#but he never set a foot inside a jail cell

[newbordeaux]

she's cute, she's smart, and she even lies to cops 💕💕💕 [AO3 link 🙈🙈🙈🙈]

Vito couldn't remember the last time he set foot in the library—if he ever had at all.

It was a close call, the robbery at the mall. The cops had already busted that meathead Brian or whatever the fuck his name was—not that it stopped them from searching every nook and cranny in West Side for the other two guys they lost in the shootout.

Joe made off with the jewelry, presumably already waiting back at his apartment, while Vito hid in an alleyway, lost on his way back to his car.

He could hear Joe in the back of his mind—try not to get pinched on the way there. Fuckin' great.

That was when he spotted the library, right around the corner from his little alley. The two cops searching the main street were too busy looking in the other direction to even take notice of the building. Perfect.

The main entrance would likely be closed at this hour, which meant he would have to search for a back way. Carefully, he rounded the building, until he found an open window. It seemed strange to leave it open, but judging from the lack of lights on inside, the place seemed to be empty indeed. A perfect hiding spot if he'd ever seen one.

Climbing through the window was easy enough. Vito made his way to the main hall, letting himself fall into one of the loungers between the tall bookshelves, letting out a heavy sigh. Now all he needed to do was wait until the cops gave up their search. He could think of more exciting places to do that than a fucking library. He was never big on reading after all. However, boring as it was, it was better than the prospect of a jail cell.

Vito failed to notice footsteps approaching him, because suddenly he was startled by the overhead lights turning on, accompanied by a strangely familiar voice. "What are you doing here? We're closed, so get out of here before I call the cops!"

He jumped out of his seat and spun around, already moving to pull his gun. But to his surprise, that familiar voice belonged to a similarly familiar face.

"Lucia?" he heard himself say.

The woman in front of him, holding a heavy book which she likely intended to hit him on the head with, blinked in disbelief. It had to be her, there was no doubt. She looked different now; the glasses she wore only two years ago were gone, her hair was done like the women in the movies, but the ever familiar curve of her face remained unchanged—and damn it, she was gorgeous.

"Vito, is that you?" The hand holding the heavy book now fell to her side. Lucia looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Jeez, what's with that goofy suit? Got your discharge only to work for some phone company?"

She crossed her arms, but she spoke with a teasing boldness that he always liked about her. As if those two years had never passed; as if they were still two kids in Little Italy.

"How'd you know that? I mean the discharge," was all he managed to utter in return.

"Oh you know, my Mama heard it from yours. We live in the same neighborhood, you know. How else am I supposed to find out when you won't even stop by to say hello?"

Her teasing tone now turned accusatory, and they both knew why. They hadn't spoken since before his goddamn arrest, when they began to drift apart all those years ago. She and Artemisia had gone straight, left to get real jobs and make something of themselves while he and Joe were left behind. Lucia was the only one of their old friend group who had gone to college, while he went to prison and got shot at in the war. Hell, one only had to take a look at them now—she was looking finer than any of the other dames in Little Italy, while he stood there in some fucking jumpsuit that he just robbed a store in, all to pay off his old man's goddamn debts. How did one go about and casually catch up with someone he hadn't spoken to in ages, all while she was suddenly so far out of his league?

In any case, even if he tried, Mrs. Vitelli would have likely slammed the door right into his face before she let some delinquent (as she always called him) speak to her daughter. Vito scratched his cheek and shrugged nonchalantly, searching for his words as they suddenly heard a sharp knock at the front door.

"EBPD! Come out with your hands up!"

He was fucked.

Lucia jumped. "Jeez! Is that the cops?"

"Yeah, no shit," he mumbled. "Look, Lucy, it's been nice seeing you again but I gotta go now."

"You haven't been getting into trouble again, have you?"

He tried to think of an adequate excuse, but he knew there was no point. She knew him after all. "Well, uh, yeah…"

Another sharp knock.

"Fuck, look, I really gotta get going," he stammered, already moving towards the back of the building.

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Of course. Relax and let me handle this. You go hide, uh, under the reception desk."

Vito was almost dumbstruck at her calm demeanor, but did as she said regardless. She and Artemisia had lied to the cops more times than they could count, so he hid and prayed that she hadn't lost her touch in college.

He heard the front doors open. "May I help you, sir?" she asked demurely.

"Evenin', Miss. We're looking for two men who were involved in a robbery. Armed and dangerous, wearing orange jumpsuits. Have you seen anyone like that?"

Lucia gasped in horror, a hand at her breast. "A robbery you say? Oh my, I haven't seen anyone, I sure hope they're not coming here!"

"You sure? An eyewitness said he saw someone in a nearby alley."

"No, sir, you see, I was about to leave and just checked the rooms again. If anyone was here I would have noticed."

A lengthy pause followed before the man spoke again. "Alright. It's awful late though, Miss, and dangerous, so you'd better head home right away. I could have someone drive you."

"Oh, that's awfully nice of you, sir, but my car is right outside. I sure hope you'll catch these fiends, though."

"Sure will. Goodnight, Miss. Stay safe."

Vito heard the doors close again and crawled out from underneath the desk, rubbing his neck. "What, they teach you to lie to cops like that at college?"

Lucia only laughed in response, evidently proud at her handiwork. "Oh, you know, old habit. Or have you forgotten all the times we saved you and Joe from getting pinched?"

Vito gave a low chuckle in return. There was something strangely exciting about the ease with which she played the part of the innocent little lady. He wouldn't mind having her around for his and Joe's schemes again.

"You really ought to get out of here, though. They'll be looking for you everywhere now," she said, fumbling with her keys as she locked the front doors.

"Yeah. I, uh, don't suppose you could help me out here?"

"I suppose I could, just for old times sake," she replied with a hint of a playful smile. "I'll drive you home."

She spun around, making her way to the other side of the building, expecting him to follow. And follow he did.

Stopping in front of the back door, she grabbed a heavy fur coat off the rack. Vito raised a brow and gave her a questioning look. Where did she get the money for that?

"You get into stealing too while I was away?"

"What, you mean the coat? No, I just came into some money." Rather than explaining further, she simply opened the door and held it for him. "Let's get out of here."

─────────────────────────────

The drive back to Joe's apartment was mostly silent, apart from the occasional comment she mumbled about other drivers. Lucia took a few detours to avoid any unwanted attention from the police, and apart from the tension that hung in the car because she was playing getaway driver for a criminal, it turned out that the two years they had spent apart simply made it hard to find a topic for conversation. It was nothing short of awkward.

They had reached Chinatown when she finally spoke. "Do you mind if I turn this up?"

Vito, who had spent the majority of the drive looking out the passenger window, turned his head to see her finger laying on the radio's volume control.

"Nah, go ahead."

Some Glenn Miller song filled the silence between them and Lucia set her hand back on the steering wheel, tapping her fingers to the rhythm. Her gaze was focused on the road, looking ahead to see through the February snow that fell against the windshield. She lightly shook her head to move a strand of hair out of her face. The disheveled updos she had worn before his arrest have since been traded in favor of immaculately styled brown curls. She looked so different now.

Vito tore his gaze from her, lest she caught him staring, instead deciding to break the silence between them once more. "So, what have you been up to?"

She stopped the car at a red light and looked over to him.

"Not much. I'm more curious about what you've been doing. Robbing stores again after getting your discharge?" she teased, gesturing to his bright orange jumpsuit.

He rolled his eyes and she laughed softly. "Anyway, not much has happened. You already know I went to college, work part time at the library now. I'm planning to move to the West Side sometime this or next year, it's closer to where I'll be working."

"So you're leaving the old neighborhood?"

The disappointment in his voice must have been obvious, judging by an almost apologetic look on her face. "Not quite yet, but yeah, in the future. I mean, we talked about getting out of there all the time, didn't we?"

Indeed they had. He supposed that Lucia hadn't changed in that regard, still the same kid from Little Italy who dreamed of leaving her old neighborhood and making it big. And how could he blame her when he felt the same?

"It's just that this neighborhood weighs you down," she continued. "I mean, all the other girls are married by now. Everyone just seems so content with life there, no one really wants more."

Lucia fell silent again, and he noticed that the Glenn Miller song had stopped long ago. Instead, a familiar jingle now filled the silence between them.

"The Lux Radio Theatre brings you 'Laura'. Starring Dana Andrews, Gene Tierney, Vincent Price, and—

"Oh, you remember these shows?" she suddenly exclaimed. "We used to listen to these all the time."

Vito, grateful for the change of topic, let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, at your place when your parents weren't home. Remember that one time the old man next to you came knocking at your door yelling, telling us to turn it down?"

"The old hook hand? Yes. We just turned it louder and louder and he wouldn't leave 'til my Mom came home from work."

And with that, Lucia quickly fell into conversation, regaling old tales of their antics and complaining about the radio play, how the eerie atmosphere of the movie was lost without the visuals. Once she started talking it suddenly became so easy to converse with her again. He made a mental note to invite her to see the movie sometime—someone ought to show him what he missed out on during his time in the military.

After a while she stopped the car, and Vito realized only now that they had arrived at Joe's apartment. 

"Thanks for the ride. It's been good seeing you again, Lucy, real good."

Almost reluctantly, he stood from his seat, and stopped short before closing the door again, leaning against the roof of the car. "Do you wanna come upstairs and, uh, finish catching up?"

Lucia visibly froze in discomfort—fuck, he didn't mean it like that.

"No, thank you, I don't think that's a good idea," she muttered politely. Of course, why would she come up to some guy's apartment in the middle of the night—even if he really only intended to talk. Always the good Catholic girl.

"Wait, I didn't—"

"We could talk some other time though," she interrupted. "You remember that diner we always went to with Joe and Mia? I'm free on Friday, meet me there at 1pm."

"Alright, I'll see ya."

He closed the door and Lucia waved her hand before she finally drove off. Vito didn't wonder whether Joe had brought the jewelry home safely or not. For a moment, he simply stood in the driveway to his apartment and smiled to himself.

#this is mafia 2 fic if you care about that #c: lucia #x: count every star #mafia 2 #whatevah im putting it in the main tag. not tagging the mutuals. no one played this except like 3 people #*writing

[brytongore]

5th of July Yass & Dementia

For no reason other than being Homeless I found myself in a town I never cared for or looked up called Yass.

Outside my hotel named after a historical person I maybe too millennial to look up & care named Hamilton Hume, I check in and am met with a warning to my room.

A jail cell looking apartment block, with badly cement rubble placed pot plants and a desperate attempt to hide the pink spas and pop corned roofs popular in the 70’s with a modern take of tin kangaroos & the unfortunate succulent plant mess of pebbles & driftwood though there is no beach anywhere near here.

The receptionist a man, who lived with his dog and ran the place with his family much like any small town motels do, told me that the old man outside my door will sit and smoke & if he causes a problem that I can tell him, I assured him I enjoyed crazy old people and it wouldn’t be an issue. He then continued with his problems almost exasperated and looking for an answer which was a bigger red flag than a stray old man, he continued that he had been a disgraced doctor who lost his license and lived in Sydney and he had no idea why he maybe taking up residence in his motel, again I told him this would hardly be an issue for me. find myself sitting with old people a lot.

What I didn’t expect was an entire camp kitchen set up, a butane stove, and unboxed and flat coke a cola box, a chair, a candle on a kippers tin, an ash tray & a bin, in the corner of the porch was a small pot of water with green onions growing. Later I’d find a fry pan with pork sausages sitting outside

(Look up how to help people with dementia)

I had spent my first night here and managed not to bump into him, the second night however I would be up until 4:50am talking to the purple footed man with scotch tape a torch and a jar of sauerkraut discussing the war, Germany, the church, the government, Europe and his questionable medical practises. I learnt about his entire family, his friends. He gave me two glasses of red wine & smoked while telling me he wished to find a woman of reproductive age under 23 who loved grandpas & was somewhat disappointed when I told him I don’t wish to marry. so if I have any friends this is your shot.

Maybe I am too polite, my ass hurt, the chair was cold and sometimes I would slip into a dissociative state however I’m just complaining bc I found his stories about war and the way he put a tourniquet on my arm delightful.

He also gave me books and polish sauerkraut. I assure him I would return on my departure. He seemed very pleased with the fact I was homeschooling my children & teaching the practical survival travelling.

He definitely had a distaste for the government to which he called us afterhour citizens & anti public and I appreciated that. Introverts should be called the Anti Public.

The hot takes I can gather is that the best fish is Black Sea Bass in Istanbul with white wine and Crimea is where you want to go for vodka bc the Black Sea is warmer making the wine and vodka better tasting.

I realised pretty soon the cola cartoon was placed on the ground for his poor feet. And I found myself humbled by his Batshit tales reminding myself that I don’t mind listening to an obviously lonely end of his life old man, who was kind enough to give me a glass of red instead of me scrolling endlessly on TikTok trying to avoid my own pains, I could give him a moment or a few hours of my ears.

Amazingly he seemed to keep an entire pantry or junk drawer inside his pockets, he pulled out a torch and placed down a roll of tape and a Swiss army knife he told me he used to clean the corns off his feet. Hahahaahaha

He showed me excitedly the Atlas where he had travelled and I made sure to pay close attention to his story. He told me of the nurses in Berlin where he had to unfortunately fly home, of his friend in Belraus who was a ballet dancer with a hobby for shooting targets, that AK-47 is a short barrel gun not good for long distance and how the Army rejected her for being a ballet dancer but she shot her way in when she demanded a gun and a target.

That his Grandfather had fashioned a hinge for a paralysed finger out of a silver platter he took home from the hospital and implanted in a patient, that if an injured soldier walked into a hospital breathing on their own and a pulse they’d 90% of the time survive, and that I should buy a helmet to wear because if I lose my head I would turn into a cabbage and there would be no one for my kids, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had already lost my mind and this conversation may be part of it.

after he finished telling the story of a cousin who didn’t earn his wings in the airforce bc of a TigerMoth single engine he flew upside down just to show off, he asked me about my life.

I had smoked 5 cigarettes, my ass hurt but I felt completely stupid and dumbfounded by the question. It has only been the last two years where I had spent any time actually talking about myself to people, I had always been a listener before the psychward.

My life felt strange to discuss and small compared to his, suddenly a lot of the issues we have as a population online and emotionally felt small in comparison to the arms dealers and strategic plans across Europe he had self educated himself on, though maybe full of shit was legitimized as he pointed out small towns all across Germany, Ukraine and Russia with a torch and a shaky finger in an Atlas.

I often lie, or avoid questions about myself. This is one of the times I do lie to strangers bc truth be told there’s not much I can bring up without a disgusting amount of weird tragedy & I despise pity or being questioned as if somehow caused all of it. A friend I recently lost and a therapist were really the only people I had opened up about much of any of it.

I told him briefly and pushed it to the side.

I realised that in my life I had never really settled for any one experience, and I have no idea how to talk about me because I’ve never really understood how or what my life has been without blaming myself .

I seem to push myself into many different kinds of scenarios and people. But I never grew attached and settled.

[realasslesbian]

My Amber Heard/Johnny Depp opinion as an actual lawyer is that on the exceedingly rare occasion that a prima facie case can be made for a woman's guilt of a violent crime the media always take it and run with it, while at the same time ignoring the far worse violent crimes men commit every day. Often this results in overly harsh punishments for the female defendant and, in a disturbingly high number of cases, straight up sentencing an actually innocent woman. I don't know if Amber Heard 'did it' and I have very little faith in the legal system to get to the bottom of it. But I'm fairly sure that, regardless of what is uncovered and who was at fault, Johnny Depp will be fine.

#for example #Australia's 'worst female serial killer'? #actually turns out her four kids that she 'murdered' all inherited the same generic condition which causes sudden death at a young age #that's been proven beyond a doubt by modern genetic testing of their exhumed skeletons #hundreds of scientists have endorsed the view that Kathleen Folbigg is innocent #and yet she's still in jail #which would be bad enough #except there was literally no evidence to convict her in the first place #they couldn't even say whether she suffocated the kids poisoned them or what #because they simply didn't know #they definitely didn't have evidence that proved murder 'beyond reasonable doubt' #which is the standard for a criminal conviction #unless apparently you're a woman and therefore subject to the overriding court of public opinion #or what about Lindy 'a dingo took my baby' Chamberlain? #all the 'evidence' against her incriminated her husband just as much #but he never set a foot inside a jail cell #meanwhile Chamberlain served four years of a life sentence before being 'pardoned' #which is legalese for being forgiven for a crime committed #except no crime had been committed #(and infact any evidence of such a crime had been fabricated by the police) #(for reasons) #but even to this day most people insist Chamberlain killed her daughter #and think it's a big ol joke #and this is just the go for every case regarding a woman being violent #so excuse me for acknowledging how unlikely it is for this heard/depp saga to end in actual justice #feminism #radblr #amber heard #johnny depp

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Stealin’ Hearts

George “Digger” Harkness x Reader

Fandom: DC Extended Universe

Summary: You’re a superhero and you just found out your soulmate is the notorious diamond thief, Captain Boomerang. You want to trust him, but you’re not sure you can just yet, so…now what?

