#like i guess shes not the worst ever but shes still filthy fucking rich and rides her private pollution jet everywhere

[illogicalghost]

taylor swift songs could be good if they were good

[dolly-macabre]

⚙️ 𝕶𝖑𝖔𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕯𝖆𝖞 𝟕 ⚙️

𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔬𝔱𝔡 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔢

Obviously I had to write some aotd Dickles ♡

Mare Viridates

The night air is quite still, save for the sounds of crickets chirping outside, but in Dolly's head, that couldn't be further from the truth, her mind abuzz with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios she's gone over a million times. She restlessly paces back and forth in the hallway outside her assigned quarters. Well aware she's desperately in need of sleep, she can't even bring herself to shut her eyes, much less slumber. The nightmares that she's been having all this time weren't even that; They're all messages from some deity. She hadn't believed it when Charles first told her, but when she sat and thought about it, it explained so many instances throughout her life. 

Her pacing becomes wandering as she aimlessly walks through the dark halls of wherever they are. She and Dethklok were all brought to this undisclosed location to prepare. The end is drawing nearer. The closer the Doomstar looms in the atmosphere, the louder the voices & images in her head grow. She can't even imagine what Nathan is going through, let alone the rest of the boys. 

They're supposed to be the world's saviors… That's an awful lot to dump on five filthy rich man-children. I just wish I could be there for them… 

Dahlia was told to keep her distance from them before they even left Mordhaus so she wouldn't become a "distraction" to them, but she hardly found that fair.

They're the only family she has left, after all. It was killing her having to avoid her beloved goofballs. 

 Not like I'm involved in this too…

The rigorous physical training she's been going through is proof to that end. 

With a soft sigh, she stops in her tracks, peering around. 

Okay… Where the fuck am I? 

In the darkness, a figure slinks from around the corner; Her blood pressure spikes. That’s it… She’s busted.

The person steps into the dim light of the moon, and she's immensely relieved to realize it's only Pickles.

Oh, no… Hopefully, he didn’t see me…

Dolly swiftly turns to sneak away, but she's held back by a pair of strong hands on her shoulders. 

"What, you hidin' from me or sumthin' now?"

He must not have been informed that she wasn't supposed to be near them. 

"Shh…" She turns back around, urgently shoving a finger against his lips. "I could get in a lot of trouble just being around you…"

"Uh, why?"

"I'm gonna be honest with you, man," she says in a hushed voice. "I have no clue. Dick and Charles don't want you guys distracted… I guess… Like, I get it but--"

Pickles quickly grabs her hand and pulls her into the chamber room nearby. 

"Wait! Pickles!"

The door shuts behind them with a faint thud. It turns out they were right outside his room. She can tell that’s where they are by the smell: Gross but comforting. 

"You don't get it, I--" She tries again to explain, but she's interrupted by his arms snaking around her torso. His warm, chapped lips slam into hers. 

"Shut up… I missed you…" He rests his head against her shoulder, obviously exhausted. "I need ya right now, Dolls…"

"It's only been a couple of days." She pats his head. 

How can she object to his sweet request, though? She wraps her arms around his neck, interlocking her fingers, and holds him close, closer than she ever had before.

Everything was so scary right now, and she can feel it in him, too. He's shaking in her arms. The bags under his eyes are heavy and deep, the same as hers. 

"You havin' a hard time sleepin', too, hun?" she asks as she fiddles with his unwashed dreads. 

"Yeh, that's puttin' it mildly, but I think I may have found a solution fer tonight, at least…" He gives a weak smirk. 

"What're you talking about?”

 Her tendency to get wound up is endearing to him. She's always been the more likely of them to show conviction. He releases her and plops down on his bed. "Look," he says, "we don't know for sure if we're gonna make it out of this bullshit alive… We might as well do sumthin' fun while we wait for shit ta hit the fan."

"The whole point of being here is that we're not supposed to be having fun," she replies, her voice low. She stands firm near the door, arms crossed across her chest. 

"Just c'mere already!" He gestures impatiently with a tilt of his head. "You gatta see this."

"Fine." She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head before sitting down next to him on the unmade bed. "So… What's so important that you have to kidnap me like this?"

"I sniffed it out!" He reveals a ziploc bag of some sort of herbs. 

"What are ya, some kind of drug dog now? Are you so sober that your sense of smell is kicking into overdrive?"

"Do yerself a favor and smell it!" He shoves the baggie in her face and she catches a whiff through the plastic. Whatever it is, it has a very pungent herbal smell, yet somehow it was also sweet with a hint of a pineapple smell. 

"Okay… So what is it?" Dolly prods. 

"It was in a wooden stash box labeled Mary Verdates? Whoever she is, I bet she's got some good taste in dope!" He chuckled that menacing little chuckle. 

Dolly wondered what it could be. The scent was almost reminiscent of an herbal tea that Jade used to sip when she was going through it. 

"I'm gunna smoke it."

"You don't even know what it is, dumbass!" 

"I don't give a shit anymore! I gatta calm down. I mean, ya gotta admit, I'm sure I've smoked worse!" He shot back, already rolling it into a joint, "Desperate times, y'know?"

He makes a good point. They weren't allowed to bring any booze or drugs with them, and Dolly herself was getting a bit twitchy about it. 

She finds the nearest towel and shoves it under the door, hoping to keep any smell contained. 

"You didn't take all of it, did you? This kinda stuff seems like it might be kinda important…"

"What do ya take me for? An amateur? Of course I didn't take it all!" Pickles holds the fresh joint under his nose for a sniff, then sticks it between his lips, lighting it with urgency. Upon exhaling, he lets out a rough cough. Dolly scopes out the room for some water quickly, noticing a mini fridge that was subbing for a nightstand. She cracks it open to find some bottled water, setting one in his lap before swigging back on her own. 

"Woooooah-ho-ho… That sure is sumthin'!" He tips his head back to take a drink. His eyes, already dilating, met hers, offering her the joint. 

"Well… I am pretty tense." She takes it from him, pulling a hit from the mystery drug.

"Yeah, you are! Get over here." He pats the bed in front of him between his legs. After having her coughing fit, she obeys, crawling over and sitting back against him. 

"Don't it feel like weed and shrooms fucked and had a baby?"

"Uhhh, yeah, kinda…" 

Her vision is already distorting the room around her, vivid colors dancing across her sights. She begins to shake more, fearful of what might come next, in the trip and what the future holds for them. Pickles reaches out for her to bring her back down to earth. As his hands find her back, she jumps at the sudden contact. As she softens under his touch, he rubs soothing circles across her shoulders and up into her sore neck muscles. That's all it takes; She's putty in his grip.

"Yer okay, baby… I'm here. No bad trips with me around." He places a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, pulling her close against him. She decides to focus on her breathing. The last thing she needs is a panic attack. 

The night became less anxious as the hours went on. Whatever they'd just smoked made sure of that, offering them trippy imagery and at least some relief from their worries. 

"Hey, Pickles?" she speaks up, her voice indicating at least a touch of bliss.

"Yeah, Dollface?" he answers, hardly even able to stay awake. She has her head rested against her chest and the closeness is making him sleepy.

"If we don't live through this shit… Will you do drugs and party rock with me in the next life?"

“You know it, angel,” he chuckles, kissing her forehead.

[altcvnningham]

1, 3, 5, 15, 18 and 20 😳😳😳😳

thank you for the ask!!! (also superior url omg 👁👄👁🤲🏻)

also my answers here are suuuuper long, because i’m a rambling idiot who’s way too involved in my OC’s. so uhhhh sorry in advance,,,,,

1. what radio station(s) do you listen to?

Vana’s a Samurai stan. She wishes she wasn’t. But, y’know, Morro Rock it is. Once upon a time when she was an even angrier teen, though, she’d listen to shit just like Ritual FM.

(My music taste is all over the place, and though blues is technically my fav bc i love old music, i never listen to it in 2077. So I switch between Body Heat, the Dirge, Vexelstrom for like 2 songs, and ofc, Morro Rock. But of all stations, there’s at least one song that i HATE so I can never stick to one for a whole ride sknsksjsjs)

i think i got the names right?? Idk yall i dont have it in front of me ndndndndhjs

3. how did you feel about Johnny that first night in the apartment, and how does it differ from what you feel now after everything?

so i’m gonna cut a read-more here because i decided to just lore dump Vana x Johnny here so uhhhhhh rip also //SPOILERS//

Vana is an extremely, seriously private, guarded person. Before Johnny, Panam, Kerry- Jackie was the only person she’d ever truly let near her, to get to know her. So obviously waking up to someone else living inside her fucking head was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to her. Her past is also something she’s not particularly proud of, so Johnny getting to witness all that is traumatising. Getting Johnny out of her head was priority number one, even if digging the chip out would kill her.

But after getting fucked over by the VBs, and both of them thinking she was gonna die, Johnny takes her to that abandoned hotel in Pacifica- it’s the first time he’s given her even a sliver of kindness, and the first time she’s ever openly expressed her fears to him, even if he could already sense them before. Oaths and promises are something she holds to incredibly high importance, so obviously when Johnny gives her his dog-tags, ‘proof of my promise’, she never, ever lets them go, never takes them off. (she still doesn’t. they keep her grounded. holding them to calm herself has become a reflex, for whatever reason.)

Everything just seemed to slowly change after that. For two people who hate vulnerability, it’s the only thing that helped them actually see each other. As the Relic continues to take over, they both understand each other more, feel each other more- and eventually it becomes hard to discern where Vana ends and Johnny begins. In cliché Johnny x V fashion like yeah duh it goes further,,,, cockwhore!Vana,,,,,, but with that they also start to become extremely possessive and jealous over one another- Johnny immediately on the defensive about whoever comes close to her, Vana selfishly hiding and keeping Johnny’s existence to herself, even if it slows the hunt for a remedy to the chip- to the point of seriously toxic co-dependency. It’s full of volatile ups-and-downs, fights and make-ups, and Vana almost comes to like the fact that she never has to explain nor hide what thoughts and feelings pass through her mind, no matter how dark or vulnerable. She prefers most things to remain unsaid, but values the fact that they both have a clear, transparent understanding of each other regardless.

But there's also... softer moments. When Johnny puts aside his ego for once, he learns to like the quiet that Vana does, brief as it can be sometimes. He'll sort of just... stay around the room, even if just to procrastinate retreating back into her head, because they realise they like each other's silent, wordless company. He'll wake her up from nightmares, hold her neck and kiss her back to sleep, or until the sun comes up, if she can't. It's all tender things they often pretend doesn't even happen, out of pride, I think, but they both know deep down that those are really the best parts.

Comes to a place where she suddenly hits a wall, and realises, I don’t want him to leave.

She’s never the same again after Mikoshi.

(But uhh anyway fuck V I’m horny on main for Keanu so i was here for the whole riiiiiide yeeeeeee)

5. how do your loved ones (LI, found family, etc) feel about you being a merc? or if you’ve given up the life now that everything’s finished, what was their reaction?

Vana grew up in a rich corp family, and after all the shit she’s endured just to appease her father, don’t think anyone could hate corps more than she does (some details of her past here!!) So when Arasaka kicks her out and Jackie finally convinces her to start merc work, it’s amazing how quickly she slips into the role, almost like she was made for it- an anonymous face within the city, free to roam and drift as she wants, relying on herself and herself only.

Vana works quickly and quietly enough (though not at all with clean hands), relying on stealth and netrunning, so she doesn’t cause too much of a noise that’d have her loved ones (rare as they are) all too concerned. Judy isn’t scared Vana’d be caught in gunfire, because when Vana works, her targets rarely know she’s even there. She’s smart, cunning. Panam appreciates that these skills have helped her out, so she can’t complain. River- who is unfortunately more fond of Vana than she is of him, given that she’s not too comfortable at accepting affection- isn’t too happy about the life she leads, but hey, it’s her skills as a merc and as one of NC’s most adept netrunners that he even stood a chance of finding Randy as quick as he did, so he feels indebted to her for that. Kerry thinks it’s fuckin awesome that she gets to do as she wants and provides for herself, bestieeees

Given she isn’t all that close with many people- keeping her distance and all- the only people who seriously worry about her are folks like Vik, Misty, and Mama Welles, especially the latter two, who knew how much Jackie meant to her, and how easily she cracks under the weight of grief. The only thing, really, that concerns everybody around her, is how insatiable her bloodlust becomes, and how much she'd throw away just to try and quell it.

Johnny’s just in it for the ride. Rather she work for herself than a filthy corp, anyway.

After Mikoshi, losing Johnny, making it to the major leagues, she fuckin... just doesn't care anymore. She hates the big glass house that was practically forced onto her (reminds her too much of her stifling corp childhood), she hates that she has 20 cars that clog up her garage and not just her trusty red Yaiba Kusanagi, hates that folks keep giving her all this shiny golden shit that she doesn't want, like any of it's worth a damn. Since then she's hardly in one place- never at home if she can help it, and either wanders aimlessly around the streets and crashes over at Kerry's to sleep through grief. It isn't the merc life she wants to leave, but major leagues turned out to be a glittering pile of dogshit she wants no part in. She only really stays there because Jackie would've wanted it.

(i’m a lazy bitch like i don’t wanna be a merc. i wanna be one of those cute npc’s with the glowy earrings and bunny backpacks and skimpy plastic skirts, who picks up noodles on the way home to go watch watson whore. in my ideal life i am NOT the main character snnsmsnsks)

15. which NPC is your bff?

Kerry. Kerry is Vana’s ride or die. No fucking questions asked. Kerry’s the only person (besides Johnny, i guess) as close to her as Jackie was. He’s really the only person that ever gets her to smile, like really, stupidly, goofily smile, and despite being almost complete opposites, they just understand each other so well. Whenever they need something, they're the first person they'll call. Happens so often that just as Vana sifts through her contacts to find his, Kerry's already calling for her first. They're practically joint at the hip.

They both live loud, fast lives, but also know how to make time for silence and introspection, something they both need to stay grounded. Vana doesn't buy into his zen-wellness-yoga crap, but sure, she tries copying a couple moves while he's doing it on a lazy afternoon, before scoffing how this is fuckin' dumb and retreats back to the couch. Also, as much as she hates being reminded of the wealth that came with her corpo upbringing, she loves using up all his expensive products, and tends to klep a bottle of his shampoo when she runs out. Cute how she thinks he doesn't notice.

After what happened in Mikoshi, she practically lives at Kerry's place, just dozing away miserably as he lounges by the pool, or curl up on the couch to mindlessly watch his old Samurai tapes (he doesn't like it much, but if it helps her through whatever shit she's going through, he's not gonna take that away from her). On better days, when she actually pulls herself out of bed, he teaches her to play guitar, slipping in a couple tricks Johnny taught him. Funnily enough, the whole thing helps him find some closure too.

( me,, I need a girl like Panam in my life to endorse all of my stupid ideas )

18. what’s your dream cyberware (either something that was shown in lore that wasn’t available in game or mental creation of your own)?

I don’t have access to the tabletop lore stuff rn so i’m gonna pull this out my ass jsjsns

Anything that helps Vana become more deadly at stealth and netrunning. The most eddies she’s ever blown are on increasingly powerful cyberdecks, cooling systems, netrunning gear she can comfortably slip on under a jacket and boots- she likes convenience and functionality, but she needs it to be comfortable, too. She’d fucking kill for anything that lets her scale silently up walls and across ceilings, though- like a spider- and anything that lets her get her hands reeeeal bloody, but quietly. Guess that’s just called a knife, though.

(Me?? Fuck uhhh man i just want synth-skin that looks normal but also shimmers all pink n cute. Literally wanna be an edward cullen sparkly lookin mf. Also, i’m sorry but scanning shit w Kiroshi’s are so dope that’s literally all i want?? Idk i’m boring and mantis blades freak me out uhh)

20. is there anyone you’re crushing on that’s unavailable? (yes this is the “what romance option(s) are you foaming at the mouth for” question)

Answered here :)

(And i’ll say it again, PLACIIIIIIIDE,)

[mfingenius]

Roadtrip AU

“Damianos, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Nikandros deadpans.

“You said that about Jokaste,” Damen observes mildly.

“Remind me how that turned out?” Nik asks, unimpressed, with a raised eyebrow.

Jokaste cheated on Damen with his brother.

Maybe he shouldn’t have used that example.

“Look, this is not a bad idea.” Damen says, lifting his suitcase to put in the trunk of his car. “I’m... helping someone.”

“You don’t know him from anything. All you know is that he said he needs to get to his brother’s house. You don’t even know if that’s true” Nik says. “He could be a murderer.”

Damen looks at him, disbelievingly. “Have you seen him? He’s tiny.”

“I’m not tiny.” The petulant, condescending voice says, and Damen looks back at his road trip companion. Laurent – or so he said his name was – is small, pretty, blonde, and exactly Damen’s type. He’s also anxious, and jumpy, and something about the way he’d asked made

Damen say yes when he’d asked him to get him to Delpha. “You’re just a giant animal.”

Nikandros thinks Damen is thinking with his cock and is hoping to fuck Laurent somewhere on their way to Delpha, but, for once, Damen has no interest in fucking a blonde; not because Laurent isn’t attractive – because he is, so fucking attractive that Damen wants to cry – but because he doesn’t think that Laurent – small, narrow, helpless Laurent – would ask him for help – a man easily three times as wide as him and several heads taller – if he had another choice available.

He’ll get him to Delpha, whatever it is that happens.

“Right,” Damen says. Nikandros shoots him a look like he wants to murder Laurent. He might. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” Laurent says, shifting quietly.

That’s something else that makes Damen think that Laurent needs help; he has no luggage with him. He has no clothes, no money, no personal belongings. He’s dressed well – in fine, elegant clothes, covering most of his skin – which means that he’s most likely not poor, but Damen can’t figure out why he wouldn’t have anything with him if he weren’t.

“Alright,” Damen shuts the trunk. “Let’s go.”

“Text me when you get to Delpha,” Nikandros says, eyeing Laurent warily. “To let me know you’re not dead.”

Laurent flips him off, and Nikandros makes a crude gesture in response. Him and Damen both watch as Laurent’s shiny blonde hair disappears into the car.

Laurent isn’t exactly a friendly person, but Damen has never met anyone he can’t make friends with; he’s sociable in that way, generally optimistic and friendly in a way that always makes people like him. He’s sure it’ll be the same with Laurent.

“I’ll see you,” Damen says, hugging his best friend briefly. Nik claps his back and hugs back for a moment, before they part and Damen gets into the car.

The first twenty minutes of driving are spent in painful silence.

“Music?” he asks, finally, reaching to turn on the radio.

“No.” Laurent says.

Damen drops his hand, eyeing Laurent warily. Right, he thinks. This might be more difficult than expected.

“Why are you headed to Delpha?” Damen asks, during one of their food stops. He bought Laurent a chocolate bar because he doesn’t think the blond has money, and he’s thin enough that Damen’s mother would be shoving food into his face the second he stepped through the door.

“My brother is there,” Laurent says stiffly. He’s looking down at the chocolate bar warily, like it might bite him, and Damen doesn’t push him to eat it; they don’t know each other, and Laurent doesn’t trust him. “I told you.”

Damen nods. He's eating a cheeseburger – he offered to buy one for Laurent, but Laurent refused, and Damen didn’t want to appear too pushy – and fries, and he eats in silence for a while before he hears a wrapper being opened.

He smiles discreetly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Laurent takes a tiny bite of the chocolate. Damen doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s eaten, but his entire face relaxes at the taste of food.

“And you?” Laurent asks. The question sounds awkward and forced, but at least he’s trying, so Damen pretends not to hear it.

“My brother is getting married.” Damen tells him.

“Are you best man?” Laurent asks, after a bit.

“No,” Damen says. “We don’t have the best relationship anymore.”

Laurent doesn’t ask why, and they spend the rest of the meal in silence.

*

After they’re back in the car, Laurent allows him to turn on the radio. Damen nearly sings in relief when a song begins playing. The silence was suffocating, and all attempts of conversation seemed to be useless.

In the morning, Damen wakes up with Laurent watching him; they’re staying in a hotel room Damen payed for. Damen had taken the couch, and though Laurent is usually awake before Damen is, Damen’s never found him just sitting there, staring at him.

“You haven’t asked me to have sex with you.” Laurent says bluntly.

Damen’s brain takes a minute to react.

“I don’t expect sex from you.” Damen says honestly, frowning.

Laurent watches him for two full minutes before he speaks.

“You’re telling the truth.” He seems bewildered.

“Laurent, I don’t know how old you are, but I don’t even think you’re eighteen.” Damen says. “And when I agreed to take you to Delpha, I agreed to get you there without anything happening to you.”

“I’m seventeen.” Laurent says. He seems surprised at himself that he’s said it. He continues carefully, as if tasting the words in his mouth before saying them. “You’re not much older than me though. And I told you I couldn’t pay you. Why else would you let me come along?”

He’s right, Damen’s not much older. He's only eighteen, and though it wouldn’t be immoral because of his age, it would be immoral because of multiple other reasons, included but not limited to the fact that Laurent doesn’t want to have sex with him; he only thinks he needs to do it so Damen won’t leave him stranded somewhere, and that’s not consent.

“I’m on my way to Ios.” Damen shrugs. He’d only been in Arles because Jokaste’s veil hadn’t been sent out, and Damen had been appointed to pick it up from the store in Arles. Nik, although not invited to the wedding, had accompanied him, since he’d been bored to death with their summer Vacation. “I have to pass by Delpha. It’s no trouble leaving you there.”

“You bought me food.” Laurent accuses. “You let me sleep in the bed.”

“You don’t have any money.” Damen says. “Arles to Delpha is a three day trip. You can’t go three days without eating.”

“I can.” Laurent says. He sounds certain of it, and Damen doesn’t want to know if that’s because he has.

“Well, you’re not going to.” He says resolutely. He stands and stretches. “Do you want the shower first, or can I?”

Laurent gestures for him to go ahead, and Damen walks to the bathroom.

*

“I am trying to get to my brother.” Laurent says. Damen is surprised by his voice, and by the fact that he just initiated conversation. He merely nods, in fear of saying something that will scare Laurent into permanent silence again. Laurent’s wringing his hands in his lap, and Damen looks at them for a moment before looking back at the road. They’re still on the second day of their trip, and it’s still early morning. He's getting hungry by now, mostly because he’s always hungry; he can stand it for a few more hours, though. “I’m - he’s studying medicine. In Delpha.”

“That’s impressive.” Damen says. Delpha’s Med School is one of the toughest programs to get into, he knows, and not just anyone accomplishes it.

Laurent nods slightly. “I - was living with my uncle. He’s - not nice. I couldn’t stay with him any longer.”

Damen’s sight zeroes in on the bruises at Laurent’s wrists, on his neck. His clothes are arranged differently than the day before, which makes the marks visible, and Damen doesn’t think it’s an accident. Laurent didn’t think he’d believe him, so he provided proof.

“And your brother left you there?” Damen asks, furious. He doesn’t get along with Kastor, but he likes to think that, were he in trouble, Kastor would behave like a proper older brother.

Laurent seems surprised at the emotion in his voice. “No. He doesn’t know. He – our parents died the summer before he began. He was eighteen, and I was six. He wasn’t going to go to college to take care of me but – Uncle and I convinced him to go, told him he’d take care of me and that Auguste could visit whenever he wanted. He’s still doing residency there, and we speak on the phone often, but I – never told him. Anything.”

Damen is quiet for a while, and Laurent seems to give himself a final push to finish his probably carefully-prepared monologue.

“I’m only telling you this because you’ve been very helpful.” He says. “And I don’t want you to think I'm not grateful.”

“I’m glad you’re getting away,” Damen says, honestly. “And if your uncle ever gives you trouble again, you can call me.”

Laurent gives him a rare, tense smile. “I don’t think you could do much. He's a very powerful man, with a lot of money.”

Damen smiles guiltily. “I rather doubt he’s more powerful than me.”

“What are you, then?” Laurent looks at him curiously. “A king?”

Damen snorts. “Just filthy rich. With a lot of political connections.”

“I think it’d be interesting to see how he’d react to you.” He says, seemingly deep in thought. “He doesn’t like people who aren’t easily intimidated or bought.”

