#something hilarious about the full circle of having your eye shot out to getting stabbed by the same guy both by accident

[akalegos]

a little s19 (or s20?) sketch of tucker and brick heh.. i might be going crazy

some yapping under

basically. after the whole fight in s13 tucker runs away, now as the meta. and as the rest are doing whatever brick sees him missing, with doc missing too, goes back in to look for tucker. he finds him, but he runs. so he runs too, without telling any of the reds/his team.

brick is actually miltary-trained. just in a different country. so he's still able to hold his ground against basically a powerhouse. he still gets beaten whenever he encounters the meta. its a constant struggle of getting to tucker and finding a way to get him home, back to the reds and blues, no matter how much he says he "needs to find church". he chases tucker all over the galaxy. eventually he finds the reds (and caboose) again, even for a brief second.

they escape, sarge still dies. and brick steals tuckers sword, a panicked angry filled attempt to bring tucker home and end all this. he rushes back to Outpost 1A. restless and in a state that displays how much he has not slept and is basically a paranoid state, wayy more talkative compared to his usual quietness.

tucker arrives. they fight for the last time. they get tucker back, and brick gets stabbed.

hes rushed to the hospital, and in post canon comes back finally able to relax with tucker back and well. they hug and its all awesome and everyone does their weird shit now they're retired

i like rvb a normal amount hi pls pls ask me anything abt them pls opls

[scribbleb-red]

i like your face - a morning au

“I’ll get the drinks,” Neil says as soon as they walk into Eden’s.

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

“No one needs to get stabbed tonight,” Neil says. “It’s Hapless Sam on the bar.”

“Spoilsport,” Andrew mutters, but doesn’t move with Neil when he heads to the bar.

Hapless Sam is the new barman helping Roland, stepping in for a few months whilst Ebony, the usual yin to Roland’s yang, is off to have surgery.

Hapless Sam is also the bane of Andrew’s life. He never gets a drinks order right. He constantly peppers them with bad one liners. He also once tried to pick up both Neil and Nicky and Aaron in one night - only stopping when Aaron suddenly duplicated and Andrew stuck a blade under his chin. After that, Roland stepped in.

But the bar was overrun tonight and if Andrew had to so much as look at Hapless Sam - well, someone is going to prison and someone is leaving in a body bag. And you don't need to be a genius to figure out which.

So Neil goes to the bar and Andrew keeps an eye on him - on the red of his hair, the sway of his hips, a new quirk that he had to know drove Andrew crazy. It should be illegal for someone like Neil to have any kind of rhythm - but Neil wasn’t a bad dancer. He was sinuous and unreal, if a little self conscious, and Andrew really really needed a drink before that happened again.

Because it will, promised the voice in his head. Nicky will never rest until Neil dances again. Even if it killed Andrew. He suspected it was partly because Nicky wanted him to dance too.

Neil came back an achingly long time later. There was something odd about the way he looked at Andrew, half a question hovering right beneath his skin.

He set down the tray and Nicky chitters, Aaron glowers, Kevin reaches forward expectantly.

But there’s a yell from the bar and Andrew looks up to see Roland’s furious face, Hapless Sam’s horror.

He catches Roland’s eye and the frantic look there - the way he's turned to stare at Andrew tells him everything.

“Don’t fucking drink anything,” he says to his table.

Aaron puts his glass down. Kevin looks torn but relents under Andrew's stare. Nicky frowns and leans back.

Neil however sways on the spot. His eyes are blown wide, two black pools ringed with the finest circle of ice blue. Andrew reaches for him and Neil reaches back. He looks sad and confused.

"N'drew..." he slurs, "Did I do su'thin bad?" There's a tinge of British in there, a twirl of French.

Andrew tugs Neil down beside him, stomach hollowing because he doesn't know what Neil's taken but it's clear he's taken something. Rage pools in the empty cavern of his chest. He goes to push Neil at Nicky - Roland clearly knows something and he wants answers - but Neil makes a noise in his throat and catches hold of Andrew's sleeve. Even high he's not crossing lines. Andrew aches with that knowledge.

"What did I do?" Neil asks again. "I don' have none secrets."

It takes a moment for Andrew to realise Neil thinks this was his fault. That in some part of this idiot's head, he believes Andrew would drug him again.

"It wasn't me," Andrew says, voice low. "You're okay Neil."

"Stay with Nicky, I'll talk to Roland." And probably gut Hapless Sam, whose fault it inevitably is.

Neil makes that whining noise again and Andrew wishes they didn't have an audience. "Don't wanna kiss Nicky."

"Who said anything about kissing?"

"Not Nicky. Only you."

Nicky's guilty look sets Andrew's teeth on edge.

Andrew needs to talk to Roland but can't leave Neil with the Monsters. Fortunately, Roland comes to them bearing a new tray of drinks and a harried expression.

"Fucking hell guys, I'm sorry. None of you drank those, right?"

"Don't worry Sammy's been banished to the kitchen, he's not doing anything like this again and--"

Andrew is up and in his face within seconds - pinioning Roland against the wall, arm across his throat, knife pricking his side.

"What has he taken?"

Roland notices Neil, gulps.

"It's a new syrup - they call it Goblin Juice and it looks just like lime cordial - Sam thought it was lime for the soda. Fuck Andrew do you need the knife? Ow fuck fuck fuck okay stop, it's made using shrooms. Non addictive. Just meant to make you happy - kinda soft."

But of course Neil was the one who drank it. If it had been any of the others, perhaps no one would have even noticed - maybe even celebrated the free high.

But Neil...

Kevin and Aaron are helping themselves to the new drinks when he lets Roland go. Nicky looks pale and nervous and is holding a shot but not drinking. Neil has flopped back on their sofa and is staring at Andrew, a wide smile on his face that Andrew immediately hates.

"I really like your face," Neil says when his brain catches up and realises Andrew is paying attention again. "You have a good face."

Andrew shoots daggers with his eyes at Roland and the barman flees, promising free drinks for the night and the next, forever, whenever.

Neil smiles and reaches for Andrew again as he comes back.

Andrew is not drunk enough for this shit, especially when Nicky coos. "Oh he's so cute. He should have gotten high sooner."

Andrew wants to warn his cousin to back off but Neil has wriggled around and nuzzled his face against Andrew's shoulder. It's heedlessly distracting. It's dangerously adorable.

"Do yous like my face Nyandrew?" Neil says. "I really really like yours. Look at your face. Hey is my head still attached?"

Andrew sees the way Neil is teetering, wraps his hand across the back of Neil's neck and tugs him close. It's not a hug. It's for the idiot's own safety that's all. However, apparently for sky-high-Neil, silence and gestures isn't an answer.

"You don't like my face?"

The slight tremble in Neil's voice is what makes Andrew swallow his frustration and reply. He can't stand that tremble. "I like your fucking face." "I like yours too." And then Neil's finger boops Andrew's cheek.

"Nose," he says. "Good nose."

For. Fucks. Sake.

But it's kind of hilarious (and ruinously cute) as Neil - gentle as a moth wing - strokes over Andrew's cheek and along his temple, finds the bridge of his nose and the swell of his lips.

"Good face."

Andrew contains himself by a miracle. He's fairly sure Aaron is filming this.

"If that footage goes anywhere but the trash, I'll fucking stab you."

"If you were going to stab me, you would have done it a long time ago brother."

"No stabbing," Neil says. "Too many witnesses. Oh hey, look at the fireflies."

Neil lifts one hand to the empty ceiling. There are no fireflies. This is Eden's. Andrew wants to take Neil home but doesn't think putting him in a car is going to do much good right about now.

"You like my face," Neil sighs and sits back. "Even all of this."

"Yes," Andrew says. "Because of all of this."

It's not the scars, it's because Neil survived. That he should have broken and yet still held himself together by tooth and claw.

"I didn't drug you," Andrew says, close to the shell of Neil's ear. "I promise."

"Okay," Neil says. "Good. I don't wanna kiss Nicky."

And there it is again, the second time Neil has mentioned this. Andrew looks at his cousin, who has escaped with Kevin onto the dancefloor.

They'll have a little chat later, when Neil isn't on another planet.

"You're the best," Neil says. "I'll kiss you."

"Not tonight."

Because even if Neil is warm and flush against him. Even if Neil is soft and pliant and willing. This is a man who has been drugged and cannot give consent. Hell, he's watching fireflies that don't exist and stroking Andrew's chin, like he's forgotten Andrew has teeth. Neil is not okay.

Aaron leans back in his chair. "If it's molly, he could be flying for hours."

"It's some kind of shroom shit."

"So even longer then."

Andrew's fingers tighten on Neil's shoulder. "So we can't wait this out?" He should have asked Roland that.

"Probably not, no. Take him home. I'll bring the others."

And for once Andrew decides to trust his brother. He gathers Neil and his loose limbs and leaves Aaron to manage Kevin and Nicky. It’s a one of the hardest things he’s ever done but Bee’s buzzing voice tells him it's time to let Aaron prove himself, standalone.

Neil is awful as they leave - smiling at everyone and everything, even things that aren’t there. His eyes shine and every time he looks at Andrew, there’s a draw of breathe like he’s never seen him before.

“You are,” Neil says, “the best thing. The abs’lute best thing. Hold me up and keep me sage, no safe. Mean safe. You me safe.”

And Neil cannot sing but his voice is sing song and full of wonder.

Andrew is going to gut Hapless Sam like a fish from chin to pelvis.

They drive home - slowly because Neil keeps getting distracted by things Andrew is doing, like blinking (your eyelashes are so white, like snow flakes Andrew) and breathing (but look how you move, so amazing). But Neil is so soft and happy and obsessed, it’s hard to be angry.

Columbia is dark, their house musty with absence. They’ve not visited for a while and Andrew had been hoping for something slightly different tonight.

Neil apparently had too. “Yes? Andrew? Yes?” He says.

“No,” Andrew says. And he never thought he’d hate seeing Neil obey - not with this - but there’s hurt and confusion and concern and a thousand layers of emotion on Neil’s face when he hears it this time. All the feelings Neil must usually keep tucked away when it isn’t always yes for Andrew.

Andrew relents, “Just this,” he says as he settles onto the sofa, guiding Neil down with him. Neil’s reaction is instant - dopey smile and arms that snake around Andrew in a loose but escapable hold.

“Warm,” he says. “Strong.”

The hours tick by in highs and lows - Neil is happy in phases, then almost crying in others. He tells Andrew things that cross his mind, about Andrew, about the Foxes and exy. He hides in Andrew’s hoody when he sees shadows crawling and is convinced they’re from his father.

Andrew does his best to soothe and protect - it’s all in Neil’s head and Andrew isn’t a soft man, but he keeps Neil close and lets him talk. A few years ago he couldn’t have done this. But a few years ago he and Neil were new and still cutting each other on their sharp edges.

Aaron herds an unhappy Nicky and an almost paralytic Kevin inside. Aaron seems sober but that could just be in comparison.

“Our cousin,” Aaron tells Andrew, “is a fool. But you care about him and shouldn’t kill him for doing what you asked.”

“What did he do?”

Aaron shrugs. “Just a kiss I believe. But might explain a bit more why your nut-job boyfriend knocked himself out that time.”

“That was cos imma liar,” Neil chimes with all the confidence of the truly seshed. “Liar liar liar.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah. Not with you.”

There's water and toast and Neil naps at one point but Andrew doesn't because he knows what's next - and he's right. Neil is sick for what feels like hours but isn't. Aaron brings more water. A small part of Andrew wonders if his twin actually likes seeing Neil so ridiculous.

Turns out he's right about that too.

Aaron tells him when Neil is hurling up his guts that seeing Neil like this, seeing Andrew with him like this, makes more sense than anything he's seen prior.

"You're everything to him." Aaron doesn't say that Neil is everything to Andrew but the implication is there.

And when Neil is finally in their bed, safe and asleep, Andrew calls Roland and leaves a warning. Hapless Sam had better be fired or there wouldn't be an Eden's Twilight.

He stays awake and stays awake. He falls asleep around 6am.

Neither of them stir until well into the afternoon and when Neil does, he buries his face in the pillows and groans.

"Oh my god. Andrew I'm so --"

"Shut up." Andrew doesn't want apologies for this. He sees the embarrassed pink of Neil's ears, the flush on his neck. "Stop."

Neil groans again and Andrew knows he must feel like shit right about now. That he's mortified. That he's worried. That Andrew has the power to make it right.

Something wicked flickers in his gut.

"Hey junkie," he says. "I like your face."

-The End-

Notes:

[s3r-en-d1p-ity]

Ego // Sweet Pea (part 1)

first imagine for sweets <33333 did this in honor of Riverdale s4 coming out ehehehehe also this is from the pov of sCaRLEtT bc I really like that name eheheh

As a serpent, she had an ego just like all of the other members. When Scarlett Calahan’s dad died the day she turned 13, FP was quick to follow James Callahan’s (known as JC) orders and she became a serpent.

Only, Joaquin, FP and Jughead were the only ones who knew that her dad died. FP told all the Serpents that he was diagnosed with alzheimer and that he should be left alone.

Scarlett had an amazing group of friends, until that fateful day. Her, Fangs, Sweet Pea, Joaquin, and Toni were that group of friends that everyone wished they had. When JC died, she moved to the Northside, enrolled in Riverdale High for freshman year, and abandoned her group of friends. She was taken under the wing by Fred Andrews, per se FP’s request. Because her and Archie were the same age, they got along quite nicely. Archie wasn’t bothered that she came off as rude sometimes, or that she had a massive ego and was quite the pessimist. He was, however, bothered by the fact that she was a Serpent.

“I just don't understand,” Archie had shrugged one day, sitting on his bed doing homework while Scarlett sat across from him, staring at that stupid football poster on his wall. “How could you be apart of a gang that’s so... violent?” He had said it like he was disgusted. And he was. Disgusted that a girl he was so in love with was in a gang, full of drugs, murders, and thieves.

“Dad’s request, Arch. I don’t mind, though. It makes me feel like I’m in control of something.”

She continued to show up to Serpent meetings and sometimes special occasions, if necessary. She fit in nicely in the corner, observing. On rare occasions, Tall Boy noticed her and gave her a smile.

Of course, even after she moved to the Northside, Joaquin was always in contact with her. On Fridays, when he wasn’t at the Wyrm, he’d climb up to her window and she’d tell him about her week. Sometimes during meetings he’d slip in the back with her.

At school, she didn’t have very many friends. Archie and Jughead, of course, but they all usually stayed clear of each other during school. Betty was very much creeped out by Scarlett, so that meant Kevin was too even though he was dating her best friend.

By the middle of sophomore year, everyone had found out that Scarlett was a serpent. She didn’t bother to hide her serpent jacket, and wore it to school. Josie started talking to her more, probably to use her as a charity case.

Cheryl, who was okay with her before, began the shaming as soon as she found out. All Scarlett could do was clench her fists and squeeze her eyes shut to avoid a fight, but one too many times that didn’t work.

One by one, everything crashed. She was accused of Jason Blossom’s death, found out her best friend and FP were partly responsible for Jason’s death, found out Mustang was found dead in a bathtub, and Joaquin had to wish her a tearful goodbye before he left town for good. Fred was shot, she spent days in the hospital, and the Black Hood was born.

“So, a little birdie told me today was your first day at Southside High? How’d that go?” Scarlett asked, finding Jughead typing on his computer at Pop’s.

Jughead looked up, smiling at Scarlett. “It was... interesting. Place is a shit show, I feel bad for all of them.” Jughead shrugged. Scarlett laughed softly, not expecting anything more from the Southside.

“Yeah? How was lunch? No Ghoulies messed with you, right?” Scarlett piled on the questions, narrowing her eyes. Jughead snorted, shaking his head.

“Sat alone. This girl named... Toni Topaz? You probably know her. Anyways, she showed me around and invited me to sit with her and the serpents since my dad’s one. I said no, and blah blah blah. Day went on and I met uh... some very interesting people.” Jughead explained.

“Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. I know Toni. Who’d you meet?” Toni had since brushed her off after she left the Southside. She remembers one time, just a few months after she cut them off, she was walking back to the trailer park to talk to FP, and Toni slammed her against the wall and slapped her.

“You think you’re so cool, ditching us for Northsiders huh? Were we really that bad? Stupid bitch, you may be a serpent by tattoo now but you’ll never be a serpent by heart.”

“This one guy, he asked me about you. His name’s Fangs I think? He seemed like he genuinely cared. Then, Toni cut him off before I could say anything and told him to shut up. This other guy, Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. Sweet Pea’s a real jerk, got mad at me because I wouldn’t hang out with them after school.” Jughead said.

Her heart jumped at the mention of Sweet Pea. She’d always had a huge crush on him when they were younger, and even now sometimes she found it hard to get him off her mind. She hadn’t talked to him or seen him since before she left unexpectedly. On another note, The fact that Fangs asked about her too surprised her.

Her phone dinged, and she picked it up only to find Fred messaging her that Archie was going to be with friends tonight and that he was almost done making dinner if she wanted some.

“Hey, Jug, I gotta go. But... will you do me a favor?” She asked, sliding her phone in to her pocket. Jughead hummed in response, looking up at her. “Tomorrow, you know, if Sweet Pea gets his head out of his ass, would you ask him about me?”

Jughead furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded nonetheless. I waved goodbye to him and then left, hopping on my motorcycle and going home, thoughts of Sweet Pea in my head.

Not but a few days later, Archie’s video of the Red Circle spread around and the red dot painted on white t-shirts everywhere began to make her feel sick. She had voiced her opinion to Archie, who completely brushed it off. The first red Circle meeting was held at their house, where Scarlett stayed in the kitchen and did her homework, since she had nothing better to do. She also just wanted to eavesdrop on them.

Then, there were people at the door. Veronica walked in to the kitchen, breaking Scarlett from her trance. “Um, Scarlett? Your... buddies are here. And I think they want to cause trouble.”

