But then, once I got actually into filmmaking myself, and started to break down kind of who are the filmmakers that I want to emulate, it really leads to the Coen Brothers I'd say more than anybody. I find myself just going back over and over to their movies, and with Cocaine Island, I watched The Big Lebowski quite a few times.

Well, there you go.

It's a very Coen Brothers story, too, when you think about it. Cocaine Island I mean. It's a modern tale of misadventure that does echo the Coens.

TL: Hey, if the Coen Brothers are available to do the remake of this, the narrative version, I will take that meeting [Laughs].

[Laughs] I bet.

Rodney, how about you. Favorite movies?

RH: Favorite movies. Scarface. No, just joking.

[Laughs]

TL: [Laughs]

RH: Grown Ups, Adam Sandler.

Cool.

RH: Yeah.

One that came to mind there, you guys were watching, was it The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly in the hotel suite?

RH: Yeah. When I was a young kid, that's what my dad liked. The early Clint Eastwood Italian movies, and it brought back memories when we chose that scene to watch. Seen it before. Probably seen it 50 times.

Oh, me too with the spaghetti westerns. One of my favorites as well. Let's see. Yeah, another question I'd like to ask everybody. What makes a great movie to you? Kind of a big question.

TL: Yeah. That's a good question. What makes a great movie?

Thank you.

TL: Rodney, you want to go first?

RH: Yeah, I've got a pretty quick answer that didn't take much thinking, and I'm only gonna speak specific about the genre of this movie or documentary. I think the biggest thing was that ... tell me your question again.

What makes a great movie?

RH: In this case, based on what I saw at the film festivals, it's the audiences' reaction and that's all I'm gonna say.

That's interesting.

TL: Whether the audience likes it?

RH: Oh yeah…

TL: That's actually a pretty great answer. What makes a great movie is whether the audience responds to it. We have taken it to a few film festivals, and audiences really enjoy it. That feels amazing as a storyteller and as a filmmaker. Yeah. Good answer, Rodney.

It is a really good answer.

RH: Sitting in the middle of everybody with my hoodie on, nobody knew who I was, and everybody around me was cracking up. It was just great.

Rodney, I've gotten quite the variety of answers to that question in the numerous interviews I've done, but I don't think I've ever got your answer: the audience's reaction. That's a fantastic answer.

RH: [Laughs] There's only one… Let me tell you, man.

It is fantastic. Let's see, actually the last question I had for you guys is what's next for you?

TL: Well, Rodney is gonna be an actor. Right Rodney?

RH: No. No, I'm gonna take an early retirement.

Great.

RH: Let me say for me I'm in the construction industry, and it's just booming right now. I'm just blessed with what I've got, and I never forget this memorable ... one of the most memorable things of making this movie in my life, the other memorable was getting in trouble, but this one really, really was the best. That's what I take with it.

Fantastic. Theo, how about you?

TL: I'm in post on my next feature, a future documentary. Can't talk much about it, but I've got quite a few projects in the works. But I'll let you know when I can give you more details. How does that sound?

Hey, that's great. We'll definitely be watch for it. Yeah, and even your first movie, Little Hope Was Arson is excellent. I watched that the other night, too.

TL: Oh really, wow. Thank you so much. Not a lot of people saw that one, so yeah, that means a lot. Thank you.

Yeah. More should. I try to do that with everybody I interviewed to at least catch one more of theirs…

TL: A lot of journalists sometimes ... yeah. You're going above and beyond. That's all I'll say. That's amazing. Well, cool, I'm glad you enjoyed them. Thanks so much for doing this, and asking us all these questions.

LITTLE HOPE WAS ARSON (2013) trailer.

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