“Well, I'm neither.” Damen says. “So you can count on me for help, anytime.”

Laurent hums.

*

“She was my fiancée.” Damen blurts, a long time later. He wants to show Laurent that he appreciated his honesty with honesty of his own.

“What?” Laurent asks.

“The woman my brother is marrying.” Damen says, realizing he wasn’t very clear. “She was my fiancée, and she cheated on me with him.”

Laurent looks at him with disgust clear on his face. “Why are you going to their wedding? That's a crappy fiancée, and a very crappy brother.”

“Yeah.” Damen says after a pause. “I don’t know. I guess I just – everyone expects me to be there. They think it doesn’t bother me anymore, and – well, it doesn’t. It’s still... weird, though. I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it could ever not be weird.” Laurent says. There's a moment of silence, and then, “Have either of them apologized?”

“No,” Damen says. “I didn’t talk to them for a while, and after that everyone sort of pretended nothing had happened.”

“Fuck, that’s shit.” Laurent says. The curse words sound odd in his mouth, out of place. Still, Damen has to agree with the sentiment. “I vote you ditch the wedding.”

“I’m supposed to get her veil there.” Damen tells him, and Laurent blinks at him disbelievingly.

“They asked you to get her veil?” He demands, and the irritation in his voice is both funny and somewhat touching.

“Yeah.” Damen says.

“Dump them both.” Laurent says.

Damen laughs.

*

It’s a lot easier to get closer to Laurent after that particular conversation. They spend a lot of time talking, and Damen finds himself thoroughly invested in everything Laurent says. He's enthralling.

Which is why, when they finally get to Delpha – and, more specifically, to Laurent’s brother’s apartment – he doesn’t know what to say.

“Here’s my phone number.” he says, extending a slip of paper with his number on it. “In case your uncle gives you trouble again. Or you can’t find your brother. Or anything really. Or – even if nothing happens, you could-”

Laurent kisses his cheek, effectively silencing him.

“Thank you, Damianos.” he says, fondly. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think your brother deserves you.”

“I don’t think anyone deserves you,” Damen says vehemently, a little too honest.

Laurent laughs and Damen falls a little bit in love with the way it makes his eyes sparkle.

“Auguste does.” Laurent assures him. He bites on his lower lip, and then says, “You could... stay, if you wanted.”

“What?” Damen asks.

“You don’t have to go to the wedding,” Laurent says. “And I – would like it - I would – you have done – a lot for me, and I could – you could stay here, for a while.”

Damen thinks that that’s the best idea he’s ever heard.

“I - Alright,” he says, nodding dumbly.

He texts Nikandros that he’s not going to the wedding, and spends the rest of the afternoon watching movies with Laurent and his brother – who seems confused as to why his little brother is there and why he is with an Akielon, though he doesn’t mention it – and ignoring Jokaste’s and Kastor’s calls. It's the best time he’s had in a long time.

--------------------------------------------------------

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Commissions

[ohtheseboysilove]

The Devil with angelic eyes [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 2, 200 K +

Warnings : mention of smut, language, age gape

Summary : Roger tell the band about a girl he shagged. Turned out he shouldn’t have.

Note : omg guys i don’t know what happened with this request but it is way more different that what I planned to do at the beginning....anyway I love this request and there will be obviously a second part to respect the request! I hope you all enjoy this one, it doesn’t make any sense but it was supert funny to write !

Please tell me what you think my loves xx

🌼Request are open🌼☀ Masterlist ☀

“Dear god, Roger, you look terrible” Freddie commented as his friend passed the door of the studio, looking like hell.

The blond grunted annoyingly and poured himself a hot cup of dark coffee, ignoring his bandmates.

“Who keep you awake all night this time ? Shelly ? Or was it Lola ?” John pipped in, seating criss-cross on the sofa, a mocking smile on his face. “Must be exhausting to have so many girlfriends”

“And only one cock” Added Fred with pout. “I read an article about a man having two cocks, lucky bastard”

Brian looked at the singer horrified and shook his head.

“Freddie, it not possible. Even, if he do have two penis, there no chance he can use them both” His scientific side couldn’t stay quiet hearing this absurdity. “It’s useless like people who are born with six fingers”

“I would make good use of an extra finger, trust me” Freddie chirped and threw a smile to Deaky, the only one to laugh at his joke. Brian closed his eyes with a grimace and busied himself with his cup of tea. “But that wasn’t the conversation, Roger, darling, who is this little creature who don’t let you sleep at night ?”

“Don’t want to talk about her” Roger spat and fell in the chair, massaging his temples. “She is the fucking devil”

“You said the magic word, I need more details now !” Freddie brought his chair closer and looked expectingly at his friend. “Does this delicious woman have a name ?”

“Honey” The blond replied, chewing his bottom lip at the thought of the delicious girl.

“Honey ? That can’t be her real name !” Brian gasped. “Which parents would call–“

“I know very well it’s not her name, twat” Roger bit back, annoyed by Brian’s useless comment. “But I don’t give a damn about that, honey is more than fine with me”

“She sound like a little cock teaser. I have this feeling. Am I wrong ?” Freddie asked with an arched eyebrow. His curious smile turned into a smirk as Roger blushed, clearly a bit upset. “Oh she is, she totally is ! I like her even more !” He clapped his hands happily and the blond rolled his eyes.

“She is the worst okay ? Never a girl make me crawl so hard to have her” The drummer confessed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Roger Meddows Taylor, crawling for a girl ? Unbelievable” John snickered and earned a death glare from his friend. “Well, did she was worth it at least ? You looked pretty exhausted, must be a good night”

The blond pinched his lips into a line, irritation bubbling in his blood.

“I still didn’t fuck her” He confessed, cheeks red with frustration.

“Seriously ? But you met her last month ? And you seeing her almost every night !” Brian asked with furrowed eyebrows, rather surprise of the grip the woman had on his friend.

“I fucking know that ! It had been six weeks and she did nothing else but tease me ! Sucking my cock then stop right before I cum ! She is...I can’t explain, she is so hot, everything about her is fucking erotic, I want to fuck her so badly, it’s painful” Roger whined, head dropped on the back of the chair, sharing his desperation with his bandmates.

“Hell, even me I want to shag her” Freddie said, lighting a cigarette, pressing Roger to continue to speak about this girl. “Tell us more, what she looks like ? What she do to make you so crazy for six fucking weeks ?”

Brian and John, both were married but couldn’t say no to hear about the beautiful girl torturing the infernal blond.

“She got the dirtiest mouth I ever heard, I swear everything she said is filthy, making me hard every fucking time she whispered in my ear. And she do the best deep-throat blowjob, without any gagging. Must be fucking experienced because she clearly know how to use her tongue around me” Freddie hummed appreciatively and John and Brian’s cheeks were slightly flushed, eager to know more about this – apparently – perfect woman. “Fucking beautiful tits too, she got a piercing on her right nipple and it’s bloody hot, always poking under her top, naughty girl never wear a single bra in her life I’m sure” He stole Freddie’s cigarette and took a deep puff, smirking at his friends, very attentive to each of his word. “Well, well, well, no smartass comment to make Brian ? John ? Look at these flushed faces”

“Oh come on, we are married, fantasy is all we got now” Brian grunted and rolled his eyes. “Help a friend in distress with his wife” Freddie giggled loudly.

“I’m perfectly happy in my marriage” John shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh yeah ? So you don’t want to hear about Honey’s pretty little cunt ?” Roger teased, tilting his head on the side to see his friend swallowed with difficulty. He stayed silent and motioned him to continue. “That what I thought too. So the sweet honey got an ever sweeter pussy, pink and a delicious juice. And fuck, she do the more erotic little moans, very vocal and not shy at all” He sighed loudly, chewing the inside of his cheek at the memories of the girl kneeling in front of him, does-eyes but with a devilish smile.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Roger, did you found the goddess of sex or what ? Never heard you praised a girl that much. Without even fucking her yet !” The singer smirk rather impressed, this girl was certainly something, turning Roger into lost puppy wasn’t an easy task.

“Aphrodite” The guitarist said with sweaty hands. Freddie glanced at him, wondering what this was about. “The Greek goddess of sex and beauty is Aphrodite”

“You also have Hedone, goddess of the pleasure, seems to match too” John added with an amused smile.

“Roger, you have to shag this girl” Freddie said in a serious tone and the two other nodded.

“I will, don’t worry” He smirked with confidence.

“By the way, how old she is ? Must be younger to be so wild” Deaky wondered as he gave to all his bandmates a paper with lyrics for a new song he wrote.

Roger cleared his voice, embarrassment flushing his face. “twenty-one” He replied and immediately a stream of disgusting noises followed.

“For god’ sake Rog ! You’re forty-two years old !” Brian scoffed with a grimace. “You’re a pig”

“She could be your daughter” John commented, his lips pinched in a thin line.

“Well she is fucking not ! And you weren’t complaining five minutes ago” Roger grunted as he crossed his arms, vexed. “She’s hot okay ? And she’s the one who start hitting on me, she can be very persuasive, trust me”

“Age is just a number my darlings, let Roger have his fun, just don’t knocked her up, you would ruin her young life” Freddie relaxed the atmosphere, even more amused by the scandalously young age of the girl. “Let’s go to work now, we already way behind schedule boys.

**

Two weeks later, Roger bursted into the studio, wearing a giant smirk.

“I did it ! I fucking did it ! I finally shag honey and she bloody squirted !” He yelled in a victorious tone, earning a round of applause from Freddie.

“Well done darling, but that not really the moment. Our darling Brian is having a bit of an existence crisis right now” Roger lose his smile and came to sit next to his best friend, furrowed his brows in worry.

“What’s going on ? Chrissie and the kids are okay ?”

“Yes” Brian mumbled. “Do you remember Maddy ? The groupie when we where still in Smile ?”

“The one who get an abortion ? ‘f course I remember her. She gave us a hell of fear” Roger chuckled bitterly.

“Well, guess what ? She never had the abortion, she kept the baby” The guitarist dropped the bomb as Roger’s eyes widened with shock. “She contacted me few days ago, claiming I have a twenties something daughter who want to meet her dad” He hid his head in his hands, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure it’s yours ?” John questioned. They were rich and famous, the best target for good money.

“We did a blood test and she wasn’t lying, I have a daughter that I never fucking met in my life. I just spoke to hear on the phone, she seems sweet, I invited her this afternoon, was too fucking afraid to meet her all by myself”

The boys spent the ten next minutes trying to cheer up Brian, it wasn’t his fault after all. And the girl wanted to meet him, she probably wasn’t too upset about the situation. Then Freddie’s voice echoed in the studio, making everyone eyes popped up from their heads.

“Roger, am I dreaming or you spent to much time handcuffed to the bed yesterday ?” The blond reddened furiously. “Look at these poor bruised wrists !” Freddie pushed his sleeves to expose the purple flesh of the drummer, giggling hysterically.

“Oh my– did she spank you too because you were a naughty boy ?” John snorted loudly as the blond bit his bottom lip, hiding back his wrists. “I’m sure she did. Hundred percent sure” He added more seriously then bursted in laugher with Roger’s silent agreement and death glare.

The three friends giggled like kids, almost peeing themselves at the flushing face of the blond. He shifted in his sit and involuntary grimaced at the soreness of his ass cheeks, making his bandmate cried, real tears rolling down their features.

“God, I need more details, please do darling” Freddie wiped his teary eyes, his chest still shaking with laugher slowly dying but he was practically panting.

“You said it wasn’t the moment with Brian” Roger hissed, sliding his sunglasses on his nose.

“I want to hear the story too, I need to clear my mind anyway” The guitarist smirked and every gazes fell on the blond, making him sighed.

“It was fucking good” Roger blurbed out, his tongue absent-mindedly licking his parted lips. “She is fucking wild I swear, she handcuffed me to the bed, I was bloody naked and she was wearing this tiny little red strappy bustier, barely covering anything, her breasts was outflanked, was a beautiful sight” The blond scratch his red neck. “She teased me for fucking ages, rubbing her soaked pussy against my face but I couldn’t even fucking taste” He groaned, annoyed at the memory.

“Why not ?” Freddie arched a brow then gasped excitedly. “ Oh! What did she use ? Bone gag ? Ball gag ?”

“Just a pair of panties” Roger replied, all of them looking at Fred like he was coming from another planet.

“Oh don’t be such bore darlings, bondages is fun, you should try. Especially you Brian” The curly brunette gasped a surprise me? “Yes, maybe Chrissie would like it” He winked and Brian swallowed nervously.

“Right, if you want to try Brian, I can ask Honey where she buy all of her stuffs, she has a box full of toys and some scary stuffs too. Was rather surprise, she can look so angelic when she want” He shook his head with a chuckle. “I also have a blindfold at the beginning but I didn’t like at all, so she nicely accepted to take it off”

“And she punished you for that ?” John pipped with a smirk.

“Hell yes. Nipple clamps with chains but I thought it was for her, was bloody excited but she put them on me, dear god, it’s painful ! But good too, they do the trick I guess”

Brian and Deaky grimaced at the thought of the pain but Freddie didn’t seemed too interested, shrugging simply.

“Are you sure you fucked her ? Because all of that sound more like she fucked you darling”

“I know ! She rode me first, bloody good pussy she got there, thigh and her moves...jesus the woman is insatiable, shoving my dick in her mouth like it was a fucking treat” Freddie hummed in amusement, his friend seemed like he had the time of his life last night. “We fucked literally all night, testing her weird accessories and food fantasies, pretty good actually. But when she finally let me lead, I wrecked her” Roger smirked with satisfaction. “Tugging on her hairs until her back arched completely, cuming on these perfect tits of her, she even let me take her by both of her hole and bloody hell, I wished I had another dick yesterday, could have been useful to satisfy this voracious little slut. She begged and cried until I completely ruined her” His was was drooling with pride.

“Okay too much details Roger” John grimaced with flushed pink, his fingers scratching his chin awkwardly. 

Roger and Freddie never had any problem to share the details of their sex life with everyone but Deaky wasn’t really like that. Brian was in the middle, depending of his mood, the girl he shagged and the situation.

“Coming from the man who wrote a bloody song about cuming too fast, it’s pretty funny” Roger immediately shot back, knowing that this argument always worked.

Deaky rolled his eyes and showed him his middle finger, bored that they still teased him about his song Misfire, years after he wrote it.

“Are you gonna see this girl again ?” Brian asked to close the argument between his two bandmates.

“Hell yes, she is probably the best lay I had in years, she definitively know what she does and she fucking flexible, that drive me crazy” The drummer bit his bottom lip, smirking as Brian scoffed, remembering him she was bloody young but if Roger was a bit awkward at first about her age, now that she saw what she was capable of doing, he didn’t care anymore.

Freddie was about to make a comment when a soft knock echoed in the room and Brian immediately stood up, knowing it was probably his unknown daughter. He exited the room and spoke with her for several minutes outside as Freddie, Roger and Deaky waited nervously, hoping everything was going fine for their friend.

The door opened again and a flushed and smiling Brian appeared, followed by a smallest person, hiding behind him.

“Guys, this is my daughter (Y/N). (Y/N), this is John, Freddie and Roger”

The girl was wearing a little white dress, her hairs sweetly put into two plates attached at the back of her head, letting the rest of her hairs falling loosely. She had big doe eyes, looking absolutely adorable. A perfect little angel.

The drummer stopped breathing as soon as his gaze fell on the girl, his face turning livid at the realisation. (Y/N) smiled timidly to everyone, tucking her hairs behind her ear but Roger didn’t miss the discrete wink she sent him.

Honey and (Y/N) May was the same person. She was Brian’s daughter. Roger fucked his daughter’s best friend and gave him all the bloody details. 

**

permanent tag list : @jennyggggrrr

[dyingswanpavlova]

“We don’t have to” Part 1 || REDDIE [Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak]

Pairings: Stan x female!Reader, Richie x Eddie

Author’s note: Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I present you my first ever m x m fanfic, so please please don’t be too harsh on me. I saw It Chapter 2 on Saturday and my heart is aching so bad for what happened to Stan and Eddie (it’s not like I’ve read the book before and stuff but still). Also English isn’t my first language and since I haven’t really been writing anything at all for the last 1-2 years because of the lack of motivation caused by depression - blah, what I was trying to say: don’t hate me, if this turns out to be shitty. Love you!

Plot: Some years after the Losers Club split, they find themselves reunited for a beautiful occasion: the wedding day of Stan x Reader [also this will be a spin-off oneshot or fanfiction I’m currently working on, this one focuses more on Reddie]. The night before the big day, all of you are having a good time, drinking and eventually playing Truth or Dare like you did in the good old days. Everything seems to be fine, until you dare Richie to do something that might have questionable consequences...

_______________________________________________

“I don’t understand you people. Bacardi is fucking disgusting.”

“You wanna know what’s disgusting?”

“Richie, if you even dare to only take my mother’s name in your mouth, I will fucking end-”

Right before you could finish your sentence, you felt someone softly grabbing your shoulder. To your relief, it was Stan. You felt how you melted under the gentle touch of his hand. Almost ten years together and he still made you gasp with only a touch.

“Trust me, Richie. This girl here does not banter when it comes to her Mama.”

Everyone shared a laugh until you heard the bottles cracking on the table. Ben immediately started filling everyone’s cups up, with no protest allowed. You leaned back and placed your hand on Stan’s hand. You could hear him smile.

“Okay. Now give me the empty one, please”, Beverly ordered and Ben handed it over to her, so quickly that he almost tripped over his feet. She smiled at him and asked him to take his place down next to her. He smiled back at her. These people were some serious goofs. But they were your goofs.

“This might be fun.” Beverly chuckled before spinning the bottle for the first round. Everyone heard Eddie groaning and everyone ignored it, except for Eddie who made a filthy comment about “jizzing” in “one’s pants”.

“Might be seems very common. I hate this game”, Mike moaned and gave Beverly a death glare, right before the bottle stopped to point right at him. Everyone laughed hysterically except for Mike. He smiled shyly and much less confident.

“Okay, Mikey-boy. Truth or dare?”

Mike rolled his eyes back and then lowered his view to the least. “Truth, I guess.”

“Oh-oh, can I, can I?”, Bill asked, suddenly fully attentive. Usually, Bill was the calmer one of the group, but after the right amount of alcohol, the Losers found, he turned into a witty sport.

Beverly gave Mike a knowing smile and then nodded at Bill.

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Oh my- what! How old are you people? Like seriously!”

Mike complained a bit, but after some time, he smiled and unwillingly answered the question. “I was 18, okay?”

Richie snorted and suddenly widened his eyes. For him it was common sense to comment everyone and everything but all of a sudden he felt like he might have made a mistake. It was not Eddie he was balling, it was Mike. And he wasn’t so good, at least not as good with...

“And how old were you son of a mother, if I may ask you, Richard?” Mike pointed on Richie’s chest with his index finger.

“Me? I was...It’s not my turn yet”, Richie grinned and made a face at Mike. Suddenly he felt a heat in his cheeks. It normally didn’t bother him when people were looking at him, au contraire, actually, he enjoyed it. He was a show host, dammit! But right now, in that second...A pair of eyes was smothering him.

“Take it easy, Mikey”, Eddie interrupted. “He mustn’t admit the only relationship he’s ever had was with his right hand.” Eddie gave him a warm wink.

“Alright, years left, years to come and I still wanna puke”, you heard your fiancé blurt out. Everyone was laughing and the atmosphere seemed as calm as it could be. You kept playing for a few rounds and suddenly you had to ask Richie.

“Okay, Richie from the ditchie”,  you smiled, “Tell me: Truth or dare?”

You stared at your best high school friend with deliberate provocation in your eyes. The two of you had played this game over and over and every time Richie had made you do some extra foolish shit. Today was the day to let justice win.

“Dare, baby. All over.”

“Okay.”

For a second you asked yourself if you could do it, if you could really ask your best friend to do the thing he was the most afraid of but would or at least should also make his life a whole lot more interesting. Actually, he should be thankful if you did, you thought.

Richie had a secret and you had little but still had knowledge about it. You were the only one to know and you had promised to keep it a secret. It was an asshole kind of move, but so was it that one time when Richie forced you to sneak into Henry Bowers house. That was the time he almost murdered you and you had to talk yourself out of it by telling him you were secretly into him and had sneaked in to write him a note. That was the worst summer of your life, you decided and you shivered.

“I dare you to kiss Eddie on the lips.”

For a good second, everyone was quiet and you could hear someone gasping. It was Ben.

You looked Richie right in the eyes and saw frustration but also surprise there. It was almost as if he was gonna ask you “Why?” if there just wouldn’t have been all those people.

“Oh, come on, Rich. Everyone here has kissed everyone here...I mean, almost. Or. Okay. Maybe it was just Bill and Beverly, then Ben and Beverly [now a couple], then me and Beverly and even Bill and Mike [for scientific reasons - the project failed and Bill was now happily married]. Don’t make a fuss.”

“She’s right”, Mike said and gave Bill a curious look. Bill laughed and pretended to look at his phone.

“When did you and Beverly kiss?”, Stan suddenly asked and you looked at him in shock.

“Oh, shit”, you said and sounded a little too tipsy. “Okay, it was before us...And it was only one kiss.”

“And what a kiss”, Beverly added with a grin. Ben laughed awkwardly and grabbed Beverly harder by her waist. She gave him a short kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, so what now?” Eddie asked, almost impatiently.

Your face went from Eddie to Richie and back to Eddie.

“This is bullshit. We don’t...I mean, we don’t have to do this. This is a bullshit game and no one really cares if...”

“Are you gonna do it or what?” Eddie lifted his left eye brow and watched how Richie frowned in confusion.

Eddie groaned like he had before and all of a sudden took Richie’s face in his hands. Richie felt how his heart slipped down his stomach. He gasped for air, right before he felt how Eddie pressed his lips against his own. For a short moment he couldn’t even close his eyes and just stared in disorientation, then he felt how slowly his eyes closed.

It was...the most beautiful kiss he had ever experienced in his whole life. Eddies lips tasted like coffee and Bacardi and even a bit like his inhaler. He felt his heart beat through his chest as Eddie softly strengthened his grip on Richie’s face.

After a few seconds he felt how Eddie slowly pulled his head back. When he opened his eyes again, he looked into a pair of warm, acquainted eyes.

“Could be worse, right?” Eddie quipped, suddenly sounding like a mixture of serious and sleepy. His voice was higher than it was before and he didn’t take his eyes off of Richie as fast.

“Sure”, Richie spoke under his breath.

That was the second Beverly put a satisfied look on her face and continued to spin the bottle. Everyone was doing normal things again but for Richie the time seemed to move in slow motion.

Suddenly you felt bad. Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe...

“Honey, I’ll just go to the kitchen and grab some fresh glasses”, you said to Stan and vanished like a flash.

After entering the kitchen and before you heard the door slam, you heard Richie calling “I’ll help you!” from behind you. Before you could get away, he stood already in front of you.

“Why?”, he asked you.

He looked at you with slight disappointment in his eyes. The rest seemed just...tipsy.

“I’m sorry, Richie. I don’t know why I did that. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have. I really don’t...I’m so sorry”, you said, trying to calm yourself rather than him, because he seemed surprisingly calm.

“I just-”

“Do you guys need any help?”, you suddenly heard somebody asking. It was Eddie. You didn’t hear when he entered but you were pretty glad that he had come in.

It was true. It was just a stupid kiss and what one would make out of that. It was not your fault that Richie seemed to maybe see more in that game of Truth or dare than there actually was. People had to kiss other people all the time for that exact reason. You had kissed Beverly, Mike had kissed Bill, all for that reason. Why should Richie be spared?

“Actually, we do. I’ll take these glassed out, maybe you could help Richie with the snacks. Thank you, Eds”, you smiled at him, as he gently grazed your arm.

“Anything for the bride.”

With those words, you vanished. Back to the others. Other than for Richie, Eddie seemed less concerned about the kiss. Actually, he seemed...content.

“I can take care of the snacks. You can go back and...”

“Can we talk about it?”

Richie felt how the blood in his veins froze. “About what?”

“The kiss.”