Cause trouble my ass, Scarlett thought. If only Archie could use his brain, this wouldn’t be happening right now. She got up, walking down the hallway to where everyone was crowded around the front door.

She pushed past everyone, joining Archie. “No, Scarlett-” Archie started, but was cut off by a tall black haired hottie she didn’t recognize.

“Calahan? This is the fucking idiot you’re living with? I thought Jones was lying.” He scoffed. Then, she recognized him.

“Sweet Pea?” She mumbled. He stared at her for a second, then looked back at Archie.

Before she knew it, they were all outside. She watched, with slight pride. She’d never doubt the Serpents’ pride.

After a while, she began to feel like something was going to go wrong. She saw Dilton bend down, pulling something out of his pocket.

“Oh hell no.” She grumbled. She ran over to him, tackling him to the ground. Then, she groaned in pain and felt Dilton do the same. The knife had sliced them both. Then, a gunshot rang out. She sat up in pain, seeing Veronica with a gun in the air and the Serpents racing away in their bikes.

Dilton was helped up by Reggie, and Archie grabbed her and helped her inside. Scarlett could tell Archie was pissed, so she didn't say anything to him when he stormed out of her room.

“Did you guys really jump Dilton Doiley and Scarlett? She’s a fucking serpent.” Jughead stormed out to the courtyard at Southside High during lunch. He approached Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea who all looked at each other.

“Where’d you hear that from, Jones?” Toni scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Archie.” Jughead responded plainly, looking between all of them.

“No,” Fangs shook his head. “The idiot stabbed himself, and when Scarlett tried to stop him from stabbing Sweet Pea, he stabbed her too.” 

Sweet Pea’s eyebrows raised in surprise, unaware of this. Of course, somewhere down inside his black heart, he had a soft spot for Scarlett. That spot was covered by a hard shell though, especially after she left them for some stupid Northsiders and thought she could remain a serpent.

“Um.. speaking of Scarlett... How is she?” Toni asked carefully. Jughead sighed, shrugging. “No one really knows these days. Not even me or Archie. Used to talk to Joaquin, but ever since he left... not really.” He explained.

“She was still talking to Joaquin? He never said anything about her.” Fangs said, looking at his friends. Toni shrugged, confused too.

“Um.. she’s coming to my trial tonight. If you guys wanted to see her.” Jughead added. Toni nodded and looked at Fangs. Sweet Pea only scoffed, mumbling something under his breath.

Scarlett found herself standing in the corner at the Wyrm, like always. Just this time, she didn’t have Joaquin making unnecessary, hilarious side comments. As  if someone was reading her mind, a tall figure appeared next to her. “Didn’t know you actually came to events like these.” Sweet Pea scoffed. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m a serpent, whether you like it or not, Sweet Pea.” She snapped back, not bothering to look at him, and lose her whole I’m-a-bad-girl facade.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Calahan.” The tall boy replied. He stepped closer to her, and she only straightened her posture to show him she was just as tough as him. “You may think you’re a serpent because of your jacket, or your tattoo, but you’ll never be a serpent by heart. How could you be, if you ditch the people that need you the most? Your own family? If you never show up to the meetings, mingle with the enemies, you could never be a serpent.” Sweet Pea said, in his slow, deep, intimidating voice.

Scarlett snickered, stepping closer to him. They were chest to chest. “Honey, you’ve got me all wrong. I’ve been here the whole time. Maybe not the same school, but I’ve been at all the meetings, all of the important events, hell, I was there when you were initiated, I was there when Toni was, I was there when Fangs was. You just didn’t see me. And, don’t assume things if you don’t know the whole story. You think you know shit, but you don’t. Get your head out of your ass.”

“I should be the one saying that to you, Calahan. You think you’re hot shit, prancing around with the Bulldogs, pretending you don’t know us. You ditched us for crying out loud! And not once did you explain, or even say bye! This is the first time I’ve seen you in 3 years, for gods sake!” He yelled.

I rolled my eyes, pushing past him and walking out of the bar. I could hear his footsteps behind me, and before I knew it, I was being turned around and my lips were pressed against the one person I’ve been dreaming of kissing since second grade.

i think this is really bad ahahahah i didn’t edit it oops

[woildismyerster]

Hello! I love your writing so much! I was hoping to make a request, because no one makes my heart flutter like Kevin G. I thought maybe Kevin and the reader both have feelings for each other but are oblivious to it, so someone asks the reader to the spring fling and she accepts, and after the mathlete’s competion Kevin goes to the dance and confesses his feelings and just super fluffy? Thank you so much! Love your blog!

Kevin is seriously a Good Boy.

It seemed like a societal flaw to trap members from the world’s most hormonal, unstable people group in a building together for seven hours every day.  You weren’t sure that bring in such close proximity brought out everybody’s civilized side, and the current school year had proven that point.

Teenagers are emotional.  Teenagers are devious.  Teenagers will stab each other in the back for something extreme, like for the greater good, or for something trivial, like to get the last fruit roll up.

That being said, you weren’t one to talk.  Your mad crush on Kevin Gnapoor made you as irrational as the rest of them.  You didn’t tell people, but these were rapid animals.  They could smell it.

Regina had thrown it at you in an offhanded comment while you worked on a group project with the two of them.  Kevin shot you a look, as though to tell you that laughing would only make her worse.

Tyler had noticed it right away, and though he didn’t tell anyone, you could feel the way he watched all of your interactions like a soap opera.

Marwan noticed later.  He thought that you had terrible taste, but he smiled while he said so.

Norbury reminded you, as sarcastic as ever, that there was a Mathletes competition the night of the dance.  She told you that you would fail her class if Kevin ditched to go to the dance with you.

Kevin was probably a whale or something, because he couldn’t smell the smitten on you at all.  At.  All.

It would have been funny if that didn’t allow you to pretend that you stood a chance.

“I mean, a female Doctor?  The feminists are taking over!”  Tyler had put on a nasally voice, and none of the rest of you hesitated before joining him.  “I’m an adult virgin!”

“If only we’d had developed senses of humor when Vine was alive,” Marwan mourned.

“The world couldn’t have handled all of this,” Kevin said.  He spun in leisurely circles in the computer chair.

You snorted.  “Right, that’s it.  It isn’t that you aren’t funny.”

“I’m hilarious, son.”

“Say something funny.”

Kevin grinned at you, head tilted back so he could see you upside down.  “Couldn’t possibly say something that’s funnier than your face, Y/N.”

The others cupped their hands over their mouths.  “Ooooooooh.”

“Wow,” you said.  “You’re right.  That’s totally Vine material.  You’d have been rolling in dough by now.”

“I’d be making it rain,” Kevin said dreamily.  “The ladies would be going wild.”

“If only you were old enough to hire a prostitute,” you deadpanned.

Tyler laughed.  “She got you there, man.”

“I’m tall,” he protested.  “And any honey would be willing to bend rules to get with Kevin G.”

“But here you are, single as ever,” you said.  You gave the chair an extra boost, sending him spiralling.

Kevin spread his arms, smacking Marwan in the side with every twirl.  “I’m not ready to settle down.  I’m enjoying my options.”

“It’s a Friday night,” Marwan pointed out.  “I’m not seeing any options here, unless you count Y/N.”

The four of you were sitting in Tyler’s basement, with Twilight Zone reruns playing in the background.  The boys weren’t so much as texting any girls, let alone wooing them.

“Y/N does not count,” Kevin ceded.  “Unless she wants to go up to Tyler’s room.”

“Sure,” you said sweetly.  “C’mon, Tyler.  Give me a full tour.  Show me everything.”

“Ouch.”  Kevin stopped the chair to give you a cocky smile.  “I think I could give you just as good of a tour, babe.  Kevin G can show you what you wanna see.”

“Believe me, you can’t,” you lied.  It was an easy lie to give, and it didn’t feel like it costed you much.  Tyler’s eye roll, maybe.  Marwan’s huff of disbelief.

All Kevin did was put a hand over his heart.  “You don’t mean in.  You’ll come around.”

“Try again when you’re making it rain.”

“I will,” he promised.  “But you’ll come crawling back before then.”

“Fat chance,” you said, and the grin on his face made you wonder if he knew how flimsy the words were.

“Y/N,” he said eagerly.  “Y/N, girl, lovely lady -”

“Kevin,” you sighed back.  “Kevin, bro, man ho -”

“Woof,” he grinned.  “That would be offensive if it wasn’t my dream.”

You closed your English book and gave him your full attention.  “What’s up?”

“We should go door to door tonight to collect cans for the food drive.  I want that pizza party in homeroom, yo.”

Tyler looked up from his lunch, surprised.  “I thought that you and I were -”

“Nope,” Kevin said smoothly.  His body jerked, and there was a thump under the table.

Tyler winced, leaning down to rub his foot.  “Jesus Christ, fine.”

“Y/N, let’s do this thing,” Kevin said.

You grinned.  “Alright, let’s win a pizza party.”

Tyler shot you a pointed look.  You pretended not to notice.  Kevin was too busy charting a collection route to see the dopey smile on your face.

“Y/N, I swear to God, I’m going to kill someone if you don’t put Kevin out of his misery soon,” Tyler said earnestly.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s driving me insane.  He doesn’t talk about anything else, and his raps are sappy, and he’s so busy trying to prove a point to you that he won’t share food with anyone else -”

You snorted.  Your class didn’t win the food drive competition, but Kevin bought a pizza to share with you at lunch anyways.  When Tyler and Marwan tried to get in on the action, Kevin said that it was only for the people who went collecting.

“You’re being dramatic,” you said.  “Kevin’s always weird.  It’s why he’s a good friend.”

“He’s too busy being a good boyfriend to the girl he isn’t dating,” Tyler mumbled.  “You have to fix it.”

“By doing what?”

“Tell him that you like him.  Lie, and tell him that you don’t like him.”  Tyler rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.  “I don’t care.  But you have to do something.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you said patiently.  “You’re being stupid.”

“And you’re being blind.”

You grinned.  “Believe me, Kevin would make a move if he felt something.  He’s never had any qualms about speaking his mind before.”

Tyler gave a non-committal hum.  “Tell him that you like him.  He’ll be stoked.”

“Or I won’t tell him, and I won’t be disappointed when he tries to let me down gently.”  That seemed like the far superior option.

“Because doing nothing is way better,” Tyler said.  “Totally.  That’s, like, the epitome of good seduction techniques.  Do absolutely nothing and hope that something changes.”

“Yikes.”

“It’s the truth.  Either you tell Kevin how you feel, or you try to move on.  Waiting hasn’t helped so far,” he pointed out.

That was true.  You were as single now as you had been when you first started noticing how incredible Kevin was.  Tell him, or move on.

Tell him.  You felt sick to your stomach when you imagined the horrified look on Kevin’s face when he realized that there were some decidedly not-friendly feelings mixing in the friendship.

Move on.  It didn’t feel any better to picture dating somebody else.

Okay, so both options felt awful.  That made things a little easier; you could go all Into The Woods on this and wait for something to decide for you.  You would wait for some sort of sign, and let that be the deciding factor.

You waited for a sign, and when it finally arrived, you felt worse than ever.

“If we rap all of our answers at States, the other team will be too intimidated to win,” Kevin insisted.

“Or they’ll answer everything before us,” Marwan counted, “because we’ll be wasting our time trying to freestyle.”

“That’s a personal problem,” Kevin said.  “I don’t need time.”

“Y/N, tell Kevin that his idea is dumb AF.”  Marwan didn’t bother looking at you, and you didn’t bother giving Kevin an apologetic grin.

“Kevin, that’s a bad plan.  Winning will make you cooler than a rap will.”

He deflated for a second, but the smile returned with vengeance.  “We’ll be hot stuff when we win,” he agreed.  “You’ll have to keep your distance, unless you want to burst into flames on contact.”

“I won’t see you that night.”  You sighed, all exaggerated disappointment, in the hopes that they wouldn’t hear the real disappointment that mingled with nerves.  “I’ll be at the dance.”

“What?”  All three of the boys gaped at you, but Tyler looked the most surprised of all.  “I thought you were coming to the competition.”

“I was, but then I got asked to the dance.”

Tyler’s eyes were the size of dinner plates.  “You’re going on a date?”

All faces in the room reflected varying degrees of horror, including you.  You could only hope that a smile would mask that fact that you really didn’t want to go on this date.  “C’mon, guys.  It isn’t that crazy that somebody would want to date me.”

“No, not crazy at all,” Kevin said, his face a few shades paler than it had been before.  “Who’d you sucker into hanging out with you for the night?”

“Seth Mosakowski,” you said.

Kevin gave a scathing snort.  “Dude, he made out with Karen Smith last year.  They’re cousins.”

“Good thing I’m not his cousin, then.”

“He’s an idiot,” Marwan said.

“Good thing I’m not, then.”

“You don’t even like him,” Tyler said emphatically.

You looked at your hands.  “Good thing he likes me, then.”  The words were saturated with bitterness, and it seemed like the mood got to the guys.  Smiles were rare for the rest of the afternoon, and they never belonged to Kevin.

Dances were trippy places.  It seemed like every moment was blending together, even the moment you were living in.  The next morning, you were sure, the entire night would be a messy blur of dim lighting and warm bodies.

You were hoping so, at least, because you weren’t sure that you wanted to remember this date.

Seth was nice, and it wasn’t his fault that this sucked serious balls.  It wasn’t his fault that you didn’t like his long, pointless stories.  It wasn’t his fault that you didn’t understand the inside jokes he had with his friends, or that you weren’t interested in learning them.  The only fault you could see in him was that he wasn’t the person you wanted to be there with.

“So we were in math class,” Seth said.

You hummed in acknowledgement, though he probably couldn’t hear you over the newest Ed Sheeran song.

“Jason was making a bang list for the junior class.”

You glanced back at the gym doors, wondering if it was too early to take your third bathroom break of the night.  A tall, dark head of hair was wading through the clumps of students, and everything felt clear for the first time all night.

“He ranked Taylor Wedell over Gretchen, but only when he knew Cady was close enough to hear and report it back to her.”

You waited until Kevin get near enough to hear, and called his name.  His head whipped toward you, warm grin plastered on before he even realized it was you.  It faltered when he saw you, followed up by something that made you ache.  “Looking pretty fly, G.  Mathletes jackets are super vogue.”

“Y/N,” Kevin said, a little strangled.  “You look amazing.”

“I know, right?”  Seth grinned.  “How goes it, Gnapoor?  You must have missed the memo - we were supposed to look good for this.  You wore the wrong outfit.”

Kevin’s smile was back.  “Mosakowski.  I was surprised to hear that you asked Y/N out; the two of you aren’t related.”

“Seth, can you leave us alone for a second?”  You gave him a sweet smile, flicking Kevin an irritated look.  Neither one looked pleased, but Kevin had the sense to look nervous.  “I have to ask Kevin a question about some homework that’s due Monday.”

“Text me later,” Kevin said.  “I’ve got a thing over there.”

“Over where?”

“Anywhere but here,” he mumbled.  “Have fun, Y/N.  Seth.”

“Not likely,” you mumbled while he brushed past.  You felt him pause, surprised, but you didn’t look back.

Kevin:  Norbury’s class.  five minutes

Y/N:  Why?

Kevin:  homework

You told Seth that you had to use the bathroom, and he didn’t question it.  You couldn’t tell if he truly believed that your bladder was a waterfall, or if he just wanted time away from you too.  It hardly mattered.

The classroom door was cracked open, but the light was off.  You loitered in front of the door for a minute, wondering if you should go in, until a hand reach out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you through.

You gave a startled scream, but Kevin’s hand pressed against your lips.

“Jesus God, Y/N.  We aren’t supposed to be in here; don’t get us caught.”

“Don’t manhandle me, then,” you snapped back.  You had to stifle a grin at the sight of him, even with the irritation fueling you.  “If you thought that I had actual homework questions, you are going to be sorely disappointed.”

“If you thought that I was dumb enough to miss the fact that you were lying,” he replied with a wry smile, “you are going to be sorely disappointed.”

You took a few steps back and settled against a desk.  The room was too dark, too quiet, for you to stand that close to Kevin without imagining things that probably never happened outside of teen porn.  “What’s up?”

“You said that you were having a bad night,” he said, closing the door.  “Ya boi is saving you from a bad date.”

You did smile at that.  “How sweet.  What are you doing at the dance?  You had States.”

“We already won, so we thought we should come over.”

“Funny,” you said.  “It’s weird that you’d come to a dance, and then lock yourself in a room with me instead of actually dancing.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” he said.  In three long strides, he came to your desk, put his hands on your waist, and kissed you.

Moments in the evening had been blurring before, but now everything was perfectly clear.  You were aware of everything - the lingering taste of an orange creamsicle that he must have had on the way over, the sound of corny music playing in the distant gym, the scrape of his teeth against your lips, the bite of the desk into your thighs.

If this was the sort of thing that only happened in teen porn, you didn’t want to be living anywhere else.

“Why the hell,” he mumbled against your lips, “would you go to homecoming with Seth Mosakowski?”

You snorted, giving the hair at the base of his neck a sharp tug.  “It’s not like I had a better offer.”

“I had a competition today!”

“You still showed up,” you said.  You pulled back a little, settling your arms around his neck in a loose hug.  Kevin was smiling, bewildered and hopeful.  

“Because I knew you were here,” he said.  

“You came to the dance, just to watch me on my date?”  

“Something like that.”

You looked pointedly between the lack of space between your bodies.  “You are a terrible casual observer.”

He kissed you again.  “I can’t stand by and watch Hick Central steal my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“I bought you a pizza,” he said, rubbing his nose against yours.  “I really thought that we were almost there.”

“You should have asked me out.”

“I thought we were almost there,” he said again.  “It was an unspoken thing, Y/N.”

You looked at the ceiling, thoughtful.  “I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”

“Babe.”

“Maybe I’ll have you as my classroom hookup, Seth as my dance partner, and a couple other guys on the side -”

“Bruh.”