Note: This is the sequel to He’s a Challenge. I really wanted to write a second part lol so here you go!

Warnings: Alcohol mention.

Word Count: 1.5k

Reader is: Female (but I would be willing to rewrite another version for a male or gender neutral reader.)

When the jet landed, you let go of Boomer’s hand and led him out onto the roof of your family’s secluded forest mansion. He looked down at the sheer size of it, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Nothing, just…It’s not what I expected.” He admitted, hauling his duffle bag full of his few belongings over his shoulder. You led him in through the door and down the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the lower level of the house. You saw your siblings were congregated there, River looking particularly anxious, his arms across his chest. Rose and Ryan were sitting on the couch, talking, but their discussion stopped when they noticed you and Digger standing there, looking down at them.

“We’re here.” You called awkwardly.

“I see that.” River said, his eyes guarded as he looked the notorious Captain Boomerang up and down.

You led him down the stairs to where the others were and he hesitated, but followed after you anyway, a sheepish look on his face.

“So, Mr. Harkness, I’m not sure if (Y/N) told you why you’re here.”

“Well, I know we’re soulmates, so…” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously anxious about the whole situation. “I kind of figured that was why.”

“Well, yeah, but also no.” Rose laughed, motioning for everyone to sit down, so you . “(Y/N), why don’t you explain?”

You exhaled a long breath, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I can.” You looked up at Digger and he smirked. “Yeah, so, uh, our mom is the queen of an alien planet. So like…we’re royalty. And because of that, through our laws, you get diplomatic immunity because you’re my soulmate. I mean…unless you do something super fucked up and then I can’t help you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his expression confused, but also evaluating what you had just said. “You mean to tell me my soulmate is a princess.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged.

He grinned. “Wicked.”

***

With every room of the mansion you showed Digger, the more and more impressed he became, taking everything in. He was still expecting you to take it all back at some point, tell him it was all a big joke and he wouldn’t be living in your giant mansion for the rest of his days.

That was strange to him, too. This weird sense of security. He’d had a rough upbringing, that much was for sure. He wasn’t used to stability, even in his adult life. He’d been constantly on the run, in and out of prison, doing whatever he could to make ends meet and try to establish something for himself, and…here it was. It had fallen right into his lap.

You pulled open a door and led him into another bedroom. There were a few generic pieces of art on the wall. The comforter was charcoal gray and there were a few navy throw pillows on top.

“I’m sorry it’s so empty in here.”

“Why are you…?” He paused for a second, looking around the spacious bedroom. It was nice, clean…way better than the tiny, dingy jail cell he’d been in for the past few years. “Is this my room?”

“Yeah, is that alright? It’s next door to mine, so I figured…”

“It’s perfect, princess.” He smiled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well, believe it.” You chuckled, stepping further into the room and opening the drawers on the dresser. “We didn’t know what size you were, so we guessed, but we picked you up some basics. I didn’t know what all you had…”

Digger was silent, watching you with careful eyes. You barely knew him and yet you’d done all of this for him, going out of your way to get him clothes and bedding.

“And this is your bathroom.” You opened the door to what he had assumed was a closet or something, but no, he now had an entire bathroom to himself as well. “I know the shower can be a little confusing, so let me know if you need any help with anything.”

You blinked up at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. “You good?”

“Y-yeah, I just…” He chuckled and shook his head. “This isn��t what I was expecting.”

“What, did you think we’d throw my soulmate in the dungeon?” You smirked, watching the way he couldn’t help but crack a smile at that.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

You were both quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower real quick? I haven’t had a warm shower in…” He didn’t finish the thought. You both knew it had been a while since he’d had a bathroom to himself, let alone water that wasn’t already cold by the time he got to it.

“Go for it. I’ll be down in the living room when you get out.”

***

When Digger came back downstairs, you were almost shocked, looking at him. He’d trimmed his beard, combed his hair, and he was wearing one of the cozy gray hoodies you’d picked out for him. He looked nice. You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks when you took him in.

“What, princess?” He raised an eyebrow, walking over to sit down next to you.

You set the book in your hands down on the coffee table. “Hmm?”

“What’s that look for?”

“You look nice, is all.” You shrugged.

He grinned. “You think so?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded. Once he was closer, you could smell the eucalyptus shampoo in his slightly damp hair. You leaned in the tiniest bit, terrified of moving too fast, but he leaned in a bit too, only to be interrupted by—

“GIRLS’ NIGHT!”

You looked up at the sound of the voice with wide eyes, chuckling when you saw none other than Harley Quinn standing there with a bottle of wine.

“Boomer? What are you doin’ here?” She asked, looking at him.

“I found my soulmate, Harls.” Digger said, smiling as he did.

She looked between the two of you, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait, are you two…?”

“Yeah, we are.” You confirmed, slipping your hand into Digger’s. He embraced it quickly, giving it a proud squeeze.

“But I thought your soulmate was some dude named George…?”

“Digger is just a nickname, mate.” He chuckled. “My real name is George.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Harley nodded. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“You know it’s Wednesday, right?” You said, glancing down at your phone to double-check.

“Oh, is it? I thought it was Thursday.” Harley laughed. “My bad.”

“You can hang out if you want to, though.” You offered, motioning to the couch.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She ran over and hopped onto the open end of the couch next to you, setting the wine bottle on the coffee table before crawling over to whisper in your ear, “He’s a keeper, (Y/N). You’re in good hands.”

“Oh believe me,” you smirked, “I know.”

***

It was a few months later. Much to your surprise, Digger stuck around. Part of you had expected him to leave that first night with all of your family valuables in his duffle bag, but he…hadn’t. Instead, he’d been coexisting peacefully with your siblings, spending significant amounts of time trying to get to know you better, reading, cooking on occasion, and helping with chores around the house.

He remembered in vivid detail the first time you’d trusted him enough to fall asleep with him. It had been innocent enough, one of your first times cuddling together. Your other siblings were all out of the house, so you and Digger had the house to yourselves. Naturally, you had popped in a movie. One thing had led to another and you’d ended up fast asleep on his chest.

He took a long moment to look at you, something he had never felt before welling up inside of him as slow breaths worked into and out of you.

Something changed then, and since that moment, he had been pretty attached to you. Not that you minded. It felt natural. He was your soulmate, after all.

“Princess, have you seen my—” Digger popped his head into your bedroom, frozen in his tracks when he saw you there, laying on your bed, reading a book.

“What?” You asked coyly.

“Nothing, I just…” He smirked and stepped into the room. “Would you like some company?”

“Weren’t you looking for something?”

“Yeah, my heart, and it seems you’ve been hiding it in here with you.” He replied, walking over to your bed and climbing on next to you. He gently guided your book away from you and took its place on your chest instead, looking at you with his sparkling eyes, his weight comforting on top of you.

“And here I thought you were the thief.”

“Reformed, darlin’.” He said, unable to keep the smile off of his face. For one of the only times in his life, not only did Digger feel safe, but he finally felt happy, and he knew as long as he was by your side, that feeling would never fade.

#captain boomerang #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang imagine #digger harkness #digger harkness x reader #digger harkness imagine #george harkness #dc #dc imagine #dc comics #tss #tss imagine

[fanficimagery]

Hell Takes Riverdale pt. I

Imagine moving to Riverdale while your father has some business to attend to. While there, you meet some people you find yourself growing attached to.

Words: 8.8K Author’s Note: Riverdale AU where FP didn’t go to prison for his crimes and Jughead joined the Serpents because he wanted to. This isn’t exactly Northsider friendly and I’ll be focusing more so on the Serpents, so I won’t go into detail about all the drama the Northside gang constantly puts themselves into the middle of, nor will Jughead be a part of it. I will mention a certain family who lives nearby from another show, but I will NOT be bringing those characters in here. The most you’ll get is what I explain about them in the imagine.

Jughead Jones was notorious for laying low and staying out of the spotlight. At least he was until a murder rocked his small town, Veronica Lodge- along with her criminal family- moved in, and his best friends Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews put together their very own crime solving Scooby Gang. He liked a good mystery every now and then, but the murder of Jason Blossom pointed towards his father's gang and he didn't know how to cope with that.

When FP Jones- Jughead's dad- eventually confessed to the murder, Jughead didn't know what to think. All he knew for sure was that his dad was innocent. So he and his friends did their best to prove Mr. Jones of his innocence, which they eventually did, but given FP's past the police decided to keep him a bit longer.

Jughead Jones was a powder keg waiting to explode, so in a move no one expected, he channeled his anger from the crookedness of their small town Sheriff to the local high school jocks when they decided to target the new girl for laughs. Y/N Y/L/N was a meek little thing, small smiles and small voice whenever called upon. She didn't dress like someone who had money, but then again she didn't dress like she didn't have any either. She presented herself as someone from the middle class which is probably why Jughead felt at ease coming to her defense one day out of the blue.

You're at your locker, putting away your books before you head over to the cafeteria for lunch, when someone shoves their shoulder into your back. You grunt as you collide with the metal in front of you, a few notebooks falling to the floor, and you turn to frown at the culprits. Reggie Mantle and his merry band of jocks laugh at you. "Seriously?" You mumble.

Reggie smirks, shrugging. "I gotta find my entertainment somewhere and what better entertainment is there than the new girl with no voice?" You roll your eyes and bend over to pick up your belongings, only for a sneaker clad foot to kick one of your notebooks away.

"Hey!"

The sound of someone being shoved into the lockers next to you has you looking up, a beanie-wearing, plaid shirt tied around the waist, boy coming to your aide. "What the hell is your problem, Mantle?" Hands fist into the material of Reggie's letterman jacket, slamming him twice against the lockers. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase pick on someone your own size?"

Reggie shoves him back. "Cool it, Jones, less you wanna end up in a cell next to your pops."

He scoffs. "You look real tough picking on a girl. Keep walking, jackass."

Your gaze darts between the two boys, chest to chest with one another, and you practically hold your breath. You can see the other jocks just itching for a fight, but the longer Reggie and your savior stare at one another, the less Reggie seems to be amped up for a fight. He eventually scoffs, smiling. "Whatever. The little mouse isn't much fun anyway."

Reggie goes to walk away, but not before kicking another one of your notebooks further down the hall. You sigh and start collecting your things closest to you once more.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about him. Reggie's a total dick."

You glance at the boy collecting one of your notebooks for you and flash him a small smile. "It's fine. Every school has a bully. I didn't expect this place to be any different."

"Yeah, well.." He trails off, placing the stuff he collected in your locker. "I'm Jughead."

"That's an unusual name," you say. "I'm Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, would you care to join me outside for lunch? I'm kind of alone today and I noticed you don't really sit with anyone either. I'll help keep Reggie off your back," he muses as if his protection would somewhat sweeten the deal.

"Sure. Why not?" You shrug.

Once everything is situated in your locker, you grab the lunch bag that had been hanging from a hook on the inside. Side by side, you walk with Jughead outside and towards one of the concrete picnic tables. He sits down and only then do you realize he had a brown sack clutched in his hand. Immediately he pulls out two smashed sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap, and unwraps them to start eating.

"So as a token of my thanks," you say while taking a seat across from him and unzipping your lunch bag, "have a fruit cup." You toss him a cool cup of mixed fruit and he happily catches it.

"Thanks." From the corner of your eye, you watch as he stares at you until you start eating your own sandwich and chips. "So Riverdale," he says. "Why here of all places?"

You huff a quiet laugh. Of course you'd heard the whispers about you, curious about your move, but you never spoke to anyone and no one dared to ask you before now. "My half sister lives in Greendale, and she and her aunts were having some personal issues. My dad moved us here so he could help them out, but he wasn't fond of the housing situations Greendale had to offer so we ended up here."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." He takes a bite of his food. "So are you and your sister close?"

"Not really." Your nose wrinkles. You eat a bit of your own food before explaining. "She kind of hates our dad because he slept with her mom when she was married, but instead of villainizing them both for their mutual decision, she puts all the blame on him."

Jughead shakes his head. "Well that sucks."

"Yep. But she obviously doesn't have a problem calling on him when she's in trouble." You roll your eyes, opening your water and taking a sip. "It's whatever. Riverdale is.. interesting."

"Yeah. It is," he huffs a brief laugh.

Over the next month or so, you and Jughead become actual friends. He attempts to introduce you to his group of friends, but the only one you can actually stomach being around is Archie. Veronica is too nosy, Betty too suspicious, and Kevin rarely hangs out with everyone less it involves a good gossip session. So more often than not, after realizing his group of friends wasn't just your cup of tea, you and Jughead hung out at Pop's Chock'lit-Shoppe.

The retro diner quickly became one of your favorite places in all of Riverdale, but upon entering one Sunday evening and seeing Jughead's expression you know you're not going to enjoy your dinner.

"Uh oh. What's going on with your face?" You ask as you slide in across from Jughead. "You look like you have some bad news."

He grins, shaking his head. "It's not bad. I'm just not sure how well you're going to take what I have to tell you."

"Mhm. Tell me after I've gotten my food." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, Pop Tate himself is dropping off your and Jughead's usual order. "Thanks, Pop."

The old man chuckles. "Don't mention it, Y/N. Enjoy your meal."

"Always do." Before any other words can be spoken, you and Jughead squirt ketchup on your respective plates. He steals the cherry from your milkshake and you plop a straw into his Coke to take a sip. The both of you take a bite out of your burgers, chuckling at each other and how at ease the two of you have become with one another. "So what's up?"

"I'm leaving Riverdale High." You pause in chewing and Jughead refuses to meet your gaze. "I'll be starting at Southside High tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"It's just- my dad's getting out." When he looks up, the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of his dad coming home makes your exterior soften and you start to feel happy for your friend. "He, uh, he's been doing good. Jail forced him to get sober and he's talking about starting over. I'm going to move back in with him."

"That's good news, Jug. I'm really happy for you."

"Are you?" He grabs a fry and quickly dips it into your vanilla milkshake. You chuckle at him.

"Yeah. I mean we mostly hang out here anyway. That won't change, I hope." He's quick to shake his head, letting you know your weekly hang outs at Pop's would still be on. "I'll just have to toughen up and learn how to throw a punch. Reggie and his goons need a nice swift punch to the throat every now and then, I think."

Jughead exhales with relief. "Please let Kevin know beforehand so he can catch it on video for me."

"No promises."

The two of you go on to finish your food, making small talk and promises to keep in touch. Eventually you have to leave, so before you go your separate ways you decide to give Jughead a ride home. And since he's no longer embarrassed to have you over after the first time you'd been over, he accepts the ride with a shrug.

FP Jones has been out of jail for three days and in those three days Jughead has noticed his dad has been a little paranoid. So one day after school, he's had enough and decides to sit down and talk with him.

"What's going on?"

FP glances away from the paper in his hand. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting weird! Ever since you got out of jail it's like you're constantly looking over your shoulder."

Jughead and FP stare at one another before FP sets the paper down, running a hand through his hair. "Someone's coming to town," he says. "Someone you don't ever want to cross."

"Okay. And?"

"It's worrisome," FP says. "Mr. Morningstar, he's the real deal, Jughead. Expensive suits, expensive cars, posh accent.. this man can be very dangerous."

"Well then round up the Serpents. I'm sure they'll enjoy running this guy out of town."

"Nah." Jughead scoffs, confused as to what his dad's deal is. "Mr. Morningstar is the one who sent one of his lawyers to get me released."

"..oh."

"But Mr. Morningstar doesn't hand out favors without wanting something in return. I don't like being in debt, Jug. Especially to someone like him."

"We'll figure it out, dad. He reached out to you, not the other way around. He can't want something too bad if he came to you first. Right?"

"I don't know, son." FP falls silent, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. "And there's something else you should know."

"What?"

"Mr. Morningstar isn't exactly.. human." Jughead scoffs, but FP shoots him a warning look. "I'm serious. This man is capable of things you wouldn't believe unless you see it in person, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. If he comes around, you do as I say. I'll settle my debt with him as quickly as possible and hopefully Riverdale will be in his rearview mirror sooner rather than later."

Jughead doesn't know how to feel at seeing his dad- the Serpent King himself- looking so on edge. He's never seen him so rattled, so it leaves Jughead himself feeling the dread start to seep in.