Oh no. Oh no. He would totally mention how he had noticed what Richie felt and that he could never have the same feelings...not for a man. Not for Richie. He felt quiet nauseous.

“I hope it won’t do any harm on our friendship, that’s all”, Richie lied and told the truth at the same time. “I mean, it’d be the fucking worst. I’ll never play truth or dare again for the sake of-”

“Richie...”

“Also, what are we? Teenagers maybe? We’re fucking adults! Can’t we act like it? [Yikes.] People of our age don’t play games at parties anymore, no, they rather do-”

“Richie.”

Before he could keep talking, he felt how Eddie tried and pressed him against the breakfast table. Richie was awkwardly bent over aback while Eddie was coming nearer. He couldn’t take his eyes of him for a second. Even though Richie was tripping backwards, Eddie wouldn’t stop and went along until they had reached the wall.

“Richie, I want you to kiss me.”

Eddie wasn’t really this confident when he was sober. Sure, he was not really shy and especially not around Richie. But right in that second he exuded some kind of dominance that made Richie weak by his knees. He stared at him and tried to say something just to close his mouth again.

“But...why would you...”

“No talking”, Eddie ordered, almost craving. He placed his hands gently on Richie’s chest and let his fingers run up and down through the material of his shirt. Richie felt how it slowly became harder to breathe. “Just kiss me”, he said. His eyes followed the structure down from his head to his feet just to get to his eyes again. He bit his lip and for Richie it was inexplicable how one person alone could be so damn hot.

His lips could only form two words, before he let go of all.

“Oh fuck.”

After that he placed his hands on Eddie’s hip and pulled him closer, so close, that nothing could ever fit between the two of them. After shortly looking into his eyes, he almost lost himself in them.

He felt the relief of eventually placing his lips on Eddie’s. It was the best feeling ever. Under his breath he could hear how Eddie softly moaned into his mouth. His tongue circled shyly along Eddie’s lower lip, then always faster. Eddie placed his hands in Richie’s dark hair and gently pulled a bit.

It was romantic and slow but it was also expectant and so damn past due.

After quiet some time, Richie felt how Eddie pulled his head back. He was breathing heavily and looking at him with a look in his eyes that Richie had never before seen on Eddie.

“What is it?”, he whispered.

“I-I wanted to ask you...ask if maybe you wanna continue but in my bedroom.”

What had begun and sounded like an unfunny joke in the beginning, was now Richie’s life long dream which became true.

“We don’t have to...I mean...you don’t have to think you’d have to do anything that you don’t really...”

“I want it”, Eddie burst out. He coughed slightly. “I mean...I want it. I do”, he said in a soft voice.

“Isn’t it...quiet early to say I do?”, Richie asked and gave his friend a big, confident grin.

“I should have said it years ago”, Eddie said and smiled.

They stood there looking at each other for a few seconds, when Eddie grabbed his hand.

“Okay. Sneak me in, Eddie spaghetti.”

“There is no spaghetti for you if you call me that again”, Eddie laughed and Richie laughed, too, knowing he was joking. Oh shit, he wanted him.

And that was the only thing he had wanted for years.

Actually...forever.

[scbincx]

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭  𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐚.

[ ESTER EXPOSITO, 22, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ] welcome to the du pont institute for the young & gifted, [ SABINA MARQUEZ ]. you have been accepted as a [ REGULAR ] student from [ SPAIN ], going into your [ SENIOR YEAR ] and majoring in [ INT'L BUSINESS MANAGEMENT ]. your peers at the institute say that you are [ ASTUTE & SELF-ASSURED ], but being [ VEXING & CONNIVING ] may be the reason why the police are asking about you. did you think they wouldn’t find out that you were michael’s [ GIRLFRIEND ]? [ ADMIN J, 23, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER, EST ]

hi friends! jocey here with my first bby, sabina. i’m just gonna get this out of the way right now - apologizing in advance for all that is sabina because she’s truly just the worst™. lol anyways, gimme a like or hmu on discord if you’d like to plot with my little demon child!

name : sabina isabella maria marquez nickname : friends call her sab age : twenty-two sexuality : bisexual hometown : madrid, spain major : int’l business management, minor in entrepreneurship extracurriculars : student council president, business leaders of tmrw, du pont editor, honour society, model UN (spain)

━  the marquez family is known to have a bit of a controversial reputation, mostly surrounding how they made their fortune. what started out as a small delivery company in the canary islands decades ago has now expanded to a global empire of sorts. officially, marquez enterprises is a shipping company that controls the major ports in spain, and owns several businesses throughout europe and latin america.

━  but off the books? well, let’s just say there may be rumours that they’re involved in some shady business and have quite a few shady interesting contacts from all around the world, from politicians to some less than savoury people. regardless, it’s common knowledge that the marquezes are filthy dirty rich, enjoy living extravagantly and lavishly, and are practically seen as spanish royalty in the social scene.

━  as the eldest born to the head of the marquez empire, sabina was always groomed to take over marquez enterprises one day. she has a younger brother, though he shows no interest (or any capabilities, for that matter) in even being a part of it. then there are all of her cousins who want the seat - her seat - at the head of the table for themselves, like her cousin cristiano. well, over her dead body. and even from the grave, she would never let that happen because this was her birthright. while most kids dreamt of flying to the moon or being a princess, sabina always knew she was going to rule the world marquez empire one day.

━  sabina is her parents’ daughter in every way possible. they taught her everything legal and illegal that she needed to know in order to be successful in life. but some things even they couldn’t quite explain themselves. like when three-year-old sabina stole all the crayons in daycare to force other kids to buy them back with their snacks. from a young age, she quickly learned that tricking people into giving her what she wanted out of their own dumb free will was so much more satisfying than stealing it from under their noses. she may be named after a saint, but anyone will tell you she is anything but.

━  a hustler with an alpha bitch mentality, she’s always outsmarting people and outsmarting the system to get things to work in her favour. and when that didn’t work, no one could ever say no to a big fat wad of cash. because sabina marquez never loses. she doesn’t just play the game, she owns it, makes the rules and wins. every. damn. time. sabina strongly believes that playing by the rules was for suckers and if you weren’t the best, then you were nothing at all. and sometimes being the best required playing dirty. if she has to ruin someone else’s life to get her way, then she will gladly pour a jug of gasoline, light a match and enjoy watching it go up in flames. hell, sometimes she’ll do that just for the fun of it anyways. and if that’s what she does for her own enjoyment, then you do not wanna know what she does when she’s pissed off.

━  with that mentality, it’s no surprise that sabina easily became the top student of her program and student council president. though she may have lied and cheated her way to the top on several occasions, there’s no denying that she’s fucking brilliant. yes, she could have done it the right way, but where’s the fun in that? if anything, pulling off all the lying, cheating and scheming proved just how smart she really was. and maybe that’s why michael fell for her. 

━  sabina always thought she was too good for michael. in fact, too good for almost anyone at this school. the whole golden boy, mr. popular act was boring and cliche, and she saw right through it. and yet somehow, almost as if it’d happened overnight, michael had won her over and they were quickly known as du pont’s ‘it’ couple. everyone envied them and wanted to be them. they couldn’t be a more perfect couple and she was the perfect girlfriend - sweet, adoring, supportive. in fact, so perfect that no one ever knew that deep down, sabina had never hated anyone more in her life than michael fucking valmont. and she couldn’t be happier now that he’s dead.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BEST FRIEND  ━  someone who can put up with sabina’s awfulness, or maybe they’re just as awful as she is. this is probably one of the few people she’s actually relatively nice to (at least, by her standards) and will always have their back. possibly even one of the few people she’ll ever let her guard down for. preferably m/nb tbh bcuz she tends to be a bigger bitch to girls cuz they’re obvs more threatening than dumb boys are lol.  taken by simon bexley, cade harrington, sofia gonzalez-cortes MORAL CONSCIENCE  ━  does sabina even have a moral compass? your guess is as good as mine. this is someone she is more likely to listen to and could try to sway her from doing, y’know, ~*just sabine things*~. kind of the angel on her shoulder? often tries to get her to be nicer and overall be a decent human being.  taken by grant winter-grandview EXES  ━  either she dumped him/her, or she was dumped (in which case, rip my friend). maybe there are lingering feelings. who knows?? could be interesting if they’re very different from sabina and that’s why it didn’t work out despite the chemistry or whatever. RIVALS/ENEMIES  ━  ho’boy. homegirl can piss off a lot of people just for shits and giggles, nor does she care to be likeable and personable, so i’m sure she’s got a hella long list of enemies/people she rubs the wrong way. also people she’s sabotaged and manipulated to get her way? plz.  taken by adelaide montserrat, alice coltell, saylor winter-grandview, daisy kennedy CHILDHOOD FRIEND  ━  self-explan. they’ve known each other since they were kids and their parents are likely friends.  taken by madelyn vasquez UNWANTED CHILD  ━  sabina somehow ended up being this person’s very reluctant mom friend. she hates it, she does not want to deal with them, and yet she’ll still go pick up their drunk ass at 4am. she’s all about tough love, so while she may be super harsh and hard on them, she does it out of love and because she cares. not that she’d ever admit caring.  taken by nicollo fernez, james thompson UNLIKELY/ACCIDENTAL FRIENDS  ━  they shouldn’t get along, but somehow, they just do and their friendship works. not typically someone sabina would see herself being friends with, but somehow an accidental friendship of sorts developed.  taken by aurora van der berg, crimson cooper SECRET FLING  ━  the person sabina cheated on michael with. it’s definitely more than a one-time hook-up, but not quite a relationship yet either. she cares about them a lot more than she’d ever care to admit out loud, but it shows through her actions.  taken by william acher CAT & MOUSE  ━  the more sabina can’t have something, the more she’s driven to go after it, even if it’s just to prove a point. and that point is that she’s always right and she always wins. so she’ll flirt, sweet talk and pull out all the stops just to get them to admit that they’re wrong about her. could also work the other way - the more they want her to cave, the more she’ll push and fight it.  taken by gabriel johnson

okay, that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. some plots i’m open for multiple characters to fill, unless it has been crossed out. and ofc, i’m always open to new ideas too!

[commonalex]

Aphrodite

(press play, won't bite ya)

aphrodite by common alex

Listen/download: aphrodite by common alex

They really caught my eye by mistake. Couldn’t even make out what was really happening because of the slow daybreak; when I finished parking she was already laid down on the parking lot and this old fuck with his black-as-a-crow dyed hair and this filthy white shirt was stomping her sides. I shout till I get noticed by this dusty boned ass and his halloweeny mustache he rocks in this late September. I sprint (well, supposedly, my lungs aren’t as light as they used to) and he flinches as if he shat his pants towards a old green Citroen bumped to pieces. I swear he was this close getting his ass beat.

-You shouldn’t have done that.

-Are you… okay, lady? Hey, easy easy. No sudden moves, I got a first aid kit back at the truck.

-Oh no. No, don’t you ”lady” me.

With these dark brunette hair, this long black kimono robe tied by her waist and these thick sunglasses hiding her eyes, her age must be somewhere around fifty, maybe less. I see no blood, though, only on her bottom lip and her back from the asphalt; the rest are just bruises by hand or by shoe. I put some old band aids I found along some other (close to be expired) shit and help her to stand while being a bit scared she is way more hurt internally. But even though she stands alright there’s something about her that doesn’t seem quite right.

-Don’t scratch that, let it dry out. What about a hospital, a doctor? Is there anything like that close from here?

-What do you think, big boy?

That I made a stupid question. Why on earth would there be a hospital close to a truck station on the highway? There’s not even a restaurant around here anymore. We barely get a cup of shitty coffee along with overpriced snacks and a chance to piss with the constant risk of getting infected of something too fucked up for science to give it a name yet.

-Where’s your car?

-I don’t have a car.

-Were you brought here?

The sunglasses slowly fell from her straight lined nose for me to see her smudged eyes guiding me to the right. There really was no car. Only an abandoned gas station, a really creepy playground overgrown by weeds and grass and an old caravan, five by three meters with a blue stripe on its side. I look at her for confirmation and I walk her slow as one can go to let her sit on a cheap travel armchair right besides the open wide door of the caravan.

-I’m… Aphrodite. And you?

    Her hesitation right before her name has successfully rang every single bell in existence.

-Does it matter?

She seems unbothered. Knowing my name or not is just the same to her, so to speak; as long as I don’t ask any questions about this pasty prick hitting her a few moments ago.

-Well you’re right about that. How old are you?

-Thirty-three.

-Good for you, you seem nothing like your age. You could tell me you’re twenty six, I’d believe you. 

Wow, she’s really into talking, isn’t she? So much she tries to pull a second chair for me beside her. I take a sec to understand if all this a way of flirting or just an awkward compliment used instead for “thanks” because I was at the wrong place at the right moment.

-Sorry, you caught me at work. A long drive to Romania, really, and if I don’t stick to schedule they’ll come for my ass.

Still, unphased.

But she keeps on digging to me.

-Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot. I mean have you ever seen anyone that you try chatting with them and they aren’t in any rush?

Aphrodite seems kind enough to relieve me from my puzzled face by opening and closing her robe as she speaks, as if I, an engaged dude with two babies back home, am all about that shit right now. And even if I was, just by looking at her breast and legs I get a weird feeling. So I play dumb until she gets tired of trying. She doesn’t. And this woman was lying on a parking lot ten minutes ago.

-Look, I can’t help with anything else. And besides, how can I put it, I don’t really…

She catches up and cuts me off from the worst.

-What you “don’t really”. Fuck hookers or fuck trans?

I can’t stress enough how embarrassed I got between these seconds. For sure I didn’t want to put it like that, but how could I say that without saying it? I simply nodded. She seemed like she understood though. She ties her robe back and drags me to chit chat once again (because she couldn’t drag me inside that greasy caravan), beginning to unfold the story of her life. Literally. Awkward as fuck, but I’d lie if I wasn’t intrigued with her.

She said she was born in a rural town far from here, raised by her “holy as a woman can ever be” grandma Aphrodite (that’s where the name comes from)- she tells me that exact thing about three times. I’m asking for her parents and then waiting her to finish with the endless cursing towards them just so the story continues to the point she reaches fourteen years old. Right there is where she, without a warning, runs away from home to Salonika, the closest big city she could afford to start selling her body.

-I’d be lying if I ever said I didn’t get comfy with work, especially the first few clients. After the initial stress dies down you wait for the instinct of habit. I swear, you could spend a week in this job and nothing would ever surprise you anymore. You can’t imagine what kinds of filth and secrets lie outside. Kinky psychos showing up with their wedding rings on, notorious pimps spending all morning on a tv show asking “where is this country really going with all this filth“, priests. Well, you heard nothing about priests yet, I tell you that.

Aphrodite, an adult now, eventually grows far too big for Salonika and makes a trip down to Athens (as she always intended), finding only more filth and misery inside a poorly lit basement with other prostitutes. Her desperation keeps on popping up here and there for a while because she couldn’t predict things turning so damn shitty and unbearable. She stacks her money little by little and she finally gets her surgery.

-And how was thing afterwards?

-Deep inside I knew this was my time; with the body I should have had. And the best thing was that no new client could ever understand the difference, and even if he did that was the last thing he was concerned with. I was ahead of everyone else in there- all of them. But little did I care about all that, I was made for greater things. I didn’t plan to stay in that fucking basement any longer, getting fucked by the lowest of people. That’s why I got my head down and worked my ass off until I could make a name of myself, until I could make not enough money but the real money. And that was what really got the best of me in the end, I think.

She then “moves” to the biggest red light district of Athens (I mean, of course, where else could she really be, right?) and that’s the point where her story really turns sketchy. Whatever she told me to this minute might be a bit cliche, but still believable. Now she runs over all that, telling me to believe that she managed to get so big she turned to a highly paid escort for rich and powerful people like that (which I guess you could say is plausible, given that she indeed would be beautiful at some point). Just the names and zeros she dropped on the table makes me suspicious as hell. But this isn’t the end, she continues with her Mercedes car she owned and took rides with back at her grandma’s place or with how she was personally invited every time the american fleet stopped in Rhodes and Crete. Like she’s living in a goddamn movie.

-So things get really, and I mean really busy, am I right?

-It didn’t take long for magazines and tv shows for nosy people to notice me. Those were the days, I tell you. You remember the checks I used to get previously? Well you wouldn’t even imagine those. I was called the “trannie”, the “pure Satan offspring”, the “biggest mistake of the nature”- really whatever. I’m still laughing. By the time the camera was switching off everyone was begging for a photoshoot or an interview like their life depended on it. You can’t just pass this opportunity to get famous. It’s as strong as a drug. All this attention, all those lights really make you feel like you’re doing something good at last.

How much time could have passed for the sun to come out full force, burning my back like a motherfucker? I take a peek at my watch and I see it’s quarter past ten. Shit. I really should be going by now. How do I cut it out for her, hoping that she will eventually go to the doctor by herself? How do I escape her mouth from talking so slow or her eyes from following me like a predator’s?

-That’s alright and all, but...

-I know, you can’t tell right now, but everyday I was getting calls and visits from designers at my house by the shore to ask me if I would wear their shit. Yeah, I reached that peak. I mean, would you believe me if I told you I stumbled upon Dolce & Gabbana at the airport? Giving me their cards and all?

No. No I wouldn’t believe you.

-That’s all nice and dandy, Aphrodite, but something’s missing. I mean, what are you doing here? Like, for real.

You can’t make me believe she didn’t expect this to come up eventually, but here she is acting like that. Leaving sighs and staring into nothingness. Her voice even changes up a bit, gets a more serious tone to it, out of the blue.

-Do you really believe prostitutes tend to think about the future? I mean, really? Do they make plans of retirement or something? Especially the trans ones. Let me tell you, most of them can’t even think about making it to thirty, either from someone or themselves. I, personally, chickened out twice and got rescued three times, and you’re coming here telling me if I ever thought I would be here during my old days?

-With all these things you casually spill out of doing in the ‘90s you should be standing above thousands, even millions, with all of the doors wide open for you. What happened? How could you go from a house by the shore, a Mercedes and all these interviews to, you know… This?

    Where, just to remind you, this is a fucked up caravan besides the highway where old fucks are coming to kick her in the neck.

-”What happened”. Like I never asked that to myself. I’m here, sitting and telling you a stuff or two about myself and you have the nerve to pull a “what happened”. What could have happened, big boy? What do you believe?

She seems really sensitive that not only I interrupted her story but in addition I questioned the lies she spices it with. Welp, what can you do, I already threw half of my morning out of the window with this one, we’re only left to see where is she going with all these delusions of her amazingly faked past. Like I have any time to spare.

-Tell me.

-It must be the place, dunno. You, for example, came here maybe for a piss stop and then back to work. And what a demanding work; holding a wheel until you don’t. But what about the whores? Whores got a body to maintain till its expiration date. After that, game over; again, if the make it there. If disgust hasn’t eaten them alive by then. If insecurities about everything starting to loosen up, or the ringing of the phone that eventually will go silent, or reaching the point of begging to keep on living cause family is not an option anymore. They go nuts, you see, they hold on from anything they can reach just to keep on feeling that all this they are going through really mattered. Just to keep on feeling like they are valued.

-So is this why you’re staying here? To feel like this matters? To get beaten up by old fucks and internally accepting it? Why don’t you ask for help?

-This is help. This old fuck is the only one that comes around and throws a penny for me to maintain myself. He’s the only one that fucks me, anyway. That’s why I’m here, for him- it’s his caravan after all. He lives about twenty minutes from here with a wife, kids and grandkids. He just likes to “get it out of his system” once every few days by fucking for free and beating me whenever I mention that I can’t do this anymore, because he is afraid that his whore isn’t loyal to him. But why am I saying all these things to you. I’m wasting my words. You still don’t believe me.

I don’t know where her truth and lies stand anymore, only that if she really lived all these things she’s a massive fool for not writing a book. I, for once, took too much of my time for all this crap. When I started heading back to the track she switched to her first ways, telling me that “I’m doing the right thing” or that the old guy with the mustache “really has a gun and doesn’t mess around”. Yeah, whatever. I get in and peep Aphrodite behind the window waiting on the chair for me to go but something inside makes it hard for me to start the truck. It’s quarter to eleven but her endless chatter seem to get my weariness going. As time passes and the truck stays still, Aphrodite eventually heads back to the caravan shutting the door behind her. I’m kinda relieved. But I’m still madly curious, what can I do? Ah, fuck it, Romania can wait a bit more. I pull out my phone and search blindly, trying to find anything at all.

Aphrodite.

Trans.

Prostitute.

‘90s.

Modeling.

Enter.

I couldn’t feel anything less than a dick at this point. It seems unreal. Not only she was legit, but she toned things down a little in her story. The photoshoots were indeed professional and stunning, while I found an interview of her on an ancient tv talk show I never really knew existed where she explains how much her life changed due to the massive exposure she got at this point. Same as today, minus the touches of time on her. But most of all happy. Really all this attention made her bloom ridiculously. Magazine covers, runways, pageants; all enough to back up not only Aphrodite's public existence but also her relations with really established and rich individuals. And all of there as cute as hell, but where did all these money go? Well, the answer lies to a more recent past, this time inside tabloid news articles.

Only three to four year ago, Aphrodite spawns once again, this time in Jerusalem (what the fuck) in order to get closer with her faith and a highly respected priest there. So damn respected that people wouldn’t stop to talk about their “secret” meetings late at night, to the point where photos and videos leak publicly. Result? These tabloid fucks smell the blood from far, far away and get to hunting the story. The priest goes public, says “sorry guys, my mistake, Satan trapped me and such, didn’t want to, sorry again, peach to all”, gets thrown away from the local church and that was pretty much the end. Aphrodite on the other hand vanishes once again up until this point, right here, on this parking lot besides the highway.

I guess that’s what she meant with that “you heard nothing about priests yet” earlier. Maybe I should have listen more carefully or see her face better in order to recognize her from all this priest thing that blew up literally everywhere back then. Either way, my curiosity stopped killing me but guilt took over me. With my route schedule gone to the shitter already, I knock her caravan door till she opens with death in her eyes. I show her the interview I found on my phone.

-It’s you, isn’t it?

-That’s really a shame, big boy. What do you do with all these truck stuff. You should be working for NASA by now.

I was wrong before. This point right here is where I can’t feel anything less than a dick.

She invited me inside and made me sit right across a really slow fan that was spinning just for the aesthetics in order to make me feel less of a sweaty pig. The caravan looks way more comfy on the inside with a massive bed and a narrow sofa but the mountains of hoarding shit and snack packaging lying around here and there do no favors. It’s a good option for holidays, but absolutely not for regularly living inside of it. Aphrodite doesn’t seem to bother with my snoopy eyes. She holds the phone with both hands while carrying the cold look. As if she doesn’t recognize herself. As if she doesn’t want to.

-When was that?

-Not sure. ‘95? Later than that? I only recall just how rude and creepy this interviewer was. He didn’t hit on me or anything like that, it’s just that he was always an ass kisser in front of you and a shit talker behind your back. I didn’t get how much crude and sarcastic he was in that interview until years later. Now that I think of that, I guess everyone were kind of the same. But these were different times, more fabulous, more sparkly, more…. Innocent? I guess innocent isn’t the right word for it.

Then I show her the article about the priest. She kinda leaves a bitter smile there. She might no look exactly happy but nevertheless she must understood that in the end I kinda cared and dug up her whole history to make it up for myself after treating her like shit. She silently accepts it, even though with her fair share of reservations this time.

-That’s the most recent I could find, there’s nothing next to that. Would you mind telling me what happened next?

-One day my head was about to explode. I couldn’t do this anymore. All I wanted was to somehow save my soul from this pit of crap I ended up, and the idea stuck to me the moment I accidentally found grandma’s cross among my stuff. That was really it. I quit the job, closed my phone and traveled to churches and monasteries, throwing money around to buy a seat next to God. Turns out I found my Devil, though. 

She’s way more reserved than before. I get that all of this might still cut deep and talking about it hurts like a bitch. I tell her she doesn’t really have to say anything she doesn’t want to and I am ready to leave her alone if she asks me to. She calmed my anxious ass with a simple nod.

-And the videos?