You beamed.  “Hey, if nobody’s asking -”

“I’m asking,” he said.  Kevin wiped the smirk away, until the hope was all there was.  “Let’s go out on a date.  A real date - a spoken thing.”

“Are you sure that you can give up your man ho ways?”

“I can’t,” he teased.  “But I’m only a ho for you.”

“Awe, babe,” you said, snorting.  “I feel like that was supposed to be romantic, but it somehow wasn’t -”

He kissed you again, all smiles and happy sighs, and you responded in kind.

[larkabout]

A one-shot for the amazing @theproblemwithstardust‘s birthday! This is probably crap and I’m barely beating the clock, but I hope you like it! (also hope you like Christmas??)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: teen wolf (tv) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale/Lydia Martin Characters: Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin Additional Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Birthday Fluff, Birthday, Derek's Birthday, Birthday Party, Surprises, This Is A Surprise, Happy Birthday

Derek didn’t like his birthday. To be more accurate: Derek didn’t think he should bother celebrating his birthday anymore. Once Cora came back, they picked up a tradition of going to dinner or spending the day together outside his actual birthday, but Derek made sure to keep everyone else out of the loop. Even Stiles.

Especially Stiles. (Something Stiles was especially indignant about once they were dating.)

[Final product under the cut or read it on AO3!]

When Cora showed up at their house early Christmas morning, Derek was confused, to say the least.

“Put pants on, we’re going. Don’t ask questions.”

“It’s 6 am.”

“What did I just say?”

With a huff and a grumpy furrowing of his eyebrows, Derek had put on clothes, as requested, and let Cora lead him away from the house.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“You came to my door at 6 am without a plan?”

“It’s your birthday.” Like that was an explanation for everything.

“I don’t get to sleep in on my birthday?”

“Nope.”

Derek wasn’t sure if Cora’d had a plan going into that morning. In fact, he was pretty sure she was just flying by the seat of her pants if the way she was frantically scrolling through her phone all through breakfast was any indication. Even bringing up Lydia couldn’t bring her attention back to him. (Well, until the food arrived, anyway.)

As the morning got later, Derek started to worry. “Stiles is going to wonder where I’m at,” he’d insisted at one point.

“That’s what phones are for, Derek.” She was clearly very sympathetic to his plight. “You know, if you actually told him it was your birthday, you wouldn’t have this problem.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know you’re coming up with excuses not to do that. Seriously, you’re planning to ask him to marry you, but you won’t even tell him your birthday? That’s an easy ‘no.’”

It was hard to argue with her on that point. He looked away for a moment, watching a waitress walk away after delivering another hot chocolate for Cora, who took a long sip before fixing Derek with a serious look.

“Derek.” She held her usual stoic and stony expression, though something like pity rippled just behind. Except that couldn’t be right… could it?

He simply raised an eyebrow in response.

“Birthdays suck. Holidays suck. Believe me, I get it. But here’s the thing,” she started, flicking a crumpled-up napkin in his direction, “they’re not about you.”

“You lost me.”

Predictably, she rolled her eyes. “You know why I let Lydia celebrate my birthday? Why I let you get away with celebrating my birthday? Because it makes both of you happy to do something special for me, even if it’s just something simple. Would I prefer not to have a huge party? Obviously. But I endure it because it makes her happy to do that for me. Plus some other reasons you don’t want to hear.”

Derek grimaced at the last line, then shook his head. “Stiles would make a huge deal about it. I don’t want to be the focus of his holidays.”

“That’s what communication is for, dumbass.” She took another sip from her mug, checked her phone, then turned back to him. “If you’re seriously worried about it, I don’t think Stiles would do anything to upset you. Intentionally, anyway.”

Derek still felt skeptical, looking away again. The silence stretched.

“It’s not about being the center of attention, though. Is it?” He looked at her again, waiting for her to continue. “If that’s all it was, you’d have given in years ago. You don’t want to get hurt.”

“Do we really have to do this, Cora?”

“Newsflash, Derek: you’re gonna get hurt one way or the other. There’s nothing anyone can do about that. But the more things you hide from Stiles, the further you push him away. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bullshit.”

“Enjoying those psych classes, huh?” He managed to swerve just in time to avoid being stabbed with a butter knife before being yanked out of the booth and led out of the diner.

  It was one of the rare occasions on which Cora drove, though the heightened anxiety levels in the car were absent this time. When the car finally stopped, they both sat in silence and stared at the scene in front of them.

The city had been pressuring Derek for a long time to do something about the charred remains of the Hale house, and after long talks with Stiles, Cora, and a city lawyer, Derek had finally agreed to clear away the ashes. After that, he hadn’t come back to the “house.” The memories were hard enough without another physical reminder that everything was gone.

Instead of the empty field he’d left here several months before, the space had been completely transformed.

“It’s still a work in progress,” Cora shrugged, turning the car off. “But now you can throw your back into it too.”

“How…?” he muttered, staring at the garden sprawling out across the grounds.

“Magic. Literally, for some of them.”

In the distance, Derek noticed a strange structure on stilted legs. “Is that thing safe?”

“Stiles built it, so probably not.” She waved him off towards the tower-like building, turning away and busying herself with something else.

Derek wound his way through the garden, mesmerized by the flowers, bushes, and everything else in full bloom. Sprinkled here and there were small wolf statues and flower beds sprinkled with colorful stones, each with their own uses: for protection, for healing, for tranquility.

He wasn’t quite sure what the grumpy wolf statue eating a cookie was supposed to mean.

Derek wasn’t sure how long he spent wandering through the garden, but eventually he found himself at the center, tears brimming. Circled around him were simple white stones, each of them bearing a name from those lost to the fire all those years ago.

In the center sat a flat black stone, and a tear trailed down Derek’s cheek when he read the name.

Laura Hale

Derek didn’t remember sitting down, but the sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder shocked him back to reality. “Happy birthday, dude.”

“You did all this?” Derek looked up at Stiles, bundled up in his winter gear and carrying a blanket to drape over Derek’s shoulders.

“Not by myself. You up for one more surprise?” Stiles grinned, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Lead the way.”

Getting to his feet, they walked hand-in-hand to the tower that stood at the edges of the garden. “Is this it? I could see it from the car,” he teased, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious, sourwolf.” Once they’d reached the top of the stairs, Stiles turned him to look back at the garden.

“Is that a triskele?” Derek asked, looking over the spiraling flowers. The colors rippled out from the center, each arm taking on taking on several different hues so that the whole symbol covered the rainbow spectrum.

“Yeah, and it was a bitch to put in,” Stiles grumbled, though he didn’t have any complaints when Derek pulled him in for a kiss.

“This is amazing,” he said, pulling away just enough to speak. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, big guy.” The punch-drunk look on Stiles’ face killed whatever “cool” vibes he was going for.

“All right, boys, let’s get this party started before the building collapses.” Lydia poked her head out the door, waving them inside what Derek could only describe as a trailer house on half-a-mile-high stilts.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Not at all.”

“Great.”

  The house on stilts survived the evening, despite containing the whole pack and a Christmas-birthday party that was definitely not gentle. While Derek was initially ready to assume Cora had told Stiles when his birthday was, it turned out that Stiles, true to form, had simply just used his father’s credentials to pull his birthday from his police record. (An interesting topic for them to discuss later.)

For all his worry and reluctance, though, Stiles surprised him and kept the party from being ‘too much’, and in the years that followed, Derek’s birthday was something they kept for themselves. Some years were more elaborate than others, but they always visited the center of the garden and just sat.

It got harder when restless kids started tagging along, and quiet contemplation turned into chasing Stiles and their children through the labyrinth that the garden had become. Derek didn’t regret any of it, though, and every year he realized more and more that he didn’t really hate his birthday after all.

[winn-schott-imagines]

So here is the 5 times Alex hugged Winn, and the 1 time he surprised himself.

Given his past it wasn’t a surprise for anyone that Winn wasn’t a touchy person. It took him a long time to get used to everyday touches, such as pats on the shoulders; playful nudges, but his biggest enemies were hugs. In the beginning he couldn’t stand them, he wasn’t used to getting them, thanks to his parents and foster parents. When he and Kara became friends it took him months to get comfortable with it, but after sometime he even began enjoying them.  But he never give hug to anyone, it was always the other person who hugged first. The only time he defied that rule was when he hugged Superman, but since he didn’t know the basic rules of giving hugs it turned out to be really awkward. He stopped trying then.

After a year of the forming of the Superfriends he wasn’t even surprised by getting hugs. Or so he thought, but then Alex (aka the least touchy person in history according to him) gave him a hug and he was confused once again.

So here is the 5 times Alex hugged Winn, and the 1 time he surprised himself.

1. When Kara woke up from the Black Mercy’s dream

Alex watched as her little sister woke up, she was sad and confused, but most of all, hurt. She itched to hug her, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Soon a new emotion appeared in her eyes anger, a moment later she was out of the window, looking for Non.

People began to leave the room, first Max, then James and J’onn, only Winn lingered around in the room, looking lost and somewhat scared. She figured he was feeling the aftershock of the situation, the realisation sinking in, and the heart-rending dread leaving his body.

They weren’t close, sure they were friends, but the only reason they knew each other, and talked to each another was Kara. She doubted that, they have ever spoken about anything that wasn’t linked to Kara.

But now looking at him, seeing how miserable he looked, she couldn’t help but to feel sorry for the man. After all, he had just unburied some life-long traumas and got kidnapped less than a week ago, plus he was rejected by his crush, the very same person, who almost died in front of him less than 10 minutes ago. It was obvious he still had feelings for her, but he kept them at bay, he didn’t force himself on her which Alex respected. She has known many men with less of a spine.

The thing is, The-Big-Sister-Instinct is not something that you can just turn off. She couldn’t comfort Kara, and it was bothering her, like an angry itch. And Winn was looking like a kicked puppy. She couldn’t stop herself. She enveloped him into a hug, he froze immediately, and it took him a good 15 second the hug her back. They stayed like that for a bit, she couldn’t tell if he was grateful or confused, probably both, but she didn’t care.

Soon she let him go smiled at him, and left the room. From the doorstep, however, she turned her head back a bit, and said:

“Be at Kara’s apartment in 15 minutes, we need to clean that mess up.”

And with that she left, leaving him behind with a surprised expression written all over his face.

2. When Jeremiah betrayed them

When Winn and Mon-el first told her their allegation she was furious. She was hurt by the idea, and the fact that her friends could have thought of something like that. And then Kara too, it was ridiculous.

But then she heard the fight over the coms and when they got back, they saw and injured Winn and J’onn and her father gone. She felt guilty deep down, but she still had hope. She hoped that there was an explanation and her father was still a good man.

They chased him, they talked and then he was gone again. She couldn’t shoot him, she couldn’t. She cried her eyes out in the forest alone, and when the tears dried she headed back to the DEO to act like she always did, unaffected and strong.

J’onn was better, he healed fast. She talked to her mother, she took it well, or more likely masked her pain well. Eliza went home, said she go to bed early. Alex however stayed for a bit longer. She didn’t wanted to go home, instead she tried to bury herself into work, but there wasn’t much to do. She wandered around aimlessly for while. From the corner of her eyes she still saw Winn holding his neck and grimacing in pain. Guilt flowed through her. It wasn’t her fault, she knew that, but somehow it still was. She started to walk towards him, at first she didn’t even know what she wanted from, forgiving? Nahh, it was that, in a strange way, she hoped he could understand her.

“Hey, Winn!” he turned around fast, with a surprised expression.

“Alex?” his expression changed from startled to understanding. “How are you doing?”

“Good, good”

“You don’t have to…” he started to say, but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. You don’t have to be alright? You don’t have to pretended? He meant all of them, but saying them out loud just seemed like a bad idea.

Even with the missing parts, she got the message, and the way he said it, the way he looked just made her eyes tear up. She didn’t wanted to cry now, she came here to apologize after all.

“I just wanted to say, I am sorry that he hurt you, and that I didn’t listen to you,” She said in hurried tone and started to fast-walk away. But he knew better than to let her do that.

“Uhmmm… You know what! I will forgive you, but only if you drink with me!” his tone was playful, but in the same time had some depth in it.

5 minutes later they were sitting in an empty room with beers in their hands. They didn’t say a thing, neither of them knew what the right words would be. Finally Winn broke the silence.

“You know, you can always talk to me about it.” All the response he received to that was a groan. “You know that, I am far too familiar with you situation.”

She looked up at that, she felt like she knows the answer, but it have just escaped her mind. At her questioning face, he laughed.

“Ah, come on! Don’t give me that look! You are talking to the President of the My Relative Is A Villain Club!”

“The what?”

“Well, it is a rather small club. It just me and Lena Luthor, but sometime Kara too, I mean Astra is a relative, but not a really close one. But you have definitely earned the right to join us!” They were laughing now. It was absurd and in a morbid way, hilarious.

“No, but seriously, I know where you are coming from. I mean, when my dad was first brought into questioning, I was sure he had nothing to do with it. Then the weeks passed and he changed, it was obvious he did it, but I still believed in his innocence. I hoped even when the FBI showed up on our doorstep, dragging him away. I gave up on him when he blew up an agent in our front yard. I spent months feeling guilty for being his son, and for not hating him. I tried so hard to hate him in the beginning, I just couldn’t. Then 2 months later, when I was left in my first foster home I for the first time I loathed him.”

“Winn, I let him run away!” She didn’t know what made her confess it, but she felt like she will collapse under the burden. “I should have shot him! But I let him run away, I didn’t even fight him!”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

“Alex, there is no person on the earth who could run away from you, when you have gun with you. But don’t worry, we will find him.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“Less than a year ago, I watched as a bunch of FBI agents shoot him down, well not him, but in the moments I thought this is it, he is gone for ever, I felt sadness and pain. He is my father, even if I hate him, and he can’t die without causing me even more pain. You couldn’t shot your father for the same reason. Somewhere deep down, we will always hope, that we are wrong, and they were right.”

She was sobbing now, again. She cried because it hurt, but she was grateful, because he did understand her. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she threw herself on Winn, and hugged him. He returned the favor straight away. He comforted her, hold her and rubbed circles on her back to calm her down. They stayed like that for several minutes, until Alex didn’t feel better. She dried her tears said thank you, and left the DEO.

 3. when Lyra framed him

They have gotten closer to each other, actually she had adopted him to be her little brother. She didn’t tell him that, but it wasn’t needed, they joked, they teased, the bond was there between them even without naming it.

Maggie often called her, during work hours, for the most random of reasons, but this was by far the most unexpected one. When she said, Winn was brought in for stealing Starry Night, by Van Gogh, she laughed, she thought she was joking, but she wasn’t.

15 minutes later she and James stormed into the room, to see a pale and distressed Winn in a chair, across him Maggie and TV screen. It was obvious he was upset, angry but most scared. No surprise there after all, some of his worst memories were from the police questioning. When they left the station he took a deep breath, and some colour returned to his face. His hands were shaking, he tried to hide it, but didn’t succeed in doing so. She didn’t mention it, but made a mental note about it.

Things went downhill from there. The facts were, Lyra used Winn, framed him, and apparently never cared about him. Alex made another mental note, about Winn’s ‘bruises’, it seemed strange to her, why he used that word, he probably meant hickeys, right? In healthy relationship people do not receive bruises, you get those on the field, not in your home.

It took them an impressively short time to find out where Lyra was, they got there, they kicked ass and left with her in handcuffs with the painting in their hands. Alex didn’t hear the full conversation between Winn and Lyra in the trailer, but the look on his face said a thousands of words. He was betrayed and stabbed in the back, and now she twisted the knife his wound.

Lyra was taken to her cell, and Winn was left there in the headquarters staring after her. His expression was full of pain and hopelessness. She wasn’t telepathic like J’onn, but even she could hear his thoughts. All the rising self-doubt and shame too. He felt weak and defeated.

It was painful to see her little brother in such a state, and she wouldn’t allow him to be so sad. So she joined him and stood by his side for a couple of minutes.

“Why did she do it? Was all a set-up? Did she send those thugs after me, asked them to attack me, so she can save me?” he muttered. He wasn’t really talking to her, more like just said his thought put loud.

“It wasn’t your fault, Winn,” she said, and pulled him in for a hug. He responded straight away, holding her, like his life depended on her. And she let him, he deserved the comfort, he was put through so much pain and hurt in his life, he really deserved a stable loving relationship. And until the perfect girl comes his friends will have to do. 

4.  When Lyra showed her true face

After the art theft thing went back to normal in Winn’s and Lyra’s relationship. Alex often saw them together in the bar and other places too. They were sweet and she was happy for her little brother, but she always had a strange feeling about them. Like something was off. The bruises comment didn’t leave her alone,and when she looked at them for a long period of time, she noticed how possessive Lyra was. But she left those thoughts alone, because Winn radiated happiness.

Just like everyone else, she thought everything was fine with those two. And then Maggie came home with a troubled expression on her face. She said, she just came from the bar, asked if there has been any trouble lately, bar fights and such. She wrote some names, and then she heard a story, what she didn’t like not one bit. apparently, Winn broke some bad news to Lyra not so long ago, he even brought a present and her favorite drink, to wash away the bad taste of rejection (from the Guardian team). But even with his best efforts, Lyra was furious, she broke her present and her drink too. The bartender said, he was sure he would’ve had to step in soon, because the ‘lady’ looked like she will shatter the bottle on the poor lads head.

Alex had to sit down, she thought back to all the times she had seen those too together, at first she remembered how cute they were together. She was about to say, that is impossible, when the not so idyllic images filled her brain. When she hold Winn’s hand way stronger than appropriate, how she framed him, and attacked him later, how sometime Winn jumped, when he heard her voice.

“I have to go and talk to Winn,” Alex said, finally, and called Winn so the two can meet.

She ended up going to his place, because this wasn’t the chat they should have in the bar.

“Alex! Hey! What brings you here?” he asked smiling, his eyes filled with excitement. He reminded Alex of an over excited puppy.

“I am fine, I just wanted to talk to you. Are you alone?”