Every single Serpent inside the Whyte Wyrm was well aware of who Mr. Morningstar was and to be on the lookout for anyone fitting his description. For a week there was no sight or word about him, the same week which Jughead finally decided to throw in with the Serpents and officially become one of the gang. He had texted his friends, some more supportive than others, but he only found comfort in his decision after hearing back from Y/N who held no ill will towards him for wanting to be a Southside Serpent officially.

Jughead is still healing, everyone at the Whyte Wyrm celebrating him completing his initiation.

"Toni," FP calls out, "serve us up some shots!" The petite, pink haired girl behind the bar laughs, she readily grabbing up shot glasses and lining them up along the bar. She fills every shot glass, smiling as her fellow Serpents grab one to await the impending toast. As FP grabs one, he raises it up while staring at his son across the room who's hanging out with a few younger Serpents. "Jughead, while this wasn't the life I wanted for you, it is your decision and you don't know how proud it makes me to have you ride by side. To Jughead!"

"To Jughead!"

The Serpents all whoop and holler, downing their shots in one go.

"Hear, hear," an out of place accent muses. Those closest to the man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere all tense and FP's smile slowly vanishes as he stares at the man who hasn't aged a single year since he last saw him over fifteen years ago. "Well, well. Freedom seems to suit you well, FP."

FP schools his expression. "Mr. Morningstar."

"Call me Lucifer. No need to be so formal."

The Serpents seem to fall silent as FP and Lucifer Morningstar stare at one another. Jughead, seeing the way everyone is holding themselves as the tension amps up, pushes his way through the crowd until he's just behind his dad. "Lucifer," FP says, "why don't you follow me. We'll go somewhere a bit more private."

Lucifer gestures for FP to lead the way. "After you."

FP glances at Jughead over his shoulder, but he doesn't give him any sort of cue to follow. Instead, Jughead follows after them to a table that's not surrounded by any others over by the stage. Once seated, FP stares Mr. Morningstar in the face. "So what brings you to Riverdale? It's been a while since you were last here."

"Ah, yes," he says. Lucifer leans back in seat, smiling. "I originally came to watch a client of mine wreak havoc on your precious little town," at this, FP and Jughead tense, "but someone very important to me made attachments here and I've had to rethink my plans of letting your town burn to the ground."

"A client of yours?" FP's eyes narrow. "Who?"

"I think you know who," Lucifer says. "Annoying little bugger. But as I said before, attachments were made and I had to keep watch over said attachment to see whether or not I approved. And let me tell you, Mr. Jones, I quite liked what I saw."

"Okay?" He drawls. "So what does that have to do with why you're here? Or are you calling in a favor for getting me out?"

Lucifer laughs. "Oh no, FP. You getting out was not my doing." FP freezes. "You see, this someone important to me is my daughter. She's the one who requested you be freed."

"You have a daughter?" FP shifts in his seat. "Why would she want me out?"

"I do. And because one of your little snakelings made quite the impression on her after showing her kindness when he didn't have to." Lucifer raises an eyebrow at FP's completely flabbergasted expression. "This person was and continues to be genuine with my daughter, so I figured I'd step in and help clean up your beloved little town instead of letting it be turned inside out by Hiram Lodge. After all, it seems we're going to be in Riverdale for quite some time now."

FP glances around, but he can't see any of the Serpents being this person in question. Eventually, he asks, "Who?"

Lucifer's gaze darts up over FP's shoulder and lands on Jughead. Jughead's eyes widen. "Me? Who have I-"

"Me, of course." You choose that exact moment to walk out from the back room, ignoring everyone's stare save for Jughead's. You're a bit self-conscious of the black crystallized crown on your head and the skin tight, all black outfit your dad's minions had chosen for you, but you don't show it. The way you're dressed now, Jughead's never seen you this way. "What's wrong, Juggie? Cat got your tongue?"

Your friend gulps as he eyes you up and down. "Y/N?"

"Surprise!" You muse. At his slack expression, your smile diminishes. "It's still me, JJ. No need to be weird now."

FP glances between you and his son as Jughead asks, "Was our friendship even real?"

Your eyes widen. "Of course it was! I was never meant to make friends here," you quickly explain, "but you just couldn't leave me be when Reggie set his sights on me and you- you befriended me for me." Jughead loses some of the tension in his frame. "You didn't talk to me because of who my dad was and what he could do for you. You talked to me because you felt bad for me and then you continued to talk to me because we actually got along."

A beat passes and Jughead eventually sighs. "Don't kid yourself. I only talk to you because you let me steal the cherry from your milkshake." It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you snort. Lucifer chuckles and poor FP has no idea what's going on.

"This is quite fitting, is it not?" Lucifer grins.

FP frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Serpent Prince and the Queen of Hell. Royalty always seeks out royalty."

You freeze, Jughead's brow furrows, and FP seems to blanch as he comes to a sudden realization. Quick as a snake's strike, you slap the back of your dad's shoulder. "Not here." Then you glance at FP. "Can we continue this talk in a back room?"

He slowly blinks before he snaps out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Let's go."

FP stands and leads the way, and you grin over at Jughead. "Come on. We have some more stuff to talk about."

In a back office, FP and Lucifer have already taken their seats as you and Jughead join them. Instead of sitting, the two of you stand side by side after the door is shut behind you.

"So what exactly is going on here?" FP wonders.

Lucifer glances at you, smirking, and you sigh. You had a feeling he was going to make you explain yourself. "So I noticed instead of scoffing at the queen of hell comment, you blanched." FP hesitantly nods. "So that means you understand my dad is quite.. different."

Lucifer huffs. "I'm the devil, darling. No need to tiptoe around it."

You cringe as he so bluntly puts it out there and nervously gauge the Jones' reactions. Both seem more than a little intimidated and your heart starts to sink. "I'm still me, Jughead. Just a little.. more."

Jughead glances at you. "You're really the daughter of Satan?" You nod. "And this isn't some joke?"

"No. My sister, the one who lives in Greendale, was meant to take the throne," you admit. "But she really does hate my dad and refused it, so it passed on to the next heir. Hell got a little bit stuffy and some of my dad's more important minions were trying to marry me off, so I left with my dad as he dealt with business here. I was supposed to keep my head down until we moved on, but well.." you trail off, smiling softly. "I found that having a friend was quite nice." When Jughead has nothing else to say, you look towards FP. "You've raised a kind son, Mr. Jones. And for that, I'm going to offer you a favor." He seems to straighten up then, glancing worriedly at your dad. "And don't worry, this is a favor from me. I don't do contracts or cut deals like dad does. My favor is a no strings attached type of situation. This is a favor for a friend."

FP and Jughead glance at each other, and you notice FP subtly shake his head. Jughead sighs and looks at you. "Do you promise that me or my dad won't owe you?"

"Jughead," FP warns.

But you only have eyes for your friend as you step towards him and take up his hands within your own. "I swear. You're my friend, JJ. You got Reggie off my back and offered genuine companionship, so let me do something for you."

"You mean like getting my dad out of jail?"

You grin, releasing his hands and shoving at his shoulder. "Oh whatever. I was bored and you seemed like you missed him. Bite me, Jones." Lucifer chuckles and FP looks like he has no idea what's going on. "So come on. Whose life needs ruining?"

Jughead stares at you before shaking his head in amusement. "You're a little too excited to be ruining someone."

"I am my father's daughter."

Jughead stares at you, as if trying to conclude whether you're being genuine or not, and then has a silent conversation with his dad. Eventually FP sighs, cradling his head in his hands as Jughead looks back to you. "I messed up bad, Y/N. When my dad first got put into jail, someone suggested I visit this lawyer- who is also a Serpent- so that she'll guide me on how to get my dad released."

"And the snake double crossed you. Shocking," your dad chuckles.

"Shut up." Lucifer continues to chuckle, mime zipping his lips shut. You look back to your friend. "Go on."

"She gave me advice as a favor and said I'd owe her one someday in the future. I didn't think it through."

"The snake charmer is notorious for collecting favors and blackmailing you into continuing owing her favors," FP says. "She's turning the Serpents into drug runners and using video of my son delivering a crate of drugs as leverage so we don't tell her no."

Lucifer tuts. "That just won't do. Last I recalled, the Serpents were against drug dealing."

"We are," FP says, "but we can't deny her since she has that damn video. It'll be his word against hers."

Expression tightening, you glance between the two Serpents. "Give me a name."

"Penny Peabody."

Immediately you and your dad glance at one another, and you're the first to shout, "Dibs!" At his pout, you grin victoriously. "It's been awhile since I've seen any action. I'll call auntie Maze to collect the guest of honor."

You and Jughead are sitting at Pop's, waiting for your order to be brought out. It's your usual weekend hangout session, as well as a mini celebration for getting the Snake Charmer out of Serpent territory. FP had been a little hesitant around you and your father, but the more he watched you and his son, and you and your dad, he came to the realization that neither he or Jughead would be in harm's way. No one would be less they actually crossed the devil himself, so you were a bit surprised when FP had actually hugged you when you told him Penny would no longer be an issue. Afterwards, he was eager to talk to your dad and figure out a way to get the Southside cleaned up and fix the Serpents' reputation.

Seeing Jug's beanie laying on the table, you grin as you swipe it and quickly put it atop your head. "What do you say, Jones, wanna switch crowns for a day?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head. "I don't think I can pull off your crown." Your nose wrinkles at him as you laugh. "And speaking of crowns, are you going to tell anyone else anytime soon?"

You shrug. "I only talk to you and your dad, and at that your dad already knew about my dad."

"I didn't know anything about you or your dad and you told me."

"You were my friend before you found out about me being Hell royalty. I don't want to just tell anyone and then have them kissing up because of things I could possibly do for them."

Jughead nods in understanding. "I take it, it's happened before."

You touch the tip of your nose. "Bingo, JJ. Demons of Hell are shady assholes. But don't worry, if I befriend more Serpents they'll find out when the time is right."

"Well I think you're going to get your chance now because here come some friends of mine."

"What?"

"Whoa, Jughead, is that you? You've certainly changed from the last time I saw you earlier."

You smile sheepishly as three Serpents come up to your table, the one who spoke sitting next to Jughead while the tall one climbs in between you and the window, and the female sits on your free side. You pull off Jug's beanie and hand it back to him just in time for your food to be delivered. Immediately, Jughead steals the cherry from your milkshake and you take a sip of his soda. Once that's done, you squirt ketchup on your plates before you take a bite of your burgers.

"Well that was freakishly adorable." You glance at the pink haired cutie next to you and she grins. "Toni Topaz."

"Y/N Y/L/N. Well Y/N Morningstar now. I don't have to hide who I am anymore."

"Nice." She then points to the guy beside Jughead. "That's Fangs and the one on your other side is Sweet Pea." You nod at each boy in greeting, bite down on a few fries and steal from Jughead's plate every time he dips a fry into your milkshake. "So how did you and our snake prince become so close?"

Toni steals a fry from your plate and you grin at her. "First of all, I really hope you're not insinuating anything there. Don't get me wrong, Jughead's a cutie but I'd totally seduce Papa Jones before I went after baby Jones."

Jughead groans in disgust, Fangs and Sweet Pea snort, and Toni laughs out loud. "I like you."

"Maybe the sentiment will be returned soon," you say. "And to honestly answer your question, Jug came to my rescue when a few jerks decided I was an easy target at Riverdale High."

Sweet Pea scoffs. "Ugh. How do you put up with those mangy mutts?" It's his turn to steal from your plate, but you merely raise an eyebrow at his audacity before you glance at Jughead as he smothers a laugh.

"By avoiding them at all cost," you say. "Is food stealing a thing with you guys or..?"

"If you're really hungry, I'd hold onto that burger of yours. Fangs is notorious for stealing any and all food left unattended." Toni chuckles as you pull your plate towards you, but that only makes it easier for her and Sweet Pea to continue eating off your plate.

"You're all heathens," you deadpan. "At least Jughead waited a few days before he started eating off my plate."

The Serpents chuckle all around you and you find yourself relaxing in your seat. You knew the Southside Serpents had a bad reputation, but the more time you spent with them the more you realize just how wrong everyone is. The Serpents are some of the most loyal, drama free individuals you'd met and they're only riled up when someone attacks one of their own. And that- that you can respect.

During your lunch break, you're sitting alone and texting back and forth with Toni. Apparently word has gotten out that the Mayor is looking to shut down Southside High because it's unsafe for children, and the plan is to divide every Southside High student between several other high schools. Needless to say, every Southsider is pissed.

You send a text to your dad, asking if he knew what was going on, and he assures you he and Mr. Jones are looking into it.

Your can of Cola gets snatched up and you snap to attention, ready to argue back for your drink. But the sight of a grinning Jughead sitting across from you makes you relax and Sweet Pea straddling the bench right next to you makes you shake your head at them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Southside High is in chaos," Jughead says. He takes a sip of your soda before setting it back next to your books. "We were at the Wyrm when your dad asked us to collect you."

"Toni's been filling me in," you admit. "Does anyone know if the Mayor is for sure going through with this plan of hers?"

"It's such bullshit," Sweet Pea grumbles. "Yeah the school is shit ever since the Ghoulies started pushing Jingle Jangle on everyone, but it's ours."

"Don't worry, Sweets. Dad's on it. He'll figure something out."

He huffs. "Against Mayor McCoy? Doubt it."

You and Jughead share a knowing glance, and you bite back a grin. "My dad can be very.. persuasive."

"And scary," Jughead mumbles.

"Yes, let's not forget scary," you muse.

"What the hell is this?" The stern question is barked from somewhere behind you and you turn towards the voice. "Cooper dropped your sorry ass and now you're trying to lure in Y/N, Jones? I don't think so, you goddamn snake."

You roll your eyes at Reggie and his friends, and at the fact that the others sitting outside are now staring.

"Watch your mouth, you mangy mutt." Sweet Pea moves to stand, but you place a hand on his knee in order to silently tell him to stay put. He doesn't glance at you, but he does remain sitting.

Instead, you stand and step away from the bench in Reggie's direction. "What's your problem, Mantle? I know for a fact you don't care about me, so what is it about the Southsiders that has you so insecure?"

Reggie seems surprised that you've spoken back and it takes him a moment to school his expression back into one of anger. "Who the hell says I'm insecure?"

"Come on, Reggie," you grin. "You obviously have a hate boner going on for them." Jughead and Sweet Pea snort, and Reggie glares at them over your head. "So what is it? Is it because they're cooler than you? That they're so much more hotter than you and you know for a fact us Northside girls would willingly get on the back of their bikes than in the car mommy and daddy bought for you?"

Reggie sneers down at you. "Of course you'd be a Southside slut."

Jughead and Sweet Pea shout in your defense, rushing to their feet as you blink in surprise at the venom in his tone. But then anger quickly takes over and no one sees as your hand forms a fist at your side. When Reggie smirks at your silence, quick as lightning you change your stance so you can send your fist flying into his throat.

As Reggie stumbles back and gasps for air, Sweet Pea grabs you by the arm and then you're running. Sweet Pea and Jughead are laughing as they run for their bikes and you readily climb on behind Sweet Pea since he still had a hold of you. Two engines rumble to life simultaneously and you wrap your arms around Sweet Pea's waist, ducking your face behind his back so the wind doesn't sting your eyes.

When the three of you finally come to a stop, you're not in the Southside yet but you are well away from Riverdale High. The engines cut off and you finally pick up your head, and it's quiet for a few moments before Jughead starts to laugh once more.

"You actually punched Reggie in the throat." He shakes his head in amusement at you. "I did not think you were capable of ever hitting someone."

Sweet Pea chuckles. "You do know you left behind all your belongings. It's gonna be trashed by the time you go back for it."

You shrug. "The only thing worth saving was my phone and it's in my back pocket. A backpack can be replaced, and besides I think it's time Riverdale High and I take a break from one another."

Jughead and Sweet Pea's amusement slowly fades. "Wait. What?" Jughead asks. "You're dropping out?"

"No." You huff a laugh. "Transferring."

"Transferring to where?"

"Southside, you dimwits." You squeeze Sweet Pea when he scoffs at you calling him a name, letting him know you didn't actually think he was a dimwit. "I'm so over the drama of Riverdale High. I need a change. And if I want to go to Southside to be with my favorite people, do you really think my dad will let the school be closed down?"

"You really have that much faith in your old man, huh?" Sweet Pea asks.

"I do. And you should too." Jughead glances at you when you say that and you subtly shake your head at him. Soon, you mouth at him. "Now come on. Let's go see what my dad wants. I feel like going out tonight so I need to finish whatever task he has for me and make sure Toni is free."