-I leaked them. I told you prostitutes don’t think about the future. I couldn’t even think about today at this point of my life; I was really in a shitty place. The priest wanted to go big, a bishop or something like that, and to do that she had to dump me. Like I was the one flirting with him in the first place. And he was the one supporting me, so what the fuck would I do there alone? That’s where a magazine came to me, no idea of its name, put money on my hand for the footage and came back with these money, just so nothing would remind of everything that played out down there. As you’d expect, money didn’t last forever. So I got to a point where I was like “what can I do”? I could never be a beggar and I could never go back to a brothel without people laughing at me, so I went from one old friend to another until someone finally decided to help.

-Someone. Like a cunt.

-Yeah, a cunt, I don’t know. It’s better than nothing.

I ran out of words. I’m no longer curious, no longer so guilty and for sure don’t feel pity for her. I can only say “good luck” and “take care” to her as I walk out; even though neither of these hold any value for her situation. She didn’t wanna hop on the truck because she didn’t feel like she has anywhere to go. I try to make her understand that anywhere is better than this misery and abuse. She responds somewhat philosophical, telling me that who knows, maybe someone might come up on this truck stop and can actually help her. Give her money to live or anything else she needs and then taking he-...

-Aphrodite! Out! Now! 

The shouting from outside got her eyes open wide, staring at the door for a good second. I never believed I could see her scared shitless.

-You shouldn’t have done that, I told you so.

-Is this him?

I didn’t need an answer to that. Her bottom lip shaking like her jaw’s about to fall gives me all the information I need. She pulls my hand from the door to stop me. Too bad I already decided my approach. I smile at her to stop her from panicking and jump out with sun hanging above me. Ten meters on the left there’s the green Citroen with one door open and a bit closer there’s the old bastard standing a bit closer with a shotgun resting in his hands. The truck is straight ahead, forty steps or so. It’s just a sprint as the worst case scenario, big deal. Either way I bet his shaky hands could even load before shooting. Ha, there it is, haven’t I told you, he dropped the fucking shotgun. Ten more steps and hello Romania. I only feel bad that I didn't have the time to greet her for the last time before I go. I yell "goodbye" as I'm running but my voice isn't coming out at all. But again how could it be heard right here, right now with all those bang bang bang bang b…

The only thing I can make out of all this noise is her screaming from the back. 

-No! Oh God! 

[fuckshiru]

345rv5 ten year anniversary. Couldn’t upload this to DA for some reason

You know when you're getting older when people start having 10 year aniversaries. But alas. I still await my aniversary (which wont be for over 3 years).

You're delusional if you think I wont be posting about this.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have been watching people rant online for a long ass time. I've watched Youtube videos, blogs, and deviantart journals of course. And stamps. It used to be game reviewers (Clement and SomecallmeJohnny), then it was political videos (The Amazing Atheist formerly then Sargon and Hunter Avallone currently). But I've never actually made friends with any of them. Unlike 345rv5.

I've made friends with 345rv5 just a few years back. While he isn't millionaire famous, he has a rather large following on deviantart. And that's because there's a little bit of everything on his page. He started off reviewing anime but then he would he started getting into debates. I think what made him a force to be reckoned with was the fact that he made very long journals and comments. But they wern't long because he wanted to win the debate (just a side note, if you're on a debate online, dont EVER simply write a wall of text or copy n paste from wikipedia. That doesn't work.), he would also deconstruct each of the points of the other side and obliterate them. Lets get into the journal that started it all.

Dragon Fail Live Action Piece of Shit

Dragon fail live action peice of shit

Now, 345rv5 has been around before he made the journal, but in my opinon this was the review that started everything. This was his Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. I've read all of his journals. Anime and video games was his thing earlier on. He didn't start making political videos until around 2012/2013. This day marks the ten year anniversary of him making that journal.

It really set off his channel (or should I say page). I guarentee that if he had a youtube channel, he would be filthy rich, even with youtube's ad-pocalypse and whatnot.

He started off ranting about shows and movies, essentially pointing out all of the flaws. Some notable things he's ranted about were Cartoon Network and Super Mario Live Action movie.

Anime Recaps and Reviews

Weekly Shonen Recap :RECAP !

Anime and Manga was his passion. He almost exclusively watched anime, some of his favourites were Dragon Ball Z and Sailor Moon. Others shows, such as Bleach not so much. There's not much to say on this part, but if you enjoy anime, you'll enjoy his reviews.

Rivalries

As time passed on, he began showing everyone his insane debating skills. This caused many people to hold grudges toward him. He began his series BDTDT/BSTDT (Bigots Do/say the dumbest things) and a subseries FTSTDT (Fantards say the dumbest things) and RFSTDT (Radical Feminists Say The Dumbest Things. He also started shorter series entitled "Concentrated Stupidity", which ended shortly.

Watching him take part in these debates that lasted over months was actually pretty entertaining. He's debated people such as Arrnacar Fighter, DragonoftheEastBlue (which apparently made a youtube video), BrianaBater, Insanity123 (didn't get a journal), Sychtemantis, and Party999999. The debate between him and Party999999 lasted for over a year. It ended in 2016, when Party99999 made a final response, and called it quits.

The topics of these debates covered politics. When it wasn't that, he would literally go in depth on how strong a character is, using math equations and Science to justify his claims.

And no, I'm not insulting any of thse people. Hell for a debate to last that long meant that they put up a good fight and must've good points.

Unfortunately, with so many debates online someone was eventually going to make a page on Encyclopedia Dramatica about him.

https://encyclopediadramatica.rs/345rv5

Before I start, I will say that I'm suprised that I don't have a page on Encylopedia Dramatica. I should've gotten one a few years back when I got into a big fight in the complaints forum, but now that I'm fading away into nothing, I'm probably never gonna get one. That's good I guess. But an Encyclopedia Dramatica page really only shows the worst in people.

Even when he got banned from DA, he still occasionally called people out here on this site from tumblr (such as OddGarfield and Aknaton-II)

The Story, Political Views, and Removal from DA

Earlier on, 345rv5 was a liberal. He was the same kind of liberal as The Amazing Athiest, as in, he wasn't a SJW, they didn't believe in white privilege or any of that garbage. Instead, they only believed in green privilege. (I dont know if TJ still believes that given I haven't watched his videos in months)

He still is a egaliratian, and one of his sickest ownages was his DESTROYING someone who insulted and slut shamed SHE-HULK by calling her a whore.

BSTDT:She Hulk is a Whore!

He was a true EGALITARIAN. Trust me, you will not find a bigger equalist than 345rv5 on the internet. He has stood up for atheists, women, men, people of colour, whites, Religious people, you name it. Every one of those instances I wholeheartedly agreed with.

BSTDT: Brother Dean the Anti Gay, Sexist Pastor

BSTDT: Atheist Pluser Says fuck you to Christans

After time passed, he slowly distanced himself from the left. He is a firm supporter of AllLivesMatter. This however, would cause him to get banned permanently from the site.

RIP 345rv5

I was beyond angry when that happened. But its been over 3 years and it is what is I guess. After being banned from DA, he made a tumblr account. This is where he REALLY shifted away from the left. 1 year later in 2016, He came out as a supporter of Trump weeks away from the election day. At that point I was still sceptical of Trump but I do admit that people have retarded reasons for hating him. I believe he still identifies as a liberal, but honestly, it hard to be considered a liberal or a leftist at this point because the left keeps fucking up for themselves. Paul Joseph Watson said Conservatism is the new counter culture, and I totally agree. Its popular to be left leaning these days.

The arguement The Amazing Athiest had with Hunter Avallone really shows that sides have switched. It used to be a younger liberal vs a older conservative. Now its a younger conservative vs an older liberal.

But furthermore, 345rv5 continued making posts on tumblr. These were very similar to the posts he made here. This went on until Tumblr shot itself and got rid of pornographic content.

After that, he migrated to another website.

What made him great?

I think it was his ability to debate made him great. He would fucking decimate people. But he would only do that if you had horrible opinions. His followers were literally like familiy, everyone digged in to help him stand up to abusive admins. When he got banned, everyone was upset. We all love his journals, which everyone can see, thanks to this link here: https://web.archive.org/web/20150406180849/http://345rv5.deviantart.com/

Yet he was such a nice guy. And that is why he will always be remembered.

[d0gdaze]

1.

The body swap au a surprising amount of people asked for, actually. 

Read on AO3 / Summary

Pairings: Eddie Kaspbrak / Richie Tozier

Warnings: swearing, sexual references

Chapter 1/?

| Next 

Word Count: 3279

Eddie’s playlist

If given the choice to remove something from existence, most sensible people's suggestions would be akin to war, famine, homelessness, cancer, or something else along that line. Some people would be more specific, maybe choosing to rid the world of a particular person, or food, or trend in clothing. Some would say they would get rid of bagpipes, or tomatoes, or the entire concept of wearing socks and sandals. Others wouldn't be able to give you an answer, making the argument that we need the bad to balance out the good, or some other pretentious and insightful bullshit.

Richie Tozier knew exactly what he would get rid of, if given that choice. It would, without a doubt, be the song Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves.

This was the thought that crossed Richie's mind as the annoyingly energetic opening drumbeats graced his ears at six that morning, as they did every morning without fail. It was promptly accompanied by the familiar sound of a window sliding open, which only aimed to amplify the sound. He gritted his teeth and mumbled something unintelligible, but undoubtedly profane, and pulled the pillow out from under him, wrapping it around the back of his head and over his ears in an attempt to drown out the music. It proved to be futile, though. Because then, right on cue, the singing started. Well, calling it singing might be a bit of a stretch. He would have described it as more of a pained-sounding screech, much akin to a dying cat, or maybe a kazoo thrown into a paper shredder,

I use to think maybe you loved me, now baby I'm sure.

Of course his next door neighbour had to have the worst voice imaginable, paired with the worst music taste imaginable (that is, one of a preteen girl). He honestly thought he would much rather be beaten over the head with a baseball bat every morning, because even that would be less painful than this.

The chorus started, and the 'singing' escalated from a slightly reserved cry to a full on caterwaul, his neighbour's voice cracking a little, rather comically, on the 'woah's. He let out a defeated huff, which slowly drew out into a groan. He removed the pillow, throwing it off the bed in lazy frustration, and turned his head to face the window. From where he was he could just see Eddie Kaspbrak, his personal alarm clock, sitting at the foot of his own bed, bent over himself to tie his shoes. He was still belting out the lyrics as he did so.

Eddie, at least on the outside, seemed like a good kid. 'A wrinkly old grandma's wet dream', Richie had once said to his friend Beverly the day after he moved in next door, and though the analogy was responded to with disgust, she later discovered that he really did have a point. The boy was constantly pristine, always wearing variously coloured, yet always dull-looking polo shirts, tucked into jeans that were always unreasonably well-fitted. And cardigans. Oh god, the cardigans were the worst. They looked like they came directly out of Mr. Rogers' personal collection, though everyone knew the kid didn't own a single item of second-hand clothing. Which was, in Richie's opinion, worse, because it meant that he didn't dress like that due to financial strife, and that he spent good money on new clothes that made him look like a tiny senior citizen by choice. His haircut hadn't changed since the start of highschool, the same suburban-white-father-of-three-esque side-parted quiff that never had a single hair out of place. When he wasn't dressed like this, however, he was in his P.E. uniform. That is, a grey t-shirt with their high school mascot printed on the front, and shorts. Bright red, flashy, and ever so short. Absolutely shorter than necessary, and shorter than anyone else on the track team seemed to have them. And once again, the Kaspbrak's didn't have an issue with money. He hadn't grown out of them and couldn't afford to buy a new pair, hell, he had barely grown two inches since freshman year. They were short, because that weirdo liked them that way, for whatever reason. And Richie didn't care enough to ask. All he knew was that they when he was wearing them, it was distracting as fuck. Every time he did his stretches on Saturday morning, after strategically placing himself in his room so Richie could see him from where he sat on the bed, reading over his play scripts, it was like he was actively trying to show himself off.

And Richie hated it. He hated him.

He grabbed his glasses off of his bedside table and dragged himself out of bed, feet hitting the floor and pulling him into a slouched stance, and shuffled his way over to the window. He lifted the pane open with a small groan.

There was a small stretch of roof in front of both of their windows, about three feet each, the gap between the two properties only about the length of Richie's arm. Small enough to cross over with barely any effort, if either wanted to do so. Before Eddie had moved in, he thought it would have been perfect if someone came and lived there, someone nice, someone that he liked, and they could sit out on the roof and talk all night. They could have climbed into one another's rooms when their parents were asleep, or leave little notes on the glass, or even, maybe, if he was really lucky, fall in love with them. It would have been perfect, and rather shakespearian, he guessed. His own little Romeo and Juliet story. But then the universe decided to throw it's middle fingers up and say “fuck you, you're getting this hobbit instead,” and the only time he had ever crossed over to the other rooftop was at the start of junior year, to draw a massive, rather detailed piece of male genitalia on Eddie's window. In permanent ink, too, and Eddie had spent a good twenty minutes crouched out there in his pyjamas with a bottle of ajax and a sponge, desperately trying to scrub it off, cursing out Richie as he did so, fretting out loud about his mother seeing it. He deserved it though. He must have, even though Richie couldn't remember exactly what event had brought it on.

He leaned out slightly, fingers tapping a beat into the wood. Eddie looked up, obviously catching him out of the corner of his eye, and grinned. For a moment it even looked almost genuine. Almost. He knew better.

“'Morning Dick!” he chirped, making his way across the room, leaning against the window frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Richie pressed his lips together into a forced smile.

“Has anyone ever told you that you're a really good singer? I mean, obviously the answer is no, because you're shit, but I was wondering if maybe someone once lied to you about it and that's why you're still in denial about how terrible you are.” He tilted his head to the side. “Sorry to rip the bandaid off like that but trust me, it's better that you know.” He nodded his head, feigning sympathy. Eddie let out a short, sharp laugh.

“Oh I'm sorry Rich, was I cutting in on your beauty sleep? Is that why your face is all-” he paused, holding his hand up towards him, gesturing vaguely, “-like that?”

“Nice comeback,” Richie replied, before returning to a deadpan expression, “can you turn the music down now?” Eddie stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, shaking his head.

“Maybe if you weren't up until two in the morning reciting your weird poetry you wouldn't be so tired, ever think of that?” he asked, a mocking lilt to his voice. Before Richie could say anything in return, he reached above him and slid the window down, leaving just a small gap at the bottom as to not muffle the noise, and promptly flipped him off through the glass. The song faded to a close, only to be replaced by something equally as upbeat and obnoxious.

Richie thought that if he could remove something else from existence, it would be Karma Chameleon by Culture Club.

“Fucking twat,” Richie muttered under his breath, just as Eddie's curtains were pulled shut. He sighed in defeat, shutting his own window and rolling his shoulders forward a few times, trying to ease some of the tension in his back. His lumpy old mattress was starting to become a prominent problem, there wasn't many days that he woke up without a crick in his neck. “Stupid mattress. Stupid shitty pop songs. Stupid fucking pink sweater bullshit.”

He collapsed onto the bed face-down, the bed creaking and complaining under him as he did, ignoring the painful way his glasses pressed into his face.

“'Weird poetry', like you can fucking talk, weirdo. At least I don't fucking iron my jeans.” He barked out a laugh at his own remark, then quickly realised he was talking and to someone who could not hear him, and sighed again. He rolled over onto his back, looking up at the cluster of glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling that he had put there when he was eight, only to never take them down, even as he was nearing the end of highschool. Most of them were peeling away at the corners. He had an urge to fix them, but knew he wouldn't, choosing instead to fixate on them with a weird sense of frustration.

It took around twenty minutes for him to actually get up. He only knew it took that long because five songs played during that time, averaging three and a half minutes each, he guessed. And Eddie sang every single lyric, so badly that at points Richie thought he must be consciously trying to sound worse than normal. It ended up being a rendition of Don't Go Breaking My Heart, in which Eddie sang both the male and female parts, even putting the effort in to sing them in alternating pitches, that drove Richie to the edge. He threw on a pair of jeans and the first shirt he picked up that didn't look too filthy, and trudged his way down the hall to the bathroom. He didn't have time for a shower, so he brushed his teeth and sprayed on an arguably excessive amount of aftershave before heading downstairs.

It wasn't necessarily a surprise to see the note on the fridge, but it still made him feel- something. Disappointment, perhaps, though he wasn't sure why it would be. It wasn't like it was a rare occasion for him to wake up to an empty household. He walked closer. Words scribbled on a piece of yellow lined paper torn from a legal pad, obviously done in a rush, held up by an old souvenir magnet from Niagara Falls. That trip had been before Richie was born, back when he figured his parents still led relatively interesting lives. Or maybe they didn't. Maybe it was a gift, and his parent's lives were never extraordinary in the slightest, not even enough to go to Ontario. He had never thought to ask.

Will be back tomorrow night. Leftovers in the fridge. -Mom x

He read the words aloud to himself, his voice sounding all too loud now that he was aware there was no one else to hear it. He told himself he didn't care, because truthfully, he wasn't sure if he did.

His parents weren't bad, per say. They did care about him, obviously, they must have. When they were home it was nice, they ate dinner together in front of the television, he helped his mother with the dishes, his father gave him pocket money for mowing the lawn. Hell, they even actually talked sometimes, mostly about the sports his father watched. Richie loved those talks, even though he really didn't have any interest in the subject matter. No, they were fine parents, he thought, perfectly fine. The problem was that they were rather... absent. Increasingly so since he hit high school. Nowadays it seemed that they were gone more than they weren't, either gone on some sort of business trip, or working late shifts, or his mother was at her book club, or his father was at the sports bar downtown. There was always something, and they barely ever specified what it was. Sometimes a week would pass and he wouldn't see them at all.

He swallowed the hurt that had started forming in the back of his throat, god knows he didn't need to acknowledge it, and opened the fridge. Empty. Like, absolutely empty.

“Good one, ma.”

He let the door swing shut and close with a soft thud, and took one last look at the note, as if it had somehow changed in the last ten seconds, or maybe to make sure he had read it right. Ten words are a lot to handle, after all, he easily could have misread it. But, unsurprisingly, he had read it right the first time, his parents still weren't home, and he would nothing to eat but cup noodles for the next two days. He didn't get the chance to mull over it for much longer, because right then a car horn sounded from outside, announcing his friend's arrival.

He bounded down the driveway to Mike's vega, where Beverly was leaning against the side of the hood, the front seat shifted forward already for him to climb into the back seat. He never understood how they had conned him into sitting in the back every day, seeing as he was tallest out of all three of them and the car was so small he would have been uncomfortable even in the front, but they had, and he did, and every day his back hated him for it. Don't complain, he reminded himself as he contorted himself into the seat, at least it's better than the bus. He sat in the middle of the bench, legs awkwardly spread apart, but it was the only way he could fit semi-comfortably.

“Any interesting developments today?” Mike questioned as Beverly readjusted the seat for herself.

“Eh, same old. Little fucker called me ugly, I told him 'at least I don't iron my jeans'.”

“Noice,” Bev exclaimed, swinging the door shut. The engine revved to life again and Mike pulled out onto the road. “Yeah, would have been pretty good. Except I didn't actually say it while he could hear me, so it's fucking wasted,” he huffed, slumping back into the seat, not that there was much room to do so.

“Nah, just save it for next time,” she replied, shooting him a toothy smile over her shoulder which he returned.

“Sadie's for breakfast?” Mike asked, and Beverly made a noise of excitement, sitting up in her seat.. “Hell yeah, we have time?”

“There's always time for Sadie's, miss Marsh,” Richie remarked, leaning forward over the centre console.

Sadie's was a small, relatively popular fast food joint in town. An unsuspecting visitor would undoubtedly be discouraged when entering; the establishment was cramped and borderline claustrophobic, the purple and white clad employees were always abrupt and rude, the floors were sticky and the tables hardly ever clean, and the food was downright awful and way too overpriced. But everyone knew you didn't go there for the service, or the food, or the atmosphere, or any of that crap. No, you went to Sadie's for the shakes. Those vanilla shakes were what kept the damn place in business, and for good reason. They were heaven, a perfect balance of flavour and consistency. Anyone who ever had one would tell you that it was the best thing they had tasted in their entire lives. No one could figure out how to recreate it, either, and not through lack of trying. No matter what people did, how closely they watched through the narrow window into the kitchen as they were being prepared, how many different variations and measurements and methods they tried, nothing was ever as good. It was almost magical. Richie and his friends probably went through over twenty a week between the four of them -the three in the car, plus Stan, though he often unfortunately missed out on their impromptu snack runs due to him refusing to ride in Mike's car.

They arrived just under ten minutes later. The restaurant was situated between two other buildings, looking almost like it was shoved in there at the last minute, and there wasn't actually anywhere to park. Bev quickly hopped out and gave a two fingered salute before marching inside, and Mike began to drive around the block, as he would do multiple times as they waited for Beverly to retrieve their order. The two of them sat, the radio filling the gaps in the comfortable silence between them.

“And coming up next,” the voice on the station hummed as the song faded out, “to brighten your drive to work on the glorious Monday morning; a hit from Katrina and the Waves-”

“-Oh god.”

Mike laughed as Richie lurched forward, his fingertips just barely brushing the radio dial before Mike grabbed his wrist with one hand and keeping the other on the wheel. The drumbeats faded in. Richie felt like he might cry. “Fucking hell, Hanlon, please don't make me listen to it,” he pleaded, sounding so genuinely desperate that it only caused the other to smile wider. “Aw why? Don't you like this song?”

“You know damn well I do no- watch the road, man!”

Mike swore under his breath and swerved back into his own lane, not letting up his grip on Richie's wrist despite his squirming.

“Driver picks the music, Rich,” he jeered, shoving Richie backwards. He fell back with an exaggerated groan, letting his head roll back against the edge of the seat. The lyrics started, and Mike started to sing along, or at least tried to. It quickly became clear that he didn't know any of the words.

“You suck,” Richie hissed, though it lacked any real heat.

“I know,” he returned, flashing a smile in the rearview mirror. It was so innocent looking and contagious that Richie had to bite back one of his own. Damn it Mike, Richie thought, why'd you have to be so pretty, huh? Cut me some slack here.

They went around the block twice before they spotted Beverly standing on the curb. In that time Richie did his best to block out the song, and the one after that, though the second one didn't make him want to rip his hair out nearly as much. He could only thank god that Mike wasn't one to blast his music at a ridiculous level.

Bev swung down into her seat, carefully balancing the cardboard cup tray on the centre console before shutting the door and doing up her seatbelt.

“Alright, pay up. 'Dollar seventy five,” she held her hand palm up over her shoulder, directed towards Richie. He dug around in his pocket and came up with a crumpled bill and a quarter, and placed it in her hand. “I owe you fifty cents,” he said, reaching forward to snatch one of the drinks. He had to stop himself from straight-up moaning as he took a first sip. “Holy fuck.”

“Mhm,” Bev hummed in agreement, lips wrapped around her own straw.

“Oh my god, Bev,” Mike said abruptly, “you'll never guess what came on the radio.”

Tag list (bolded won’t tag):  @fanficisgoodforthesoul @i-is-gazebo @dandeliontozier @panicatbakerst @howellhxlic @musicalsaftermusicals @bernaynay @bust-a-move-bev @reddie-to-go @richietoaster @omgboiledcabbages @reddietofall @flowersiren @lousytrashmouth @get-fcking-reddie

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

1

Now, Eren wasn’t stupid. Sure, he’d done a lot of stupid things, over his 27 years on the planet, that’d landed him in the position he was in now, but he wasn’t stupid. He had a job he took pride in. A roof over his head. A wrench in his hand. His headphones on. And as he wasn’t stupid, he held next to no interest in getting involved with his bosses illegal fight club run in the back of the garage workshop every Friday night. No. He wasn’t that dumb. Had he had the choice, Eren wouldn’t have been working over time, but unfortunately with money came next to no patience. The car beneath his hands worth more money than he’d ever make in his life. The owner absolutely had to have his car back from some kind of rich alpha business in the morning... Whenever they could drag themselves in after their champagne breakfast with an extra servicing of coke on the side... or put more accurately, they came stumbling in, yelling, when their precious chauffeurs dropped them off.