“Yes, yes Lyra left like 10 minutes ago. Come on in! Sorry for the mess, I was just about to clean up.” Winn said and went to the kitchen to fetch to beers. While he was gone, Alex looked around. The room was fine, sure there were some clothes lying around, but nothing too bad she thought when she first looked around, but when she looked around again, she noticed some unusual things. Such as the framed picture of his grandfather, lying on the ground broken. She knew how much he meant to Winn, he was the only one who have never left him down, he died before his son became the Toyman. There were books on the floor, like someone has throw them around.

She found it strange but, she tried to not to think to much into it. She was about to sit down, when she noticed something shiny on the floor. It was a glass fragment, green, looked like a shattered piece of a bottle of beer. Before she could continue her investigation, Winn appeared with 2 bottles.

“Here you go!”

“Thanks,” they clinked, and then drank.

“So, what did you wanted to talk about?”

“Uhmm I just wanted to ask how are thing going on with Lyra” She carefully watched his expression. He seemed startled, and then distressed, but soon he put on his usual smiley mask.

“Oh she is great. We are doing great! Yeah, it is cool all good” He lied terribly, his eyes darting around the room, and his hands holding the beer just a bit too tight. 

”And how is Maggie?”

“She is great, the other day we went on a date…” she started to talk about her hilarious date with Maggie, but only paying half a mind to what she was saying, the other half of his brain was checking Winn out, looking for injuries.

The first thing she noticed was that he was wearing his favourite MIT pullover. The pullover have always held a special place in his heart, he told her once. It was a habit of his she have noticed over the years. Whenever he was a bit hurt after a mission, felt stressed or uncomfortable, maybe sad he always wore this. Kara and Alex always said that it was his transferable safe-place. Seeing him in it meant that something was off, and the way he was playing with the sleeves meant that he was hiding something underneath it. The second thing out of place was the way he held himself. Winn never-ever hunched over, only when he was in trouble. Yes, something is definitely up with him, Alex thought.

“… so we had to leave the place, before the dessert. But no worries, we stopped by our favorite little café, to finish the perfect date.” She said, still studying Winn, this time his expression. He seemed somewhat jealous, like he wished he could have the same thing.

“That sounds amazing! Man, I am so happy for the two of you, if last year, someone have told me you will be well like this, I wouldn’t have believed it.” he said smiling 

“It is so good to see you so happy, you changed a lot Agent Danvers but t looks good on you”

“Ahh stop it!” she said and playfully punched him in the arm. 

For a second he grimaced in pain, but he covered it right up with a laugh, like nothing happened. But Alex Danvers is not someone you can fool so easily. 

“Winn, is everything okay?”

“Phfff, of course it is,” he said rolling his eyes and drinking from his bottle.

“Winn, is everything alright?” she said it in a different manner this time.

“Yes…” his voice trailed of and he stared in front of him, into nothingness.

“Winn, you know that you can tell me everything, right? You are not alone, because we are all here for you”

“Why are you telling me this? Why the sudden care?”

“Maggie heard a story from the bartender. He believes Lyra might be a threat for you.”

“That is ridiculous!” He was about to stand up, but Alex grabbed his hand.

“I think he is right. You are acting strangely, and I am worried about you, Maggie too.”

“But you have no reason to be worried. I am fine, and so is Lyra.”

“Then why did she broke that glass at the bar, earlier. Why does you room look like you were just cleaning up after a fight?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Books and broken glass on the floor, shattered pictures. You are in your comfort hoodie, and fidgeting constantly. Winn, I know you. I know that you wouldn’t let just anyone touch your Limited Edition Lord Of The Rings books, but now it is lying on the ground.”

“She might have a bit of an anger issue, but I am handling it, okay!” He was getting defensive. He reminded Alex to a spooked animal.

“Winn, having anger issues is not enough to justify abuse,” he doesn’t look up 

“Did she hurt you?”

“No...”

“Winn!”

“I have had worse okay, it is nothing I can’t live with!”

“Yes you CAN live with it, but you DON’T HAVE TO live with it! Winn, she hurt you! You don’t deserve that! You deserve to be happy in a HEALTHY relationship, but this is toxic.”

“It is not that bad, really…”

“Let me see! Please” she used her commanding voice, and started tugging at his pullover. They glared at each other for a bit, but he was no match for her. In an awfully slow pace he took of his pullover. He was sitting next to her in a T-shirt now, avoiding eye-contact. Alex gasped. His arms were covered with bruises of all colours and age. He even had a cut on his left bicep. His hands were shaking and his face was red with shame.

Alex didn’t knew what to say, she have lost her words. She knew what she will, but she didn’t expect it to be this bad. Tears filled her eyes and pulled him into a bear hug. She noticed how he flinched at first, but she didn’t let go.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We would have helped you,” she whispered to him, while trying her best to comfort him.

“I didn’t know that I needed help. I thought we were doing fine,” his voice broke, but he didn’t cry.

“Of course you need help! Everyone needs help when they get hurt.”

“But…” he didn’t want to say it out loud, ashamed for some reason. “I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t know what? That you weren’t supposed to be hurt?” She almost laughed at the idea, but then Winn nodded against her shoulders. This stunned her, she pulled away to look into his eyes, because he couldn’t have meant that, could he? But he did.

“Winn, you didn’t know? How didn’t you know? You are the smartest man, I have ever met. And you don’t know that, you shouldn’t be hurt by a loved one?”

“Well, it is not like I had many references to healthy relationships! How would have I known?”

“Well, your paren…”she didn’t finish the sentence, because the realisation hit her on the face. Winn couldn’t have know, his parents hurt him, his foster parents hurt him, and the only girlfriend of his, she knows about was Shioban, and she used him, and attacked him. He was never thought how love shouldn’t come with pain.

They sat in silence for a bit, then she hugged him again. This time it wasn’t a bone-crushing hug, more like a gentle hug. A hug that tried to shield him away from the devils of this world.

5. When he had a bad day, and she didn’t notice

When she waltzed into the med bay she didn’t expect to see her sister and Winn in there. They seemed to be in a middle of a pretty serious conversation. She couldn’t see Kara’s face, but Winn’s expression was literally screaming: UNCOMFORTABLE! HURT! SHAME!

“Hey, Winn, J’onn is looking for you. What are you guys doing up here?”

The air froze a bit before, Winn tried to lie, and failed. Seriously, he is the worst liar in the history of mankind. Kara left the room, without a word, and so the two of them were left alone. It was obvious that he was feeling uncomfortable, his rambling gave it straight away.

“Just a normal day in the DEO… Nothing abnormal happening here…” he said trying to act normal. TRYING.

Alex knew something happened, that she needed to know, and she will get the information. She put on her cold, but intimidating look and started to close in on him. He started to back away, still rambling, but the bed stopped him.

“I am going to tell you everything...”he gave up, which she rewarded with a smile. So he started telling the truth but not in his usual manner.

His eyes were darting around and his breathing was a bit uneven, he was stuttering, and he kept going off topic, before he collected himself and got back to where he was.

“She had an other attack… you know like a panic attack, about she thinks it wasn’t that, because she it stronger than that… Kara said she is getting stronger… but Psi wasn’t even in the building… I mean we would have know about her being there… and no one reported familiar effects… I don’t know…. ahhhh I think she had a panic attack, but apparently she is too strong for those… but i didn’t see anything on the scanner… but I don’t get it, I mean that was some trauma, she can react to that in a way like this, right?... “ don’t know why she keeps on denying it… it is nothing to be ashamed of right?.. i mean it is a human thing, but she is human enough… and it is a result of post-traumatic-stress… that is not the victim’s fault, right?... but she is stronger than that…..”

“Winn, Winn, hey! Slow down!” Alex have tried for a good minute to get his attention, but he kept on rambling, while taking panicked short gasps. He was fidgeting and his legs were bouncing up and down, with a speed that even Barry Allen would have been jealous of.

He was spiralling into a panic attack and she felt somewhat responsible. He hadn’t been the same since Lyra, he was more anxious and tense. She shouldn’t have cornered him, it was a mean move, she didn’t thought she would receive a reaction like this. Of course, her rational side knew she wasn’t the one to blame for this panic attack, but her sister, who is apparently too strong for those.   

“Winn, listen you need to breathe! Okay take deep breaths!” he still wasn’t paying attention to her, he is breathing became even worse. “Dammit… Winn! Winn!”

She knew it is a bad idea, but she was out of options, so she touched his shoulder. It worked, Winn looked at her, but he spiralled even deeper. She looked into his eyes, and started to calm him down. She knew how to, back in the days she had to calm down Kara a countless of times. She breathed with him, and counted, so he can get back in control.

She is protective of his little brother, even if she makes stupid jokes sometimes.

Soon, Winn was taking deep breaths, and looked a bit more collected in a way. She went and fetched a bottle of water for him, when she returned he was miles better. Big and regular breaths, his eyes were tired, and he was still a bit shaky.

“I am sorry, I didn’t meant to… breakdown like that…” he started, avoiding eye-contact. “I don’t know what caused it, I usually don’t… well… not like this”

“Hey, it’s alright! Nothing to be ashamed of.” 

He snorted at that 

“I shouldn’t have closed up on you like that, sorry.”

“It’s fine, really, not your fault.” They went silent for a bit, Winn slowly sipping water, while concentrating on his breathing.

“What did Kara say to you, that set you of?”She didn’t know how to say it.

“What do you mean?”

“You kept repeating, she is stronger than that…”

“Ahh, she panicked in the lift, at CatCo, and the thing is there is no way Psi could have been involved, I mean directly to it. I said she might had a panic attack, but she said that is impossible, because she is stronger than that.” he looked down at the ground, feeling ashamed again.

“You know that’s not true. When she first came to Earth she had many panic attacks, didn’t like small spaces. She is not stronger than them, no one is.”

“Yeah..” he didn’t argue, but he was still hurting.

“Can I hug you?” Alex asked, not daring to jump at him, it might set him off again.

He didn’t say a thing just nodded. And that was all she needed. She hugged him, and hold him, and soon he was crying. The stress of the past few weeks, putting up with Kara’s grief, while grieving his friend, and on top of that Lyra have left more damage than they first thought. It was a lot to begin with, he has been on the edge for some time, and Kara’s comment brought it up to the surface and Alex pushed him over the edge.

 He cried into her shoulder, because he felt weak and everything was just too much at the moment.

“You are the strongest person I have ever met, I couldn’t live with the trauma you had to suffer through. I am so proud of you! We all are.” she assured him, while holding him tight.

 +1.

Purity saw right through her. She knew all of her weaknesses and she wasn’t shy to point them all out. She said out loud her deepest fears, and she couldn’t do a thing about it. She couldn’t deny it, she couldn’t run away. It just hanged in the air, like some deadly gas. Kara sent her out, and she did left the room on the second order, but her sister didn’t follow.

She wished she had, she didn’t wanted to be alone. She didn’t know what she wanted. To be alone, to be free of her fears? She had no idea, but she was scared and lost. And so very hopeless.

She didn’t understand what was going through her. Purity didn’t say anything she did know, it was just… she never ever dared to say those thoughts out loud. Because this made it real somehow.

And she was alone. She didn’t wanted to be alone, because then Purity would be right. But where’s Kara? She should be here with her… Why was she alone.

She was holding her head and trying to collect her wandering thoughts, when Winn noticed her. She was in distress that’s for sure. She looked like she is going to cry. He can’t let that happen.

He crossed the room, and asked her what happened, with care in his voice and worry, like she always did so many time for him. She didn’t respond, she was losing a grip on reality.

Falling apart with every passing second, it was painful to watch. He wanted to comfort his big sister, so he didn’t even think about what he was doing.

He wrapped his arms around her, carefully and gently, drawing circles on her back, to calm her down. She didn’t return the hug, but in a weird way, she melted into it. Rested her head on his shoulder for a second, before breaking away.

He wanted to run after her, and help her with whatever her problem was, but then the crystal started to glow and he had to check on it. While he was trying to figure out the secret of the crystal, he had a sudden realisation: HE HUGGED ALEX DANVERS.

[yourjughead]

Legacy pt.5

Pairings: Jugheadxreader

A/N: Don't worry, Part 4 isn't the last we'll hear of the Riverdale gang. I'm kind of thinking of putting smut into the next part but I'm not sure if I'd like to keep this fic "clean" or not. Let me know. I'm sorry if this part ruins the series, always afraid of that happening.

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

Jughead POV

I had to stay in the hospital for the week. My social worker was less than impressed to find out I had been shot in the absence of my foster parents…as any good social worker should. I insisted I return to school Friday, I needed to start to fix the mess...and misunderstandings.

My arm was in a sling and if I didn't move my shoulder too much...or think about it...or breath too much it didn't hurt too badly.

I prepared for the worst as I walked through the cop checkpoint. I cautiously walked to my locker and after a bit of a struggle, managed to exchange my books for the ones I needed.

“Jones!” I jumped at the sound of Sweet Peas voice. I don't know what yn has told them but this could go badly.

“umm h-hey Sweet Pea what's up?”

“Nothing nothing...EXCEPT MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!” I swear, I was shot this weekend and lived but I have never felt so relieved in my life then I did seeing that small giant smile at me.

“Oh Happy birthday”

“Yeah! We're having a thing at the the Warehouse, you know it right?” I nodded.

“Well yeah we're having it there, all the Juniors are coming so don't be afraid to show your face-” I was petrified ”-and trust me if the Ghoulies even think about rocking around, yn won't be firing the gun at the roof this time” he laughed but I didn't find it very funny. “Some seniors will also come I'd say” he continued as we started strolling towards the common room, somewhere I hadn't ventured much.

“So how's yn?” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Yn? She's yn” that's extremely unhelpful. Although since I'm still walking and breathing and from the lack of Sweet Peas foot in my ass, it seems to me that she hasn't said anything to anyone. No sight of YN yet, not unusual.

“Hey Toni have you seen yn?”

“Nope, haven't seen her since you were in hospital actually... didn't even show up to meetings all week, not very like her but I'm sure she's super busy getting info out of people”

“What do you mean?”

“Well she's going to be the next full leader, you didn't think all she did was watch did you?” She half laughed but I did think that's all she did, that's all any of us Juniors do really. I hadn't thought much about YN being the next leader in the context of Yn being the next leader of what essentially is a criminal organization.

“She almost never does watch anymore, she's needed doing more... important things for the Serpents”

“She did look out with me when I was shot…”

“Yeah she did, she volunteered that night actually, weirdly enough. Who knows she probably had some master plan” I don't understand, we had had a fight that day, was she going to apologise? Was I part of her master plan or was it something else? I can't figure out this girl.

“Coming to the party tonight? I promise it'll be more fun than the last one” she offered but I had had a great time at the last party...yanno, before the attack.

~

The Warehouse’ music could be heard from down  the street. This is some party. I sauntered into the familiar Warehouse and was greeted kindly, well as kindly as they could. I was getting thanks, handshakes and pats on the back from all these people I hadn't seen before, both Junior and Senior members alike. They were all thanking me for saving yn but right now I didn't feel like much of a hero. I was a coward.

I looked around for yn, circling the whole main hall but to not much avail, just received more thanks. It made me feel guilty. Then I saw her and my guilt grew by 100.

She stood on the very same supervising platform above the dancefloor that she had fired her warning shot last time I ventured here. She was beautiful, a queen surveying her kingdom. I have to just go for it, there's only one stairs up and down and I don't think she's mad enough to leap from that height. I'll have to just corner her in while receiving privacy from the height of the panel.

“Yn!” She jumped at the sound of my voice, she had clearly been in deep thought as normally no one could sneak up on her.

“You shouldn't be here Bonehead” she faced back to scanning the room.

“Well I mean you shouldn't be hanging around on condemned rickety platforms but we all have our vices.

“Is yours being a cheating liar?” yup, deserved that one. Her eyes stayed fixed on the happenings below us.

“I wasn't cheating or lying”

“Really? Your blonde bitch bombshell of a girlfriend begs to differ”

“Okay well firstly Betty isn't a bitch she just has a lot going on in her family right now and-”

“Oh nooo the Northsider is having family problems boo-freaking-hoo, Serpents write the book on family problems.”

“Fair point...and she's not my girlfriend well I mean not really”

“Just go away Jughead, I'm not in the mood”

“Ah! You called me Jughead! I'm breaking you down!” she rolled her eyes.

“Yn” I moved closer and she retreated slightly.

“Please, hear me out and if you don't like it then I'll throw myself off the platform” she sighed and I took that as permission to start.

“Okay so before I was shipped to the Southside I was kind of sort of half with Betty half not. It was complicated to say the least” she exhaled loudly, okay so I need to speed it up.

“But she couldn't get over her thing for Archie. you know Archie, tall, ginger, almost got stabbed by Sweet Pea at my bedside, yeah him, sound as the ground normally, you might like him” she exhaled again, really not up for small talk tomorrow day okay...

“Anyway that was always a barrier for us and I always liked her more than she liked me and it just wasn't right. And then when I came here I realised what actually liking someone like that was because I met you and I even like you more than I could ever like her and-” she turned to look at me while I took a breath before continuing. I have to shift the topic from my feelings for her my courage is suddenly fleeting…

“-but back to betty, she and I were kind of a will they won't they and trust me, we won't, ever especially after I've met you and the way she treated my new family, that's you guys by the way and also she just could never get over the serpent in me and that just didn't...didn't go with me. I think she only introduced herself as my girlfriend to establish an edge over you because you two weren't exactly ready to be braiding each other's hair and also Betty has this habit of making people her projects and i think she always saw me as that where as you just saw me for who I was” I was half out of breath by the time I sped through my explanation.

“Done?” I laughed lightly at yns reaction, a very her response to which I nodded.

“Yn, please believe me when I say I'm not that type of guy, I'm sorry” she took a deep breath before nodding slowly.

“You forgive me!”

“No, I'm going to try and start to forgive you...no promises” I didn't even think, I just hauled her into a hug. She half accepted it before breaking from me.