The small gang of friends find themselves at Pop's diner once again, you being squished between Sweet Pea and Toni while Jughead and Fangs sit across from you. You and Toni share a plate of cheese fries, half of your burger having been stolen by Fangs and you steal sips of Cola from both Jughead and Sweet Pea since Sweets had finished your milkshake. When eating with them, you quickly learned extra food had to be ordered because once a plate was set down it was basically a free for all.

You're laughing at Fangs' affronted expression, from when he tried stealing cheese fries from you and Toni and you both had slapped his hand, when the bell above the door jingles. Your gaze is drawn to the group that enters, your mood souring just a tad when Archie, Betty, and Veronica enter. They glance around the diner for a booth and upon setting sights on your group, Archie chooses a booth not far from yours.

Toni nudges you to show you a message on her phone, lightening up the mood right away. But every now and then your attention is brought back to the Riverdale High group, and you can't help but notice the longing looks Betty keeps throwing at Jughead. And the fact that Jughead keeps glancing over his shoulder until he finally gets up, Betty following him seconds later to join him at a different booth.

"Did I miss something?" You ask when your friend is out of earshot.

Toni huffs. "They're doing that whole on again, off again thing. It's tiring," she says.

You frown as Jughead and Betty start talking, heads ducked close to one another, but then quickly avert your attention back to those sitting with you. You don't really have anything against Betty, but that girl attracts drama like crazy and you would rather not see her drag Jughead into it again.

The four of you left in the booth amuse yourselves while finishing off the remainder of your food, and you make sure that all your plates are stacked with the trash compiled on top so the busboy has little to no cleanup after you leave. But while you're still sitting there and waiting to see what Jughead is going to do, you can't help but overhear Veronica's obnoxious voice filling in her boyfriend Archie about all the great changes supposedly coming to Riverdale soon.

"I mean it's no longer a secret mommy and daddy are buying up property, Archiekins, but can you blame them?" Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs all tense, Fangs trying his hardest not to look in their direction. "The Northside is flourishing under their management and soon the Southside will too. We just have a few more hoops to jump through before we can start tearing down and rebuilding."

Having heard enough, you tap Sweet Pea's arm. "Move." Fangs widens his eyes at you and Toni giggles, she loving your more aggressive behavior. Sweet Pea stares at you for a moment before he grins, sliding out of his seat so you can follow right after him. Then taking a few steps towards Veronica and Archie's both, you stop and address the entitled teen. "Consider those hoops everlasting," you say. "Lodge Industries will no longer be buying up any property in Riverdale."

Veronica scoffs, smirking a second later. "And who the hell do you think you are to have any say so in my family's dealings?"

This time you smirk and you mentally cheer when you see her own falter. "Tell daddy dearest the Morningstars say hello. Lucifer will be in touch soon." You reach forward as Veronica's expression completely falls, stealing the cherry from her milkshake and catching the red, plump flesh behind your teeth and plucking the stem free. Letting the stem drop onto the table, you glance over your shoulder and gesture for your friends to follow. They do, chuckling all the while you walk towards the door. But before you walk out, you look over at Jughead and catch his attention. "Hey, JJ, we're heading out. Call me if you need a ride."

"Oh, uh, I'll come with." Betty quickly glances at him and for a split second you feel bad for her. "We're done here anyway." He slides out of the booth, ignoring Betty's frown as he makes his way towards you and his fellow Serpents.

Sweet Pea jostles Jughead, the two boys shoving each other lightly and laughing as the five of your exit. Everyone piles into your small SUV and it's not until Toni is comfortably seated in the passenger seat does she ask, "How serious were you with that threat back there? Can your dad really stop Lodge Industries?"

You slowly start to grin as you back out of your parking space. "Hiram Lodge is one of my dad's clients," you admit. "They have a.. contract of sorts, and Mr. Lodge is rich because of that. But my dad is starting to cut ties with some old clients of his and I'm pretty sure the Lodge's time up on that little pedestal of theirs is coming to an end."

"Sweet," Sweet Pea says from the back seat. "Hey, if your dad buys the school do you think you can ask him to put doors back on the bathroom stalls?"

You and Toni both snort, and you nod your head. "Sure, Sweets. I'll see what I can do."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

At the Whyte Wyrm, Sweet Pea and Fangs make a beeline for the pool table. Toni heads for the bar, her shift about twenty minutes from starting, and Jughead gets pulled into a conversation by some elder Serpents. Glancing around the bar, you don't see either man you want to speak with so you head for the hallway near the back wall where you know it leads to an office. A couple Serpents guarding the hall nod at you and let you pass without a word.

When you come upon the shut door to FP's office, you knock a couple of times and wait for confirmation to enter. A moment passes before his gruff voice is calling out that exact confirmation.

Opening the door, you walk right in and aren't surprised to see your dad in there as well. You smirk, happy to know he found a mortal he felt comfortable enough to share his identity with and that said mortal didn't go running for the hills. "FP. Dad," you greet. "Just the men I was looking for."

FP leans back in his chair as you take a seat across from him. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Well first, I need to know your opinion about Sweet Pea, Toni, and Fangs." You then turn to look at your dad. "And depending on FP's answer, I need to know-"

"Your first orgy," your dad coos. "I approve. Especially the tall one. He'd make an excellent consort."

"I'm sorry, what?" FP glances between you and your dad, disbelief in his features.

You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Dad, no. Just no," you say. When your eyes flutter back open, you say, "What did I tell you about speaking of orgies so freely in front of mortals? It's weird. Especially since you're my dad. You're not supposed to approve of these things."

"Well fine. Have it your way." Lucifer leans back in his seat, resting his right ankle atop his left knee and taking a sip of his drink. "Probably for the best anyway. Naamah will be upset if you deny her the chance to plan your first orgy."

"Oh my god."

FP finally laughs, shaking his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. Your dad pouts and you give your attention to FP once more. "The baby snakes are a loyal bunch," he says. "I've had some older Serpents question you and your father's presence here within the Wyrm, but Jug and the others were quick to defend you. Why do you ask?"

Here you look back to your dad. "I want to come clean to them. Jughead knows about me and it's getting tough to censor what I say in front of the others when we all hang out."

Lucifer salutes you with his glass tumbler. "You're the Queen of Hell, darling. You can tell whoever you want."

"Good to know." You push up from your chair, smiling at both men. "Oh and I want Southside High. Veronica Lodge and her family are trying to tear the Southside down and rebuild, but I feel like throwing a wrench into their plans."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at you. "And how do you suggest going about that?"

"By befriending Mayor McCoy, of course." FP snorts, but you continue on as if you didn't hear him. "She seems like a decent lady when the Lodge's aren't blackmailing her into doing their bidding. Give her a little taste of power, no strings attached and without letting her know your true identity, and show her you're an ally. I have a feeling she'll drop the Lodge's in a heartbeat."

FP grins, shaking his head. "You really are your father's daughter."

You glance at him and smirk. "Duh. Now carry on. I'm going to be with Toni behind the bar."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

The Whyte Wyrm is as busy as always and you happily find your place behind the bar with Toni. She serves up the drinks as you walk around, cleaning glasses and/or wiping down the bar top. Every now and then you catch your dad or FP's eye, and they signal for a round of drinks that Toni readily makes before walking a tray over to them. You then watch your boys from afar, laughing when Jughead catches your eye and purposefully makes Sweet Pea miss his shot while playing pool. Sweet Pea is apparently a very sore loser, but you can't help to think that he makes a really cute sore loser.

When Toni returns and sees where you're looking, she sidles up to your side while cleaning a glass in her hand. "So, uh, I think I should apologize."

You look at her. "For what?"

"Earlier at Pop's, when I told you Jughead and the Cooper girl were on again/off again, you looked like someone kicked your puppy for a moment there."

"Did I?" You chuckle, shrugging her words off. "It's fine. Jughead has become a really good friend to me and I'm not exactly Betty's biggest fan. They say southsiders are nothing but trouble, but those northsiders have caused a lot more trouble than any of you have. I don't want to see him be dragged into their messes again."

"Oh," she drawls. "Okay. I just thought that you were upset because she and Jughead were together again and you had missed your shot or something."

"No." You laugh. "And besides, I kind of have my eye on another Serpent, but I don't think he likes me that way."

Toni rolls her eyes. "I don't think FP is into jailbait. Sorry."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "A girl can dream."

Over the next couple of weeks, you get well acquainted with the power struggle between the Ghoulies and the Southside Serpents within the high school. The school is practically run down, there's no privacy within the graffitied walls of the bathrooms, and a little less than half the student population have no issue taking drugs out in the open while standing in the hallways. Not a single one of your favorite Serpents lets you out of their sight, and though you don't need their protection you welcome it. And their loyalty towards you is what leads you to take that final step in finally telling your other three friends the truth.

Walking up to the Jones' trailer, you stomp up the steps and pound on the door. A few seconds later the door opens and FP raises his eyebrows at you as he's pulling on a leather jacket.

"Y/N?"

"Hey, FP. Is JJ home?"

"Yeah. Come in." He opens the door wider and you step in, heading for the couch. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." You grin. You plop down in the corner of a couch, crossing one knee over the other. "I just finally decided to tell the others the truth and I wanted to see if Jughead would be there for me in case things go south."

A look of understanding passes over FP's features and he smiles kindly at you when he notices your bit of nerves. "It'll go fine. If Jug and I didn't run, neither will these three little shits." You grin at him. "Now I should get going. Will your dad and I be seeing you later?"

"Depends on how well my little bombshell is taken."

"Alright." FP heads towards the kitchen, calling down the only hallway in his trailer. "Hey Jug, Y/N is here so put some clothes on before you come out."

FP smiles at you one last time before he exits his trailer and it's not until his bike's engine outside roars to life does Jughead exit his bedroom from the back. "What's going on?"

"It's time to tell the other baby snakes about my heritage."

He blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You nod, momentarily second guessing yourself. "Yeah," you then say more confidently. "I think the longer I wait now, the higher the chance of them being pissed at the fact that I kept something like this from them."

"Okay. Where are we doing this?"

"Quarry?" You wonder. "We need privacy, but not too private that they feel trapped should they not take the news well."

Jughead exhales quietly. "Quarry it is. My bike or your car?"

"Your bike. Text Toni and the guys. I just need to grab my bag from my car."

Jughead is pulling on his jacket as he gestures for you to join him by the door, then pulling on his infamous crown beanie before pulling out his phone to text the others. He heads to his bike while you head for your car, opening the passenger door and pulling out your messenger bag. Draping the bag strap over your head and across your chest, you close the door and lock up before pocketing the keys.

When you sidle up to Jughead, he hands you his only helmet and you readily pull it on before climbing on behind him. He's not normally a crazy driver, so you loosely wrap your arms around his waist and enjoy the short ride to the quarry.

You and Jughead are the first to arrive, walking towards a spot that seems to have frequent visitors. Seats torn out from vehicles and a few crates form a half circle around an unlit barrel just off to the side of the water, and Jughead wastes no time in lighting up the barrel since it's a little chilly out.

Placing your bag on one of the seats, you walk towards the fire and hold your hands over it to warm up. Then about five minutes later, the rest of your friends show up.

"What's going on?" Sweet Pea asks as his gaze darts between you and Jug. As he sees you warming up, he stops by your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders to offer some of his warmth. Toni and Fangs stand on the other side of the barrel, warming themselves up briefly before taking a seat.

"I, uh, I have something I need to tell you guys. It's going to sound incredibly insane, but I need you to trust me when I say I am no threat to you." Sweet Pea frowns down at you and he only takes a seat when you nudge him towards the others. Jughead grabs your bag and hands it to you, and you smile faintly in thanks. Then opening the flap, you remove your crown and let your bag fall before hesitantly putting the crown on. Clearing your throat, you say, "When you guys first saw me, I was wearing this."

Fangs grins. "We thought you were just another spoiled little daddy's girl."

You grin back. "I mean I am," you shrug, "but the crown actually means something."

"Are you trying to tell us you're royalty or something?" Toni chuckles. At your neutral expression, her smile falters. "Y/N?"

You inhale shakily, glancing at Jughead who gives you an encouraging nod. "Whenever people meet my dad, I'm well aware that they think his given name is rather unfortunate." Sweet Pea snorts, grinning. A couple older Serpents at the Wyrm made it no secret when making fun of your dad's name. "But what if I told you that my dad really is the Lucifer Morningstar?" Your serious, yet nervous, expression makes the other three go still. "That I'm literally the daughter of the devil?"

The only sounds you can hear are the chirping crickets and crackling fire until, "You really buying this, man?" Sweet Pea scoffs. You briefly glance at him to see he's staring at Jughead who's still by your side.

Jughead nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "I am. My dad knew something was up with Lucifer before they outright told us the truth. He's known for years, but Lucifer wasn't a threat to him then or now so he didn't make a fuss about it."

Sweet Pea frowns. He doesn't look scared or pissed, but he doesn't look impressed either. "Why are you telling us this now?"

"That first night, my dad let FP and Jughead in on our secret because he saw how I trusted Jug and wasn't planning to leave Riverdale anytime soon. We trusted the Jones' and they now trust us. The circle of people in the know was meant to stay as small as possible, but then you three," you pause, huffing and smiling sadly as you meet each of their gazes, "wormed your way under my skin and I knew I couldn't keep a secret this big from you anymore."

"So your dad really is the devil?" Fangs asks. His gaze is set on the flames just barely dancing over the rim of the barrel, an expression on his face you can't quite decipher.

Sighing, you let your left hand wave back and forth over the flames. "My dad really is Lucifer Morningstar." You hold your hand still then, the flames engulfing your hand. Someone gasps, but you don't look up until you say, "And I'm the Queen of Hell."

"Oh fuck."

Fangs immediately shoots up, stumbling behind his seat. Sweet Pea's expression has completely shut down and Toni stares with wide eyes. Without having to look in a mirror, you already know your eyes have gone pure white and the picture you paint with the crown atop your head can look quite daunting.

"I'm still me- the same girl you've been hanging out with for a while now." You swallow down the hurt you feel at their speechlessness. "But.. I will understand if this is too much. All I ask is that this little revelation doesn't leave the circle." Still your friends say nothing and fight against the burn behind your eyes. "I'm sorry."

As quickly as you can, you bend over to pick up your bag. Shouldering the strap, you turn to walk away when Jughead calls out. "Y/N.."

"It's fine," you say and cast him a small smile. "I'll pick up my car later. I'm going home."

"Let me give you a ride home at least."

You shake your head. "I'll manage." And with that, you turn and walk away, letting a swirl of flames whisk you away.

Maybe you should have waited, dropping hints here and there to ease them in. But as you appear in your room, you drop onto your bed and let the sadness swallow you whole. What's done is done. All you can do is hope for the best now.

#riverdale imagine #riverdale gen fic x reader #riverdale #jughead jones #fp jones #lucifer morningstar #sweet pea #toni topaz #fangs fogarty #riverdale x reader

[writingtoforgetreality]

Guarding Your Heart (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: THE ENDING WAS PURRRRRFECT i'm gonna miss tfatws sm. I don't know if on the raft they allow inmates to be visited but let's imagine it: you visiting zemo for the first time since he was sent there, a little angst cuz you can't have skin-to-skin contact anymore but you two talk about some things and how life is going, if everything is okay 🥺🥺🥺 (by anonymous), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Inmate: Helmut Zemo. Accommodation: The Raft. Visitors: Generally prohibited. Exceptions: Maintaining a friendly relationship with an Avenger.

Words: 3,547

Warnings: angst, jail (is that a warning?), fluff, feels, my emotions, I didn’t use any pronouns!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Countless attempts from your side had been ignored. You were an average citizen. No superpower, no higher-up. Ordinary. It appeared that the Raft did not think highly of such people. Not when they proposed to visit an inmate. And definitely not when said inmate was the same Baron who broke out of a high security jail in Germany. But he was yours. His imprisonment in Europe had not been as restricted. For his sake, you had moved to the other end of the world. Simply so you could spend a bit of time together every day. Your old life had been completely abandoned. And for almost ten years, Germany had been your home. Until Sam & Bucky entered your lives once again. Though you started off on the wrong foot, this time around, you were more than grateful for their presence. Without them, especially without the former Winter Soldier, Helmut would still rot away in that tiny prison cell. Your time together had been adventurous. Often hazardous. Life threatening. In the end, you made it out alive. Coming back stronger than ever before.