Leaning back, Eren wiped the sweat off his brow, throwing a filthy look towards where tonight’s fight was happening. Blood already clung heavily to the air. Too many alphas would do that, and the men fighting were fighting for next to no money. The winner could expect a face filled with broken teeth and maybe a few hundred to their name. All this fighting bullshit starting long before he started work at the garage, but for him to personally see it, this maybe the twice or third time. Fortunately overtime generally happened in preparation for the weekend, the garage owner tried not to have such rowdy alphas around cars worth upwards of a quarter of a million dollars. The piece of shit alpha who ran the garage shoving this into his lap as he was preparing to walk out the door for the day. The man bullshitting about going home to his family, even now Eren could see him standing there screaming at whoever he’d backed. Whatever, he’d get what was coming in time. Turning his attention back to the radiator, he was close to being able to get out of there that he could taste it. First came double checking the hose clamps, then filling the radiator and doing a pressure check. Maybe two more hours and he’d finally be free to enjoy the weekend... Fucking finally.

All of that, and now Eren was pressed to say just how things had taken a turn.

Leaving the garage, he’d damn near tripped over the figure sitting by the back door. Face bloodied, hand badly wrapped, alpha pheromones pouring off him, despite the slight figure of the slumped man. No. He wasn’t going to help him... Not until the man groaned, hand moving to his ribs under Eren’s wide eyed gaze. He knew he was fucked if the alpha was packing a gun... Now was not the time to be pausing instead of passing by

“Oi. Shitty, brat... got a light?”

“Who are you calling a shitty brat?”

“The tall lanky shit stain standing there, looking down on me like in goddamn infectious. Didn’t your Mumma teach you it’s rude to stare?”

“Didn’t yours teach you it’s rude to bleed out on the back step of someone’s shitty garage?”

Snorting at him, the stranger seemed genuinely amused

“Tch. Sorry to offend, I’ll be sure to drag my bleeding fucking arse out of here before your boss catches me”

Eren’s mother had worked behind bars for as long as he could remember. Some of the best advice he’d ever gotten came from drunks at the bar. The more they swore, they more honest they were. Ugh. He was going to regret this when he wound up murdered in the morning. At 6ft, he wasn’t exactly short, nor was he weak, but even he knew a gun or a knife would make work of his lanky arse in no time if he was sleeping

“Can you stand?”

“What?”

“Can you stand?”

Tilting his head back, the stranger stared up at him. Narrow grey eyes, bruising on his lip, and a look that questioned what the fuck Eren was on about, as he scowled. The man older than him, yet kind of interminable when it came to a clear age

“Look, if you’re trying to get into my pants, you can fuck right off”

Glaring down the scowling, Eren had no time for this. The air was getting chilly, his bed calling, and his mood already annoyed, bordering snappy. An angry alpha brought out the worst in him, and this wanker wasn’t helping his own cause

“I’m not so lonely as to stoop to scooping trash out the gutter. Your hand’s busted and your face looks like the wrong end of a dog, I’ll give you a place to crash then you can crawl back into whatever roach motel you call home come morning”

“What-the-fuck-ever. You got scotch at your place?”

“I don’t know, you going to let me fix your busted hand so I don’t have to have your death on my conscious?”

“I guess it’s better than dying in this filth”

Ignoring Eren’s hand, the strange alpha climbed fo his feet, hand clutching at his side. Only a moron would come to a fight club where everything was rigged. Watching the stranger limp forward, Eren gave a shake of his head. What the fuck was he doing? His mother would be glaring down at him from heaven for the latest of his stupid choices.

*

Levi didn’t know what the fuck he was thinking climbing onto the back of a strangers motorcycle. The lanky shit pestering him until he felt obligated to go home with him. His initial feeling was that the man was both unfairly tall, and most probably an idiot. Anyone working for a boss as crooked as the kid’s, had to be lacking in the intellectual department. Still, he wasn’t in the position to complain. A man had to wipe his own arse, and when there were bills to pay, he could only go where the work went.

Wincing as the stranger ground the gears, Levi ignored every fibre of his being. He was fucking filthy. Assaulted by germs, and the helmet wedged over his head held countless drops of sweat from its long haired owner. When the stranger offered no name, Levi wasn’t in a hurry to offer up his. If he did turn out to be some sort of creep, that just wanted a quick fuck, it was better not to know his name. No one in this world did anything for nothing. A lesson crammed down his throat his whole life. Maybe he’d finally find some kind of excitement in the otherwise stagnant monotony of working his arse off to pay his bills until he died.

Zipping through the city, the kid had no fear of fear as he wove in and out of the nighttime traffic. The ride a solid 20 minutes, anything that might have been said lost to the sound of the motorcycle, not that either of them seemed in any rush to utter a word. All he’d wanted was a damn cigarette before calling for a lift, now he was willingly let himself be kidnapped... his friends would never let him live it down, not that he had all that many friends to begin with.

Pulling up into a parking space barely large enough for his motorcycle, the stranger let out a long sigh, Levi mentally echoing it as he pulled his borrowed helmet off. If the parking around the apartment building was anything to go by, the place was a dump, only cureable by burning the whole lot to the ground. Various car, some in pieces, sat sadly. Car parts piled up against the far wall of the parking garage

“Can you walk?”

Growling at the stranger, Levi could walk perfectly fine. A few busted ribs hadn’t killed him yet. Though the amount of germs in this hell hole just might. His alpha equally annoyed at their surrounds

“Tch. You live in a dump”

“It’s got four walls and roof, what the fuck else could I possibly need. If you’re done sitting on my bike, follow me up”

Led inside the apartment complex, the ancient elevator didn’t work. Flecks of once cheerful forest green and cream white paint peeled from the walls, gone possibly decades without any form of basic maintenance. The building owner obviously a stingy bastard that couldn’t even spare $5 for new fucking lighting over each landing.

Four flights of stairs later, Levi hated to admit he was working up a sweat. Not once had the strange man who’d dragged him here looked back over his shoulder to enquire into his condition. For someone who’d decided he was “helping him”, Levi couldn’t be sure he didn’t intend to kill with all these damn stairs. Secretly he was sure more than one unfortunately citizen had expired on these damn stairs. Pausing to catch his breath, the break in his steps finally caused the mysterious stranger to cast a glance back at him

“Don’t worry, I’m down the hall. 104”

Biting down a hard “fuck off”, Levi grit his teeth, aggravating his split lip. He must be getting old. A split lip, knuckles bust from bare knuckle fighting, and damn bruised ribs. He’d come this far, going back down seemed like too much damn effort. Normally he’d go to his... Levi hesitated to use the word “friend” when the woman was a fucking menace verging on “mad scientist”, with a mouth on her that’d rival any alpha, yet calling said friend right about now would mean he’d never hear the fucking end of it from her. A man needed to pay his fucking bills, and she lived in goddamn “lala land”. What pile of shit he had gotten himself into this time?

[jeon-97-blog]

Grind Till I Own It || Mafia!Jeon Jungkook x Reader [M] Pt. 1

Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the son of the famous mafia gang TBB (The Black Base) and is a filthy rich man that gets whatever his finger points at - that includes even you.

Rated [M] for eventual smut/angst

You’d like to think that you were a flower amongst the thousands of sweaty bodies grinding on each other. A pure flower. If it wasn’t for your complete opposite best friend you wouldn’t even step foot in this whatever club, but of course she worked her magic on you and here you were. Here you were, quietly sipping on your beverage while the taste intoxicated you more and more each second that slipped away.

“If I were you - I’d slow down with that drink" 

You heard a man chuckle, accompanied by the sound of wiping glass. 

"They’re known for turning good girls into bad girls”.

You paused, letting his words melt in your brain before you raised your glass, a smirk painted on your pink tinted glossy lips.

“What makes you think I’m a good girl hmm?” You slurred, surprised the words could roll off your tongue despite your boozy state. You earned another chuckle from the bartender, he shook his head in - not disbelief but amusement in which he looked up at you with a grin.

“How come such a rebellious girl like yourself be alone in this dark place?” He mused. “Where’s your prince charming? Shouldn’t he be here and shield his princess?” Your eyes traveled to his name tag and made out his name as Jin.

“Well Jin” You started, downing the whole thing with a hiss at how the liquor burned your throat. You liked Jin, he had a way with his words that made you want to listen to him more - it was like his words hypnotized you to keep talking to him, guess that is the reason for him being the bartender. “This princess doesn’t need a prince charming, she’d rather have another drink though” You grinned, the corners of your lips stretching from cheek to cheek.

“Of co- Shit”

Jin caught you off guard with the sudden way he hissed. His eyes were wide as if he’d just seen a ghost pop up in front of him, it made your head spin around and holy fuck.

It wasn’t a ghost that had taken over both of your and Jin’s eyes - it was a God.

His ebony hair was neatly parted on each side, exhibiting his smooth forehead to the whole world. His three-piece suit was equally as black as his hair, though his tie was a haunting cherry red which made his chest pop up a bit. His eyes were sharp and alluring, he could probably turn anyone who laid their eyes on him a stone statue in seconds. This guy was attractive yes, but what wasn’t as attractive as himself was the half naked girls who had their arms snaked around his - maybe you were just jealous?.

You turned to Jin, your mouth hung open

“Who the fuck is that?”

Jin snickered while returning a few glasses that were wrapped around his fingers, he could clearly see that this was the first time you’ve ever seen him and it made Jin’s snicker turn into a low laughter. “Like what you see?”

You felt your cheeks heat up together with your hammering heart. You turned around, hoping that you’d catch another mesmerizing glimpse of the man in the suit but you frowned when it looked like he had vanished somewhere out of your sight. With a sigh of disappointment you proceeded to stand up, catching Jin’s attention.

“Leaving already? You’re about to miss the best part”

This perked up your attention and your head cocked to the side, your brows crushed together curiously while your arms were crossed above your chest. “Best part?”

Jin nodded, removing the egg white apron that was tied about his waist. He waved his hand in an excused manner to his - you guessed boss - and he motioned you to follow him. While walking, you noticed how Jin was familiar with almost all the people in the bar, it made you a tad bit jealous only knowing your best friend who was probably drunk with some guy. A smile played at your lips, knowing how she’d act the next day and how amusing it was to watch her walk with a chocolate bar in her mouth while yelling ‘asshole’ to the wall.

“So” Jin began, startling you a bit. “Let me tell you a little bit about The Black Base - or TBB in short. The guy you saw before is the son of the most famous mafia gangs around town, they’re so rich that rumors say his dad bathes in money” Jin explained, raising his head to greet the people that passed him.

“TBB? But what’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he, like, work or something?” You asked, flattening the tight black dress that hugged your curves a little too tight for your taste.

Jin laughed. “Work? The guy is born with a silver spoon in his mouth, work is the least thing he worries about” He paused. “If he even does have any worries”.

This guy sounded like a complete jerk to you and you haven’t even met him yet.

Jin had taken you to what looked like the more rich part of the bar. All the men wearing suits and tall glasses of expensive champagne hung from their hands. Filthy rich bastards You thought as you and Jin sat down on a round table, Jin gently nudged your leg, nodding to the left. His expression screaming 'look over there’ with a smirk.

And so you did.

And there he was.

“Wait- what’s his name?” You furiously looked back at jin, who was just smiling.

“Jeon Jungkook” Jin said. Ah, even his name sounded like rich dirt to your ears.

He looked as fine as before, not a single wrinkle had taken over his black suit and it looked like he had switched girls - huh, what a player You thought as you rolled your eyes over this strange feeling that bubbled in your stomach. Anger mixed with a drop of jealousy.

“Looks like they’re playing pool this time” Jin said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Aah Jin! My man”

Your heart was about to explode.

Jungkook was standing right next to Jin with a sly smirk, his body leaning comfortably with the support of his elbow on Jin’s shoulder. Jin chuckled.

“Hey, another game I see? Can I count on you if I bet you’ll win?”

Jungkook laughed. His laughter was loud and obnoxious, filling the whole room with it. You frowned because it muffled the song which happened to be your favorite one, damn was he loud.

Suddenly, his eyes pierced through your body and you forgot to breathe for a moment. His knife like eyes carved a hole in your heart and you shifted uncontrollably in your seat, rubbing your legs together to distract you from looking back at him - but you fell into his trap and looked.

“And who’s this”

It didn’t even sound like a question to you, it sounded more like a demand. His confidence shone brightly, and the way his eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips and further down made your heart flutter. You mentally scolded yourself for letting this jerk shake up your fragile heart, worst part is that you kind of liked how his attention was on you for the time being.

“Oh!” Jin lit up like a Christmas tree, he grinned at the way your cheeks were turning into a strawberry like shade. “This is Y/N, we recently met but I do consider us friends already”.

Jungkook raised a brow, his smirk more prominent than before. He - just like everyone else - had his hand occupied with a transparent glass of Champagne, the yellow fluid crashed from side to side as he swung his glass in a slow pace. Jungkook hummed in response.

“You seem to always befriend the most ethereal ones, Jin. No wonder they say you have a keen eyesight” He playfully nudged Jin’s shoulder, laughing.

You covered your mouth, unsure of how to reply to such a compliment. Not unsure - too embarrassed was the word. You were amazed at how easily this guy could compliment someone, let alone a complete stranger. He was probably blinded by his narcissism, jerk.

Jin shrugged. “This is Y/N’s first time here, I hope you show her what great games they display here, so she maybe can come again” Jin gained a laughter from your lips, Jin was definitely better than this jerk, he was more careful and gentle while Jungkook just cut to the chase. Painfully. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N” Jungkook tapped his chin each time he said your name, still smirking. “I like it” He caught your sight and winked before walking over to another table, making your heart jump up at the sudden way his eyes scanned you - as if you were the prey that his stomach growled for.

God, but he was so fucking attractive you patted yourself for not being like the other girls who would’ve thrown themselves on him a long time ago.

“Y/N! The game is about to start” Jin said and clapped his hands in excitement, his eyes were glued to the pool table and you followed his glance, your own eyes landing on the same table as your bartender friend. You tried to suppress a giggle at how Jin was shaking from being too excited - it was actually kind of cute.

“C'mon Jungkook, don’t let me down!” Jin shouted when Jungkook came out with a cue stick, he was waving to Jin but then his eyes were on you again. 

You gulped.

Why is he looking at me? You thought, chewing on your bottom lip nervously.

Jungkook looked focused and it honestly took you in surprise. How could this player be so dedicated to something when he couldn’t even stick with one girl? You shook your head, trying to get the poisonous thoughts out of your head and maybe, just maybe you could watch this game.

You were at a loss for words, completely shocked at how this game had ended - Jungkook had won five games in a row now. You couldn’t even imagine the money he had gotten from just one game. Your attention was focused on the people behind you who were whispering about both Jungkook and TBB.

“His father is rather lucky, even though he only has two months left”

Your eyes went wide when your mind finally digested what the man behind you had just said. You barely knew Jungkook but how come your heart felt as if it got hit with a hammer just now? Was this pity? Worry?.

You looked at the ground for a moment before Jin called your name, causing you to look up. 

“Jungkook said he was inviting us for a few drinks! You coming?” He smiled at you, showing off his pearly white teeth while his hand grabbed yours and without any sort of answer - he lead you to a table. 

There he was again, looking so incredibly handsome that you were afraid that if you touched him you’d burn yourself. 

“Ah! Jin, Y/N glad you could join me” Jungkook grinned, his tone low and raspy from all the alcohol he had poured down his throat  "Sit down, sit down".  

So you both sat down and Jungkook grabbed Jin’s glass, filling it with the same champagne as before and then moved on to yours. 

“Can you handle it, kitten?" 

The nickname he just gave you made a shiver travel down your spine and onto your toes, you couldn’t help but curl them underneath your heels. 

You mimicked his signature smirk

"Are you trying to intimidate me?" 

Jungkook chuckled, pouring down the gold liquid until your whole glass was mid full, you noticed how he seemed to sneak glances at you - but honestly, you didn’t mind at all.

Jeon Jungkook was sneaking glances at you anyway. 

"So” Jungkook began, leaning back on his chair, toying with his Rolex watch for awhile before your eyes met again. Something about his stare told you that you’re in danger, it was alarming. The way his eyes seemed to bore into your own created a spell in which you could not escape, no matter how much you wanted to avoid his stare, and how much you struggled; you were trapped. 

“Who’s the lucky one hm?”.

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion, your mind blank for awhile before you finally prepared your reply.

“No one” You simply said, tasting the drink in your glass. “My best friend wanted me to come, so, I did”. 

God. He was just sitting down and you still thought it was the hottest thing you’ve seen, what spell did he posses that made you feel like this? You were a deer and he was the beast in this game, and just like his other games - he was winning. 

Jungkook rubbed his chin, letting the words that came out of your alluring lips melt in his brain which seemed to be clouded with only you. He leaned forwards, hands clasped together and elbows on the table. 

Jin suddenly spoke up.

“Shit, the boss is calling for me” He said and stood up. “Enjoy yourselves” Jin flashed a weak smile before he vanished and you were left with Jungkook.

Alone. 

“Y/N”

Your head - as if you had no control over your actions - spun to the direction of Jungkook’s voice from where Jin had left. You gulped when he suddenly abandoned his seat and proceeded to sit next to you, Jungkook moved too swiftly for your eyes to even register what just happened - or how it even happened.

“I seem to take quite an interest in you, you’re.. Mmh  He paused to think, while doing this you found his arm wrapped around your waist and he was slowly pulling you to his body.

"You’re different my dear” Jungkook smirked, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shivered at the touch, cold yet it still had a burning flame dancing underneath his fingers, and it traveled all the way up to your neck.

“I-I am?” You gulped for the second time.

Jungkook chuckled. “Did you just stutter? Never knew bad girls could do that”.

Chewing on your bottom lip as if it was your last meal, you connected your legs together in order to conceal how nervous you were but of course - he found out rather quickly.

“Well” You straightened your back, emptying the glass. “You said I’m different, no?”

It was Jungkook’s turn to chew on his lip. He raised one eyebrows and huffed in nothing but amusement. He was pulling on your strings so you decided to pull his - was it working? God knows if. 

“You’re right - you are different” Jungkook said, rubbing his hand on your exposed thigh, slowly as if to tease you. “So different that it makes me want to have you all to myself” A dark chuckle made its way from his mouth and you felt his finger ghost around your panties. 

“Ah-”

You moaned out softly when Jungkook hit your wet core, rubbing it a bit too roughly - but then you liked it at the same time. You were just scared because fuck, you and him were both drunk, what if regrets crash down the next day?. 

“Princess, I really wanna get you out of that dress” Jungkook whispered, his hot breath laced with the smell of alcohol hit your neck and holy shit you wanted to get out of it too but you were drunk? Half of the time you didn’t even know what you were saying, shit could go down real fast.

“W-Wait, I’m drunk, you’re drunk. I don’t think this is a good idea, really.” You exhaled, wanting to deny how painful it was when his fingers left your panties. “Besides, you can get any girl you want here, how about that huh?”.

Jungkook was so fucking amused. You were putting on a good ass show right in front of him and it had been a long time since he felt something like this. Sure, he could get anyone he wanted but there was no one who could replace the flames in the pit of his stomach which he got from you. Jungkook wanted you and he will get you - no matter what but he had to play out your cards first, that’s just how the game goes right?.

Jungkook put his hands up in surrender, grinning. “My bad, my bad.  You’re right, but then again” He brought his face so close to yours that your noses brushed together. “I wouldn’t mind fucking you drunk”.

Your face was probably burning in different shades of pink and red. You were about to say something but then you heard the familiar voice of your best friend, and you couldn’t express how happy you felt to see her face. 

“Y/N I-” Your best friend, Seulbi came into view and once she saw you and Jungkook, she closed her mouth shut. Your eyes screamed 'I can explain’ but before you could do anything Seulbi grabbed your arm and yanked you out of the seat. 

“Ah! Seulbi!” Jungkook lit up, clasping his hands together. “Nice to see you again! Whoa, look at you! Seems like you’re doing good without me”.

You looked at your best friend, the corners of your lips curved downwards and now it was Seulgi’s eyes that screamed 'I can explain’. You looked at her and then Jungkook, then back at her.

“You know him?!”

“I- Well, we were something before. But trust me, I’m helping you over here by getting the fuck away from this, this asshole” Seulbi angrily said, her eyes cutting through Jungkook, every word that levitated from her mouth was wrapped up with pure hatred - like a gift from hell itself. 

“You never told me about him” You said sternly, letting your arms limp by your sides. You weren’t exactly mad at her, but there was something inside of you that made your stomach churn in displeasure. 

“Y/N, let’s go, he probably tried something on you didn’t he? God, here I’ll-" 

"Let go, Seulbi" 

Seulbi’s eyes widened. She’d seen you angry plenty of times before but this was something else - something more than just being angry. She could almost see the heat from your head in front of her eyes and it made her feel heartbroken, you two had been best friends for so long. Seulbi didn’t want this to end. 

No. 

Not like this. 

"Y/N, seriously? Don’t trust this guy, and I’m saying this from experience” Seulbi said, her voice soft and gentle yet still had something in it that made you scoff. “Get away from him" 

"Seulbi, honey, dear. Can’t you see what you’ve done? Can’t believe you kept me a secret from your best friend” Jungkook said mockingly, hands behind his back while he strolled in circles around you two. 

Jungkook mingled around you for a moment, leaning in to whisper into your ear. 

“What kind of best friend does this huh?" 

You knew that he was just talking bullshit to get you on his side. But then again, you still couldn’t believe that she lied about Jungkook. 

Couldn’t believe that she slept with one of the richest men just to have everything her finger landed on. It tore you apart. That explains why she never lends her clothes to you, because if Seulbi did - then her sugar daddy that is standing right beside you wouldn’t be her sugar daddy anymore. 

"Now I know. Now I know why you didn’t let me borrow your clothes, because your contract with 'JK daddy’ would get terminated” You snapped at Seulbi, making her step back. “Right?!”. 

You never yelled at Seulbi. Not even when she did something wrong, or when she broke something, but this. This was another story. A story that almost made you burst into tears because of how ridiculous it was. 

“My, my. I would certainly not call this a friendship, Seulbi, dear, how could you?” Jungkook cooed softly, his words felt like cotton in your ears and it made your heart jump. 

“Y/N, come with me”

You didn’t know what happened - or how it happened. But Jungkook was dragging you around the bar until the fresh air of the outside world hit you. And it was then that you finally exploded into small, transparent drops. Your tears rolled down your cheeks and this made Jungkook’s heart ache for the first time in awhile. He had never seen someone look so miserable but at the same time so captivating while they cried. 

Jungkook felt himself almost crying seeing you like this. Your cheeks puffy and sore, eyes slowly melting into a deep scarlet. The way your lips quivered with grief made him want to kiss the pain away but he stopped himself, noting what you said before about the two of you being drunk. But Jungkook couldn’t just let you stand there, couldn’t let you get drenched in the rain that started to pour down as if someone was pouring down water from a bucket. 

“Here, let me” Jungkook cleared his throat before shrugging off his jacket, wrapping it around your bare shoulders so you wouldn’t get cold. Jungkook grabbed his cellphone from the pocket and pressed a contact, bringing the phone close to his ear. 

“Jimin, its urgent - you know what to do” He simply said before putting the electric device back where he took it from. 

You didn’t know what to feel, or how to feel. The only person who you thought could be there for you had been deceiving you and hurting you in secret. As if playing hide and seek but now you found the truth and you ended her game, and you were positive that another round wouldn’t come sooner. 

“Forget her, yeah? You have to erase people like that from your life” Jungkook said, looking up at the dark sky. His hair was damp and it shone in the moonlight, emphasizing on his sharp and handsome features. This man was without a doubt God’s creation. He was elegant, and the white shirt that was getting wet in the rain gave you a sneak peak of how he’d look shirtless. Fuck, he looks so good like this. 

In less than a few minutes later the sound of a car pulling over was heard and Jungkook grabbed your hand, opening the door for you and you sat down. Sighing while removing the jet black jacket from your shoulders, you folded it neatly - considering how expensive it looked. 