“i just have to ask you one thing yn...why didn't you tell everyone what happened?”

“It was business between us and besides...if Sweet Pes found out he'd bury you under the Warehouse” she smiled at me. Bliss.

“I'm glad you didnt then” I laughed

“I'm also glad you're going to try to forgive me yn, it means so much”

“Dad”

“Woah okay interesting kink but whatever you're into” I laughed before stopping at the sight of her widening eyes.

“Jughead Jones” I turned swiftly to the sound of the brash new voice. A man, a towering man, stood behind me. Oh God.

“Umm y-yes I'm him, nice to meet you” I offered a hand he did not take.

“So, you get shot for my daughter and you didn't think that I’d find out?” He chuckles lightly but still someone threateningly when I do not respond to his question. My face tensed slightly.

“Take it easy Jones” he pushed me playfully into my wounded shoulder causing me to have to stifle shearing pain. I felt yn step closer behind me and put a hand to my lower back.

“I appreciate your sacrifice for my daughter, it has not gone unnoticed. Yn, home by 11pm, work to be done after 1am. Enjoy your night”

"Yes sir Ill be home" is all she said to him before he snaked ((puns)) back down the stairs.

Well I can see where yn. gets her enigmatic style from.  She took her hand from my back again.

“Well isn't he fun at parties?”

“I'd be careful making fun of him, some people won't take too kindly to it Legacy”

“I'm so sick of being called that”

“Aw, boohoo, was the silver platter not shiny enough?�� I rolled my eyes at her.

“How do I make them stop calling me Legacy, they don't call you a legacy?”

“Well yeah because a) I would break their neck b) I'm their leader not their legacy and c) I've proved myself many many times beyond that title”

“I mean I was shot what more do they want”

“You could get into a vicious knife fight where only one is left standing” she looked at me again and her faint scar that caught my eye the first day I saw her seemed to gleam back into center stage.

“Is that what you did…” caution dripping from my words.

“Maybe, Maybe not. I'm not going to tell you either way because it takes the fun out of it” her laugh was one I wanted to hear on repeat for the rest of my life.

“Listen, I am so thankful for what you did-” her hand caught my arm lightly, my skin almost lit to life “-and even though I'm their next leader and that was a sacrifice...it kind of only proves your loyalty to me and right now I'm not the overall leader so it means almost nothing. Well I mean I'm sure my dad is glad his daughter isn't dead but in terms of the gang, it doesn't hold as much weight as you think… to the seniors that is” she dropped my arm and the brisk air returned to my skin.

“What can I do then?”

“You could do the Initiation” she burst into laughter as if it was the most hilarious thing ever said.

“I'll do it” her face dropped completely. I'm ready

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

Feedback is appreciated kittens!

Much love Xx

Tagged: @sunshine51879 @mrs-sarcasmm @deanilostmyshoe @goshdarnitthatsalongname

[atamascolily]

lily watches fma:b, eps. 41-42

If Olivier is NOT running the country by the end of this show, I'll be very disappointed. She'll have zero problems putting Roy on trial for war crimes. Maybe she and Hawkeye and Miles can run Amestris and it'll be awesome.

Also, I'm really sad we haven't seen Greed-ling for a while now; he's hilarious and the best thing about Brotherhood so far for me. And what happened to Envy? What are they up to these days?

(as an aside, I'd just like to say that I 100% believe Kimblee and Envy have a lot of violently charged hatesex off-screen because those two assholes deserve each other; I am honestly surprised there's not more fic about those two in compromising positions.)

Anyway, here's a frame from FMA03 of Ed punching Hohenheim in the face, which is pretty much my default #mood these days.

Okay, also I'm confused how Olivier is already in Central while Ed and company are out. I have no sense of the scale involved here.

May discovers dynamite, lol.

Miles lectures Ed about how they have to kill Kimblee because he's too dangerous as if Miles didn't leave him alive when he had the chance to off him. I'm not saying this is all Miles' fault, but...my dude. Seriously.

I wish that Scar's brother actually had a name; is he really going to be "Scar's brother" for the entire series? Awkward.

May reveals that an immortal man with golden eyes (aka Hohenheim) brought alkahestry to Xing long ago. Speak of the devil... there he is walking away from Sig and Izumi while they stare after him in disbelief.

WHAT.WHAT THE FUCK. HOHENHEIM. why...

Winry notes that Ed and Al both have golden hair and eyes, but Yoki interrupts before anyone processes that.

Ed walks into the shot just as Miles' sniper is preparing to fire.Looks like we're stuck with Kimblee for at least another episode, sigh.

Kimblee: "I didn't survive the Ishvalan war on my good looks, you know."

see, kimblee is objectively a terrible person, but he has STYLE.

Kimblee finds a bunch of footprints leading into a mine tunnel, but I don't see how those are from Winry and company, since they left during a big storm, so... I suspect this is another trap for kimblee.

Ed breaks the dynamite down into its components, which includes ammonia so the chimera soldiers can't smell him.... and it incapacitates them but NOT Ed? OK, fine. 

Ed gets stabbed and Al passes out because their bodies are connected somehow...?

Ed frees the chimeras and asks them to pull out the beam in his guts so he can close through alchemy. "do u know what u r doing?" "lol, no"

Also, he's going to use his own life as fuel...?? I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW ALCHEMY WORKS IN THIS SHOW ANYMORE.

okay, he says to think of his life as a "one soul size philosopher stone"and use it up just like he did with the gate trick to get out of gluttony and... okay.

(i realize that the main power of a shonen hero is sheer determination so I'm not gonna fight this too much.)

it does work but ed passes out and the chimeras find kimblee's spare philosopher's stone and carry ed out.

there's a convoluted thing involved scar's brother's research notes that ends up with a new country map of Amestris that encompasses alkahestry and I wish the camera would focus on it for longer if this is actually important

meanwhile, kain furey is being traumatized in the trenches to the south as the border skirmishes at key points heat up... so I guess the earlier ones were just to make tiny Philosopher's stones? test runs?I got nothing.

kimblee runs into pride, who orders him to "Carve a crest of blood" at Briggs before hunting scar.

HOW are Falman and Breda talking so openly on the phone, WHERE is your opsec?? They're not even using a code!

so I guess having the circle be underground means nobody notices it or something? or just saves sloth from having to dig in the cold?

Meanwhile, back in Liore, Rose has significantly less trauma in this incarnation and Hohenheim plays up his need for food... like dude, you are immortal, so... do you even NEED to eat??

[also: GROW THE FUCK UP, DUDE, you're freakin' pathetic!]

HOHENHEIM, STOP FLIRTING WITH ROSE, THAT'S GROSS.

[this is from fma03, but still. BIG MOOD HERE.]

there is a tunnel full of toxic water under the city, but hohenheim is immortal and gives zero  fucks, so he investigates by making a bridge with alchemy. THIS IS WHY I HATE THE "I'M SO HUNGRY" SCHTICK FROM EARLIER, JUST FYI.

Hohenheim runs into Pride's tunnel and ofc Pride shows up.

Pride is like... dude you look like my dad, you must be Hohenheim.

and Hohenheim determines Pride can only exist within the country-wide circle... why? I thought he could be anywhere there were shadows, WTF was the whole deal with hawkeye if not??

okay, hohenheim says "you're just like the original homunculus" which is true because they have the same eyes and dark blobby body, but the hands look like what happens when you open a gate and there are a hell of lot of them, so... I got nothing.

Also, Pride can only act within the heart of central and in the tunnels... okay, but why???

yeah, okay, hohenheim, we NOTICED there was a 7 deadly sins theme going on here.

yeah, hohenheim, you're so very brave taunting him where he can't reach you. as if you had a freakin' clue what was going on earlier.

hohenheim gets a badass exit, but it would carry way more weight if he'd done fuck all to deserve it. He declares war on Father, but... I gotta say I’d be more impressed if we’d seen him do fuck-all in the previous 40 episodes or any hint of an actual plan.

meanwhile, drachma noticed that Olivier was gone and decided to attack, lol.

oh, nvm, kimblee is working with the drachma forces, lol. the central forces are gonna double-cross the briggs ones and it's about to get extremely violent.

[zyad-adeust-blog]

Of Fire and Water

PART 1

PART 2

(Zyad) The party is elaborate and bright and drowned in a myriad of colors and dye; for it suits no other than its ostentatious host, Sir Norville Landris, who wears rings on all ten fingers, and dresses in the most colorful, expensive outfits.

It is a charity, of course, and the proceeds go to an obscure and wealthy organization that only serves itself.

Entering was the easy part, for Zyad just had to disguise herself as one of the servants waiting on the many nobles who could care less for her presence. The thief had an agenda to follow, an all too simple heist that should go smoothly. But who knew she would run into a familiar face so shortly acquainted with during her stay in Derun City?

"A glass of champagne, my lady? Perhaps a knife as well, since I can think of no conceivable way to hide your swords in that dress of yours."

If the famed assassin was here, then there is no doubt that something exciting will take place here soon, and Zyad wants to be nowhere near her when that happens.

Though, what harm can be done with just a little teasing before Iolar finds her quarry?

(Shadow) The grand-master was invited to this party. Merely because she was indeed a noble and, of course, she pulled a few strings.

The assassin found little joy in this party, nor did she in noble politics. But she had her mission, her target.

You could imagine her surprise when a familiar face appeared.

"You would be surprised what one could hide in her skirts. They can be quite efficient at hiding things I find. But yes, I'll take a champagne." She took a glass from her tray and took a sip.

"I assume you haven't settled down to an actual job, so what is your plan? Rob every noble one by one after you get them drunk with your wares? Steal things from the house? Or are you after something specific? "

The assassin returned her attention to her glass and sipped again waiting for Zyad to answer.

(Zyad) Zyad merely grins, her mirth much more genuine than what she showed to the other nobles.

“Nosy, aren’t we? But you’re not wrong.” Her eyes shift from side to side before lowering her tone to the assassin.

“Norville has… something in his study that I want.” A shrug. “Of course, jewelry and coin purses are an added bonus, but,” she sighs, “not as important.”

With all the nobles walking around flaunting their wealth, how can Zyad not be tempted to pinch a coin or two or three from each person?

“What about you, Iolar? Hopefully you didn’t have to dirty your hands to get in here. After all, someone of your caliber doesn’t simply strut around this sort of place without having business to take care of.”

A grand gala like this was actually the last place Zyad imagined the assassin to be at. Well, someone important must’ve pissed her off greatly.

(Shadow) "Norville eh? I'm sure he has more than one object of interest in his study. Me? Get my hands dirty? No way. I pulled a few favors and reminded people I was an unwed estate owner with quite a lot of wealth. Can't you see the looks some younger gentlemen are flashing in my direction?"

The assassin finished her glass and placed it back on the tray.

"I can tell you this. My plans don't commence till much later and I am out of this dress. But I can assure you Norville will have much bigger problems than you stealing some things."

Shadow fixed her dress before she spoke again. "I would love to chat but the dancing will begin soon and I am to dance the first two with Norville's eldest son." The assassin sighed. "How exhilarating. I have been asked by a few men at this stage that I don't think there will be enough dances to accommodate them. I would much rather run off."

The assassins face lit up when an idea popped into her head. "Meet me on the second floor hallway after the fifth dance, and I can get you the key to his safe."

(Zyad) A bemused smirk curled at the corner of Zyad’s lips. It seemed the assassin is much more resourceful than what she thought.

She nearly rolls her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure wealth isn’t the only thing that’s attracting them to you.”

The thief long since noticed the lustful gazes given to Iolar, and the ones full of contempt reserved for herself because why is a mere servant garnering the attention of someone like Iolar? And as ignorant as Zyad wanted to be, the whole situation was just too damn hilarious.

She quirks a brow.

“Oh no,” she drawls bemusedly, her eyes glinting with mischief. “The consequences of being both rich and beautiful. How tiresome.”

Zyad was about to leave with another snarky quip, but stops when she hears the words “key” and “safe,” her mouth now pursed and eyes slightly narrowed. If the assassin was offering her an easier way to access Norville’s collection, she’ll take it.

“Fine,” she finally articulates, and against better judgment.

Zyad gives a small bow.

“Until then, Lady Iolar.”

(Shadow) The grand-master courtesies politely in return.

Just as Zyad left, the music began.

The assassin huffed and fixed her expression into a smile. Just as promised, Norville's son approached her for the first dance. It was a common dance, though Shadow could not remember the name of it now.

There must have been twelve sets of dancers in the hall. The ladies on one side, the gentlemen on the other. They bowed before it truly commenced.

"You spent a lot of time conversing with that servant. That sort of carry on is condemned here," he spoke as they graced the dance floor.

"Well, I hardly was going to go to the wine cellar myself to get something a bit stronger. The champagne is not quite to my taste."

Norville's son wasn't that bad looking in comparison to her other suitors, maybe even handsome and also a bit more lean than them. He seemed kind and gentle. But then so would any gentleman trying to woo a girl for her fortune.

"You don't like the champagne?" He inquired.

"I do not like champagne in general, sir. Never took my fancy." With her current cover it made it very hard for the assassin to really do anything. Everyone was watching them. Or at least watching her.

The fact she rarely showed her face at court seemed to make the older generation very skeptical. The generation with unmarried sons, however, didn't even doubt for a second. I think they are forming a queue.

"There are quite a lot of young gentlemen here tonight; not enough lady partners." The assassin spoke, making small talk to make the whole situation less awkward.

"I'm not going to lie, milady, but I think they are here for you. News got out an unmarried lady with great wealth was coming. So, all the lords in the area came rushing in. No one knew you would also be so pretty". He pulled her close to him so their faces were inches apart.

She gasped.

Nice work, Shadow. Instead of making things less awkward you made them more awkward. She quickly twirled away as the dance demanded.

That was only the first dance.

(Zyad) Had the gala been in a bigger and more open venue, Zyad would have easily slipped back into the crowd. Yet, this was not the case. For no sooner had she stepped away from Shadow, a small group of noble sons approached her, their faces pulled taut with distaste.

“Servant-boy, explain to me why you took up so much of Lady Iolar’s precious time,” one with strikingly red hair said with a sneer.

Zyad internally grimaces. And even though she would love to stab him with a fork, she still has a charade to put up.

“Lady Iolar was curious about the state of the alcohol Master Landris is serving at the party, and inquired if I could, perchance, conjure something much stronger than this champagne,” Zyad replies innocently, and in a slightly lower pitch. “However, as much as this household prides itself with the finest of wines and other strong spirits, I had to explain to her that such drinks were reserved for Master Landris’s personal use.”

The noble scoffs and rolls his eyes, while the others who were following him looked impatient and frustrated as they found no fault in Zyad’s answer.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I cannot be an idle servant for too long.”

Zyad leaves before they can say another word and before they become suspicious of her being.

She heads down the length of the room towards the food table and trades her empty drink tray for a full one, aware that the first dance had ended.

This left her to listen to the idle chatter and laughter of the other guests as she wanders carefully around the dance floor, hoping to pick up any useful bits of information. But none really left their mouth.

She rolls her eyes when another noblewoman mentions a cheating relative. 

Waiting is really no fun. So, she steals a glance at Iolar and nearly spills the drink tray from laughter.

Zyad has never seen a person so distressed as the assassin is now.

“We should probably go help her out, huh, Iko?” the thief mutters underneath her breath, and the lizard responds with some squirming in her pocket.

Zyad keeps her eyes on Iolar and Norville’s son as she circles the dance floor, watching their routine closely. She hands a few drinks to a group standing near the edge, drops her tray off to the food table, and then slows her walk towards the very same group.

She waits until Norville’s son guides Iolar to the edge of the dance floor, where Zyad then smoothly trips an unlucky guest who was nearing the group of nobles holding full glasses of champagne.

There are shatters, gasps, and most importantly a drenched and red-faced son.

Other surrounding servants are quick to respond to the situation. So is Zyad.

As the other servants attend to the son brimming with anger, Zyad proffers a small towel and a subtle sly smile to the assassin.

“I hope you are unhurt as well, Lady Iolar.”

(Shadow) "I am sure to survive this ordeal," the assassin replied, trying her best to hide the smile on her face as she took the towel.

"Now, now. Give him some space he hasn't been shot," Iolar added as she brushed down herself and her dancing partner. "It appears our routine has been cut short, but I'll be sure to be waiting for your return, my lord." With that final statement, she courtesies and turns to leave.

Meanwhile, she could hear Norville's son scrambling behind to run and get changed.

At one of the tables she could see Lord Norville was entertaining some guests. As expected, when she approached, the gentlemen almost tripped over themselves to offer her a seat. She sat closest to Norville as she could.

What she was after, she might not need to go to the study. It might be on his person. But nonetheless, she needed to get the key.

"I sure should go out more," Lady Iolar said. "I do miss the excitement of a ball!"

(Norville Landris) "And society misses how you grace us with your presence!" At that, Sir Norville bursts into laughter, his raucous voice echoing to the ends of the entire room.

"After all," he begins while roughly taking Iolar's hand. "One with beauty, such as yours, should be displayed to the whole world." And he kisses her knuckles with shameless gaiety.

"So what brings you to my table, Lady Iolar? Has one of my sons caught your eye? Or..." his eyes darken and his voice lowers conspiratorially, "have you come to discuss about the other matter that I've yet to hear your response on?"

(Shadow) "You are too kind, sir." The assassin smiled, tapping the empty glass on the table, a symbol for a servant to fill it. With her hand quickly pulled away, Shadow found it hard not to tense up and pull it back, so she let him have it.

"I never quite caught your eldest son’s name, for our set was cut short. I haven't danced with all of them yet. In fact, I came to sit down and rest. I have plenty of dances to get through, it seems. And I'm sure every gentlemen on this table has a son who requested my hand in a dance."

The assassin took a sip of her drink.