It could have been a fairy tale. A long awaited fulfillment of a seemingly impossible dream. Were it not for the Wakandans crushing your reverie at the worst place imaginable. The Sokovian memorial. Where you held one of his clothed hands in both of yours. Shedding tears, remembering his old life. His wife. His son. You would never replace them. At the same time, you did not even intend to. His past was part of him & made him to the man you loved endlessly. Bucky did not receive your blame. Were you mad at him for handing Helmut over to the Wakandans? Absolutely. Then again, the super soldier was the reason why he was out of jail in the first place. It was a fine line between resentment & gratitude.

Luckily, throughout the various missions you had been a part of, you gained Sam’s trust. He took a liking in you & when he saw you struggling, he was eager to help. Obviously, the Raft yielded when the Captain America himself transmitted an inquiry. Only a few hours passed & you were on your way to Helmut’s current accommodation. A small jet that had been arranged just for you. In this instant, you did not feel average anymore. For a second, you experienced what it would feel like to live this kind of lifestyle. The one of a Baron. Why you were still unfamiliar with that even though your boyfriend was rich? Truthfully, you did not touch his money at all. It was his & when he did not have access to it while imprisoned, you did not dare using it either. Loyalty. Of course Zemo suggested utilization for you but you declined politely. After reasoning enough, he swore he fell even harder for you. The staunchness of you was remarkable.

It was bizarre. Entering the Raft with multiple workers circling you. You were told that these were the security measures that had to be met if someone wanted to visit an inmate. To you, it sounded like a poor excuse but you would not speak that thought out loud. Prisoners needed social contact. Physical contact could not be provided, that much you understood. But one would go insane without having the opportunity to see another human being that was not a guard working here.

Your body was a mess. Heart hammering at your chest with such a force, you believed it would burst any second. Irregular breaths left your lips. Trembling hands fiddled with each other in order to prevent others from noticing. Weak knees that threatened to no longer stabilize your body weight with each step you took forward. To bystanders, you probably appeared as a put-together person. On the inside, there was chaos. Nothing but chaos. How would you react? How would he react? Would you have privacy? An audience? Observers? Innumerable questions flooded your mind. Seemingly, having only one purpose. To drown you. To drown every bit of you. But you would not succumb that easily. You were so close to where you wanted to be. The fight could not end now. Disappointment would cloud you. More importantly, it would cloud him.

Four guards. It took four guards to guide you through the facility. To your surprise, the insides radiated a calm, almost content atmosphere. The walk lasted an eternity. At least, that was what it felt like. Your Helmut occupied a cell at the very end of the building. No explanation had been given to you as to why they decided to accommodate him there. Maybe, with Sam’s assistance, you could change his quarters & move it further up to the entrance. That way, if you visited again, you would not have to waltz through every narrow hallway. Listening to the whimpers of some inmates. The screams. The bashing. The…pain. There was only one person here who you were familiar with. Helmut. The others? You had no idea what crimes they implemented to end up at a place as dark as this.

“He’s at the end of that corridor.” one of the guards motioned for the others to leave you alone. His hand gestured to a tall white door that had a small built-in window. Your sight was obstructed by the frosted glass of it.

“Will you join me?” you questioned, wanting to prepare for it if he had to accompany you.

“Generally, yes.” he breathed out, putting his hands in the pockets of his uniform. Then, he sighed quietly & eyed you once more. “But since it was requested you speak to him alone, I’ll leave you be.”

“Whose request was that?” your eyebrows furrowed. The Raft was not an institution for exceptions. At first, the mere thought of getting to see Helmut again was an impossibility.

“Captain America’s.” he stated monotonously. The way his face scrunched up made it obvious that he was less than pleased about this decision. As soon as you were out of here, you had to call Sam & thank him for making this feasible.

“Oh.” it was all you could muster at the moment. There was an overwhelming feeling you had to handle. And it was not exactly one of your specialties.

“The door is unlocked. Walk down the hallway & the cell will come into view. If something happens, there’s an emergency button that should be operated whe-“ you stopped him during his speech.

“Thanks for your concern but I’ll be just fine.” a genuine smile formed on your face. The guard nodded at you, still slightly uncertain, & turned around without another word. Letting the uncomfortable silence envelop you. Your legs were frozen in place, preventing you from running to him. Maybe it was the thought of having to say goodbye again. As wonderful as it was that you were allowed to visit him, the concept of abandoning him broke your heart. The difference between the jail in Germany & this one was that you could not linger close by. The trip lasted for a while. Daily visitations were out of the question.

Slow but steady steps moved you over to the door. A hand raised to the doorknob. The coldness of it grounded you the slightest bit. You had to take a few deep breaths, just like he had instructed you multiple times before, in order to reduce the fast, almost unhealthy pace of your beating heart. Your hand twisted the doorknob to one side & when you heard the lock click, you pushed the door open with your entire body weight. Otherwise, you would have been too weak to do so. Bright lights had you squint your eyes. A hand was used as a shield to block most of the luminosity. When your eyes adjusted to the different setting, you straightened your back & brushed non-existent dust from your clothes. This motion gave you something to do with your hands. It was a much needed distraction. You held your head high, looking straight forward to the very end of the corridor. At the sides, the walls were painted bright white. Almost too bright for your liking. It resembled a hospital & you had never enjoyed them. The consistency of it was broken with the glass wall you were staring at. The one which was straight ahead. His cell, you figured. But there was no silhouette you could make out. Considering the size, you should have noticed him already. But he was not there. So you no longer moved in slow motion but jogged over to the pane.

Fast footsteps echoed in Helmut’s ears. Time was fluid in a jail like that. But it had not been long since a guard brought him breakfast. Whoever visited him now, it seemed to be urgent on the basis of the fast pace they approached. He scooted closer to the frigid wall behind his bed. Something he did to mess with the employees here. At least it gave him something to do. Besides reading tons of books & listening to the radio that had been prepared for him. That was luxurious enough for an inmate. All of a sudden, it was silent. Too quiet for his liking. The next thing he heard was music to his ears.

“Helmut?” your broken voice whispered & filled the room. Was he turning hallucinational? Nobody would blame him in a place like this. But not even his imagination could recall your softness so perfectly. He stood up, carefully, & widened his eyes at the sight of you. There you were, on the other side of the transparent wall. Separating the outside world from the box he found himself in.

“(Y/N)? You’re here.” no time was wasted. Helmut dragged his body as close to yours as his cell allowed him to. One of his hands touched the smooth surface & you mimicked his actions. There were tears threatening to escape but you tried everything to keep them locked inside. “Don’t cry.” the volume of his voice had lowered. Nobody could listen to you in here but it almost felt illicit to talk at a normal volume.

“I’m sorry.” you chuckled shortly, your free hand coming to your face to wipe at your cheeks. How he wanted to be the one to touch your tender skin. To have you lean into his palm.

“What are you sorry for?” the proximity was given yet unattainable. Your gaze averted, staring at the pavement floor.

“I don’t know…For everything?” you shrugged your shoulders, laughing at how incomprehensible you sounded. Helmut shook his head. That was how he knew you. Always being the one to carry everyone’s burden on your own. Though you did not need to.

“Stop that.” it was an order but not a forceful one. One that eased the tension immediately.

“Okay.” you mouthed.

The floor was everything but comfortable but you made do. Sitting cross legged opposite of Helmut was dreamlike. In your dreams, you had skin-to-skin contact but that delight had been denied. Simply having him next to you was enough for now. Helmut had his elbows on his knees, watching your every move. Reminiscing every small detail he could get a glimpse of. But there was nothing new he came across. He remembered you like the back of his hand. Sometimes even more precisely than you did yourself. And yet, his observation resembled the first time when his warm, chocolate brown eyes fell onto your frame. Usually, you handled his stares well but something inside of you told you to inquire.

“What?” you asked with a playful, teasing tone. His eyes locked onto yours. You giggled at his confused state.

“Is there a problem?” Helmut turned insecure for a second. And people who knew him were aware that he was barely ever uncertain.

“No, not at all.” you shook your head to emphasize your words. “Just…you’re staring.” you called him out. It made him laugh, his head falling back briefly.

“Is it forbidden to stare?” one of his eyebrows perked up. “I believe most people are flattered by the attention.” though he played the serious act quite well, you could tell that he was joking.

“You’re awful.” you laughed at his antics.

“I am aware.” he saw you opening your mouth to disagree with him but Helmut was faster. “(Y/N)?”

“What is it?” you rested your intertwined hands in your lap. But he had noticed the trembles. He had noticed you struggling. And he realized that it was because of the position you were currently in.

“How is it like? Outside, I mean.” he skillfully changed the topic before the atmosphere between you two could shift in a negative way.

“You have a radio.” your finger pointed to the one sitting on a small table inside the cell right next to a stack of read-through books. “I’m sure you have an idea of what it’s like.”

“But I would love to hear it from you.” there was an encouraging smile on his lips that you could not resist, no matter what.

“Well, Karli’s dead. Sharon took care of her.” you began & watched him nodding approvingly. “Bucky finished his amends & it really looks like he’s doing much better. He’s taking baby steps but he’s doing well.” you could not suppress the small smile when you spoke about the super soldier. Helmut was not jealous. Bucky & you had become fast friends over time.

“Could you deliver a message from me?” he continued after a hum from you. “Tell James that I am happy for him. And thank him from me.” that warmed your heart. All of the previous disputes aside, they had started tolerating each other. You would not go as far as calling them friends but what was not could still be.

“I will.” you promised with certainty. “Right, um…Sam is Captain America. This job is made for him. I truly believe, with him, we’ll achieve great things.” you quieted down, not exactly knowing how to continue.

“So you established Sam’s & James’ success. But what about you?” he read you too easily. No other person saw through you like he did. That affirmed the close bond you two shared even further.

“What about me?” a phony dumfounded expression was plastered on your face.

“How have you been doing?” it was a question with so much emotion & care hidden beneath, it brought tears to the corners of your eyes instantly. Your attempts to blink them away were gratuitous. They started rolling down over your cheeks. So fast, in fact, you could not even wipe them away with your sleeves in time. Helmut’s heart broke at this sight of you. It was clear as day that you experienced a rough patch. The cause of it was him being imprisoned, that much he knew. “Talk to me.” he whispered & cursed the guards for not granting his partner access inside his cell. But they thought he would plan another escape. At the same time, they were unaware that he would not take the risk to jeopardize your safety with a second try.

“It’s…” you took a deep breath to steady your voice & avoid the wavering & cracking. “It’s been hard.” you admitted quietly. “Without you.” you finished. Your eyes flickered up to his face. His look brought you the tiniest bit of contentment. The way his body language could comfort you in such a way was prodigious.

“Love.” the nickname gained your entire attention. It was like all of your worries melted away by the simple sound of it rolling from his lips. The tears did not stop but they were mixed with happiness now. Gratitude that you shared this moment with him. You were here. Helmut was here. Similar to how it used to be. Yet, entirely different. “Please look at me when I tell you this.” & you obeyed without a second thought. “You are my world. If I could change this situation, trust me that I would instantly. I understand your struggles. And I abominate that I cannot dispose of your demons. Or make them part of my own. Your pain causes me aching ten times worse. It is painful seeing you like this. My love, you must promise me one thing.” it was hard for him to get through this speech without his voice fading at the emotions he was experiencing. But he had to stay strong for you. It would only cause you more distress if you noticed him showing how affected he truly was.

“Anything, Helmut.” your reply followed straight after. If he asked you for something, you would do your very best to make him proud of you.

“Promise me to take care of yourself. I would hate to watch you disappear because of me.” the sincerity assured you how important it was to him.

“Helmut, I don’t think I coul-“ he shushed you when he spotted what you were intending to do.

“Promise me, my love.” he repeated & you closed your eyes briefly, releasing another wave of tears.

“I promise.” your eyelids slowly opened & you could detect the relief in his at your words.

“How did you persuade them into visiting an inmate?” the atmosphere had shifted to a relaxing feel once again. And his attempt to start another conversation was welcomed.

“I didn’t do anything. Though I’ve tried multiple times…Sam came to my aid.” you chuckled at the memory & the excitement you emitted after his call. The news had been the best in a very long time.

“Ah, of course, if Captain America requests a visitation…” Helmut started.

“The chiefs are on board in an instant.” you finished his sentence & the both of you laughed at the tomfoolery.

“Means that Sam is the reason for your stay.” you confirmed his thought process quietly. “Please express my gratitude for him as well.”

“Will do.” you wanted to maintain the dialogue with him but a loud noise from behind you caught you by surprise. The same guard who had instructed your appropriate behavior inside these hallways was back. There was a look on his face you could not quite identify but it left you uneasy.

“Time’s over.” the statement felt like someone stabbed you with a knife. Not once, not twice. Multiple times to cause as much damage as possible. Helmut then stood up from the floor, gesturing for you to do the same. The moment you were on your feet again, your knees were close to giving out. Digging deep inside, you mustered all the strength you had left & fixed your posture. You did that to avoid radiating a fragile appearance. “Bid your goodbyes, I’ll wait by the door.” the guard took his place in the doorway, waiting for you to approach him. Your body faced Helmut’s & you rested both of your hands on the glass in front of you. He mimicked you & if it were not for the transparent border, you would have touched.

“I’ll miss you.” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against the boundary.

“I will miss you more.” he followed right after. “But you are always here with me.” one hand rested above his heart. Goodbyes were difficult. Especially with the ulterior motive of not returning the following day. It would most likely take a while until you would face him again. Secretly, so nobody could discern what you were doing, you pulled a small paper out of your pocket & pushed it through one of the many, tiny holes in the glass wall. It dropped to the floor on the other side. Helmut sent you a questioning glance which you retuned with a soft, gentle smile. Coughing behind you brought you back to reality. You had to leave. As much as it hurt, you turned your back to Helmut & distanced yourself from his cell. Arriving at the exit, you looked over shoulder one last time. One last time, your eyes locked. One last time, you let your tender features speak. One last time. While you walked away from him, he picked the small paper up from the ground. Unfolding it with much care, his eyes got stuck on three little words that were neatly curved in your handwriting. So when your eyes met, he returned that favor without anyone realizing it. His lips moved & you saw him mouthing that same phrase back. Your smile grew wider, as did his. And then you were gone. Of course, you would come back. And with Sam’s help, it would probably be sooner rather than later. He stared at the door where you just walked through. His gaze then turned to the paper in his hands. Never would he let go of it again. He would treat it like it was made out of gold. To him, it was. And it was worth so much more. The feeling it triggered inside of him could not be purchased. It could only be provided by a special someone. That special someone was you. Reading through the note one more time, he sat down on the uncomfortable mattress. The displeasure was ignored for now. For a minute, he bathed in the loving emotions you brought to him.

“I love you. -xo(Y/N)”

Published (05/09/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e, @simply-skeletons, @weareironmanbitches, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @takacsgram, @ya-boi-is-dead, @deamus-liv, @therenlover (thanks for your support <3)

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #reader insert #reader imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #disney original series #disney #disney+ #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the raft

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

I’ve had this idea for a bit but: the whole town somehow finds out about how Neil “parents” billy and Hopper arrest him. To get him to go to jail billy needs to testify against his father but he just c a n t. Cause it’s still his dad and he’s already lost his mother. So Steve or Joyce has to try to convince him to at least try. But will he be able to stand up there and tell and relive everything his father has done to him? What if he doesn’t want this nosey asshole town to know what his father is like?

Steve was adjusting Billy’s tie, solid black against the navy blue dress shirt. He made sure to be gentle, tugged just short of pulling Billy along with the force. But Billy’s mind was somewhere else anyway.

“You’re going to do real good,” Steve brushed the bottom of the mullet back. Just growing back to its original length after Neil had taken shears to it three months before.

For such a small town, the court had taken an awfully long time to set a court date for the case. Steve had a hunch Hopper had done that to give Billy longer to heal. No one was really upset about it. Except maybe Neil Hargrove himself who had to stay out in a jail cell for that amount of time.

Even the defender wasn’t fully on Neil’s side. Anyone could tell. The runt of all of the choices available who needed more time in the courtroom and less time away from the office. It was going to be a simple trial. No one even liked Neil Hargrove. And the evidence was clear even without the evidence. Steve hadn’t even bothered polishing his shoes.

“I don’t want to go,” Billy murmured. Real quick, so much so Steve almost didn’t hear anything.

“What did you say?” he smiled, knew a smile could loosen Billy up when he was anxious sometimes. It just barely worked.

“I can’t go in today,” Billy went to tug the tie off but must have thought better of it before he let his arm drop. “I’m not going to that courthouse.”

Steve flattened his palm against Billy’s shoulder, “Oh common, Bill. It’ll be an easy win—“

“I know!” Billy shouted. Off the reins. “I know that fully well. But do you think I want to lose both my parents?” he looked accusingly at Steve and posted a finger in his nose. “I’m not ready to be an orphan.” Steve parted his lips to object but Billy interrupted again. “And I might as well be one if he goes to prison for as long as they’re saying.”