“And who’s the princess this night" 

You heard a soft voice ask, looking up you were met with a pair of eyes that were harsh yet the little fat under them represented youth. The driver - who you assumed was Jimin - viewed you from the mirror and he looked quite attractive even though you only saw eyes and a glimpse of carrot colored strands. 

"No time for foolish games Jimin, the princess got her heart shattered into pieces” Jungkook uttered coldly. You guessed these two were great friends after you observed how Jimin’s eyes disappeared into small crescents, a chuckle escaping his rather plump lips. “Yes sir" 

"W-Where are we going?” You weakly asked, surprised at how your voice was able to still give a sound after crying. 

Jungkook smiled kindly your way. “My place" 

[the-tardis-in-221b-baker-street]

I'm gonna go ahead and answer all of these at once because I have no chill! Also going to put this as a keep reading because it's so long I don't want people to have to keep scrolling forever haha

1. Your favourite Young One? That's impossible to do! Vyvyan might just scrape the top spot. Rick and Neil are extremely close. I do love Mike still though (Sorry Mike!)

2. Are you more like Richie or Eddie from Bottom? I want to say i'm like Eddie because sometimes the stuff he does is a MOOD and he is ever so slightly more with it than Richie, but mentally when it comes to Richie's panicking, i'm Richie.

3. Do you have Bachelor Boys or any other books by Rik or Ade? UMMM do you mean my holy grail?! Of course I have The Bachelor Boys! I also have Neil's Book of the Dead (which made me love him even more as a character). I'm on the lookout for the lads other books.

4. Your favourite Comic Strip? Now that's tough. I can narrow it down to a few. I've not seen all of it yet due to not being able to get hold of the later ones. But out of the ones i've seen, up at the top: Bad News Tour/More Bad News. My favourite heavy metal mad lads! Pure genius writing, amazingly put together, bangin' music. The Beat Generation. You get innocent, desperate petal Ade, flamboyant Dawn French, just here for the paperwork Nigel, and sulky, 'woe is me' Rik. Dirty Movie. I cannot begin to tell you how hard I laughed at this one. It's so well written and excellent use of prop comedy. You can always tell the episodes Rik and Ade wrote because they are of such a high quality in writing and piecing together. Honourable mention: Eddie Monsoon: A Life?, Susie, A Fistful of Travellers' Cheques and Mr Jolly Lives Next Door.

5. Your favourite episode of The Young Ones? I mean it's got to be Bambi, right? Or maybe Interesting for the party... or maybe Flood... I don't know damn it!

6. Rank these Ade characters: Vyvyan Basterd, Eddie Hitler, Eddie Catflap, Adrian Dangerous and Vim Fuego.

1 - Vyvyan Basterd (of course that damn punk will be at the top) 2 - Vim Fuego (what can I say, he talks the talk and stupidly, drunkenly walks the walk for me!) 3 - Eddie Hitler (The immortal being himself. Seriously, how is he not a corpse?!) 4 - BOTH Eddie Catflap and Adrian Dangerous go on the same spot together. It's too hard to choose between the world's worst minder and the human cannonball.

7. Have you seen the episode of Hardwicke House featuring Rik and Ade? I have not, I didn't know that existed haha

8. Your favourite guest star in Filthy, Rich and Catflap? I think Barbara Windsor might be my favourite. Not only just because she's TV royalty but because of what Ade tweeted out once: "Babs was once in Filthy, Rich & Catflap which was filmed in front of a live audience. There was a tech fault, the lights went off and they couldn’t get them back on. Babs pipes up: “It’s alright my darlings, we’re all stars - we can fucking twinkle”

9. Have you ever written fanfic or made fanart for any of Rik and Ade's work? I've done a fan art piece for The Young Ones, and I guess you can count recreating Rick's screen accurate badges and Vyvyan's denim vest with screen accurate KISS t-shirt. I'm working on some other fan art... coming soon...

10. Your favourite Dangerous Brothers sketch? I only watched this for the first time recently and what a chaotic trip that was! I loved the babysitting sketch and the dungeon torture scene because of genius prop use.

11. Your opinion on Guest House Paradiso? I bloody loved it! Funnily enough, this is probably the first thing I watched with Rik and Ade in. Back in the first UK lockdown, my flatmate told me about it because it popped up on Netflix and that we were going to be watching it that evening because it was, as he said, "fucking funny". Well, we howled with laughter and I swear I cried laughing! He then went onto introduce me to Bottom and it went from there!

12. Your favourite Rik quote, from real life or a show? First thing that comes to mind: "I wouldn't discuss the colour of orange juice with you, NEIL!"

13. Whose hair is worse: Richie Rich or Richard Dangerous? As gross as both of their hair is, I think Richard Dangerous gets this one. What on earth was he thinking?!

14. Your favourite episode of Bottom? The camping episode is a classic and always makes me laugh. The funfair ferris wheel also makes me laugh so much! And of course the halloween episode. OH it's too hard to pick a favourite!

15. Rik and Ade's most memorable fight scene, in your opinion? It's got to be the bed falling through the ceiling in The Young Ones! It shocked me on a first watch at how dangerous it looked. That coupled with the fact I found out that Rik said to Ade that he was terrified and Ade just said "GOOD!"

16. Your favourite Bottom Live? I've not seen any of the Bottom Live performances yet. (I KNOW!) I'll get round to it though haha

17. Rank these Rik characters: Rick Pratt, Richie Richard, Richie Rich, Richard Dangerous and Colin Grigson.

1 - Rick Pratt (Obviously this snotty nosed gross boy is first.) 2 - Richie Richard (What a disaster of a human, but I love that other immortal being) 3 - Colin Grigson (As much as Colin is a spoilt brat, Bad News wouldn't be Bad News without him) 4 - BOTH Richie Rich and Richard Dangerous because I can't choose between the worlds worst actor and the danger enabler.

18. Do you think the Dangerous Brothers are supposed to be related or is it just a stage name?1 I saw it more as a stage name. (There were several hints that they have/are still getting off with each other off camera so it would be a bit weird if not)

9. Your favourite member of Bad News? I cannot choose between the lads! Vim is so far up his own arse, Colin is snooty and snotty, Den is a dumbass and Spider is a drumming dumbass. But that's the qualities I weirdly love about them because it's written so well.

20. Your favourite Ade quote, from real life or a show? First thing that comes to mind: "I'm very sober and very VERY bored!"

21. Do you have any headcanons linking Rik and Ade's various characters together? I liked the headcanon that Richie and Eddie were Rick's uncles! I also have a headcanon that Vyvyan would have listened to Bad News and would have probably been the one throwing something at Vim at a the concert that's on the album when he yells "THAT FUCKING NEARLY HIT ME!" in Hey Hey Bad News.

22. Your thoughts on the ending of The Young Ones? I mean, it's morbid but a comedic end that I wouldn't expect anything less! I think it would have benefitted from a series 3, personally. BUT, because they said that they were out of ideas, i'm glad they didn't force it.

23. Your favourite series/film/play Rik has done without Ade? Drop Dead Fred! My childhood hero.

24. Your favourite episode of Filthy, Rich and Catflap? I actually love the first episode. Pure genius. And the second episode because The Nolan Sisters was a perfect ending to the episode.

25. Who would win in a drinking competition: Eddie Hitler or Eddie Catflap? I oddly feel like the two Eddie's would go like Tammy and Ron Swanson's Mum drinking to win back Ron in Parks & Rec! It would effect neither of them. However, I reckon they would both end up under the table at the same time.

26. Have you seen The Man Behind The Green Door? I've not, not yet! (I KNOW! Another shocker!)

27. Would you dare go out drinking with the Dreamytime Escorts? Weirdly... maybe one drink...

28. Your favourite series/film/play Ade has done without Rik? I've only seen Ade in one other thing that he's done without Rik that I recall and that's Teenage Kicks. Loveable Dad lad.

29. How did you discover Rik and Ade? Rik and Ade as a duo, was through my flatmate showing me Guest House Paradiso. (See Q11)

30. Pick your favourite Rik and Ade duo. It's got to be Rick and Vyvyan. Love my gross boys.

30 Day Rik and Ade Cinematic Universe(TM) Challenge!

1. Your favourite Young One?

2. Are you more like Richie or Eddie from Bottom?

3. Do you have Bachelor Boys or any other books by Rik or Ade?

4. Your favourite Comic Strip?

5. Your favourite episode of The Young Ones?

6. Rank these Ade characters: Vyvyan Basterd, Eddie Hitler, Eddie Catflap, Adrian Dangerous and Vim Fuego.

7. Have you seen the episode of Hardwicke House featuring Rik and Ade?

8. Your favourite guest star in Filthy, Rich and Catflap?

9. Have you ever written fanfic or made fanart for any of Rik and Ade's work?

10. Your favourite Dangerous Brothers sketch?

11. Your opinion on Guest House Paradiso?

12. Your favourite Rik quote, from real life or a show?

13. Whose hair is worse: Richie Rich or Richard Dangerous?

14. Your favourite episode of Bottom?

15. Rik and Ade's most memorable fight scene, in your opinion?

16. Your favourite Bottom Live?

17. Rank these Rik characters: Rick Pratt, Richie Richard, Richie Rich, Richard Dangerous and Colin Grigson.

18. Do you think the Dangerous Brothers are supposed to be related or is it just a stage name?

19. Your favourite member of Bad News?

20. Your favourite Ade quote, from real life or a show?

21. Do you have any headcanons linking Rik and Ade's various characters together?

22. Your thoughts on the ending of The Young Ones?

23. Your favourite series/film/play Rik has done without Ade?

24. Your favourite episode of Filthy, Rich and Catflap?

25. Who would win in a drinking competition: Eddie Hitler or Eddie Catflap?

26. Have you seen The Man Behind The Green Door?

27. Would you dare go out drinking with the Dreamytime Escorts?

28. Your favourite series/film/play Ade has done without Rik?

29. How did you discover Rik and Ade?

30. Pick your favourite Rik and Ade duo.

Reblog to spread it!

[imaginesnkdorks]

Thank Goodness for Crazy

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |

Part VII: From Dancing in the Woods to Where I Belong

Pairing: Erwin/Reader;

Summary: That time Erwin saw someone in her birthday-suit.

Warning/s: Mention of nudity, and lots of innuendos ;)

 *thump* … - di! … *thump*

*thump* … Andi, - ake … up!

*thump* … I’m coming in!”

 “Andi, it’s almost five. Get up now an- huh? What the?! I’m sorry. I, uh. You weren’t answering!”

“Erwin, get out!!! OUT!”

            That was Erwin. And that was the moment that I lost my dignity – well, sort of. One thing I hate about myself so much is that I’m an early riser. No matter how late I sleep, I almost always wake up at four in the morning. It’s not every day, but it does happen most of the time and today is one of those days.

           Since I was supposed to start training at five, I started prepping the moment I woke up. I spent time mostly on just praying I won’t die, or at least break a bone. And since I got a room with a private bath, I spent the next half hour soaking and washing away my worries. And just when I got out – stark naked as I fucking forgot my towel – in comes Erwin.

           I’ve been dressed for ten minutes now yet I’m still on my bed, fully clothed and fully wrapped by a blanket. I am freaking humiliated. I want the earth to split up and swallow me whole.

           But I can’t spend the rest of my life wallowing. I mean, it was only Erwin.

           “Arrrrrrgggghhh!!!!”

           Alright, you can do this Andi. Just pretend like nothing happened.

           Gathering my strength, I finally left the security and comfort of my bed and trudged to the door.

           “Andi! I was just about to call you again. I, uhh.”

           Shit. First person I saw was Erwin, whom was about to knock on my door. The moment we locked eyes, I couldn’t help but remember his face when he saw me in my birthday suit. I guess he remembered it as well, because this might just be the first time that I ever saw Erwin flustered.

           I can feel my face heat up as my cheeks burn. This is not good. This awkwardness is killing me. Erwin cleared his throat and tried to break our awkward silence with more awkwardness.

           “I was sorry, for uhh. Earlier. I thought you were sleeping. I didn’t see anything. I mean uh,”

           “Let’s just forget about it. Please.”

           “Right. Training. Let’s go.”

           Remember how I used to say silence with Erwin has always been comfortable? I’m guessing it won’t be from now on, though I hope we’ll actually get over it. I should really stop talking about it.

           Our walk to the grounds felt like years. And despite it being really early, there are quite a number of people out. Great, more people to see the clumsy idiot that I am.

           “Erwin? Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to train with everyone? You know I trip on my own feet most of the time.”

           “We won’t be training out here. There’s a training room past the stables.”

           “Erwin! Andi! Where are you two off to?”

           Of all people, it was Hange who saw us. Despite my best efforts, I can’t help but blush involuntarily. Good thing mortification keep my mouth shut most of the time. Thing is, it’s not me I should be worried about.

           “Nowhere – uhh, I mean training. Yes, we’re off to the training hall.” Turns out Erwin is not as composed as he usually is.

           “Okay.” Hange said suspiciously. Her sudden silence is more unnerving than her noisiness. She didn’t say anything else, though she winked at us before running off.

           Thank you Hange, for making this more awkward.

           We continued walking in silence, and soon enough we reached the training room. It’s their version of a gym, as it turns out. Whatever workout equipment they have is in here. I wonder why it’s out here near the stables?

           As soon as we went inside, Erwin had me warm up. While I do the mandatory stretches, he briefed me on my training regimen.

           “Your strength building routine is still the same, we’ll just double your hours. And we will spar, too.”

           “What we’ve been doing all this time is strength building?” I asked whilst stretching my arms. All this time I thought he was just making me do whatever. Turns out he really was teaching me. I should really be more appreciative.

           “Okay. And about this sparring thing you mentioned, you won’t be serious at all right? I mean, you’ll go easy on me?”

           He really should. Wasn’t he the one who has been treating me like I’m breakable? But no. The asshole just laughed at me like I’m some kind of lunatic who said something stupid. Come to think of it, maybe that’s how I sounded to him just now.

           The day went on with Erwin joyfully torturing me. That was a good thing, though. With him being really hard on me and with me resenting him and planning to get him in a headlock, I forgot the events in the morning. Glad to say no awkwardness ensued in our private training time.

           But now that it’s over, I realized how high the sexual tension would’ve been if we weren’t so intent on beating each other senseless. We ended up on top of the other several times, and just thinking about it made me flush. I seriously am running out of synonyms with blush.

           I wish I could just forget and move on.

           “You’ve been awfully quiet today.” Nanaba commented. Dinnertime is noisy as usual, though I’m not joining in the fun. We’re at our usual table, except for Erwin and Mike who are with uncle Keith discussing things about the next expedition. And yes, I’m pretty much used to calling him uncle now.

           “I’m just tired. Erwin is training me really hard for that duel.”

           “Uh! You too? Mike wouldn’t get off my back today as well. He said he was trying to make sure I didn’t skip training for today.”

           “Do we really have to do it?” I know that these past month, I’ve improved my skills and stamina. It isn’t much, but I sure can lift a sack of rice now as easy as lifting a venti cup of my favorite drink. Okay, that’s an exaggeration but I really can lift heavier stuff now.

           But of course, my question is merely rhetorical. The both of us has no say in this, so she just shrugged in answer. But I guess a thought came to her.

           “We could tease those two into fighting!” Nanaba squealed excitedly. Seriously, the things that goes on in her head. My thoughts were probably apparent, because not five seconds after that she went from a ball of excitement to a pouting sour puss.  

           Dinner would have been peaceful if it weren’t for Hange. I don’t know where she’s from, but she’s as filthy as ever. She marched straight to our table and began to eat. I should’ve left while her mouth was stuffed. The moment she practically swallowed everything, her torture began.

           “Nanaba, guess what Andi did today.” The bespectacled brunette tried to intrigue my blonde friend – she even leaned on the table and her voice was curiously quiet for her.

           Before Nanaba could speak, I asked first. I can’t deny, Hange knows how to catch one’s attention. “Whatever do you mean?” I asked cockily. Seriously, I did nothing but torture myself today. Uh, I mean training. Taking a sip from my cup of room temperature water – these cavemen don’t have ice machines – I waited for her tale.

           “Andi and Erwin had an alone time in the woods, if you know what I mean.”

“Pfffeeehhhh!” The water went from my mouth to all over my chest and the table in front of me. Good thing most people were done and out during this time, but there are still some who saw me.

“What the hell Hange! Ugh. Fuck me.” I said almost instinctively as I remove my jacket and tried to wipe my front. Of course by now the asshole is laughing, along with Nanaba. But she wasn’t done, oh no.

           “Meh. But Erwin might.” And the creep winked at me. I knew cussing will bite me in the ass.

           “Hange!” All of the events this morning came flooding back, coupled with the mortification I am experiencing right now, I can’t help but burn up and be as bright red as big, ripe tomato. And it gave them more reasons to laugh, apparently.

           Even though the mess hall was almost empty, the worst people to be left behind are still there – namely Erwin. And all the racket that we’re making only attracted his attention.

           Despite knowing it won’t help my situation, I looked up at where Erwin was seating. We locked eyes and he raised his eyebrows as if asking why, to which I just shrugged. Nanaba and Hange didn’t miss this, so more teasing ensued.

           “I knew he have a soft spot for you. But I wouldn’t think you would go dancing in the woods with him.” Nanaba said, with the excitement of a middleschooler.

           “What? Dancing in the woods?”

           “Oh come on. You know, dancing without pants.”

           I’m frozen in my seat. These two are actually suggesting that me and Erwin are intimate? I am mortified. But as fate would have it, while these two are laughing off their asses, the man they thought I was hooking up with was walking towards us.

           “What happened? You’re wet, Andi.” Stating the obvious, he kindly handed me his handkerchief which I happily accepted.

           “Oh Erwin, it’s your fault that she’s wet.” Hange remarked and she and Nanaba went off in another laughing fit. I just shut my eyes in a feeble attempt to calm myself.

           “What?” Oh Erwin. I don’t know if you really are innocent or just playing stupid sometimes.

           “Shut up guys. And Nanaba? You better train hard. I’ll crush you at our duel.” I then rushed off to my room, with Erwin right at my tail.

           “What was that about?”

           “Just something Hange said.”

           “Oh. By the way, next Sunday there is a ball and commander Shadis wants you to come with us.”

           “Me? Why?” A ball sounds so medieval to my ears. “I’m a stranger, why would he want me there?”

           “Ah, you see this is a fundraiser ball. All branches of the military will be there, hoping that some rich person would sponsor them. And we’re after the same thing. Bringing you along won’t hurt our chances.”

           “So he’s going to sell me? Figures.”

           “No. I won’t let him do that.” I then turned and looked him in the eye, giving him the best death glare I could manage. Sighing loudly, he went on “not sell per se. We’ll just keep them entertained, and remind them that we’re from the survey corps. Besides, they’re harmless. You can flip them anytime you want.”

           “So I’m officially a survey corps soldier?”

           “Yes.”

           In my excitement, I rushed up to hug the man. Boy, am I thrilled! He tensed up, then I remembered I’m still wet and cold. And just when I was about to let go, I felt his arms around me. Despite everything that happened today, this felt nice.

           I’ve been quite happy here, but I felt out of place at times. But today, I feel like I belong.

Copyright © 2017 by imaginesnkdorks. All rights reserved

[theincorrigiblemagpie]

Rishton Ka Chakravyuh (Episode 21) - Down With Baldev OFF With His Head

Aug 30, 2017

So after Baldev says he’ll leave Lal Mahal if Satarupa and Anami stay, Pujan and Co. also say they’ll follow Baldev bhaiya. LOL ghanta. This Dadaji is the WORST judge of character since King Duncan. Bunch of freeloaders will die before they leave.

Vikram is all “Satarupa, I have to choose between you and my family. What would you have done in my place?”

Er...is Satarupa also not family? Even if you don’t acknowledge Anami? #MenAreTrash and you can take that to the bank.

Pujan wants to make sure everything is clear so he tells Vikram that Satarupa and Anami must never have anything to do with this ghar or the business. Yeah, dekhte hai Royal Steel kaise chalta hai Satarupa ke bina, seeing all y’all’s competence levels.

Satarupa agrees to that and then says “mera koi lena-dena nahi hoga but Anami ke liye kuch nahi keh sakte cos this is her haq.”

Bas. Baldev jumps in about nursing a snake and whatnot and Dadaji says Anami will not get one phooti-kaudi. Ek toh, Baldev, you stop watching E! and the Tay-Kanye-Kim feud. Second, wow suddenly apne nalayak bete par itna bharosa, Dadu.

Aaaand Satarupa erupts. She asks Pujan and Baldev what they’ve ever done for the family and business apart from having the fortune of their useless asses being born into this family, whereas she’s toiled and worked and even sacrificed her children to this enterprise. And then she tells Baldev ki woh bhagwan se bhi ladd jayegi for her kids toh Baldev kya cheez hai. I actually paused and rewinded to watch again. She DESTROYS Baldev LMAO. And FINALLY, she says what we’ve been wanting her to say all along-- Baldev and Vikram had lied to her about Narottam being Baldev’s illegitimate son before marrying her so it’s a bit rich for them to harp on about sharam and izzat and whatnot. She says she’ll leave with Anami but they have another thing coming if they think this is the end. Evil Vikram has the grace to look shamefaced.

And then Anju Mahendra speaks up. Uff Juhi (the only other friend I’ve managed to corral into watching this with me) and I were wondering what she was silently doing all along. Gayatri tells everyone to shut it and not make more of a tamasha than has already happened and until they get to the bottom of Anami’s truth, Satarupa and Anami will not go anywhere. Aha!

Satarupa goes to recuperate in Vatsalya’s room which she still keeps locked to everyone else. I’m glad he’s still a part of this show even in death. And then Damo informs her that this is the third day Anami hasn’t eaten.

Anami is asleep with an untouched plate of food beside her and Dadi strolls by to see. She carefully covers her up with the blanket which she’d kicked off and leaves, troubled. Dadi has definitely been won over by that massage-trick. She goes to brood in her own room and I have just one question. Is this purple gown the only nightclothes she has? I’ve noticed everyone in this house wears the same nightclothes every day, more or less. Little bit of a slip up.

Anyway, she tries to tell the despotic fool she’s married to that she senses a resemblance between Anami and Vatsalya, especially in their touch and he tells her that this is all Satarupa’s plan. A SLOW CLAP FOR THIS IDJIT. THAT DADI, PART OF THE SATARUPA SUX CLUB, THINKS ANAMI IS STRANGELY LIKE VATSALYA, IS PART OF THE SAME SATARUPA’S PLAN.

My god, he asks to be assassinated.

He tells her to be strong or whatever nonsense.

In the meantime, Anami wants to bathe at Poonam’s house and Satarupa threatens to bulldoze Poonam’s house if she does. Anami concedes this round but promises to be back for more. Uff I can’t imagine these petty conflicts on a daily basis and Anami’s doing it all on an empty stomach. Props to her. Also, has she not been bathing for 3 days, then? Eww.

Here for the Anami-Poonam bonding, though.

Satarupa goes to see Whiny Manchild aka the Petulant Nincompoop she has the misfortune to be married to and he whines some more. I think the last 7 minutes of this episode were written to see just how much I can loathe a single TV character. Like boss, Baldev reminds me of the most annoying days of Anjali Di on IPKKND, and she at least had her moments. This man has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I guess points to Ajay Chaudhary if I’m meant to loathe Baldev? No points at all if he’s meant to come across as complex and sympathetic. Minus points for that.

Naturally, they start arguing in minutes and it deteriorates to “Vatsalya was MY son and only a power-move for you and uss jangli jaahil ladki ka naam mat jodna uske saath etc etc.” Baldev is a textbook example for the very WORST of old feudal strongholds-- entitled, feels wronged despite his enormous privilege, whines non-stop, won’t lift a finger to make himself a cup of tea (literally), and is a filthy bigot when it comes to those he considers beneath him in class and caste. I make a strong case for the guillotine again.

Satarupa tells him to fuck off and that he’ll love Anami some day and he says he’d kill himself first. LISTEN I’LL PULL THE TRIGGER FOR YOU MYSELF. Anami can do WAY better for a second dad. I mean, that girl has such genuinely terrible luck when it comes to birth parents.