"As for that matter," Iolar sighed. "You don't look like a military man milord. So, let me give you sound military advice. I believe it is unwise to go after them, the dragon holders, for they would have even more reason to go after us. If we kill them, they would use their superiority to kill even more of us. It would be entering a losing fight. I don't want to give them a reason to come after me and kill me or my future family. As I see it, current relationships with them aren't so bad. If we leave them alone, they leave us alone.”

“I will help you defend against them, but hunt them I shall not."

Shadow smiled after her speech.

"Now, now, Mr. Norville. Let's not spoil a party with talk of business. Look, your son returns."

(Norville Landris, Fredrick Landris) Norville looked a touch disappointed at Iolar’s response. But he recovered with a smile that hid secrets.

“A shame, Lady Iolar. You could have benefited much more than you can imagine from this endeavor.”

Just as his son approaches the table, Norville stands while resting his hands at the lapels of his bright-colored jacket, and the son looks at him confused.

“I hear you didn’t properly introduce yourself,” Norville said, lightly chastising him.

“Forgive me, father,” the son begins, but Norville places a hand on his shoulder, dismissing the apology altogether.

“Lady Iolar, this is my eldest son and heir to the Landris household, Fredrick Landris,” and Fredrick bows slightly.

Suddenly, a servant comes up to Norville and whispers in his ear. Whatever the message was, it did not bode well, for Norville’s countenance began to twist into anger.

“Now that you too have been reacquainted, please excuse me. It seems there is something that requires my attention.”

There is a beat of silence as Fredrick nervously runs his hand through his hair, the earlier air of bravado dissipating the moment his father pointed out his faux pas, and in front of Lady Iolar no less.

“Lady Iolar,” he finally says, determined to regain his former confidence. “May we continue where we left off?” And he offers her his hand.

(Shadow) Iolar watched Mr. Norville's reaction to the message with great interest. She could not make out the dialogue, but clearly something was wrong.

This distraction delayed her response. "Yes of course. I couldn't be happier to dance with you again, Fredrick." She took his hand and her smile grew as she looked into his eyes.

The assassin decided that the best way to get into Norville's office is to give Fredrick the wrong impression. She did not yet know how far she would have to go, but whatever it takes, she will do. Something more was happening here, and she must find out.

They took their places again as the music played for another dance.

"So, you are the heir to the Landris household and fortune? I assume you have had plenty suitors thrown into your path just like I have."

"Indeed, but Lady Iolar," he pulls her close to him whispering in her ear. "You are by far the most beautiful creature that graced this earth."

Like before, she had to stop herself from cringing. She must play along.

"Is that so?" She replied in the same fashion. "Well you better not lose sight of me then."

The next part of the dance was a solo piece for all the ladies. All eyes were on her as she twirled and danced around the hall, but she kept her eyes on Fredrick and only him. She was like a predator and he was her prey.

When she returned to his arms, a devilish grin grew on his face. He was handsome and maybe a bit flirty. Shadow knew damn well he had many ladies wrapped around his finger, a player and a user.

"I think we should get to know each other better."

(Fredrick Landris) Fredrick’s eyes flashed with great interest and lust, which he hides all too quickly behind a brilliant smile.

As expected of any lady, Iolar was much too easy to swoon. She’s beautiful, she’s rich, and hopefully she’ll be better in bed than on the dance floor. But despite that, she’s truly a prize to be won.

“Certainly, Lady Iolar. Perhaps we could speak somewhere quieter. And I happen to know the perfect place.”

Before the next dance, he leads her by the hand, weaving through the crowd of people as discreetly as possible, until they are in one of the many halls in the manor.

“My father’s study has an extensive collection of beautiful artwork from across the world. And,” he chuckles, “a more prominent selection of alcohol.”

He unlocks and opens the door to the study.

The walls are lined with various books, maps, old oil paintings, and decorative, foreign weapons. In the foremost back is a grand, hand-carved wooden desk; to the left side of it, a tall, glass cabinet holding a multitude of bottles of liquor.

“Do take your time perusing the room, while I go pick out our poison for the evening.”

(Shadow) The assassin searched for Zyad in the crowd. However, it seems her friend had left the party early. Shadow pulled up her skirt to move faster.

When he announced their destination, Shadow nearly broke character.

The room was indeed quite a spectacle. She couldn't help but approach one of the swords. The assassin ran her finger across the blade. She cut her finger, surprised the blade was still sharp.

The assassin clasped her hands behind her back and walked towards him.

"I know what you want. You'll have to try a bit harder than that to get it."

He turned around to face her. The new challenge played on the corner of his lips as he poured two glasses out onto the table.

(Fredrick Landris, Zyad) “Whatever do you mean, Lady Iolar?” Fredrick asks behind an innocent smile. “All I want is to have a conversation and a drink with you.”

He takes the two glasses, settles on the couch, and offers one of them to Iolar.

“So… How well do you know your wine?”

*20 glasses later of various alcohol*

“I’m impressssed,” a red-faced Fredrick says. His eyes are half-lidded as he hiccups through a droopy smile. “Not many ‘ave tasted Gold Amber Liquer. There’sss only been few bottles made… I think.”

He rubs his head in the palm of his hand.

“Do you feeeear,” he looks at the ceiling through squinting eyes, “plaguesss, Iolar?” And he lolls his head to get a better look at her.

“I heard there’sss one running rampant through thisss city in the form of a perssson.” Fredrick makes an indignant snort at that.

“A ssstupidly, brave thief haunting just the noblesss ‘n stealing from them.”

He chuckles.

“But don’t worry. ‘Caussse I’ll–“

Fredrick’s sentence is cut short when he’s suddenly knocked out by a familiar-looking servant.

“Ah-ah,” Zyad says while catching the falling glass from Fredrick’s hand.

She sets it aside on one of the nightstands then looks back at Iolar, blinks once, twice, then breaks into a wide smirk.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

(Shadow) "I didn't even get to kiss him," the assassin announced disappointingly.

"Of course I’m not as sober as... as... as a newborn babe."

She got up and stumbled forward.

Although she was not as drunk as him, she still was extremely tipsy.

She finished her glass and placed it roughly back on the table. It leaned off the edge nearly ready to fall.

Finally, she made her way over to the desks and pulled out a drawer and started going through the letters.

(Zyad) “Really now? I wouldn’t have guessed that at all,” the thief jokes.

She searches Fredrick for anything useful, but all she finds is a few coins and jewels, which she pockets anyway.

Then she heads over to the desk as well, running her hands on the underside of it and its drawers.

“Tsk,” she says with a frown. There was nothing.

Zyad taps her finger against her chin as she scans the whole desk.

There were more documents, a placard, exquisite feather pens, a jewelry box, an empty chalice– she carefully grabs the chalice and finds a small key underneath the base of the cup.

“Look what I found,” she says to Iolar with a cheeky grin, while holding up the key.

“Now, Fredrick wouldn’t happened to have told you where the safe was, did he?”

(Shadow)

"Excellent work, detective! It's another clue to solve our crime."

The assassin reached under the table and pushed a button.

"He may have said something of the sort."

A passage opened in one of the walls leading down a narrow corridor to a secret room.

"You go! I'll stay. Keep Fredrick company."

She moved to sit on his lap.

(Zyad) “Well, your loss then!” The thief said while putting on her mask and hood. “Don’t get too comfy while I’m gone.”

With that, she followed the winding hall to the very end until it opened up to a much larger room covered in velvet drapes and light-gray stone. And one by one she lit the small lamplights and torches scattered along the walls.

There were display cases littered around the room full of multiple antiques and other gold cast or jewel covered items, each shimmering with bright lustre. Zyad would have definitely taken each item and simply gone away with it, but… She looks at the large painting obviously hiding Norville’s safe. She has other things to attend to.

Her gloved fingers run over the length of the frame. The painting wasn’t hanging loose, so there should be a mechanism…

Ah, here it is; and the painting swings slightly onto the side, revealing the key-locked safe.

Once she unlocks it, there are stacks of gold, bags of diamonds and jewelry, and a pile of papers.

She quickly sifts through the papers, which the first few were mostly correspondences between Norville and the government and other companies largely dealing in blackmail and bribes. Zyad nearly loses her patience before finding what she needed: two lists of names and a map.

She takes those three and a small bag of stones.

“Are you ready to leave, Iolar,” Zyad says the moment she returns to the study. “’Cause I sure– “

The thief’s eyes go wide as she hears heavy footfalls echo from the main hallway.

“Shit.”

She runs towards Iolar, locks her arm behind her, and then lightly holds a knife to her throat.

“Hope you’re sober enough to play along,” Zyad whispers quickly.

(Shadow) "Of course," she whispered back, shaking her head trying to sober up a bit.

She pretended to struggle, obviously not trying too hard as even in this state she could be out in seconds.

Norville turned into the study and shock was painted all over his face. His guards were armed and tense in stance. They had their guns trained on Shadow and the girl.

"For pity’s, sake lower your guns. Lady Iolar cannot be harmed." He looked to his son who was still unconscious. "Definitely not."

He returned his gaze to Zyad.

"Thief, you have bitten off more than you can chew. Now, let Lady Iolar go and give back what you stole. Harm her, and I'll kill you. Leave, and I'll gift you with your life."

(Zyad) “Sir,” one of the guards speak up. “That’s Plague. The one who killed Sir Vyre and Lady Mazul.”

Norville’s face suddenly goes pale as he clenches his jaw. He finally recognizes the mask.

And Zyad just chuckles at his reaction.

“At least one of you has some common sense here,” she sneers. “Be glad you get to live another day, Norville. But mark my words when I say that you and your cohorts are forever haunted by me.”

As Zyad speaks, she takes a few small steps backward with Iolar, then whispers, “Hold your breath,” and with one swift motion she lightly pushes Iolar away while throwing smoke bombs at the feet of Norville and his guards.

There’s sounds of coughing, a crash, and Norville wheezing out, “Don’t shoot, you fools!” to the unaffected few who raised their weapons. And in the distance, there could be heard the fading gallop of a horse.

Once most of the smoke settled, Norville saw the huge, gaping hole in his now broken window. But the damage was the least of his worries, for he saw the door to his secret vault wide open. Yet as much as he wanted to run inside and see what was stolen, he was still in the company of Lady Iolar and must put on his public face.

“Lady Iolar,” Norville says, walking towards her with whatever dignity was left. “Are you unhurt?”

(Shadow) Plague? The assassin tossed the word around her mind a bit as she waited for the smoke to disperse. The assassin was familiar with these, a common friend to hers when she needed a quick exit. She had heard the name before, hushed whispers in the streets, now she knows the face to the name, to her target.

Zyad, why did it have to be you?

She returned to her previous, “distressed” state.

"I'm unharmed. But Fredrick!"

Shadow moved over to the chair, pretending to show she cared for his well-being.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I couldn't stop her. I have rethought the proposition in joining you, and I think I will. It's the only way I can repay you for my failures."

At this stage all the assassin wanted to do was get out of the place, but she had to make sure the fish was on the hook before she reeled in the line. A position in his group would surely give her advantage in the long term. She could always be a step ahead and make sure they never get too powerful. And as a main source of income, she would have Norville wrapped around her finger and powerless.

(Norville Landris) “Her?” Norville questions. He runs a hand through his hair and laughs lightly. “Seems that we can finally put that debate aside.”

Information on Plague was scarce amongst the dragon-hunters. Other than knowing that Plague was a thief, and now recently a killer of their order, nothing significant nor her past was dug up by their spies. Well, at least they can now establish that Plague is female. And…

Norville’s eyes shift towards the distressed lady.

Lady Iolar may be able to provide some more information.

“Get a doctor in here,” he orders one of the guards. “And get some people to start cleaning up this mess.”

He moves towards his son and Iolar, and places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Lady Iolar,” he begins with much concern in his voice. “This was not your fault. You were merely a defenseless victim when this all happened. However…” and his eyes begin to sparkle. “If you do truly wish to join our order of hunters, not only will you be more protected, you yourself will be able to stop these vagrant criminals.”

Not to mention her money and social stature will definitely boost the hunters’ morale.

“I will certainly send a letter detailing specifics of where our next meeting is, should you wish to learn more. But for now,” and he pulls her to the side as the doctor begins to examine Fredrick, “stay a little longer; eat and drink something to ease your mind of this predicament. After all, like you said, talk of business does spoil a party mood.”

(Shadow) The assassin moved with him, a gentle smile pulling at her lips.

"I would be grateful." She added to the response to her place in the order.

She looked back at Fredrick as the doctor cared for him. She wondered if he would remember what had happened or if it would be a blur.

"I really should not trespass further on your hospitality. But if you insist. However, I do think I have had quite enough to drink. Do you dance, my lord?"

[samanthasroberts]

6 Real Crime Waves From History That Were Hilariously Insane

Thanks to the news, it’s easy to feel that right now is the most dangerous time to be alive. However, the truth is that the world in general keeps getting safer. You see, not only was the past lousy with criminal terrors, but ye crime waves of olde were also bit more … eccentric. Case in point …

6

A Bootleggers’ Turf War Included Tank Battles And Bomber Planes In 1920s Illinois

Illinois was both a great and terrible place to be a beer fan during Prohibition. Sure, there was no real shortage of booze, but there was a decent chance you’d be shot while drinking it. But while we all know about the glamorous gangland violence of Al Capone’s Chicago, a wholly different criminal empire was tearing it up in the southern part of the state at that time: the hillbilly mafia. And when they got into fights, it wasn’t with blunderbusses and cussin’, but with homemade tanks and aerial bombs.

During Prohibition, the booze king of Southern Illinois was a bootlegging antihero named Charlie Birger. He was loved because he drove the KKK out of the area, omitting that he did so mostly because they kept trying to steal his liquor. Soon after, he joined forces with the Shelton brothers, who agreed to take a cut of the profits from Birger’s speakeasies in exchange for providing him with only the most primo hooch directly from Florida. And if Floridians use it to blot out their reality, you know that’s some powerful hooch.

The partnership quickly dissolved, however, and the two sides went to war. Like, actual war. The Sheltons’ retribution involved attacking Birger with an armored truck they’d made themselves which rolled through the streets equipped with “an assembly of weapons” — i.e. a freaking tank.

As if that wasn’t enough, the brothers then performed perhaps the first aerial bombing on U.S. soil ever when a plane they hired dropped a few bottles of nitroglycerin wrapped in dynamite over one of Birger’s hideouts. You might be okay with dozens of people dying on the street, and you might be okay with criminals blasting each other with Tommy Guns, but when your criminal element is better-armed than the Army Reserve, it’s time to move.

5

19th-Century Sexual Harassers Were So Bad That Women Would Stab Them

While it’s oddly comforting to know that street harassment is not a modern problem, we should all long for a return of the Edwardian era, and not only because their catcalls involved complimenting a lady’s ankles and expressing a strong desire to experience the sublime sight of her ravishing bosom. At least in our great-great-grandmothers’ day, harassment had to be done face-to-face, which gave them a lot more options regarding what to do with said faces.

By the end of the 19th century, it became commonplace to fend off unwanted advances by plucking one’s hatpin out of one’s fashionably enormous hats and stabbing the fucker. These were no puny little thumbtacks, either — they could be well over a foot long and do fatal damage.

San Francisco Sunday Call Cutting-edge fashion.

One woman even forced robbers from a moving train armed with nothing but her hatpin, while 100 factory workers all wielding theirs fought off police who had come to make one of them as a political prisoner. You simply don’t see that kind of sisterhood anymore. Two women in Chicago, upon the former’s discovery of her husband’s infidelity with the latter, “drew hatpins and circled each other, duel-style, until policemen broke it up.” Cops just don’t get called to bust up hatpin phalanxes anymore these days.

And while today there’d be badly kempt rioting in the streets if dudes got stabbed every time they “accidentally” brushed a woman’s derriere on the sidewalk, 19th-century society still had a strict “gentleman or GTFO” attitude. Reporters were only too happy to dub someone a harasser, or “masher.” Even asking “insulting questions” was all it took to find yourself cast as the mustache-twirling villain. It was such an accepted part of society that it became a trope in the fiction of the era, and newspapers printed tutorials on how to get the most out of your deadly accessory, mostly by encouraging the lady to go straight for the balls. The clothes might make the man, but a hatpin can reverse that process in a pinch.

Brooklyn Museum Repeat: One foot long. Right through the balls.

Unfortunately, errant hatpins had a nasty habit of stabbing people by accident, too. At least, that was the purported reasoning behind laws banning or regulating hatpins — which, coincidentally, women weren’t allowed to vote against. Those laws are presumably defunct now, so if any fashion industry moguls happen to be reading, please bring back ridiculously huge hats and their pins. Plenty of people need reminding of that particular fashion tip.

4

New York Had a Gang Of Child Criminals Run By A Kindly Matron

When Fredericka Mandelbaum emigrated from Prussia to New York City in the mid-19th century, all she wanted was for her husband and herself to eke out a modest living to feed their children. She didn’t count on becoming the country’s first female crime boss.

Starting out as a snazzy street peddler, Mandelbaum discovered there was a fortune to be made befriending the countless Dickensian pickpockets in the city and buying their stolen wares. “Marm” Mandelbaum then used her motherly charms to recruit these baby criminals as her own private ragamuffin army.

Valerian Gribayedoff To supplement her regular muffin army.

Mother Mandelbaum used her stolen-goods-for-candy-and-affection racket to move up in the criminal world, leasing a store as a front from where she ran her operations, which ranged from financing bank robberies to moving stolen livestock. As a devotee of continuing education, she used the back as a classroom to teach her young delinquents how to become better at crime, a sort of finishing school for repeat offenders. She particularly exalted her female students, whom she was proudly saving from “wasting their lives being housekeepers” — a weird glass ceiling to break. With her sharp eye for business and nurturing of young talent, Mandelbaum soon had enough resources to buy the most important thing for a criminal: friends in high places. She had everyone from the local cab drivers to the police to the city’s highest-powered defense attorneys in her pocket.