Joyce appeared in the doorway, look taken aback but not surprised.

“I have to say,” she spoke so lightly that Billy barely made a movement at her sudden presence. “I thought you’d be skipping for joy to get him out of your life. He’s done such awful things to you,” she started untying the untouched dress shoes reserved for Billy.

Billy stumbled back a little and fell ungracefully onto the ottoman at the end of the bed, “I can’t do this. Ever.”

Joyce turned to face him better, “Is that you speaking or the little Neil in your head telling you what to do still?” Billy’s expression morphed into something akin to surprise and assumption. Joyce smiled as kindly as any good willed mother would. “Oh, yes, I know precisely what that little-big voice can do. It’s telling you to protect him even though a little part of you knows which side is really what you want. All you’ve known is them, and it’s harder than it should be to shove them off. Even when they’re hurting you the most.”

Steve was nodding along in agreement, a faraway look to his eye. Billy watched him come back and regard Billy with a little more wisdom than usual.

“Before I moved out of my parents’ house, as I was packing the car, I almost brought everything inside. I had actually,” he laughed and it echoed; a bit hollow. “I had carried back in the bathroom box and then I realized.” Steve didn’t seem at all fazed but his mini audience. “No matter how long I stayed in that house,” he picked up the hairbrush on the dresser, “They’d never change for me.” Billy didn’t look away as Steve started parting his hair properly and detangling it back. “Because,” he sighed like something pained him, “Most people won’t change for anybody.” He set the brush down and cupped Billy’s face with both hands. “So what’s the point in giving them the freedom to become nothing?”

“It’s a cycle,” Joyce set the shoes by Billy’s feet. “One that you’ll never be able to break.” She looked over him and then pulled something from her pocket. “But it is one,” she handed him a piece of bubblegum, “You have control over.” He took it from her and smiled hesitantly.

“Can we do this?” Steve knelt down and held the shoe out for him to put his foot through.

“It’s worth a shot,” Billy decided.

Steve stood and kissed both his cheeks authentically. “You bet your ass it’s worth a shot,” he whispered to Billy. Joyce shook her head fondly as she left the room. Billy was left baffled and Steve touched their noses together, “You are strong, Billy Hargrove. So don’t let him sway your preservation.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.”

send me hc and prompts :) anons welcome always too

#i decided to have a happy ending :) #billy hargrove #steve harrington #joyce byers #stranger things #harringrove #billy/steve #thanks anon :)

[ssadumba55]

Family Isn’t Blood (Fatherly! Jack Sparrow X Reader)

Request: Hello i have an requests for pirates of Caribbean. Can you do one when reader is lik 16 and have no parents and a crew in Jack sparrow ship and he is like a father fiquer to her and she isl like a daughter to him but she is always mean toward him and once jack got in troble and she tried very hard to save him and succes and he is like teasing her about it. Sorry if its to long and its ok if you dont like it

 A/N: Probably super out of character, but I kind of like how it turned out so.

Growing up had been rough. You’d never had a place to call your own, as far as you could remember. Your parents had died when you were young, leaving you to fend for yourself and you had been on your own ever since. There was no sympathy in the world for a poor orphan child like you. Every day was spent trying to earn your keep, never staying too long in one place.

Then you bumped into Jack Sparrow.

It had been a complete accident. You were working on some of the ships in the dock, struggling to carry something probably, when his ship pulled into the dock. Ships were always pulling into the dock, you didn’t even look up from your work until, of course, he was right beside you trying to get you to tell him where things were in your little village.

“Please, can’t you see I’m trying to work?” You asked, slightly annoyed as you tied what felt like your hundredth knot that day. He looked around, then back at you.

“You’re a little young to be working in any capacity,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong but you were tired and stressed after a lot of work that day.

You picked up a box from beside one of the ships. “I’m thirteen, work is all I have, sir. Now can you please leave and get drunk somewhere else? I’m working here.”

Something about you intrigued the pirate that day, though you had never figured out what exactly it was. Some of the crew speculated it was probably the fact you reminded him a lot of himself, out fending for yourself. The world was a dangerous place on your own, nobody knew that better than Captain Jack Sparrow. He offered you a place on his ship, work that you could do with ease and a place you could basically call your home.

Maybe it wasn’t a traditional home that stayed in one place, but you didn’t mind. You could see the world and never even have to leave the deck.

Of course, you would never admit that to him. Sure, he had shown you a great kindness by letting you stay on his ship, but you didn’t need his help. If he hadn’t come along, you would’ve been just fine on your own. Plus, he was a drunk and he was always getting into trouble. You’d never spoken so much as a kind word to him since you’d stepped foot on the deck of the Black Pearl. There was no need. He knew you were thankful, and you knew you didn’t need to say it.

But now you were at a crossroads. It had been three years since Jack had taken you under his wing, even though you wouldn’t exactly call it that. You were pacing the deck of the ship, every now and then looking up to shore and scowling slightly. He had promised he wouldn’t be long, but he hadn’t been back for hours.

There were few redeeming qualities about Jack Sparrow, but he was usually a man of his word, no matter how bizarre that word was. He wasn’t off somewhere getting drunk and losing track of time, there was definitely something wrong. But the crew didn’t seem to think so, which left you in an odd predicament.

You could go to shore and drag him back yourself or wait and potentially risk getting caught yourselves by whatever had your captain.

“Captains orders, he told us all to stay put.” Gibbs watched you as you walked around the ship, grabbing things you might need and got ready to head to shore.

“Yeah, well he’s not here, is he? You stay here, just in case he does come back, but I’m going up there to grab him myself.”

You didn’t say what was unspoken. Jack Sparrow was the closest thing to a father figure you’d ever had, even though he was far from being the best one. He’d taught you mostly everything you knew about being on the seas. This wasn’t just a rescue mission so you could get back to moving, this was a rescue mission to save what little family you had left. You couldn’t be on your own anymore, no matter how much you hated to admit that.

There was definitely something off as you slowly slunk your way through the little town you’d stopped by. Everything was quiet, which was typical for this hour, but it still felt eerie. You spent a lot of time wandering, not knowing where you were going. Where had that stupid pirate gotten himself stuck now? You pushed a door open to escape some guards walking your way and turned, realizing you’d entered some sort of jail. There were cells and they were all full. They didn’t even look up as you walked by, eying them uneasily and gripping onto your rucksacks strap tighter.

“… There has to be another way out of here.” You mumbled, but there was nothing as far as you could see besides cells. There were so many cells, though the number of people inside each was quickly diminishing. You wondered briefly if this was where you’d end up if found here.

“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice called, and you whipped around, studying the cells closely. There was nobody there. You turned around to keep going when you heard it again. “Oh, come on, (Y/n).”

“Who said that?” You pulled out a dagger from your sheath, it was the only weapon you’d been able to find on such notice on the decks of the Pearl. You held it out in front of you, walking slowly back the way you came. As you walked, slowly and cautiously, a hand darted out to grab your wrist.

“Not sure what yer hoping to do with that,” the voice chuckled, amused and you let out a yelp, dropping the dagger. You looked up, glaring at Jack Sparrow as he leaned casually against the bars of his cell, flashing you a winning smile.

You let out an annoyed noise, bending down to pick your dagger up. “That’s not funny, Sparrow,” you snapped, tucking the dagger away.

“Not even a little?” He asked, grinning. You tried not to let your anger get the better of you. You were here to rescue him not kill him, though that was getting harder by the second.

Immediately, you bent down to get a good look at the lock that was holding him in his cell, ignoring any comments he made about enjoying his time in the cell. There had been a time where you had needed to know locks and how to pick them, it was the only you could get food. Though you were out of practice, you could still remember what you needed to do.

Reaching into your pocket for something to pick the lock, you found what you needed and set to work. He was quiet now; you could feel his eyes watching you as you worked on the lock. Even with his stare, you didn’t falter. You couldn’t falter. This was depending on you and you were going to give it your all.

The lock let out a click and you grabbed it, throwing it to the side. Pulling on the bars, they came open with ease and you tucked away your lockpick for future use, grateful that you’d still remembered how to use it. You gestured with your arms grandiosely, letting him know he could walk forward and join you.

He did, swaying slightly and you knew he was drunk. You didn’t say anything, but you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him the way you’d come, three years on the sea had made you slightly stronger than you’d been before. There was no place for weak, scrawny people on the Black Pearl.

“Ye came back for me,” he smirked, looking at you slyly from the corner of his eye. You scoffed and shook your head.

“The crew was worried. I was tired of hearing them whine so I’m doing something about it.”

“That’s not the only reason ye’re here, admit it.”

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and wrinkled your nose, but he was right. You paused. He stood there swaying and you stared ahead, at the door that would lead you back out into the little town. You felt tears threatening to fall, since when had you been about to cry?

You were only a kid, you reminded yourself, a kid forced to grow up way too soon.

“Fine, alright. I care, is that what you want to hear?” You asked, wiping your eyes before the tears fall, not wanting them to leave tear tracks. “You and the crew are the closest things I have to a family and I can’t lose another family. So just. Get your shit together.”

You grabbed his arm again and kept dragging him. No more words were exchanged the rest of the way back to the ship. He set sail immediately and you sat on the edge, looking down into the water. Somedays, when you weren’t feeling great, you’d contemplate jumping in and joining your parents. You don’t know why you never did.

“They’d be proud of you.” It was as if he could read your thoughts, he leaned against the ship’s edge beside you. You laughed bitterly.

“How would you know?”

There was a moment of silence, which made you inwardly snort. Of course, he was just saying that to make you feel better. He didn’t actually believe it.

“Because I know you and if they’re anything like ye, then they would be proud of who ye’d become. Also, because I’m proud of ye. Ye didn’t have to come back and save me, ya know?” He took a swig from the bottle of what you could only assume was rum. You felt your face heat up.

He wasn’t your parents and he could never replace them, what you’d lost was the chance of a normal life. The chance to grow up with love and support, to actually experience the joy of being a child. But, as he stepped away from the side of the ship, heading back to the steering wheel that Gibbs was managing in his stead, you had to admit to yourself; there were far worse ways to spend the rest of your days than by Jack Sparrow’s side.

#disney imagine #pirates of the caribbean imagine #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x reader

[crystalas]

It’s only a matter of time

Okay I’m on here mainly for the fanfics so here goes...hope you like angst and stuff X3 bring a cup of tea its a long one! 

The story: MK and Red Son wake up trapped by Macaque who has plans for them and he isn’t going to take no for an answer. 

Chapter one: the nightmare begins

Monkie Kid woke up with a grown, he felt stiff and cold, his back and neck aches horribly which wasn’t surprising as he found himself waking up on a stone floor.

Wait. Why was he sleeping on a stone floor?

That thought got his brain firing on all cylinders as he sat up quickly, which made the chains on his wrists clank and jangle. He looked down at them adding them to the list of ‘what the heck was going on?’ MK surveyed his surroundings and saw he was in a stone-grey cell with no windows, one jail door, a bucket to which he could guess the reason that was there for…

And an unconscious Red Son who was also chained to the wall.

Oh, he had soooooo many questions.

Red Son shifted with a groan and sat up rubbing his head, as he groggily took in the sparse jail cell he looked down at his chains and then he caught sight of MK.

“NOODLE BOY!!!??” he screamed. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” MK shouted back. “Is this one of your schemes?”

“Oh yes Noodle Boy my brilliant diabolical plan was to chain myself up in a cell with you, you saw through it so perfectly!” Red Son declared slowly clapping his hands, “All my hard work has come undone by your brilliant wit and clever thinking!”

“Ok sorry you can rein back the sarcasm now!” MK growled, he got to his feet and yanked on the chains testing their strength. They didn’t seem magical or anything special, as far as he could see they were just normal chains.

“Well, whoever did capture us are morons, I can tell you that much” Red Son exclaimed as he got to his feet, MK turned to look at him.

“What makes you say that?” he asked and Red Son just stared him in the eye as his hands erupted into flames, the metal bands on his wrists glowed cherry red then white hot before melting off and hitting the floor with a sizzling thud.

“Because only a fool would try and chain me up without heat proofing my restraints first” he answered and began to walk towards the door to inspect it. MK checked his ear more out of habit and found to his surprise that his staff was right where he left it last, he pulled it out and regarded his chains for a second. He remembered how Monkey King had been able to break Spider Queen’s webs by simply tapping them with the staff so he tried that. He tapped the chains with a little force and with a ringing clang the both chains fell apart the individual links clanking to his feet. He walked over to the cell door where Red Son was kneeling looking at the lock with a keen eye.

“Hey I can try and open it if you want?” MK offered but Red Son just gave it a push and it opened without so much as a creak.

“Wait it wasn’t even locked?” he asked dumfounded.

“I stand by my statement; our kidnappers are morons…” Red Son muttered.

“Yeah, I mean they didn’t even try and take the staff” MK said as they left the cell to find themselves in a dark hallway. Red Son lit a flame in his palm and began walking, MK not wanted to be left in the spooky dark dungeon without a light source followed.

“To be fair even if they had thought to, they would have struggled to do so. What with the whole ‘only those deemed worthy thing’ unless they had MY gauntlet of course!” Red Son declared proudly.

They walk the corridors silently for a while, it unnerved the two how quiet and dark this place was even as they walk by windows there wasn’t even the glimmer of stars or moonlight. There were no city sounds or wildlife noises or anything that could help them figure out if they in an urban or rural area.

“So… um do you remember anything before waking up here?” MK asked desperate to get rid of the unsettling silence.

“I remember being in my work shop, I was tinkering with the truck when I heard my mother call me…then…” Red Son stopped walking as if to try and collect his thoughts. “Something grabbed me from behind. You?”

“I remember being on a delivery run, the address was this little run-down apartment. Then yeah something grabbed me as well when the door opened.” MK answered, the silence returned as they continued to wander. They came to a door that opened up to reveal a large dojo training floor, they looked around as they walked through keeping an eye out for any movement.

“Why do you think they kidnapped us?” MK wondered as he looked at the wooden weapons that were on a stand nearby.

“Besides the obvious? I mean you are the Monkie Kid” Red Son muttered “My guess is that someone thought they could force a marriage out of me” this got a tsk of amusement out of Red Son and a look of bemusement from MK.

“Marriage??!”

“Yes, it is demon custom to capture your intended betrothed as a way of showing your strength and cunning. A stupid tradition that should have died out over a century ago in my opinion but there are still plenty demons out there that like to cling to the old ways.” Red Son explained they left the dojo floor and carried on inspecting the other rooms as they did. There looked to a shrine room, bedrooms, maybe a kitchen but it was as sparce as their cell was. There was nothing that gave them any indication on who took them or why.

“Sounds like you’ve had your experience with that sort of thing…” MK ventured; Red Son scoffed.

“When my father the Demon Bull King was first imprisoned by you-know-who, I was next in line to be head of the family however I was too young so my mother ruled in my stead… the amount of times demons thought they could take me so they could claim the title was beyond annoying. Ever wonder why I know teleporting magic?” Red Son explained looking back at MK.

“So why don’t you use it now?”

“To put it in a way your simple mortal mind could comprehend I need to know the location of my destination and the pathway to it, I can’t just ‘whoosh’ my way out of sealed room I need a window or an air vent or something…” Red Son said as he opened another window and gave an irritated growl as it only opened to empty darkness. “And I’m not leaping into that until I know what’s out there!”

MK gripped his staff tighter and he could feel his instincts tingle, Red Son also seemed to feel something because he could see his fists clench and he began to walk faster to the door. He opened it wide and found…

“What the hell??!” MK cried out.

The entire dojo was in a cave, Red Son lifted the fire ball above his head and made it grow larger the light illuminated the cave as far as they could see which wasn’t very far to begin with. The cave was barely large enough to house the dojo they had been in, MK used his staff to pole vault up to the roof tops making sure to stay in the light, using his golden sight he looked around getting more desperate as claustrophobia began to set in.

“I don’t see any tunnels!” he called from on top of the roof tiles “I don’t see anything that looks like a way out, not even inside the dojo!”

“Then how do we get out of here?” Red Son shouted back.

“Easy, you don’t!” a voice declared and they spun around to see a dark furred monkey being standing there as if he had been there from the start.

“Macaque?!” MK spluttered.

“Uncle Mango?” Red Son squeaked at the same time, they both turned to look at each other.

“You know him?” they both asked in unison.

“It’s cute you remember that name Red” Macaque chuckled “Kinda makes me feel bad about what’s ahead…”

“What do you want this time Macaque?!” MK snarled feeling a little safer from his high vantage point, Macaque looked up at him with a smirk.