Tomorrow Dadi and Anami bond over Anami’s hair and Satarupa (FINALLY) wants a DNA test for Anami which some lawyer type dude tells her only the CBI can requisition. Hain? Since when? Or maybe it has to do with the investigation? I hope they explain this weird caveat tomorrow. She tries to call Adhiraj but Ila tells her they’re not available that day and Satarupa overhears Adhiraj asking for directions to a Benaras address and is disturbed. Adhiraj actually goes to the Pathaks and wants to record them presumably telling their story.

Umm not to pour water on plans to destabilize Lal Mahal but isn’t this a bit much for an investigation where he hasn’t even conclusively established whether the death was murder or an accident? Just how will the Pathak testimony fit in and this is exactly the sort of extra-judicial stuff the cops (rightly) get shit for.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Once Bitten, Twice Shy (ao3 link) Fandom: Flash, DC's Legends (characterization) Pairing: gen; some background hints of Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Leonard Snart doesn't trust easy, but his aunt Noga - who some people call Nora - assures him that the man she married, Henry Allen, is a good one.

So when Len sees in the newspaper that Henry Allen has been arrested for killing his wife, he has only one thought.

"I'm going to kill him."

A/N: For @oneiriad, who requested this to be cheered up from the season finale. I...tried?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When Len was very small, he liked to play tag with his aunt Noga. She was his mother’s half-sister – much, much younger than his mom, more of an elder sister than an aunt, a product of an affair which a rich white man who’d adopted Noga for his own when he found out.

He called her Nora, not Noga, because he said it was more “American”, but Len’s mother and grandmother cheerfully ignored him and continued to call her the name of her birth, though they permitted him to take her away so she could have what they called a better life.

Len figured it was because she was rich now. Respectable. But she was still his aunt.

When Len got a little older, and his dad went to prison and came back different, things changed. The rich man didn’t like his baby girl associating with criminals, so Noga couldn’t come around anymore.

One day, Len had taken the bus all the way to Noga’s house in the nice part of town.

“Can I live with you?” he asked. “I don’t wanna be at home anymore.”

She’d taken one look at his black eye and the ginger way he walked, and she’d let him right in.

They’d managed two whole days, Len hiding in Noga’s room and her bringing him food and stuff to read, before Noga’s father found out and kicked Len out, yelling that he wouldn’t ever permit his daughter to be associated with such filthy trash, that he’d get a restraining order, that Len would go to jail if he ever saw her again.

Noga had sobbed and begged, but nothing had helped.

Len had gone home, and his dad hadn’t been happy with him, either.

That’d been the first time it was bad enough for him to have to go to the hospital.

Len’s mother decided it was time to leave, even though she was so very sick by now.

Len will never be sure if her death a week later, diagnosed as either natural causes or, at worst, an accidental overdose of her medication, was natural. He doesn’t like to think about it.

He doesn’t think about it, for years and years.

It’s not until later – much later, when he has Lisa to think of and he’s gone to juvie and back once already – that he sees Noga again. She’s wearing a college shirt, some fancy place out east, and she’s holding hands with some big guy and smiling.

Len feels the shame in his thrift store clothing and his ragged jeans but – family is family.

He goes up to them and says to the guy, “You’d better be treating her right.”

The guy bristles a little – he’s a wealthy college white boy, after all, and they don’t take too kindly to young poor black men telling them anything, no matter how pale their complexion – but Noga recognizes him immediately, shrieking and wrapping her hands around him. “Lenny! Lenny!”

He hugs her back.

“You know him?” the guy says, good humor restored, though he’s still wary.

“My nephew,” she says, wiping her eyes. “Oh, Lenny – my dad said he’d sent you away!”

“He did,” Len says, puzzled. “Back to my house.”

“No – he said you’d left the city! And then Hagit died and he wouldn’t even let me go to her funeral and – oh, Lenny.”

Len softens. He’d never liked her dad anyway, and he has plenty of experience with bad dads. He guesses he can’t hold her long absence against her after all.

“Henry Allen,” the guy says, sticking out a hand. “We’re both pre-med, Columbia. What’re you?”

Len stares at him. “Poor,” he says.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m poor,” Len clarifies. “I ain’t in college.”

“…oh.”

“You dating this bozo?” Len asks Noga, nodding at him.

She blushes, which Len takes as a yes.

“Don’t,” Len says. “Oblivious rich boys like this, they’ll just turn into your dad. Or worse, mine.”

Henry looks offended.

“Oh, no,” Noga says. “Henry’s nothing like that.”

Len snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “And your sis thought my dad was a nice good man, just ‘cause he was a cop, and look where that got her, huh? A grave, that’s what.”

“I assure you,” Henry says stiffly. “I am not abusive. And I am very much in love with Nora.”

Len arches his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. No one can convince a woman in love that her man’s wrong.

Noga reaches out and grabs Len’s hands. “Come to lunch with us,” she says. “I insist. You can keep an eye on Henry.”

“Nora!” Henry protests.

“He’s my nephew,” Noga says, steel in her tone. “And he’s worried about me. He deserves a chance to see that you’re the good man I know you are.”

He’s still pouting. He’s used to being given the benefit of the doubt, a nice young man, upstanding and smart and follows all the rules. Police probably let him walk off crime scenes with a promise that he’ll come back later to give his testimony.

Hell, police probably don’t even stop him.

“If it’s a problem, Henry,” Noga says, pleasant as can be, “then perhaps Leonard and I should go to lunch by ourselves.”

Len loves his aunt.

“No,” Henry says hastily. “I’m happy to come along.” He takes a moment and visibly masters himself, swallowing away his annoyance, and he’s pleasant for the rest of the day.

Len has to give him one thing, though; no matter how often he goes to check on her, Henry – who becomes a surgeon, of all hoity-toity things, while Noga goes into chemistry – is madly in love with her.

He’s in love with her when they’re dating.

He’s in love with her at their wedding, which Len sneaks Lisa out of pre-school to attend – she gets to be the flower girl – and which Len’s dad never finds out about.

He’s in love with her, overwhelming in love with her, when their child is born. Lisa loves having a cousin who’s nearly her age, though she insists the difference between five and newborn is immense and uncountable and this makes her old now.

He’s in love with her when they buy a house in Central City – far away from his parents in the east coast, but in the city she loves best.

He’s in love with her when their boy, Barry, grows up, and he never hits him, not once. Lisa writes him letters – they’re pen-pals, once Barry’s old enough to learn his alphabet – because despite the fact that they’re in the same city, Len’s dad has forbidden them to contact each other.

Len visits only rarely – he’s often in prison, in those early years – but Henry never forbids it, even though Len’s a criminal. Len can see it on his face that he wants to, but Noga insists and he’s madly in love with her and so he agrees.

Sure, he’s on the phone with his cop buddy from down the street an unusually high number of times, but Len makes sure never to be seen by said cop buddy. He doesn’t want to welcome street harassment for his legal activities, and he knows how cops like to close ranks around their friends and think that harassment – little arrests here, traffic stops there – is just a way of showing their affection for their friends, and fuck the law and human rights violations involved.

Henry’s so in love, in fact, that Len starts to feel comfortable with him. The surgeon who spends his free time staffing a clinic for homeless and low-income patients; the father who makes sure to spend time at home to help Noga with the house and to play with Barry; the husband who loves his wife so much a blind man could see it on his face.

That’s what makes it all the worse when Len wakes up to Lisa running into his apartment sobbing, holding out the paper, and the front cover is Henry Allen being taken to prison for the murder of his wife, Nora Allen.

Len is very, very still and something inside of him is very, very cold.

“I’m going to kill him,” he says.

“Good,” Lisa replies.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s not easy, of course. Henry Allen is under strict police custody during his trial, and spends much of his first few months segregated from the prison population. Besides, Len doesn’t want to have him killed. He wants to kill him.

He’s got plans in motion, though. The second Henry Allen is released into gen pop, Leonard Snart is going to get caught for a minor violation that’ll put him in the can just long enough to make his feelings on the matter very clear.

But first, Len figures he’d better check in on his cousin. He remembers losing a mother.

Barry’s been taken in by the cop – of course – but Len knows how cops work. A cop radio, Lisa getting her friends to start shit, and he’s off on an all-night shift.

The house is pathetically easy to break into, especially once he’s cut the phone line.

Ends up being a good idea, because the cop’s daughter goes straight for the phone.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he tells her. “Cross my heart and swear to die.” He even does the cross. Lisa’s trained him good; she's only a few years older than these kids.

She stops and stares. “What type of thief are you?”

“A very good one,” he says. “Except for the fact that I’m not here to steal anything.”

“Yeah, and you’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell me, too,” she shoots back, edging towards the kitchen. Probably for a knife or a back-up gun.

Cute kid.

He rolls his eyes. “How’s Barry doing?” he asks her.

That makes her pause. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Iris West. Barry’s best friend since he was six,” Len says. “You walk to school with him every day. He must’ve mentioned his criminal cousin pen-pals at some point.”

Her eyes go wide. “Wait,” she says. “You’re –”

“Cousin Lenny?” Barry says, coming in through the door. “Cousin Lenny!”

He practically tackles Len.

“Ouch,” Len says, staggering back a bit. “Yeesh, kid, you got big.”

Barry is crying.

Len kneels down. “Hey, hey,” he says. “There we go. I’m here. Cry all you like, kiddo.”

“Why didn’t you just come in the normal way?” Iris says crossly. “I thought you were a robber.”

“Not stealing, so no robbery,” Len says. “Technically still B&E. And family or no family, turns out your dad isn’t the type to be a-okay with criminals coming in here where you are.”

Len didn’t actually ask Joe West for permission, but that was because he knew he’d refuse.

Sure enough, Iris wrinkles her nose and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “He’s overprotective that way. You’re Nora’s brother, right?”

“Nephew, but yeah,” Len says, ignoring the name.

“Good,” she says. "As long as you're not Henry's."

“Don’t say that!” Barry shouts. “My dad didn’t do it! It wasn’t him!”

Len blinks.

“Well,” he says. “Damnit. Now I’m going to have to change my revenge plans. Who did do it?”

“You won’t believe me,” Barry says. He's shaking.

“Barry has trauma,” Iris says with the sort of self-importance that kids that age get when they’re talking about grown-up stuff. “He imagined a man appearing in a bolt of lightning. He’s seeing a shrink about it.”

“I did see a man in the lightning,” Barry whispers, his lip quivering. “I did. It wasn’t Dad.”

“It was, Bear,” Iris says, not without sympathy, but with the sort of nose-in-the-air bullcrap that someone who doesn’t even remember her only experience with severe trauma can pull.

Len’s grown up his whole life being told that his dad wasn’t really abusive. He will never be party to that sort of gaslighting, not even when it sounds right.

“If Barry says he saw a man in the lightning, he saw a man in the lightning,” Len says firmly.

“You believe me?” Barry asks, shocked.

“If you’re sure it was that man and not your dad, then yeah,” Len says. "I'll give you the benefit of a doubt."

Barry bursts into tears again and hugs Len tight.

“You really think so?” Iris asks, sounding doubtful but also like she’s got a bit of belief still left in her.

“Two words,” Len says to her. “Special effects.”

She looks taken aback, like she never considered the possibility of someone manufacturing the effect. “Oh,” she says. “Oh! So it could’ve been something else, not something supernatural or magic?”

“Any technology that’s advanced enough looks like magic,” Len points out. “You take a television to someone raised in Amish country, they’ll think you captured an image of the people in a box.” He’s pretty sure that’s actually an urban legend, but whatever, Iris is nodding now. “I’ve used flash-bang grenades myself –” Once, and it was an accident. “– and there’s all sorts of people in Central who could’ve accessed some new tech that you and me don’t know about. We’ve got all those big old lab with the military contracts, after all.”

“That’s true,” Iris says. “Oh, Barry, I’m so sorry for not believing you!”

“It’s okay,” Barry says, wiping his eyes. “You think Joe’ll listen now?”

The way Iris hesitates is perfectly clear to Len.

The answer is no.

“Your dad ever hit you?” he asks her.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, no! Never!”

“What about calling you names?”

She shakes her head.

“Good,” Len says. “If he ever does anything like that – and I mean anything, from yelling to controlling your money to saying you can’t do shit that’s perfectly reasonable for your age – you find a way to let me know, okay?”

“My dad isn’t like that,” Iris says. Her lip’s quivering.

“But he’s happy to tell Barry he’s nuts, isn’t he?” Len says pointedly. “Tell other people he’s nuts, too. You know what happens after that? First it starts with ‘you’re lying’. Then it goes to ‘you’re nuts’ or ‘you’re bad’ because the kid doesn’t change his story. Then it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Barry and Iris chorus.

Len’s lip twists in disgust. “Yeah,” he says. “A buddy of mine, he’s got some issues, but his foster parents got the shrink to put him on drugs that make him all dead inside. They like it better when he doesn’t have the energy to move or nothing, says it makes him less trouble. And if they can’t find drugs that’ll do it, they send you to an institution. A nuthouse. And they do real bad things to you there.”

“That won’t happen!” Iris exclaims. “Barry, tell him.”

But Barry – Barry’s shaking. “They said,” he whispers. “Joe and the state psychologist and the district attorney, they said I had severe trauma and that maybe it’d be better for me to be put under observation.”

“Where?” Len asks, deeply alarmed.

“I dunno. Some hospital.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Len says. Iris has her hand over her mouth in horror, but she’s nodding.

“You can’t,” she says, tears in her eyes. “I saw One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest last week –”

“Iris, Joe said not to!”

“I went over to Lily and Louie’s house and we saw it there, because their parents respect our maturity. But, Barry, you can’t let them do that to you!”

“I won’t let it happen,” Len repeats, even though he’s also seen that movie and he really hopes it’s all Hollywood exaggeration. He’s not taking any chances, though. “Barry, you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“You’re coming with me,” Len says. He hadn’t expected to have to, but damnit, he’s going to. “Iris, can you just say that Barry ran off? I’ll have my baby sister Lisa write you letters saying he’s okay and giving you a number you can contact us with.”

Iris nods. “You’d better,” she says.

“Barry, get some stuff.”

“It’s still in the bags,” Barry says. “I never unpacked…”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Iris waves them goodbye. “I won’t tell Dad,” she says.

“Tell him what you like,” Len says. He hesitates. “Actually, there is one thing you could do. Could you tell him this happened around 10 o’clock?”

Iris blinks. “Sure,” she says.

“Thanks. We’ll lay low till the heat passes – expect us to contact you,” he thinks about it, “on the first of the next month. Okay?”

She nods.

“C’mon, Barry.”

He drives him to Mick’s place, where Lisa is currently crashing. Barry runs over and hugs her, too.

Mick looks vaguely mystified. “I thought you were just gonna check if he’s okay?” he asks.

“I need you to watch him,” Len says. “Part B is going into effect now.”

“But –”

“Sorry, buddy. Just me this time. I need you to watch Barry.” Len hesitates, lowers his voice. “They were talking about institutionalizing him.”

Mick’s eyes narrow. He didn’t talk about his time being involuntary institutionalized much, but Len knew it was a sore spot.

“I’ll watch ‘em,” Mick promises.

“Good,” Len says, and goes to get himself arrested. He swings by the kitchen and gets some vodka first.

Chugging it is not the worst experience of Len’s life – he has too many to compare to – but it’s vile regardless.

Given Len’s malnutrition-derived underweight body, it doesn’t take long for his blood alcohol level to get up there. Len feels sick, but he’ll fail a test, and Mick is even now calling their favorite bar to get someone to testify that Len’s been drinking there all evening. They’ve already created the doctored footage – last week, thank god – so they’ll just slap it into their video camera recording.

It takes four attempts for Len to get caught shoplifting.

Seriously. How often can he stagger in and out of the goddamn door before they notice?

The police that come and arrest him behave just as he expects them to: they arrest him (violently), then they take his statement (drunk at a bar, didn’t realize he was doing it), and then they go check the bar.

By the time Joe West storms into the station, yelling about Leonard Snart having broken into his house and kidnapped his foster kid, Leonard Snart has been cooling his heels in the police cells for hours and hours.

Best alibi in the world.

It doesn’t take long for Iris to crack about the timeline, but by that point, the cops have checked Len’s alibi with the bar for the earlier time period.

“Sorry, Joe,” someone says not far outside of Len’s cell. “It wasn’t him.”

“Snart’s smart,” Joe argues. “Why’d he ask her to change the timeline?”

“Joe…”

“What?!”

“Joe, we have video evidence of him getting snookered in a bar in downtown during the period she says it’s supposed to have happened.”

“So it’s doctored!”

“Joe, you said yourself your kid was having trouble telling the truth.”

“What – no! That was Barry, not Iris!”

“You know how kids are that age, Joe! Barry lies all the time, Iris starts picking it up. He probably just ran away from home.”

“But – Iris –”

“I’m telling you, Joe. Traumatized kids lie, we all know that, and we also know how they can get people into it. Iris probably thinks she’s doing Barry a favor. I mean, you heard her! The poor kid got it into his head he was going to be tossed into a mental asylum.”

Joe scrubs at his face. “Yeah, I know. I guess he overheard us talking about putting him into a hospital for some supervision and misunderstood. But Snart’s where they got the idea! If we hold him -”

“We can’t hold him,” the other guy says firmly. “Not on Iris’ testimony. Her story keeps changing, and, well…it’s not going to hold up well in court, okay? I’m telling you now, no DA in the world will pen him for kidnapping.”

Len has thrown up like three times at this point, so he’s feeling sour.

“Hey, Detective!” he yells. “You got something against me, huh? Bet you killed the kid yourself and stuffed him down a hole somewhere and thought hey, that Snart guy, I can pin it on him. Bet you that’s what happened!”

The match hits the fuse.

Joe barrels into Len’s cell and grabs him by the throat, throwing him against the wall. “Where’s Barry?” he bellows. “Where’s Barry, you sick sonofabitch?”

“Barry?” Len chokes. “What about Barry?” He’s feeling really sick again. “What happened to Barry?”

“You know exactly what happened to Barry, you fucking –”

Len throws up all over him.

West steps back in disgust.

“Barry,” Len says groggily. “He’s – I think knew a Barry once. I never touched a Barry.” He feels his eyes fill with tears. It happens a lot when he’s drinking. “That hurt, man.”

By that point, the other cops have burst in and are pulling Joe away. “Damnit, Joe, you can’t do that!” one is hissing. “That’s police brutality!”

Damn right it is.

“I’m telling you,” Joe is saying. “He knows Barry. They were cousins.”

“What, with Snart?” another policeman scoffs. “Henry Allen and Lewis Snart lived on as far apart on the scale as you can get, Joe. You’re reaching.”

“I swear! Henry told me they were!”

“Henry,” the first policeman says skeptically. “Henry Allen. The guy that murdered his wife. That’s the guy you’re trusting with this.”

Joe falters.

Len can see the doubt creeping in.

Serves you right, Len thinks at him fiercely. Gaslighting Barry. Hope you like it when it’s your turn, motherfucker.

He happens to know that Noga’s dad had her birth certificate changed to list no mother at all in order to make sure that Len’s family would never be able to establish any claim to her.

Len hopes for Barry’s sake that Henry Allen is, in fact, innocent. But he’s not going to trust the justice system’s conclusions with it, oh no.

He doesn’t have long now, though. Len might only have been caught with attempted shoplifting, mitigated by his drunkenness, but with his record he’s still getting tossed in the clink. He’s betting a week, maybe two. Just to scare him straight.

Just enough time to have a little chat with Henry Allen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry Allen is a broken man.

Len paid good money to make sure nothing would happen to him in prison, so he knows it’s nothing like that.

No, this is a man who’s lost everything: his wife, his son, his job, his standing in the community, everything.

The key question, though, is why.

Through his own actions? Through someone else’s?

Len makes his way straight to him.

Henry doesn’t look up until Len’s right in front of him.

When he does, he just looks tired and sad. “Hi, Leonard,” he says. “Here to talk about Nora?”

Len arches his eyebrows. “Did you kill her?”

Henry looks taken back, honestly taken aback, that Len doesn’t go straight for the killing portion of the events, much less than Len seems to be asking a question on the subject.

“The courts –” Henry starts.

“Fuck the courts,” Len says flatly. “And fuck the police, too. Did you kill her?”

Henry exhales. “No,” he whispers. “When I got there, she’d already been stabbed. She was trying to get the knife out, but that would’ve made her bleed out right away. There wouldn’t have been any hope. So I went to her - I held the knife in so that she wouldn’t lose any more blood – I was trying to save her –” He closes his eyes. “And in the end all I could do was tell her I loved her as she slipped away from me.”

Damnit.

Len believes him.

Len’s met murderers of all stripes. This man here has a good story, and he’s not a murderer.

“Okay,” Len says. “Right. We’re getting you out of here.”

Henry looks surprised. “You believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you,” Len says somewhat impatiently. “Not the point here.”

“I’m not going to run away,” Henry says.

“Why not?”

“People will take that as an admission of guilt.”

“They already think you’re guilty,” Len points out.

Henry presses his lips together. “I can’t,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Barry,” Henry says. “If I go on the run, who knows what’ll happen? This way he can come visit me sometimes.”

Len shrugs. “It’ll take me a few weeks to plan your break-out,” he says. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

It takes a week before Joe West gives in and comes to tell Henry Allen that Barry has apparently “run away”.

He doesn’t mention Len’s involvement, despite Len being careful not to be seen with Henry. Looks like Joe’s swallowed Len’s carefully manufactured story.

Henry comes back distressed.

Len sidles up to him. “So,” he says. “I’m getting out in a couple of days.”

“Oh? Oh! Leonard – you have to – Barry’s missing – if you could look for him –”

“How ‘bout I break you out and you can do the looking?” Len suggests.

“I couldn’t! What if he comes back?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Len feels a bit bad playing this game, but he can’t trust that Henry wouldn’t trade Len’s kidnapping effort in to Joe West under the assumption that the cop would be a better foster father than a criminal and with the hope of some reduction of his sentence. Once Henry’s out, Len’s pretty confident that he won’t turn them all in – he’d never be allowed to see Barry again, and that seems to be the only thing that gets him moving anymore.

It takes two days for Henry to break.

“You’re sure you won’t look for him? He’s your cousin.”

“Not without you,” Len says firmly. “He only knows me so well; I will not be accused of kidnapping for you.”

Truer than Henry realizes.

“Fine,” Henry says, his head in his hands. “Fine! You win. I’ll go.”

“Great,” Len says. “Be at your cell promptly every evening for the next week. And I mean promptly. I want you to be the first on in, come nighttime.”

“But you’re leaving in two days!”

“Henry. Did I stutter?”

“Uh…”

“I was clear, wasn’t I?” Len amends.

“Yes.”

“Good. Do it.”

Leonard Snart is sitting in the Motorcar, having a stack of pancakes and exchanging glares with a handful of policemen, when the latest Iron Heights break out occurs.

There are said to be four escapees, three of them blooded Family men – and oh, doesn’t that make Len feel dirty – and one hostage, another prisoner, grabbed from his cell and held at knife-point.

After, Len gets up and gets onto his bike and drives out to a house in the middle of nowhere in the suburbs, where there’s a dusty blue sedan parked.

He goes inside.

“Snart!” Lil Billy exclaims, grinning all gap-toothed. “That plan of yours worked like a dream.”

“Of course it did,” Len drawls, slapping Billy’s hand, all friendly smiles like they didn’t all know he had a gun in his pocket and his other hand on the hilt. “I made it.”

“You’re good at what you do,” Grissini says neutrally. “Could be an asset.”

“I prefer to fly free,” Len says. “You get me what I want?”

Grissini snorts and gestures for Billy and Marino to go. “A set of plans and one hostage. Why’d you want this one?”

“He’s unpopular at large and he’s harmless,” Len says. “How often do you see that?”

Grissini purses his lips, but has to concede Len’s point.

Henry is dragged into the room looking terrified and shoved at Len.

“Much obliged,” Len drawls. “Be seeing you.”

“I’m sure too soon,” Grissini says dryly, but turns back to his poker game. They won’t move until the Family comes to pick them up.