In the end, it took a private detective agency hired by the district attorney to bring her down, as no local cop dared to raise a hand against Mother. But before the law could close in, Mandelbaum simply packed up and retired to Canada, making everyone to feel bad for never visiting. She lived there quietly under an assumed identity until her supposed death in 1894. Rumor had it that her coffin, transported back to New York City, was filled with stones, and she had in truth returned in the flesh under the name Madame Fuchs, indicating how few of them she gave. In any case, at her funeral, many mourners reported having been pickpocketed. It’s what she would have wanted.

3

Bandits Used To Steal Wigs All The Time

These days, a secondhand wig is worth about as much as the cheap bald bastard who bought it. But in the days of dandies, having a fancy wig was both necessary and expensive. That meant wigs, which cost about as much as the average worker made in a year, were right alongside jewels and cash on every highwayman’s wish list.

Wigmaking was a process that took “six men six days working from sunup to sundown” and a complicated pre-UPS importing system. That’s a lot of money for something that looks like a Bond villain’s pet died on your head. In fact, getting your hands on a bigwig’s big wig was such a score that it made other types of robbery not worth the risk. Instead of slyly trying to cut a purse or pick a pocket, all a would-be bandit had to do was cut a hole or two in the back of a carriage, grab a few fistfuls of powdered perfection, and take off before their now-unsightly owners had any idea what hit them. Boom, that there’s a year’s worth of absinthe.

And with way less needless crotch contact than pickpocketing.

One story tells of a thief so bold as to simply replace his mark’s wig with his own cheap rug when he wasn’t looking. The mark, not feeling the difference, simply walked away, not realizing he had lost a fortune in doll hairs. Unfortunately, the bandits too fell victim to fashion. Wigs eventually stopped being stylish, thereby killing one the criminal underworld’s sillier sources of revenue.

2

17th-Century Dairy Farmers Used To Dye Their Cheese To Jack Up The Price

Food coloring is an important staple in today’s food, especially when it contains little to no actual food. That’s why we’d be more upset at finding out that Cheetos do in fact contain cheese. But back in the day, fake cheese was a huge scandal.

Before we needed an advanced chemistry degree to read food labels, a food’s color was often a sign of its quality. For cheese, a bright orange color signified that it came from quality breeds of cows that eat certain types of grass, which affected the taste greatly. However, in the 17th century, English farmers had figured out that they could get more bang for their cheese by separating the cream first and using it for other products. But it was the cream that had all that orangey goodness, and while their now-white cheese was of the same quality, there’s such a thing as branding. Paint those McDonald’s golden arches green, and it’s game over, baby. Game over.

So the cheese makers came up with a way to disguise their stupid white skim cheese as the full-fat good stuff. They started using natural dyes from a number of plants, including saffron, marigolds, and carrots, and the monocled masses were none the wiser. Later, they started using an extract called annatto, which is what Kraft now uses instead of artificial coloring, because you can even make fraud more lucrative by making it “vintage.” In a matter of decades, the ruse had become an industry standard, being used by cheesemongers all across the UK and the U.S. (except New England, as they prefer to dine on their own smugness). However, the practice of coloring cheese eventually backfired, as it became so common that orange cheese came to be regarded as low-quality instead, begetting an industry of “artificial cheese products” and giving previously exalted cows low self-esteem.

1

A Gang Of One-Legged Men Terrorized Australia

Everything in Australia is deadlier than it should be, and that extends to their old-fashioned gangs. Around the turn of the last century, the scourge roaming (or rather, hobbling around) the streets of Melbourne was a gang called Crutchie Push, and it consisted almost entirely of one-legged men.

They might not have been fast, but death was certain if you were caught by the Crutchie Push (“push” being so hilariously appropriate Australian slang for “gang”). It was a requirement to be one limb short of a set to join the gang, meaning most of them went into battle already on crutches — except for one berserker who still had both legs and ran into fights swinging a brick stuffed inside his sweater sleeve like a low-rent Mr. Fantastic. From there, everyone else (hopefully in choreographed synchronicity) balanced on one leg and used their crutches as weapons. Their signature move was to jab an opponent in the stomach with the tip of the crutch, then swing it around and beat him with it while he was doubled over. It was a surprisingly effective way to force compliance from shop owners and random people of whom they demanded money, food, and booze. Still more reliable than Social Security.

But for a bunch of people who were physically unable to run, the Crutchie Push were bizarrely hard to catch. You’d think you could just lead them to a staircase and be done with it, but when an officer became involved in a brawl with leader Valentine Keating, the one-legged man actually outran the officer before he could be arrested. That’s either Olympic-level crutch skills or a hilariously unfit cop. Eventually, the police became so frustrated with the gang that they assembled a task force made up by the ten most violent police officers in Australia. These “Terrible Ten” were sent out to track the Crutchie Push down and beat them with hoses, because there is apparently a very fine line between legitimate Australian history and the fever dream of a wealthy conservative business owner looking to build a casino atop an Army veterans clinic.

Keating was eventually imprisoned for beating a cop to death with his crutches, after which he … um, went on to a nice, quiet life as a barkeep until his death from tuberculosis. In all of his days tending bar, he never called the police to break up a fight. Why use them as a crutch if you can beat a man to death with your own?

You don’t have to steal to get this wig for your dog.

Also check out 8 Unsolved Crimes That Were Clearly Committed By Satan and 4 Terrifying Historical Crimes No One Can Explain.

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Source: http://allofbeer.com/6-real-crime-waves-from-history-that-were-hilariously-insane/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/03/25/6-real-crime-waves-from-history-that-were-hilariously-insane/

[tumblunni]

Baron omatsuri and the secret island traumatizes me yet again, hooray!

Ok wow that was a nostalgia blast! Finally goddamn have a physical copy of this thing to own. Its never been dubbed and the only way to get it was this weird manga UK licensed reprint of a bunch of (i think) hong kong english subtitles. The style of the subtitles looks like that, at least. Its all weird and grainy and very very old fashioned early days of subtitling style, which contrasts completely with the modern dvd menus and box and stuff. And its also a weird combination disc of four different movies, it seems they just bought out a licensing package deal or something? And just baked it onto the disc without checking or editing anything. Its not really a funny sort of bad subtitles though, its just awkward phrasings of thibgs that are hard to understand or random typos or whatever, no legendarily hilarious stuff. I kinda dislike it more when subtitles are like this, when theyre like...actually written by a guy who speaks fluent english but he just never watched the actual movie so theres a bunch of rookie mistakes. Also has a strange case of what you usually only see on fansubs- the obsession with leaving everything in japanese to Sound Cool. Nah we cant call them the Tea Party Pirates we have to say the japanese word for that. Nah we cant have this man say mustache when he's doing the mustache pose and talking about his crew of entirely mustache men who all do this mustache pose NO it has to be Chobehige because its somehow deep and edgy to not understand the word for mustache. Like i feel if i was watching this sub first i would have no idea what was happening! At least its not as bad as that older sub i saw where they insisted on translating friends as "crew", even when it was llike..a singular. This one man is my crew and here are all my other crews! Like i feel like that subber probably originally did that dumb old fandom thing of INSISTING that you had to say Nakama in japanese and Capitalized and it was a Very Important japanese word for specifically pirate friends that was Impossible To Translate. And then they just did a ctrl + F replace on the whole thing and made an incomprehensible mess. Also for some reason sanji just yells DOCTOR out of nowhere (chopper wasnt even in the scene) and baron omatsuri's one syllable "oh" is translated as some long string of what seems to be baseball jargon..?

But ANYWAY the movie is still fuckin awesome and i actually noticed EVEN MORE dark shit and subtle storytelling that i missed when i was a kid! The whole 'small child zombie stares blankly at the place where a sword stabbed through his chest and cant understand why he got back up' scene is EVEN MORE emotionally destructuve than i thought! Cos the subtlety of the voiceacting seems to make the poor kid sound so tired and resigned to it? He's desperately asking and his father figure feeds him the same old lies he's done a million times about how he's totally still alive and everything is fine. Like wow i missed that inplication that this has happened before! And then he kinda sounds like he's actually aware that Baron is lying and he's just pretending to believe him to make him feel better. And then he starts turning back into a corpse and he doesnt panic like muchigoro or not realize whats happening like the grandpas do. He just looks straight at his hand falling apart and tries to lie to Baron to make him feel better. *long shot of him from behind before you see whats happened* "I'm just feeling dizzy again. I've got used to it." *him staring blankly at his body falling apart, not even capable of feeling sad about it anymore* "Don't worry...i've got used to it." *thud*

Like FUCKING HELL this film is the best damn existential horror thing ever and why the FUCK did they market it as a fun happy kids film? it probably would have been way more successful if the twist wasnt kept all twisty, honestly.

And also WOW YEAH theres a lot of stuff thats the subtlest goddamn storytelling in the universe and youd never notice unless you watched this film a million times like i did! Like during the intro when everythibg still seems all fun and cute and normal, the advert for the Totally Innocent Not A Trap Super Secret Island Resort is being read over some random shots of waves and stuff. But then right near the end you see those same shots again and it becomes clear that it was literally the view from Baron's eyes as he was falling from the ship and drowning, desperately trying to keep his head above water and strain his eyes to see if anyone else had survived. All the moments that just looked like camera cuts were actually when his head fell beneath the waves. Thats fuckin amaizng you straight up showed the ending in the beginning and we didnt notice????

Oh and also right before THE FUCKIN TERRIFYING MUCHIGORO DEATH SCENE you see him casually mention being 'sleepy' a few scenes earlier. It just passes by without notice and you think that he's just drunk until he suddenly starts going from comedic slurring to fucking asphixiating and the SKIN ON HIS FINGERS PEELING OFF. Oh hey! Another thing i didnt notice before! FUCKING THAT. A fun game for you on your rewatch! Looking out to find the secret finger horror! Ha ha ha...ha...

Also MAN OH WOW all the subtle signs of Baron getting more desparate throughout the movie and how it seems the time limit for the zombies was almost up and he had to kill these specific pirates right now because he couldnt spare even a few more hours. In retrospect it makes sense how he was slipping up and leaving evidence for the heroes to figure him out. And its just so subtly offputting and strange how he goes from making a big fun performance about the festival early on and then starts subtky rushing through the formalities faster. Like you dont eveb conciously notice the tone is changing until suddenly BAM the full change happens and you realise you missed all those signs! And aaaa its so fuckin sad how you see him come running when muchigoro drops dead and he's like fuckin GET OUT OF THE WAY DAMMIT and kneels down next to the body and theb he just..turns emotionless again and goes ITS TIME FOR THE NEXT CHALLENGE. It is time. Its now. Shut the fuck up and do it, i dont have time to deal with this shit, just die so i can bring my friend back. (Tho of course you dont know thats why at the time) And then whats most jarring about the whole scene to me is how he's like "okay fuck it theres no more fun theres no more attractions, if youre not gonna play along then the final game is just i shoot your damn head off" WHILE YKNOW STILL STANDING OVER THE CORPSE OF HIS FRIEND AND STARING DAGGERS INTO THEM LIKE ITS THEIR FAULT FOR DARING TO CLING ONTO LIFE and then a fuckin half finished hapoy fun carnival game sign pops up in the backgroubd and everyone walks past it. Why was that somehow both hilarious and terrifying????? Just fuckin 'whoops we had this thing ready to go but alright its murder time i guess' and everyone IS SUDDENLY PACKING HEAT AND RIDDLING OUR HEROES WITH BULLETS???

And also even more subtly Baron just?? Stays with muchigoro?? Like notice how the entirety of the endgame takes place around where the dude dropped dead. And how when mustache pirate guy saves luffy you see Baron just walking in circles around the same area angrily shooting arrows at nothing in complete desperation even though the dude is gone and itd make more sense to run after him. No he stays standing right there and actually looks really damn relieved when luffy comes back, he's like 'holy shit you really were stupid enough to walk right into my trap jesus christ im so glad but also youre a dumbass'. And he fights entirely using arrows at this point so you might not even notice that he barely walks more than just circling a two meter radius of fuckin DEAD BEST FRIEND CORPSE. Which btw blends intonthe shadows for this entire scene and they only draw attention it again after Baron wibs and muchigoro comes back to life. And UGH MY HEART you see him smile genuinely for the firstvtime and he's like 'im so glad youre okay' and muchigoro is like 'haha im more than okay i can do somersaults!' and generally being a FUCKING TREASURE and this poor fuckin horrible evil man is hugging his buddy and gently leading him away from the battlefield so he doesnt norice he was just fuckin murdering some dudes to ressurect him. God the scariest damn thing about this film is how the zombies dont know theyre zombies and honestky they probably wouldnt even agree with their boss's plan to kill people to keep them alive. They justvthink they live a perfectly normal happy life on hapoy festival island, and he wants them to stay that way and never feel pain again :(

Aaaaand then yeah the infamous scene of revealing this horrifying intestines flower is growing out of the flesh on his back and all the corpses its digesting are pushed against the undulating flesh of its throat like a snake devouring its prey. And its cutesy fake flower face grows infinate eyes as it just keeps laughing and laughing. And then it gets graphically blown apart and the poor goddamn parasite host tries to shove the bloody instestines back into its body, knowing that without this horrifying monster chewing on his goddamn veins all his friends will go back to being dead.

THE END

THE FUCKING END

God it ends so abruptly seriously

I still cry my eyes out every time at the ending monologue of Baron dying and meeting all the souls of his dead friends and theyre crying telling him he shouldnt be here, they wish he'd been able to find another reason to live without him...

And then THE END

JAUNTY MUSIC OVER THE CREDITS

THE FUCKIN END I GUESS

What a great but very oddly executed movie. Seriously i feel it could have worked better if it was given space to breathe and more deeply explore the dark themes rather than the weirdness of trying to fool the audience into thinking it was cheerful and innocent. Like all of this shit happens in the last 30 minutes of the movie! They spend 60 minutes on the fun carnival games! What a strange sense of priorities!!

I WOULD DEVOUR A MILLION HOURS MORE OF DEEP SAD ZOMBIE CONTENT

I am like the Lily of fanfics

Oh yeah btw the horrifying deadly elder god spine parasite thing is named Lily and it looks pretty much exactly like flowey from undertale. This film kinda spoiled me for that game LOL ive never trusted a single talking flower ever since!

[adambstingus]

6 Real Crime Waves From History That Were Hilariously Insane

Thanks to the news, it’s easy to feel that right now is the most dangerous time to be alive. However, the truth is that the world in general keeps getting safer. You see, not only was the past lousy with criminal terrors, but ye crime waves of olde were also bit more … eccentric. Case in point …

6

A Bootleggers’ Turf War Included Tank Battles And Bomber Planes In 1920s Illinois

Illinois was both a great and terrible place to be a beer fan during Prohibition. Sure, there was no real shortage of booze, but there was a decent chance you’d be shot while drinking it. But while we all know about the glamorous gangland violence of Al Capone’s Chicago, a wholly different criminal empire was tearing it up in the southern part of the state at that time: the hillbilly mafia. And when they got into fights, it wasn’t with blunderbusses and cussin’, but with homemade tanks and aerial bombs.

During Prohibition, the booze king of Southern Illinois was a bootlegging antihero named Charlie Birger. He was loved because he drove the KKK out of the area, omitting that he did so mostly because they kept trying to steal his liquor. Soon after, he joined forces with the Shelton brothers, who agreed to take a cut of the profits from Birger’s speakeasies in exchange for providing him with only the most primo hooch directly from Florida. And if Floridians use it to blot out their reality, you know that’s some powerful hooch.

The partnership quickly dissolved, however, and the two sides went to war. Like, actual war. The Sheltons’ retribution involved attacking Birger with an armored truck they’d made themselves which rolled through the streets equipped with “an assembly of weapons” — i.e. a freaking tank.

As if that wasn’t enough, the brothers then performed perhaps the first aerial bombing on U.S. soil ever when a plane they hired dropped a few bottles of nitroglycerin wrapped in dynamite over one of Birger’s hideouts. You might be okay with dozens of people dying on the street, and you might be okay with criminals blasting each other with Tommy Guns, but when your criminal element is better-armed than the Army Reserve, it’s time to move.

5

19th-Century Sexual Harassers Were So Bad That Women Would Stab Them

While it’s oddly comforting to know that street harassment is not a modern problem, we should all long for a return of the Edwardian era, and not only because their catcalls involved complimenting a lady’s ankles and expressing a strong desire to experience the sublime sight of her ravishing bosom. At least in our great-great-grandmothers’ day, harassment had to be done face-to-face, which gave them a lot more options regarding what to do with said faces.

By the end of the 19th century, it became commonplace to fend off unwanted advances by plucking one’s hatpin out of one’s fashionably enormous hats and stabbing the fucker. These were no puny little thumbtacks, either — they could be well over a foot long and do fatal damage.

San Francisco Sunday Call Cutting-edge fashion.

One woman even forced robbers from a moving train armed with nothing but her hatpin, while 100 factory workers all wielding theirs fought off police who had come to make one of them as a political prisoner. You simply don’t see that kind of sisterhood anymore. Two women in Chicago, upon the former’s discovery of her husband’s infidelity with the latter, “drew hatpins and circled each other, duel-style, until policemen broke it up.” Cops just don’t get called to bust up hatpin phalanxes anymore these days.

And while today there’d be badly kempt rioting in the streets if dudes got stabbed every time they “accidentally” brushed a woman’s derriere on the sidewalk, 19th-century society still had a strict “gentleman or GTFO” attitude. Reporters were only too happy to dub someone a harasser, or “masher.” Even asking “insulting questions” was all it took to find yourself cast as the mustache-twirling villain. It was such an accepted part of society that it became a trope in the fiction of the era, and newspapers printed tutorials on how to get the most out of your deadly accessory, mostly by encouraging the lady to go straight for the balls. The clothes might make the man, but a hatpin can reverse that process in a pinch.

Brooklyn Museum Repeat: One foot long. Right through the balls.

Unfortunately, errant hatpins had a nasty habit of stabbing people by accident, too. At least, that was the purported reasoning behind laws banning or regulating hatpins — which, coincidentally, women weren’t allowed to vote against. Those laws are presumably defunct now, so if any fashion industry moguls happen to be reading, please bring back ridiculously huge hats and their pins. Plenty of people need reminding of that particular fashion tip.