“Why to carry on with our training of course. My little student” he grinned.

“I was never your student!” MK growled getting ready for a fight but Red Son seemed to beat him to the punch as he strode up to Macaque his hair angrily aflame.

“I demand you release us from this…place!” he shouted “Where are we?”

“This is my dojo, and only I can travel to and from it unless you know shadow magic of course” he sniggered, Red Son growled and his fists began to burn with fire.

“Release us now or I will make you!” he roared.

MK felt a chill down his spine as this conversation went on, something was wrong, something was very, very wrong here. Macaque was too at ease with Red Son and MK both armed and angry at him, then it hit him like an ice block to the gut.

Only a fool would try and bind Red Son without fire proofing it first.

Only a fool would leave MK with his staff.

Only a fool would leave the cell door unlocked and let their prisoners just wander around on their own.

Macaque was a lot of things but he wasn’t a fool.

“Red Son hold on something isn’t right here!” MK said but Red Son wasn’t listening as he was already pouncing to attack, fire blasting as he leapt forward to land a hit…

MK watched in horror as gold bands on his arms, legs and around his neck began to glow and magic began to pulse over his body; Red Son dropped to the floor screaming in pain clutching his neck as he tried to claw the band off of him. Macaque step over the convulsing demon and looked up at MK who took a step back.

“Aw don’t worry bud; I didn’t leave you out” he smiled and muttered something. MK’s head was suddenly gripped in what felt like a hydraulic press, he clutched at his head in pain and his fingers found something under his bandana something made of metal and it was pressing into his skull with all the weight of an elephant. He staggered around trying to get whatever was on his head off but the pain only seems to getting worse with every passing moment. In his stumbling he lost his footing and fell to the floor with a painful thud but that was nothing compared to whatever was trying to crack his skull open. He screamed and gasped as the agony was knocking the air of out him and he just couldn’t breathe!

The pain was suddenly gone, but all MK could do was lie there shaking from the shock and taking huge gulps of air as he suddenly remembered how his lungs worked. He opened his eyes blearily and saw Macaque standing there waiting politely for the boys to regain some composure. MK grabbed his staff and used to it prop himself up.

“Here’s how things are going to go” he declared as Red Son got to his knees snarling at him with rage. “I am the master you are my students. You will obey my instructions to the letter, I say jump you say how high that kind of thing. If you try to escape, or defy me, or attack me, or basically do anything I don’t like…” Macaque trailed off as he muttered again. The agonising pain returned in a crashing wave that sent both boys to the floor.

“Well…you get the idea”

“How did you get these accused bands?” Red Son demanded.

“Did I say you can ask questions?” Macaque inquire and Red Son gave a staggered groan as the band glowed once more. “No, I didn’t. Now up you get my little students” both boys glared at him defiantly.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Macaque laughed “Well this just make it that more fun for me”

MK and Red Son cried out as pain rippled through them again.

“Please. Get up”

MK staggered to his feet and the pain stopped, he glanced at Red Son who was also getting to his feet.

“Good boys” Macaque said calmly and began to walk back into the dojo. “Please. Follow.”

“How dare he bark orders at me!” Red Son muttered under his breath “When my father finds out about this, he’s going to smash that sub human into a pulp!” only for him to drop to the floor again with a strained groan, MK ran to his side to help him back to his feet.

“Until we get these things off of us, we better play along, ok? We’re only hurting ourselves” MK whispered to him.

“I didn’t say you could talk” Macaque demanded looking back on the two, they flinched as they now knew what was coming and was made right as the bands once again activated, causing both of them to fall to their knees.

“Please. Follow” was all Macaque said after that. Every attempt to get away or attack or even just to talk to one another resulted in them lurching to the floor as they received punishment. Macaque would just stop and wait for them to get to their feet before barking the same order at them. They soon stopped trying anything and just followed quietly behind Macaque as they lead the back to the cell, they had started in. Inside the cell was two of Macaque’s shadow clones each holding a folded bundle of clothes.

“Please. Get dressed” Macaque exclaimed, both boys looked at him wanting to say something about what the hell was going on or how they were not getting undressed in front of each other but Macaque just smiled and tilted his head as if to say ‘wanna try it?’

MK sighed and grabbed the first bundle and Red Son with a frustrated growl did the same with the second. MK just let his clothes drop as he took them off Red Son however took great care to fold his up and put them in the corner. They found with a sickening feeling in their stomach that the clothes they had to wear looked similar to what Macaque was wearing but simplified. Red leggings with tawny yellow robes and a brown belt sash.

The shadow clones took their old clothes and held them for a second, as Macaque looked at his students in their new attire.

“Now boys I don’t think those fit your new outfits, hand them over” he demanded, MK felt his hand go to his bandana as Red Son gripped what looked like a beaded necklace with a horned pendant.

“This is my family insignia I am not taking it off!” Red Son growled but saw the look in Macaque’s eyes and flinched before looking sadly at the pendant before taking it off and handing it over. MK took his bandana off as well and threw it at the shadow clone in disgust. As they did their clothes ignited into purple and black flames and vanished into ash, Red Son gave a horrified gasp.

“That pendant was handed down through the generations of the Demon Bull Family!” he screamed “How dare you just destroy it for your little power tr…” he couldn’t even finish his rant as he fell to the floor once more gasping and writhing as magic ripple over his body.

“Red, the sooner you learn to do as I say the less time, you’re gonna spend like this” Macaque sighed as he knelt down to pet Red Son on the head. “I was commissioned specifically to train you two up, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Why?” MK blurted out but winced back as Macaque stood up to look at him sternly. He looked at MK for a moment before giving that horrible smirk again.

“Why indeed?” he said simply “Now I want you boys to get settled in, I’ll be bringing supper shortly.” And with that he and his clones left as Red Son laid there trembling as he recovered. They remained frozen in place until they heard the sound of the hallway door closing, once they heard that click MK rushed over to Red Son who was struggling to move.

“What did he mean he was ‘commissioned’ to do this?” MK asked as he helped Red Son to sit up.

“It means Noodle boy that there is someone else in on this!” he whispered, “Someone powerful or high up because they somehow got a hold on Guanyin’s binds!” he pulled down his collar to show nestled around his neck was a gold band, he also showed MK the same kind of bands on his wrists.

“They also managed to get Monkey King’s Skillet!” Red Son said sadly pointing at his head and for the first time MK actually tried to feel for the cause of his pain, as he felt the metal band dread ran through him as he remembered Monkey King telling him how torturous it was to have on and how he hated every second he wore it.

“How do we get them off?” MK whispered back trying his best not to panic.

“We don’t” Red Son said coldly “Only the one who placed it or something with stronger magic can remove them, so our first priority is to get out of here and find my parents or … ugh Monkey King they would have a good idea how to do it.”

MK started to pace the cell trying to suppress the rising urge to freak out and panic.

“So, what now? We’re trapped?” he asked.

“We need to remain calm” Red Son said quietly.

“How? We’re trapped in a dojo that in this shadow realm cave thing, Macaque has magical shock collars on us, we both have our powers but we are still helpless!” MK babbled “Oh god Pigsy is probably freaking out; he must be worried sick…they all must be worried sick…”

“Which means they will start looking, my mother is a wind master which means she can scry the winds.” Red Son said quietly, MK spun around to demand how the hell the most anger management challenged person he has ever met can be so calm in this situation when he saw that Red Son was clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles were white.

Red Son is freaking out just as badly as I am, MK thought he’s just better at hiding it.

“What…what’s scry mean?” he asked.

“It means anything the wind touches mother can see. I seriously doubt Macaque even with his shadow magic could have taken us without a breeze catching something, not to mention he took me in my own home which has security cameras in my work shop. Someone will notice and will find something that will lead them here!” Red Son stated slowly “It’s only a matter of time, we just need to stick it out. ‘Play along’ as you said.”

MK sat down next to Red Son taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

“You’re right.”

“I know…”

“What do you think he has planned for us?”

“I don’t know…Uncle Mango was never this…twisted when I was a child.” Red Son muttered, “Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. Or I never noticed…”

“Uncle Mango?”

“Oh, nothing blood related, same way Monkey King is considered my uncle it’s more of a god father thing you humans do”

The cell fell to silence as MK ran out of energy to talk and Red Son didn’t feel like answering more questions. They both just stewed in their own thoughts on their new predicament.

#red son #monkie kid #monkie kid red son

[lauravias]

Ted Bundy

Ted Bundy, born Theodore Robert Cowell on November 24, 1946, was one of the most notorious American serial killers. He is known to have kidnapped, raped and killed at least 36 young women in 1970s and probably earlier. He was executed in the electric chair in 1989. His murders have inspired many novels and films about serial killers.

Photo of Ted Bundy

His mother was Eleanor Louise Cowell, who was 22 years old and unmarried when she gave birth to Bundy. His biological father's identity may never be confirmed, since on his birth certificate the father was listed as unknown; also, some rumours identify his father as his grandfather. For the first three years of his life, Bundy lived with his maternal grandparents and was told that his mother was his sister. He eventually discovered the truth and expressed a lifelong resentment toward his mother for never talking to him about his true parentage. In 1951 Louise met and married Johnny Culpepper Bundy, a hospital cook, and later that year the couple officially adopted Bundy, that took his name. He had a tense relationship with his stepfather, and complained to his girlfriend that Johnny "wasn't very bright” and "didn't make much money".

Ted Bundy’s parents, Eleanor Louise Cowell and  Johnny Culpepper Bundy

After graduating from high school in 1965, Bundy attended the University of Puget Sound for one year before transferring to the University of Washington. There, he fell in love with Stephanie Brooks, a wealthy and lovely young woman from California. He was devastated by their breakup, and many of his following victims resembled his college girlfriend. He graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in psychology in 1972.

Attacks and murders

There is no consensus on when or where Bundy began killing women. He told different stories to different people and refused to reveal the specifics of his first crimes. For example, he told his mother that he attempted his first kidnapping in 1969 in Ocean City, New Jersey, but did not kill anyone until 1971 in Seattle, yet told psychologist Art Norman that he had killed two women in Atlantic City in 1969.

Homicide detective Robert D. Keppel and biographer Ann Rule, who had previously worked with Bundy, both believed that he might have started killing as a teenager. Circumstantial evidence suggested that he may have kidnapped and killed eight-year-old Ann Marie Burr when he was 14 years old, but he repeatedly denied. His earliest documented homicides were committed in 1974, at the age of 27. The disappearances all took place at night, usually near ongoing construction work, and the victims were all young, attractive, and with long hair parted in the middle; at most crime scenes there were sightings of a man wearing a cast or a sling, and driving a brown or tan Volkswagen Beetle.

Photos of Ted Bundy's 1968 Volkswagen Beetle, in which he committed many of his crimes. The vehicle is on display at the National Museum of Crime and Punishment. 

Items found in his car when he was arrested in 1975

His first confirmed attack occurred shortly after midnight on January 4, 1974, when Bundy entered the apartment of Joni Lenz. After bludgeoning her with a metal rod from her bed frame, he sexually assaulted her with either the same rod or a metal speculum. She survived, but with permanent physical and mental disabilities. In the early morning of February 1, 1974, Bundy broke into the room of Lynda Ann Healy; he beat her unconscious, dressed her in blue jeans, a white blouse, and boots, and carried her away. On March 12, Donna Gail Manson, left her dormitory to attend a jazz concert on campus, but never arrived. On April 17, Susan Elaine Rancourt disappeared while on her way to her dorm room after an advisors' meeting at Central Washington State College in Ellensburg. On May 6, Roberta Kathleen Parks left her dormitory to have coffee with her friends at the Memorial Union, but never arrived. On June 1, Brenda Carol Ball disappeared after leaving the Flame Tavern in Burien, near Seattle; she was last seen in the parking lot, talking to a brown-haired man. On June 11, UW student Georgann Hawkins disappeared while walking to her sorority house.

The murders culminated on July 14, 1974, when Bundy abducted two women, Denise Marie Naslund and Janice Anne Ott, in the daylight and from crowded areas. Five female witnesses said that a good-looking young man, who introduced himself as "Ted", asked their help to unload a sailboat from his car. Four girls refused, but one agreed and accompanied him to his car. She saw there was no sailboat and fled. Using the same story, he approached and abducted Janice Anne Ott and, approximately four hours later, Denise Marie Naslund. On September 6, 1974, two grouse hunters found the skeletal remains of the two girls near a service road in Issaquah. After these happenings, King County police disclosed a composite sketch, that was printed in regional newspapers and transmitted on local television stations. These are not the only murders that he committed, as it is believed that he has killed more than a hundred women.

Newspaper from 1974 warning young women about “Ted”, aka Ted Bundy

Timeline of Bundy’s attacks       

In 1974                       

Joni Lenz, age 18, survived the attack on January 4, 1974

Lynda Ann Healy, age 21, died on February 1, 1974

Donna Gail Manson, age 19, died on March 12, 1974

Susan Elaine Rancourt, age 18, died on April 17, 1974

Roberta Kathleen Parks, age 20, died on April 17, 1974

Brenda Carol Ball, age 22, died on June 1, 1974

Georgeann Hawkins, age 18, missing since June 11, 1974

Denise Marie Naslund, age 18, died on July 14, 1974

Janice Anne Ott, age 23, died on July 14, 1974

Nancy Wilcox, age 16, missing since October 2, 1974

Melissa Anne Smith, age 17, died on October 26, 1974

Laura Ann Aime, age 17, missing since October 31, 1974

Carol DaRonch, age 18, survived the attack on November 8, 1974

Debra Jean Kent, age 17, died on November 8, 1974

In 1975

Caryn Eileen Campbell, age 23, died on January 12, 1975

Julie Cunningham, age 26, died on March 15, 1975

Denise Lynn Oliverson, age 24, missing since April 6, 1975

Melanie Suzanne Cooley, age 18, died on April 15, 1975

Lynette Dawn Culver, age 12, missing since May 6, 1975

Susan Curtis, age 15, missing since June 27, 1975

In 1978

Margaret Elizabeth Bowman, age 21, died on January 15, 1978

Lisa Levy, age 20, died on January 15, 1978

Kathy Kleiner, age 20, attacked on January 15, 1978

Karen Chandler, age 22, attacked on January 15, 1978

Cheryl Thomas, age 21, attacked on January 15, 1978

Kimberly Dianne Leach, age 12, died on February 9, 1978

Arrests, last murders and death

On August 16, 1975, Utah Highway Patrol officer Bob Hayward arrested Bundy in Granger (a Salt Lake City suburb). The officer searched the car after he noticed that the front passenger seat had been removed and placed on the back seats. Inside he found a ski mask, a second mask created from pantyhose, a crowbar, handcuffs, trash bags, a rope, an ice pick, and other items. The police did not have enough evidence to detain Bundy, so he was released. Afterwards, Salt Lake City police placed him on 24-hour surveillance. 

Ted Bundy's 1975 Utah mug shot

In September Bundy sold his Volkswagen Beetle to a Midvale teenager and Utah police impounded it. Inside the car, FBI technicians found hairs of Caryn Campbell, and some hair strands "microscopically indistinguishable" from those of Melissa Smith and Carol DaRonch. There was sufficient evidence to charge him with aggravated kidnapping and attempted criminal assault in the DaRonch case. Further investigation confirmed that he had not been with his girlfriend on any of the nights when the Pacific Northwest victims had vanished. In February 1976 Bundy stood trial for the DaRonch kidnapping, and after a four-day bench trial and a weekend of deliberation, he was found guilty. In June he was sentenced to 15 years in the Utah State Prison, and after a period of resistance he was transferred to Aspen in January 1977. 

While in the Pitkin County Courthouse's library, in Aspen, he opened a window and jumped out, managing to run away. He was a fugitive for six days, until two police officers found him and brought him back in jail. He planned his escape a second time; he sawed a hole of about one square foot between the steel reinforcing bars in his cell's ceiling and, on the night of December 30, stacked books on his bed to simulate his body, climbed into the crawl space and escaped. 

After evading, he travelled from Aspen to Tallahassee, Florida, passing from Chicago, Ann Arbor and Atlanta. There, on January 15, he attacked another five women, Margaret Bowman and Lisa Levy who died, Kathy Kleiner, Karen Chandler and Cheryl Thomas who survived. On February 8 he attacked another woman, Kimberly Dianne Leach; her partially mummified remains were found in a pig farrowing shed near Suwannee River State Park, near Lake City. He was arrested four days later by police officer David Lee for having stolen a car. 