Len makes a show of dragging Henry to the car.

“I hate you,” Henry wheezes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Len says. “I said I’d get you out, not that you’d enjoy it. They put you in the trunk or something?”

“No!”

“Then what’s all the fuss about?”

Henry shakes his head. “So I’m out,” he says. “You said you’d help me find Barry.”

“Yeah,” Len says. “First we go home and get changed, yeah?”

Henry’s shoulders slump. “But then we find Barry.”

“Yeah,” Len says again, then doesn’t speak the rest of the way to Mick’s place.

“What’s this place?” Henry asks, squinting at the apartment like it was infested.

“Safe,” Len says shortly. He won’t hear a word against this place; Mick’s had it for years, and it has always been one of the safest places in the world to him.

Then they go inside and Henry takes no more than three steps in before Barry leaps up from the couch and yells, “Dad!”

“Barry!”

There’s hugging and crying and ‘I know you’re innocent’ and ‘I’ve missed you’ and all of that stuff.

It’s very cute. Somewhat sickening and over-emotional, but very cute.

Len ducks out to the kitchen to avoid it.

Lisa and Mick follow in short order. Len hopes his face doesn’t have the same deer-in-headlights look they have.

“So what do we do with them?” Lisa asks.

“Cops’ll be looking for both,” Mick agrees.

Len sighs and runs his hand over his head, a gesture he normally doesn’t allow himself. “I was thinking they’d lie low. Mick, do we still have that place up in the mountains?”

“Sure,” Mick says. “Kinda in the middle of nowhere, though. Very back-to-nature off-the-grid-but-still-connected sort of thing; that’s why we got it.”

“You’d hate that,” Lisa tells Len.

“I thought we might need a place to lie low where I’d never go,” Len says with a shrug. “No one would ever look for me there. It used to be a smuggler’s joint, so lots of nooks and crannies, and a hell of an encrypted internet connection.”

“No schools, though,” Lisa points out.

“Actually,” Mick says, “there’s one down the ways. About three quarters of an hour out, which is crap, but it’s still a school.”

“We’ll need Barry’s records to fake the new ones right,” Len says. “Maybe he finishes this year homeschool; next year we can put him somewhere. Assuming it’s all going well in a year.”

Mick and Lisa nod. “School year,” Lisa notes. “Not a full year – barely six months, really; it’s the end of the school year.”

“Yeah,” Len says. “But that’ll be long enough, I think.”

Two hours later, they head out in a car, Barry and Henry curled up in each other’s arms in the back seat.

Mick knows all the ways to avoid the cops, and they make it to the place in peace.

“This place is a dump,” Lisa announces.

“It’s nicer on the inside.”

“It’s made of wood.”

“So’s the house in the suburbs,” Len points out.

“Too many trees.”

“We’re in a forest.”

Barry starts giggling from the backseat.

“Have you two considered a career in comedy?” Henry asks dryly.

“Shut up,” Len grumbles.

They go inside.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Against all odds, the set-up works surprisingly well.

Henry develops a fondness for fishing. He spends long days out by the stream out back, leaning back on the large rock next to the slow-moving water-mill that Len and Mick had initially thought was for decoration but which Henry had discovered was actually designed to serve as an electricity source, eyes half-closed and smiling.

Sometimes he even brings home fish.

Barry spends half the time on the internet sending emails back and forth with Iris and the other kids in his brand new online class – Len doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t want to know – and the other half of his time running around the forest.

The other half – Barry believes in many halves – is spend as the ‘hub’ for some sort of network of people into the supernatural and preternatural and all that stuff. Len hadn’t been able to find any new military technology or thief work that could explain what Barry saw, so he’d returned to his original theory.

And Barry is obsessed with solving his mom’s murder.

Obsessed.

They have to take some precautions with their identities, of course: Henry grows a beard, looking quite proud of himself, while Lisa gives Barry a makeover.

He makes a surprisingly excellent redhead.

Len and Mick keep up their heists – first order of business, making sure they have no more connections to that Family group – and eventually move up the chain to bigger and better heists.

Barry really likes the Van Gogh sketch in his bedroom until Len tells him it’s real.

At that point, he loves it.

Henry tells Len that he’s a bad influence.

Len points out that his bad influence is why they’re all here.

Henry concedes the point.

He does put a pretty strict “no stealing until you’re sixteen” rule on Barry, which Len thinks is fair and Lisa thinks is hilarious.

Mick insists that teaching Barry to blow up safes isn’t criminal, it’s just homeschooling. In chemistry. Practical applications thereof.

Henry tries to lecture him but keeps breaking out in guffaws about halfway through.

Barry looks proud.

The months drag on, and on, and the next thing you know, it’s been a year.

Barry’s enrolled in the school down the way, which is less a school than a socialization mechanism for kids too far out in the middle of nowhere to be anything but homeschooled, and supplementing it with online courses. Henry’s taking classes online as well, continuing medical education classes, and Len and Mick and Lisa know they have a safe place to come if they’re ever hurt.

Len likes coming to the cabin, which bemuses the living daylights out of him.

On the anniversary of her death, they light a candle in remembrance of Noga.

The next day, Mick comes home with the strangest expression on his face.

“Barry,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“The man in the lightning…”

“Yeah?”

Mick swallows. “I think I saw him.”

Barry sits up straight. “You did?”

“How’s that?” Len says, alarmed.

“It wasn’t anything dangerous, Lenny, don’t fret,” Mick says. “It was just on the street. Zip of lightning, going through the streets.” He frowns. “I think he was looking for somehting.”

“Something,” Len says grimly. “Or someone?”

“What do you mean?” Barry asks.

“We still don’t know why your family was targeted,” Len says. “We always thought – well, Mick and I did – that someone’d gotten something wrong. But if the man in the lightning is looking for someone, well, why not you and Henry? Maybe he wants to finish the job.”

“But why us?” Barry says. “And – do you think he’ll find us?”

“What, here? Not a chance. But let’s avoid trips into Central for a bit, shall we?”

Barry pouts. “But it’s nearly summer break. What am I going to do?”

Len thinks about it.

He come back the next day with custom-made passports and tickets to Europe.

“You are the best,” Barry enthuses.

“You are terrible,” Henry says.

“I have an idea,” Len says.

“Oh god,” Lisa says.

But in the end, they go. They land in Barcelona and get a car and drive from motel to hotel and back. They visit castles and museums and fancy shops – Len and Mick take care to do their own form of shopping when the others are asleep – and Barry proudly takes over the role of navigator, spreading a paper map across his lap and supplementing it with computer print-outs.

He also functions as a guide tour, given how much research he does about everywhere they go.

Henry turns out to be marginally fluent in French, which is good because Mick knows Spanish and Lisa learned Italian in school, so they’ve very nearly got a whole run. Len is fluent in nothing but mime but ends up being the one who does 90% of their transactions anyway.

They go back to Central two months later, suitcases full and several museums calling for their heads on a platter.

“That was so much fun,” Barry says.

“It really was, slugger,” Henry says, ruffling his hair.

“I want to know what the plan was,” Lisa says.

“I’m getting to it,” Len replies.

He has pictures from all over Europe, now. He picks the ones from Spain, where Henry had shaved again because of an incident with a pig that was really best forgotten by all, and from Prague, where they’re all in the shade; Barry looks like his old brunet self in those.

He hires a patsy – Charlie is always happy to do him a favor, regardless of the reasonableness of it, and Len isn’t worried about him getting seriously hurt because Charlie is like a cockroach like that – and waits.

Charlie’s not good for much, but he’s a good salesperson when he wants to be, and he’s an excellent gossipmonger.

Rumors that Henry Allen has been spotted get no takers.

Len gives it a week, then tells Charlie to go with Option B.

It takes less than twenty-four hours after the rumors that Barry Allen has been spotted for the man in yellow to show up, grabbing Charlie by the throat and demanding to know what he knows.

“I don’t know much,” Charlie wheezes. “I just saw – the pictures –”

“Pictures?” the man in yellow snaps. He’s vibrating too fast to be properly seen on the video cameras Len set up in the bar he’d left Charlie in, but it’s obviously a man, in yellow, surrounded by lightning. “What pictures?”

“He sent them to his old school – for the yearbook – they’re in the bag –”

Flash of lightning, and the man is at the table, going through the pictures.

“Prague,” he growls. “What’s he doing in Prague?”

Flash of lightning, and the man is gone.

Running to Prague, if Len had to guess.

Charlie rubs his throat. “Hope you got what you needed, Lenny,” he says, good cheer restored almost immediately. “Are we still on for that date on Friday?”

Len sighs.

The sacrifices he makes.

He picks up the phone and dials Charlie.

“Yeah?” Charlie says.

“We’re on,” Len says. “As long as you realize that Mick will interrupt us about fifteen minutes in and drag me away because he hates you and wants you to die.”

“Oh, yes,” Charlie says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Len doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t want to know.

He has what he needs, anyway: knowledge of who the man in the lightning is really after and video proof of his existence.

Barry cries for an hour straight when Len brings the tapes home.

“I knew it,” he whispers into Henry’s shoulder. “I knew it.”

“You were right,” Henry says, kissing him on the head. He smiles at Len. “Thanks, Leonard.”

Len quirks a smile. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “We still need to figure out what to do about it.”

Barry pops his head up. “We prove my dad’s innocent, of course!”

“Innocence is overrated,” Len says. “Keeping you safe from this guy, Barry; that’s a lot more important.”

“I agree,” Henry says. He quirks a small smile. “Besides, Barry, remember: escaping from prison and kidnapping is also a crime.”

“…oh. Okay, maybe we don’t do that.”

Henry looks up at Len and Mick. “Thank you,” he says. “For believing in us. For helping us.”

Len shrugs. “For Noga,” he says, “I’d do a lot more. We’re gonna get the bastard that killed her, one way or another.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s Lisa that figures it out.

“Harrison Wells,” she says. “He either is or is connected to the man in yellow.”

“Why in the world do you think so?” Henry asks.

“I worked in construction,” she says. “More than the two of these guys ever did.” She nods at Len and Mick.

“I worked construction,” Mick protests mildly.

“No, babe, you did illegal labor construction.”

“Still construction.”

“Well, yes. But I got to sit in the nice cool office and listen to the architects and civil engineers prattle on all day, and that’s more valuable than you might think. For instance, I can tell you that there is no way that STAR Labs Particle Accelerator whatsit is being built legit.”

“Of course it ain’t being built legit,” Len says. “It’s Central City. Half of City Hall needs to be bribed before you can flip a light switch.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s being built too fast. Labor is labor, okay; but that thing is growing in leaps and bounds.”

“You drop a camera?”

“Of course,” Lisa sniffs. “What sort of girl do you think I am, offering suggestions without proof?”

She pulls out a tape. “Evidence that the man in yellow seems to be spending his nights building STAR Labs and –” she pulls out another tape. “– evidence of a yellow blur of lightning running into this very fancy little house over in the more isolated but still fancy suburbs, owned by one Harrison Wells. Running in, mind you, and not running out, only for one Harrison Wells to go out the next day by car to work.”

“Lise,” Len says. “You’re a genius.”

She beams. “And I’m not even in college.”

“I keep telling you,” Henry says, “if you want to go, let me know. We’ll find a way.”

She shakes her head. “I have a good job with the teamsters, Henry, but thanks.”

“Don’t let anyone think that college is necessary to be a genius,” Len says with satisfaction.

“No one who says that’s ever met you,” Barry says loyally.

“Now we just need to figure out how to stop a guy with a suit that lets him run a super-speed,” Len says, and smiles.

“Uh, oh,” Barry says. “Len’s smiling. It’s trouble time.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Last time you smiled like that, we went sky-diving,” Barry says. “and the time before that, you and Mick robbed the Musée d’Orsay because you thought it ‘didn’t get enough love compared to the Louvre’.”

“Also because it rhymed, Lenny,” Lisa reminds him.

“C’mon,” Len says. “It’s a challenge!”

“It’s a death sentence,” Henry says quietly, and that makes them all shut up. “Leonard, please. I don’t want to lose you like we lost Nora.”

“You won’t,” Len assures him. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

He frowns, thinking. “Hey, Barry, you’re in that advanced robotics summer class online, aren’t you?”

“The MIT one? Yeah.”

“Could you propose a puzzle for them to figure out how to stop a speedster? I’ve got a few ideas, but some tech would always be good.”

“Oh, sure!” Barry says, enthused. “There’s a guy there – Cisco Ramon – he’s fantastic. He’ll totally come up with whatever you like.”

“Where is he?”

“Uh…Central, actually. But I didn’t meet him until the summer class, ‘cause he’s in regular school, you know.”

“Central is good,” Len says. “Let’s see what he can do.”

“It’ll be cold,” Barry says.

“Cold?” Lisa asks. “Why?”

“Cold is the opposite of speed,” Barry says. “Atoms go faster when they’re hotter and vice versa.”

They all look at him.

“I may’ve been doing some research ever since we realized that the lightning was actually because the guy was moving so fast,” Barry confesses. “I mean, we still don’t know if he’s using some sort of technology to do it or what, but…speed is speed, you know!”

“Looks like you’re not the only genius here,” Mick tells Lisa, reaching over to pat Barry’s head.

Barry flushes pink with pleasure.

Possibly also the juvenile crush he’s been nursing on Mick. Not much to be done about that; Mick is – well, Mick.

Barry also seems to have juvenile crushes on Lisa, Len, his old buddy Iris, and possibly also this Cisco guy. It’s just that age.

“Cold it is,” Len says.

“Tell this Cisco guy to make me something that matches in heat,” Mick says.

“That won’t help against a speed-suit,” Lisa points out.

“What’s your point?”

“Right, yeah.”

It takes about three months, but Cisco Ramon - who is, all joking aside, an actual genius - and Barry manage to put their heads together and come up with what Cisco describes as their masterpiece.

"Not to mention soon to be winner of the next young inventor Science fair award and scholarship, am I right?" he says, holding his hand for Barry to high-five.

"Hell yeah," Barry says, obliging. "Science bros for life, man!"

"They're lovely," Len says, examining them. "I love that you put them in gun form; that'll be very helpful."

"Just point and shoot," Barry says proudly.

"I'm sold," Mick says, and reaches for the red one.

They are not point and shoot.

Luckily, no house containing Mick is short on fire extinguishers.

The next two months after that are spent with Len and Mick explaining the nuances of what makes a gun a gun, and how to best marry those must-keep attributes to the cryotron powering the cold gun and the module that powers the heat gun.

"I love you guys and all," Cisco says when the guns are finally done. "Seriously, best family ever, Barry. But please can we call it something other than the cold and heat guns? They've got to have better names than that."

"How about you pick our superhero names instead?" Len offers. "Or supervillain. Just imagine -" he scoops up the cold gun and strikes a pose "- beware, it is I! the fearsome Coldwave!"

"Noooo," Cisco groans. "That doesn't work - the heat gun works on a wave system, not the cold gun! Like, Mick can totally be Heatwave, but you - you're gonna be - hmmm - oh, I know! Captain Cold!"

Len snorts. "Captain Cold," he says. "Cute."

"I like it," Lisa offers.

Cisco promptly turns bright red. He does that every time Lisa speaks.

She finds it adorable. Personally, Len would be over the moon if she dated someone as normal as Cisco.

Though he's going to keep an exceedingly close eye on Cisco for a good long time. Only so many times a man can get bitten before it sinks in.

"Well, names aside, they seem like they work now," Len says. "So let's just let me and Mick borrow 'em for a bit and - with luck - the whole business will be over and done with soon enough."

"Good luck," Cisco says, humor fading to be replace with solemnity that sits badly on his awkward teenage frame.

"Damnit, Barry," Len sighs. "You weren't supposed to tell him the details!"

"It just came up!"

Len rolls his eyes. "You're in, right, kid?" he asks Cisco, who nods eagerly. "Fine. C'mon, Mick; let's go get a man who moves like lightning."

Lisa sidles up to Cisco. "Hey," she purrs. She's only a few years older than Barry and Cisco, but those three years have given her some confidence that Cisco sorely lacks. "Think you can make me a gun, too?"

Len decides not to be here for that discussion.

The trap they have is well-set: more rumors of Barry, this time returned to visit. Recordings of his voice playing at certain locales; the man in yellow has been tearing up the city looking for him, when he isn't speed-building STAR Labs with a manic sort of passion that meant it was tied into his plans somehow.

He's ripping up the storehouse they've led him on a merry dance to - signs of Barry, signs of life, but also evidence of recordings. Of him, of Barry.

The man in yellow is realizing he’s being played for a fool.

He's furious.

Len and Mick look at each other and nod. It's time.

Len steps out. “Hello, there,” he drawls. “Do you have a preferred moniker, or should I just call you Harrison Wells?”

The man in yellow’s head snaps up.

“Well, well,” he drawls in the eerie reverberation that is his voice. “If it isn’t Captain Cold.”

Len blinks. “Now that’s interesting,” he says, eyes narrow. “Literally just thought of that name this morning. How do you know about it?”

The man in yellow scoffs. “Oh, there’s so much you don’t know,” he says. “And yet, I know all about you.”

“Really,” Len says.

“Oh, yes,” the man in yellow says. “Captain Cold. You’re a thief, always out for the score; the most cold-hearted of the Rogues.”

“Rogues?”

The man in yellow waves a hand. “Your little gang, whatever you’re calling them now.”

“How do you know all of this?” Len asks. “Spare an explanation for a curious soul.”

The man in yellow grins. “Oh, your story gets told for centuries,” he says.

Len pauses. No way.

“Time travel?” he asks.

“It’s good to see you have as broad a mind as I was led to believe,” the man in yellow says. “We share the same enemy – not yet, but soon enough. The Flash. He’s a superhero, a speedster like me; he runs this town.” His smile widens. “Not you.”

Len knows a cue when he hears one. He puffs up a little, pretends to get annoyed. “Must say I don’t like the sound of that. Superheroes.”

“Indeed,” the man says. “As one villain to another, I must say, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eobard Thawne, and I’m from the twenty-ninth century.”

“What’re you doing all the way back here, then?” Len asks. “Seems out of place for you.”

“Oh, not at all! I went back to the twenty twenties to fight the Flash – and oh, what a glorious battle it was; I proved myself to be his true equal, his reverse – but I found I could not defeat him. So I decided to take him out when he was too young to stop me.”

“Barry Allen,” Len says.

“You are smart!” Eobard exclaims.

“Now that’s insulting. So you’re saying you killed Nora Allen?”

“Oh, yes,” Eobard says. “I was aiming for Barry, of course; he was only eleven. But I couldn’t get to him, so I went with the next best thing. I grabbed a knife from his kitchen and stabbed the stupid bitch right in the chest, between the third and fourth rib, and I thought that’d be the end of it – but then the brat went and disappeared!”

“Why does it matter?” Len arches an eyebrow and gestures for Eobard to continue. “Doesn’t that change the timeline enough?”

Eobard’s face twists into a sneer. He pushes down his cowl, revealing Harrison Wells. “Turns out I’m stuck here, in this godforsaken century. Irony of ironies, I need Barry to become the Flash just long enough to get me back to the future.”

“And that’s why you became Harrison Wells,” Len says, nodding. “That way you could manipulate him.”

“And create the Particle Accelerator which turns him into the Flash,” Eobard agrees. “You know, I see why you are so well-known; I must admit, I had always assumed that stories of your prowess were – exaggerated. You’re not much in action by the twenties.”

Len shrugs. “Well,” he drawls. “You know what they say: live fast, die young.”

And then he fires the cold gun at Eobard’s feet.

Eobard dashes around the blast, grabbing Len and hoisting him up by the throat. He tsks, a disappointed schoolteacher. “Now, now. That’s not nice. We could work together –”

Mick’s blast of fire hits him straight-on in the back.

Eobard shrieks and spins around, only for Len to get his gun back up and aim the cold beam straight at him, freezing his legs solid.

“You fool,” Eobard snarls. “You don’t know what I’m offering yet –”

“I don’t care,” Len says. “You say I’m the most cold-hearted of the – Rogues, you called ‘em? The guy who’s only out for the score?”

“Yes, and you’re missing out on –”

“I don’t care about the money,” Len says. “Call it an unintended consequence of time travel.” He ices Eobard’s feet again as they start melting.

“You? Not care about money?” Eobard seems honestly taken aback by the mere concept. Len must have a hell of a reputation.

“Not in this case,” Len tells him. “You killed my aunt.”

“Your – what? When?”

Len’s smile curls up into a sneer. “I think,” he says, “that in your timeline, they call her Nora Allen.”

Eobard’s eyes go wide.

Len ices him straight in the face.

A second later, Mick’s gun comes down, hard, onto the ice, shattering it.

They look down at the pieces.

“For you, Noga,” Len says.

“I think we should burn the pieces,” Mick says.

“…yeah, good idea.”

By the time they get back to the cabin, all the pieces of Eobard melted into a watery muck, Barry – with tears streaming down his face – and Cisco have already managed to cut the video tape in such a way that shows Harrison Wells using some sort of device to make himself go fast and then talking like a crazy person. They do cut out the part with the murder.

“Think it’s enough?” Len asks Henry.

Henry nods. “I’ll send it to Joe,” he says quietly. “He’ll – he’ll understand.”

Joe does understand, and he understands enough to go not only to the District Attorney but also to the media, turning Henry’s story – the wronged man framed and sent to prison, escaping to save his son and seek the man who did it – into a modern day Count of Monte Cristo.

Hollywood loves the idea, and Central City loves it all the more.

Henry ends up being cleared of the charge of murder and given only parole for the whole “escaping prison” (at least, not returning – it’s obvious to anyone who looked that Henry hadn’t escaped willingly) and kidnapping his own son points. No jury would convict him and the DA knows it.

Len’s willing to admit he might’ve underestimated Joe West. Just a bit.

He accepts Joe punching him in the face with decent grace, though.

They’re all celebrating, one dark and stormy night, when Cisco suddenly frowns.

“Hey,” he says.

“What’s up, Cisco?” Barry asks, going over to open up the skylight. There’s still thunder, but no more rain, and the loft is getting a bit stuffy.

“It just occurred to me – has anyone done anything about the Particle Accelerator thing Wells was talking about?”

“He was delusional,” Lisa reminds him.

“No, but, he actually was making a Particle Accelerator. At STAR Labs, remember?”

“So?” Barry says.

He pulls the chain to open the skylight.

“I’m just saying –”

There’s a giant flash of light and a great big boom, and Len can see out the window some sort of mushroom cloud right over STAR Labs – orange and yellow and – expanding –

“It’s coming!” he shouts.

“What?” Barry asks, clutching at the window chain.

And then lightning strikes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“But daaaaad,” Barry whines. “I need to go out and save the city! I’m the Flash!”

“You’re still fourteen, slugger,” Henry says firmly. “And you still have homework.”

“I did my homework!”

“At superspeed, which we both know doesn’t count.”

“But…”

“You’re welcome to stay and help out,” Henry tells Cisco. “Is that a new costume?”

“Yeah, I can’t quite figure out what a superhero called Quake would wear.”

“Is Quake really what you’ve settled on?”

“Well, Lisa vetoed ‘Vibe’ by laughing too hard…”

“Isn’t there a video game, though?”

“As fun as this is,” Len drawls, sweeping out, “I’m going out to bring home the bacon.”

“Like the bad Jew he is,” Mick adds, following him.

“I make plenty of money from my metahuman clinic,” Henry says with a sigh. “I even have interns! Well, I have Caitlin. My point is, you don’t need to go rob a bank.”

“Ah, but we want to go rob a bank. Need to get the city used to having at least one successful villain - well, anti-hero - set. Plus we help Barry out enough against the metas that aren’t handling their new powers well enough that I practically get a pardon every other week.”

“That doesn’t mean you should keep committing crimes.”

“It’s mostly against the Families nowadays anyway,” Mick says. “Profitable and popular.”

Barry looks up, wide-eyed. “Are you going up against Nimbus?” he asks. “Dad! I need to go help!”

“Barry,” Henry says. “How many times have I got to tell you – junior-league superheroing is fine, but no criminal behavior until you’re sixteen.”