4

New York Had a Gang Of Child Criminals Run By A Kindly Matron

When Fredericka Mandelbaum emigrated from Prussia to New York City in the mid-19th century, all she wanted was for her husband and herself to eke out a modest living to feed their children. She didn’t count on becoming the country’s first female crime boss.

Starting out as a snazzy street peddler, Mandelbaum discovered there was a fortune to be made befriending the countless Dickensian pickpockets in the city and buying their stolen wares. “Marm” Mandelbaum then used her motherly charms to recruit these baby criminals as her own private ragamuffin army.

Valerian Gribayedoff To supplement her regular muffin army.

Mother Mandelbaum used her stolen-goods-for-candy-and-affection racket to move up in the criminal world, leasing a store as a front from where she ran her operations, which ranged from financing bank robberies to moving stolen livestock. As a devotee of continuing education, she used the back as a classroom to teach her young delinquents how to become better at crime, a sort of finishing school for repeat offenders. She particularly exalted her female students, whom she was proudly saving from “wasting their lives being housekeepers” — a weird glass ceiling to break. With her sharp eye for business and nurturing of young talent, Mandelbaum soon had enough resources to buy the most important thing for a criminal: friends in high places. She had everyone from the local cab drivers to the police to the city’s highest-powered defense attorneys in her pocket.

In the end, it took a private detective agency hired by the district attorney to bring her down, as no local cop dared to raise a hand against Mother. But before the law could close in, Mandelbaum simply packed up and retired to Canada, making everyone to feel bad for never visiting. She lived there quietly under an assumed identity until her supposed death in 1894. Rumor had it that her coffin, transported back to New York City, was filled with stones, and she had in truth returned in the flesh under the name Madame Fuchs, indicating how few of them she gave. In any case, at her funeral, many mourners reported having been pickpocketed. It’s what she would have wanted.

3

Bandits Used To Steal Wigs All The Time

These days, a secondhand wig is worth about as much as the cheap bald bastard who bought it. But in the days of dandies, having a fancy wig was both necessary and expensive. That meant wigs, which cost about as much as the average worker made in a year, were right alongside jewels and cash on every highwayman’s wish list.

Wigmaking was a process that took “six men six days working from sunup to sundown” and a complicated pre-UPS importing system. That’s a lot of money for something that looks like a Bond villain’s pet died on your head. In fact, getting your hands on a bigwig’s big wig was such a score that it made other types of robbery not worth the risk. Instead of slyly trying to cut a purse or pick a pocket, all a would-be bandit had to do was cut a hole or two in the back of a carriage, grab a few fistfuls of powdered perfection, and take off before their now-unsightly owners had any idea what hit them. Boom, that there’s a year’s worth of absinthe.

And with way less needless crotch contact than pickpocketing.

One story tells of a thief so bold as to simply replace his mark’s wig with his own cheap rug when he wasn’t looking. The mark, not feeling the difference, simply walked away, not realizing he had lost a fortune in doll hairs. Unfortunately, the bandits too fell victim to fashion. Wigs eventually stopped being stylish, thereby killing one the criminal underworld’s sillier sources of revenue.

2

17th-Century Dairy Farmers Used To Dye Their Cheese To Jack Up The Price

Food coloring is an important staple in today’s food, especially when it contains little to no actual food. That’s why we’d be more upset at finding out that Cheetos do in fact contain cheese. But back in the day, fake cheese was a huge scandal.

Before we needed an advanced chemistry degree to read food labels, a food’s color was often a sign of its quality. For cheese, a bright orange color signified that it came from quality breeds of cows that eat certain types of grass, which affected the taste greatly. However, in the 17th century, English farmers had figured out that they could get more bang for their cheese by separating the cream first and using it for other products. But it was the cream that had all that orangey goodness, and while their now-white cheese was of the same quality, there’s such a thing as branding. Paint those McDonald’s golden arches green, and it’s game over, baby. Game over.

So the cheese makers came up with a way to disguise their stupid white skim cheese as the full-fat good stuff. They started using natural dyes from a number of plants, including saffron, marigolds, and carrots, and the monocled masses were none the wiser. Later, they started using an extract called annatto, which is what Kraft now uses instead of artificial coloring, because you can even make fraud more lucrative by making it “vintage.” In a matter of decades, the ruse had become an industry standard, being used by cheesemongers all across the UK and the U.S. (except New England, as they prefer to dine on their own smugness). However, the practice of coloring cheese eventually backfired, as it became so common that orange cheese came to be regarded as low-quality instead, begetting an industry of “artificial cheese products” and giving previously exalted cows low self-esteem.

1

A Gang Of One-Legged Men Terrorized Australia

Everything in Australia is deadlier than it should be, and that extends to their old-fashioned gangs. Around the turn of the last century, the scourge roaming (or rather, hobbling around) the streets of Melbourne was a gang called Crutchie Push, and it consisted almost entirely of one-legged men.

They might not have been fast, but death was certain if you were caught by the Crutchie Push (“push” being so hilariously appropriate Australian slang for “gang”). It was a requirement to be one limb short of a set to join the gang, meaning most of them went into battle already on crutches — except for one berserker who still had both legs and ran into fights swinging a brick stuffed inside his sweater sleeve like a low-rent Mr. Fantastic. From there, everyone else (hopefully in choreographed synchronicity) balanced on one leg and used their crutches as weapons. Their signature move was to jab an opponent in the stomach with the tip of the crutch, then swing it around and beat him with it while he was doubled over. It was a surprisingly effective way to force compliance from shop owners and random people of whom they demanded money, food, and booze. Still more reliable than Social Security.

But for a bunch of people who were physically unable to run, the Crutchie Push were bizarrely hard to catch. You’d think you could just lead them to a staircase and be done with it, but when an officer became involved in a brawl with leader Valentine Keating, the one-legged man actually outran the officer before he could be arrested. That’s either Olympic-level crutch skills or a hilariously unfit cop. Eventually, the police became so frustrated with the gang that they assembled a task force made up by the ten most violent police officers in Australia. These “Terrible Ten” were sent out to track the Crutchie Push down and beat them with hoses, because there is apparently a very fine line between legitimate Australian history and the fever dream of a wealthy conservative business owner looking to build a casino atop an Army veterans clinic.

Keating was eventually imprisoned for beating a cop to death with his crutches, after which he … um, went on to a nice, quiet life as a barkeep until his death from tuberculosis. In all of his days tending bar, he never called the police to break up a fight. Why use them as a crutch if you can beat a man to death with your own?

You don’t have to steal to get this wig for your dog.

Also check out 8 Unsolved Crimes That Were Clearly Committed By Satan and 4 Terrifying Historical Crimes No One Can Explain.

Subscribe to our YouTube channel, and check out Why Thomas Edison Was History’s Biggest Dick, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

Follow our new Pictofacts Facebook page, and we’ll follow you everywhere.

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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/6-real-crime-waves-from-history-that-were-hilariously-insane/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/183703998612

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6 Real Crime Waves From History That Were Hilariously Insane

Thanks to the news, it’s easy to feel that right now is the most dangerous time to be alive. However, the truth is that the world in general keeps getting safer. You see, not only was the past lousy with criminal terrors, but ye crime waves of olde were also bit more … eccentric. Case in point …

6

A Bootleggers’ Turf War Included Tank Battles And Bomber Planes In 1920s Illinois

Illinois was both a great and terrible place to be a beer fan during Prohibition. Sure, there was no real shortage of booze, but there was a decent chance you’d be shot while drinking it. But while we all know about the glamorous gangland violence of Al Capone’s Chicago, a wholly different criminal empire was tearing it up in the southern part of the state at that time: the hillbilly mafia. And when they got into fights, it wasn’t with blunderbusses and cussin’, but with homemade tanks and aerial bombs.

During Prohibition, the booze king of Southern Illinois was a bootlegging antihero named Charlie Birger. He was loved because he drove the KKK out of the area, omitting that he did so mostly because they kept trying to steal his liquor. Soon after, he joined forces with the Shelton brothers, who agreed to take a cut of the profits from Birger’s speakeasies in exchange for providing him with only the most primo hooch directly from Florida. And if Floridians use it to blot out their reality, you know that’s some powerful hooch.

The partnership quickly dissolved, however, and the two sides went to war. Like, actual war. The Sheltons’ retribution involved attacking Birger with an armored truck they’d made themselves which rolled through the streets equipped with “an assembly of weapons” — i.e. a freaking tank.

As if that wasn’t enough, the brothers then performed perhaps the first aerial bombing on U.S. soil ever when a plane they hired dropped a few bottles of nitroglycerin wrapped in dynamite over one of Birger’s hideouts. You might be okay with dozens of people dying on the street, and you might be okay with criminals blasting each other with Tommy Guns, but when your criminal element is better-armed than the Army Reserve, it’s time to move.

5

19th-Century Sexual Harassers Were So Bad That Women Would Stab Them

While it’s oddly comforting to know that street harassment is not a modern problem, we should all long for a return of the Edwardian era, and not only because their catcalls involved complimenting a lady’s ankles and expressing a strong desire to experience the sublime sight of her ravishing bosom. At least in our great-great-grandmothers’ day, harassment had to be done face-to-face, which gave them a lot more options regarding what to do with said faces.

By the end of the 19th century, it became commonplace to fend off unwanted advances by plucking one’s hatpin out of one’s fashionably enormous hats and stabbing the fucker. These were no puny little thumbtacks, either — they could be well over a foot long and do fatal damage.

San Francisco Sunday Call Cutting-edge fashion.

One woman even forced robbers from a moving train armed with nothing but her hatpin, while 100 factory workers all wielding theirs fought off police who had come to make one of them as a political prisoner. You simply don’t see that kind of sisterhood anymore. Two women in Chicago, upon the former’s discovery of her husband’s infidelity with the latter, “drew hatpins and circled each other, duel-style, until policemen broke it up.” Cops just don’t get called to bust up hatpin phalanxes anymore these days.

And while today there’d be badly kempt rioting in the streets if dudes got stabbed every time they “accidentally” brushed a woman’s derriere on the sidewalk, 19th-century society still had a strict “gentleman or GTFO” attitude. Reporters were only too happy to dub someone a harasser, or “masher.” Even asking “insulting questions” was all it took to find yourself cast as the mustache-twirling villain. It was such an accepted part of society that it became a trope in the fiction of the era, and newspapers printed tutorials on how to get the most out of your deadly accessory, mostly by encouraging the lady to go straight for the balls. The clothes might make the man, but a hatpin can reverse that process in a pinch.

Brooklyn Museum Repeat: One foot long. Right through the balls.

Unfortunately, errant hatpins had a nasty habit of stabbing people by accident, too. At least, that was the purported reasoning behind laws banning or regulating hatpins — which, coincidentally, women weren’t allowed to vote against. Those laws are presumably defunct now, so if any fashion industry moguls happen to be reading, please bring back ridiculously huge hats and their pins. Plenty of people need reminding of that particular fashion tip.

4

New York Had a Gang Of Child Criminals Run By A Kindly Matron

When Fredericka Mandelbaum emigrated from Prussia to New York City in the mid-19th century, all she wanted was for her husband and herself to eke out a modest living to feed their children. She didn’t count on becoming the country’s first female crime boss.

Starting out as a snazzy street peddler, Mandelbaum discovered there was a fortune to be made befriending the countless Dickensian pickpockets in the city and buying their stolen wares. “Marm” Mandelbaum then used her motherly charms to recruit these baby criminals as her own private ragamuffin army.

Valerian Gribayedoff To supplement her regular muffin army.

Mother Mandelbaum used her stolen-goods-for-candy-and-affection racket to move up in the criminal world, leasing a store as a front from where she ran her operations, which ranged from financing bank robberies to moving stolen livestock. As a devotee of continuing education, she used the back as a classroom to teach her young delinquents how to become better at crime, a sort of finishing school for repeat offenders. She particularly exalted her female students, whom she was proudly saving from “wasting their lives being housekeepers” — a weird glass ceiling to break. With her sharp eye for business and nurturing of young talent, Mandelbaum soon had enough resources to buy the most important thing for a criminal: friends in high places. She had everyone from the local cab drivers to the police to the city’s highest-powered defense attorneys in her pocket.

In the end, it took a private detective agency hired by the district attorney to bring her down, as no local cop dared to raise a hand against Mother. But before the law could close in, Mandelbaum simply packed up and retired to Canada, making everyone to feel bad for never visiting. She lived there quietly under an assumed identity until her supposed death in 1894. Rumor had it that her coffin, transported back to New York City, was filled with stones, and she had in truth returned in the flesh under the name Madame Fuchs, indicating how few of them she gave. In any case, at her funeral, many mourners reported having been pickpocketed. It’s what she would have wanted.

3

Bandits Used To Steal Wigs All The Time

These days, a secondhand wig is worth about as much as the cheap bald bastard who bought it. But in the days of dandies, having a fancy wig was both necessary and expensive. That meant wigs, which cost about as much as the average worker made in a year, were right alongside jewels and cash on every highwayman’s wish list.

Wigmaking was a process that took “six men six days working from sunup to sundown” and a complicated pre-UPS importing system. That’s a lot of money for something that looks like a Bond villain’s pet died on your head. In fact, getting your hands on a bigwig’s big wig was such a score that it made other types of robbery not worth the risk. Instead of slyly trying to cut a purse or pick a pocket, all a would-be bandit had to do was cut a hole or two in the back of a carriage, grab a few fistfuls of powdered perfection, and take off before their now-unsightly owners had any idea what hit them. Boom, that there’s a year’s worth of absinthe.

And with way less needless crotch contact than pickpocketing.

One story tells of a thief so bold as to simply replace his mark’s wig with his own cheap rug when he wasn’t looking. The mark, not feeling the difference, simply walked away, not realizing he had lost a fortune in doll hairs. Unfortunately, the bandits too fell victim to fashion. Wigs eventually stopped being stylish, thereby killing one the criminal underworld’s sillier sources of revenue.

2

17th-Century Dairy Farmers Used To Dye Their Cheese To Jack Up The Price

Food coloring is an important staple in today’s food, especially when it contains little to no actual food. That’s why we’d be more upset at finding out that Cheetos do in fact contain cheese. But back in the day, fake cheese was a huge scandal.

Before we needed an advanced chemistry degree to read food labels, a food’s color was often a sign of its quality. For cheese, a bright orange color signified that it came from quality breeds of cows that eat certain types of grass, which affected the taste greatly. However, in the 17th century, English farmers had figured out that they could get more bang for their cheese by separating the cream first and using it for other products. But it was the cream that had all that orangey goodness, and while their now-white cheese was of the same quality, there’s such a thing as branding. Paint those McDonald’s golden arches green, and it’s game over, baby. Game over.

So the cheese makers came up with a way to disguise their stupid white skim cheese as the full-fat good stuff. They started using natural dyes from a number of plants, including saffron, marigolds, and carrots, and the monocled masses were none the wiser. Later, they started using an extract called annatto, which is what Kraft now uses instead of artificial coloring, because you can even make fraud more lucrative by making it “vintage.” In a matter of decades, the ruse had become an industry standard, being used by cheesemongers all across the UK and the U.S. (except New England, as they prefer to dine on their own smugness). However, the practice of coloring cheese eventually backfired, as it became so common that orange cheese came to be regarded as low-quality instead, begetting an industry of “artificial cheese products” and giving previously exalted cows low self-esteem.

1

A Gang Of One-Legged Men Terrorized Australia

Everything in Australia is deadlier than it should be, and that extends to their old-fashioned gangs. Around the turn of the last century, the scourge roaming (or rather, hobbling around) the streets of Melbourne was a gang called Crutchie Push, and it consisted almost entirely of one-legged men.

They might not have been fast, but death was certain if you were caught by the Crutchie Push (“push” being so hilariously appropriate Australian slang for “gang”). It was a requirement to be one limb short of a set to join the gang, meaning most of them went into battle already on crutches — except for one berserker who still had both legs and ran into fights swinging a brick stuffed inside his sweater sleeve like a low-rent Mr. Fantastic. From there, everyone else (hopefully in choreographed synchronicity) balanced on one leg and used their crutches as weapons. Their signature move was to jab an opponent in the stomach with the tip of the crutch, then swing it around and beat him with it while he was doubled over. It was a surprisingly effective way to force compliance from shop owners and random people of whom they demanded money, food, and booze. Still more reliable than Social Security.

But for a bunch of people who were physically unable to run, the Crutchie Push were bizarrely hard to catch. You’d think you could just lead them to a staircase and be done with it, but when an officer became involved in a brawl with leader Valentine Keating, the one-legged man actually outran the officer before he could be arrested. That’s either Olympic-level crutch skills or a hilariously unfit cop. Eventually, the police became so frustrated with the gang that they assembled a task force made up by the ten most violent police officers in Australia. These “Terrible Ten” were sent out to track the Crutchie Push down and beat them with hoses, because there is apparently a very fine line between legitimate Australian history and the fever dream of a wealthy conservative business owner looking to build a casino atop an Army veterans clinic.

Keating was eventually imprisoned for beating a cop to death with his crutches, after which he … um, went on to a nice, quiet life as a barkeep until his death from tuberculosis. In all of his days tending bar, he never called the police to break up a fight. Why use them as a crutch if you can beat a man to death with your own?

You don’t have to steal to get this wig for your dog.

Also check out 8 Unsolved Crimes That Were Clearly Committed By Satan and 4 Terrifying Historical Crimes No One Can Explain.

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Get intimate with our new podcast Cracked Gets Personal. Subscribe for funny, fascinating episodes like Rape, Pee Funnels and The Dolphin: Female Soldiers Speak Up and Inside The Secret Epidemic Of Cops Shooting Dogs, available wherever you get your podcasts.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/6-real-crime-waves-from-history-that-were-hilariously-insane/