Two of Ted Bundy’s victims

After numerous trials and three death sentences, Bundy was executed at 7:16 a.m. on January 24, 1989, at the Florida State Prison in an electric chair. Outside the prison, hundres of people cheered, sang, danced and even set off fireworks. His body was cremated in Gainesville, and no public ceremony was held.

Sources:

Ted Bundy | Crimes, Death & Facts | - Britannica

Ted Bundy - Biography

Ted Bundy’s Victims - Women’sHealth

Ted Bundy - Wikipedia

#true crime #ted bundy #murders #serial killer #tcc

[tsuumu]

hq boys: would they go to jail?

headcanons on the haikyuu boys’ encounters with the local authorities... this was meant to be a joke but i put way too much effort into it so now i’m s q u i n t i n g

hinata shoyo: this boy was caught trespassing on somebody’s property after diligently trying to accomplish something as harmless as finding a lost ball or petting a small cat... he’d climbed the fence and spent a maximum of FIVE minutes there, only for the owner to accuse him of breaking and entering without any room to explain himself. imagine: the poor boy being dragged by the ear despite his protesting. he’ll get an earful when he has to ask kageyama to pick him up after the police release him with a stern warning

kageyama tobio: tobio and his tendancies to disguise himself for ridiculous reasons is going to get him in trouble because they’re shitty and VERY suspicious most likely he’ll be one of his investigative escapades with his hat and glasses, only to be stopped and asked what he’s doing. that’ll be real embarrassing for him to explain, though it doesn’t end up getting more serious than that when they realise he’s just a kid

tanaka ryūnosuke: can i say almost? TALKS SO MUCH CRAP, oh my god he won’t ever shut up so one day he’ll bite off more than he can chew. he’d get into a serious looking argument and someone mentions calling the authorities. cue a 180 personality change up where he’s scratching his neck and apologising to everybody that’s stopped to watch. tanaka is no criminal, he just has a short fuse temper and a mouth that likes to RUN faster than his brain can catch up. he’s had a few close calls

nishinoya yuu: he’s DEFINITELY told people he’s been to jail LMAO like it’s something he mentions to girls whilst picking them up thinking that’s somehow attractive, when in reality he’s never even set foot in a police station. he might have once as a child for harmless reasons, but got scared and started crying his eyes out so they had to take him outside. he’s lowkey TERRIFIED of ever crossing paths with the law

tsukkishima kei: he’d never end up in jail or even in a situation that involved the police but he’s definitely not going to answer your call if you’ve ended up there and need a ride home, keep calling and he’ll block you until morning comes

daichi sawamura: post time-skip he’s a literal police officer so that’s out of the question

sugawara koushi: absolutely not. unlike tsukki, he will pick up though. he’d be surprisingly scary when lecturing you all the way back but would ask you if you want to stop and get something to eat, since you’ve had quite the day

yamaguchi tadashi: he wouldn’t. he’s overly cautious about most things and is definitely that friend who tugs on you and asks if it’s really okay to be doing this. par example: wondering into a restricted zone because you’re convinced it’s a short cut. he’d adamant to turn back and if, unfortunately, you did get caught, cue some intense waterworks from this poor boy, begging them not to call his parents. you’d feel pretty bad after that one

bokuto koutarou: i read a post from somewhere else about bokutou not understanding that paying tax as an adult is mandatory and extremely illegal if you don’t and it cracked me up because i can genuinely imagine the bewilderment in his face when he’s told he, a newly turned adult, has to pay the government a certain sum of money

“but it’s my money.”

“yeah, but it’s taxation, you have to pay the government.”

“but the government paid me first.”

once somebody mentions jail, he’s quick to end the argument and just deal with it, much to his dismay

akaashi keiji: he’s the one doing the explaining to bokuto. they’ve had this conversation at least 17 times and show no signs of stopping. akaashi is sensible and seems like the type of guy most his friends reach out to if they’re in tricky situations with the law, he’ll /begrudgingly/ wake up at 2am to come get you

kuroo tetsurou: he likes to do his deviant work when he’s belligerently drunk. like, someone told him shotgunning beers at a public gathering wouldn’t do too much harm. they were severely mistaken. tetsu has absolutely ZERO filter when he’s that intoxicated, picking verbal fights in club bathrooms with anybody over absolutely nothing. though chances are, he’ll end up befriending them and sharing a few more drinks. if not, kenma is there to supervise him. he’ll feel apologetic in the morning

kenma kozume: you have kenma to thank when it comes to preventing things from getting serious. he’s cool-headed and knows how to drag you out of situations. he won’t scold you, he’ll just tell you to stop causing everybody trouble. it’d make you feel bad and you’d probably quit it

oikawa tooru: he’s probably been in a few situations that could’ve lead to getting a permanent criminal record. tooru is convinced he’s never in the wrong for ANYTHING and will not listen to any kind of constructive critism. pretends to be fine when he’s literally screaming inside.

“your car was parked incorrectly.”

“uh, no. i really don’t think so.”

“look at it.”

“i am. i’m looking.”

“it’s covering two parking spaces.”

“that’s simply a matter of opinion.”

asks kindaichi or iwaizumi to help. they straight up refuse, walking away respectively.

ushijima wakatoshi: this man is intent on keeping a clean record in order to reach his goal of playing professional volleyball. states that it also gives him a clear conscience because toshi is for some reason very big on morality. he’ll come get you because -and i quote- ‘it’s my job’ but he’ll try to lay down piece by piece why exactly having run-ins with the police is so crippling to your future. you’re forced to listen for the entire 30 minute trip home

tendou satori: nobody knows where this man is at 3am. he’s just.. somewhere. you’re certain he’s not doing hard crack under some passageway but he’s not at home with his feet up either. he’ll start to mention last night’s escapades and stop himself, mumbling that it was definitely illegal and that he probably shouldn’t tell you. you can’t coax information out of him, though he wishes he could tell you. he just can’t. maybe it’s cult stuff...

miya atsumu: speaking of cars, this man straight up ignored the letter he got from the local authorities telling him his court date for the speeding ticket he recieved a few days ago. thinks it’s utter bs and continues to flutter around it until they knock on his door. atsumu proceeds to ARGUE with them about his speeding ticket until they ask him to come with them.

“yer tellin’ me i have to pay for going a little too fast?”

“sir, you were going fifty-two in a fourty mph area.”

is it his pride? is he just a blithering idiot? he’s one of the only people to probably end up in a holding cell for a short duration of time. none of his friends let him drive anymore.

miya osamu: he likes to use atsumu’s misfortunes to embarrass him. it’s an easy way to one-up himself when things get competitive. at least HE never got caught shirtless and drunk with his friends at the outdoors swimming pool a little past midnight.

atsumu states that it was ONE TIME when he was newly eighteen and to stop bringing it up in every argument. osamu himself doesn’t really bother with recklessness, so you simply won’t catch him in situations like that.

rintaro suna: straight up not having a good time and leaves before anything bad arises. will respectfully hang up on you mid-explaination because he has other things to do than bail you out

sakusa kiyoomi:??????? no

korai hoshiumi: okay, he has to admit that he’s a little curious... like there’s no way he’d want to actually end up in jail but he just wants to know?? like yes, there’s consequences but human existence is temporary.. his friends have to check up on him just to make his enthusiasm hasn’t landed him somewhere troublesome

bonus

yuji terushima: currently in holding for posession of an unknown substance. might be protein powder, might not. he won’t tell anybody.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hinata headcanons #kageyama headcanons #kuroo headcanons #bokuto headcanons #oikawa headcanons #atsumu headcanons #etc i have no idea you get the gist of it #sorry i did yuji like that but like.. it had to be said

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 7- Hide & Seek

Summary of the Series: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: Okay, let me get this straight. This is ALL Action and Miles being evil. The most happening chapter of the series, and my favourite chapter because it brings out that fighter inside Pooja. Also, a lil bittersweet moment because only 2 chapters are left, and then we are done. (And I am using my Wattpad cover for this chapter because A. I like it! and B. It gives me the dark feels that embody this chapter) Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it!💛

If you enjoy the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: about 4.3K

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Curse Words, Mentions of blood, murder Gun Violence

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Prompt:- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 14: Now or Never

CATCH UP HERE: Previous Chapter I Complete Series

It took all of her self-control as she prevented herself from throwing away her phone and breaking it into a thousand pieces.

Only the thought, the hope of a chance to save her Ethan, to save Mark and Alex, who were like family to her kept her going.

It was A Now or Never Moment for her.

Seconds later, Pooja's phone tinged. The screen lit up. She unlocked it to see the address that glared from her screen towards her. The address that hid all secrets and all proofs. The address which held the love of her life in who knows what condition.

She got into the car, entered the address on GPS and drove as fast as her driving skills allowed. Her mouth turned dry, face pale, beads of sweat on her forehead, her mind whirling through numerous unpleasant thoughts and a lingering doubt,

Will she be able to save them?

After what felt like a lifetime to her, Pooja arrived at her destination. A mid-sized mansion stood tall amid a deserted locality. The place was so muted, that the silence seemed to make voices. The winds gushed, chilling her bones. She stood in front of the black wood door. The silver handle's shine was unsolicited for her eyes. She took a deep breath.

Do this, for them. They are your family.

The thought repeated in her mind like verses of an orison. She let the ire, the woe to flood her soul and with fortitude and balance, she pushed the door.

He had kept it open.

The door clicked in place as she entered the devil's edifice. The interior was tenebrous, the conspiracy of silence etched deep in every wood and every wall.

"You are here"

The sudden sound caused Pooja to quail. The words resounded throughout the mansion, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The sweat on her body contrasted with the rigour of the air.

There was no doubt in her mind. Her caller was here.

Miles Danvers was here.

But... She Looked Around. Where is He? She looked around, maybe it was a mirage. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of him.

"Don't try, You won't be able to see me." The ominous voice struck again.

Another chill ran down her spine. The thought of Ethan being unaccompanied in the devil's edifice with the devil himself was unbearable.

Will I be able to do this?

"Awww, Tsk, Tsk, is little blossom scared? Did I give her a heart attack?" Miles spoke mockingly.

That was the last straw. She would never give him the satisfaction of having scared her. With as much courage she could muster she yelled,

"AHHHH! You ruthless, sinister, cruel, heartless, disgusting monster. What the freaking hell do you want? Why the hell are you doing this? You are a goddamn monster, you are a freaking BASTARD."

She stopped for a breath.

"Not only that, you are a coward. You are a goddamn fucking coward. You don't dare to face the consequences of your actions. Hell, you don't even dare to come out and face me. If you had the courage, you wouldn't do what you have done. Now come out, you ruthless bastard. Get the hell out and come and face me." Pooja screamed hysterically.

"What will you get by yelling at me, hmm? Will Mark and Alexandra be out of jail? Or will you find Ramsey? Which one, huh?"

"You're the one who is responsible for all of this. You disg-"

"Do you want to save them?"

She felt as if her heart had stopped. Her mind pondering with hundreds of thoughts, doubts, yet she waited with batted breath for him to continue.

"Le silence signifie le consentement."

"J'accepte" Pooja muttered. Bloody Show Off

"Hmm. Three Clues, Three tips, Three keys. Three is your lucky number, isn't it? So let's put your luck to test and see if your lucky number is lucky enough to save your dear ones" Miles challenged her with a mock that boiled her blood. Seeing her helpless was utter humour for his soul and he was cackling in joy.

She shouted, hurled abuses, banged her fists, but there was no answer, no reply other than "You are running out of time... Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...."

Her legs were giving out, she felt herself losing her balance, her steadiness. A chance, wasn't that all you needed? She heard her alter ego questioned her.

So good friends, like family, huh? Is this what you do for family, fall and bow to danger without putting up a fight? Is this what you did, when you fought for your mother, give up just like that?

Her sane mind was questioning her. No. She didn't give up then, She will not give up now. Maybe she will never make it out of here, maybe nor will they. But it was better to die fighting for them, than dying without even trying, striving for them.

"Miles", her steady voice, with power and courage, surprised him for a moment, but he wasn't shocked. This was Pooja Sharma after all. One who always stood for the right, even if it would make her lose her dreams.

"I am ready. And I hope you are too."

"Are you sure? This game can take that breath from you."

"Until it does, I will fight. For them"

A part of his mind already knew that she would win. But for his ego, accepting defeat was never an option.

"Fight all you want to. But winning is not an option for you."

"Time shall tell the answer"

"Alright, Two rooms to the left, and your search beginsss."

She ran. The worn-out door refused to give way to her. She pushed, but her strength was not enough. If only you had drunk that milk your mom gave you. Her mind swirled to the thoughts of her mother and she had to give a jerk to come back to the present.

"Seven minutes up already, and you're still stuck at the door. How sad!"

Cursing him under her breath, she upped her power and got ready to give a push just as,

Her fingertips felt a carving on the door. She had been praised for her impeccable sense of touch, but she never knew that it would come in handy in a dire situation one day.

Her mind, her heart, indicated that this was the clue, and she slowly, gently, moved her palm on the door. She got a slight trail of the carving and followed it further a few times. It took her about a minute to comprehend what it was.

A word. TIME. She was looking for something to do with time. But what? The place was so quiet that one would hear the ticking. But she didn't. Although auditory skills were never her strong point after she had a blockage in her left ear and had to go through five doctor visits to clear it, she was sure that there was no analogue clock around her. Her brain cells were running haywire when her shoes rubbed the floor. Sand had been spread around. Consciously.

Because on her trail from the main entrance to the door she was standing in front of right now, she was sure she hadn't felt sand anywhere other than this specific space. This was an indication, It had to be.

Time and Sand, Time and Sand, where do we find time and sand together. Time and sand... Her mind rushed frantically through a dozen options, none fitting the criteria, while Miles smirked at her foolishness.

And then, Oh shit, HOURGLASS! She practically jumped and nearly fell, as she comprehended the answer. With the newfound energy, she pushed the door, and it opened with a BANG! Her hand went to her pocket and she almost shrieked as she felt her phone, about which she had completely forgotten the moment she set her step in here. Taking it out and switching on the flashlight, she trailed into the room. Looking around and tripping on a dozen articles, she finally located the semi-broken hourglass. She held it under the flashlight and the words, upstairs, three rooms right, written in red, came to sight.

She glanced around the room once more, to make sure that there was nothing she was leaving out.

Her eyes stopped their search as her eyes fell on the five drawers of the broken cupboard on which the hourglass was kept. Only one of the drawers was in place, and that made it seem out of place in midst of all the chaos. She pulled at it, Once, Twice, Thrice, before it gave way. A blue file lay inside it. She picked it up, hoping to find some useful information and rushed on to the next step of her search.

On the other side, a corner of Miles's mind was terrified and nagged him to do something before it was too late, and he became the loser of his own game. But he just sat there, not moving an inch, as he watched Pooja running towards her next destination.

The next door, to her surprise, was pretty sturdy and opened easily. No catch this time? Unbelievable. As far as she had come to know Miles Danvers, setting up clues right in front of her eye was a far-fetched possibility.

She double-checked the exterior. Nah, nothing here, she was sure of it. Her silent steps fell on the hardwood floor as she looked around in the room for the clue. Her mind got distracted and worry came flooding back. Will she be able to save them? Was she even going to make out of her alive?

Suddenly, her foot struck something and,

"Twoooo Roooomsss Toooo Theee Rightttt..."

The Echo and her Shriek came almost simultaneously. And with the two sounds, mixed the third one of a cackle, from Miles.

The sudden rush of Adrenaline left her panting.

After a few minutes wasted in overcoming it, she kicked the weird machine once more. The Echo came again, this time clearer than the first one. But since, she didn't trust her ears, or maybe it was just her anger speaking, she kicked it once more.

Two rooms to the right was her next destination. She moved towards the exit, having checked the surroundings already and no clue found.

A few footsteps outside the room later, a thought struck her. She rushed back to the previous room, and using her flashlight, picked up the echo machine and checked it thoroughly.

And right her intuition was! A piece of paper stuck between the lined back. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a code.

M14-6D9

She looked around. There had to be something that opened with the code.

Wow! Such thorough checking! She rolled her eyes, berating her self.

And as she did so, her mind went back to every time Lex had called her the living image of the 🙄 emoji.

A light, sorrowful chuckle escaped her, along with a lone tear.

She let it drop and moved on to complete the mission she had partaken in.

She searched, and Nah, Nothing at all. Pooja doubtfully looked around. Was she missing out on something, or was it just another one of Miles' Red Herrings to mislead her?

Five seconds and temporarily deciding on the second option, she went out to the next room and thought of coming back to this later.

Pooja went to grab the surprisingly well-kept handle, and in a reflex pulled it back. The handle was abnormally hot. It felt out of nowhere. No fire, no nothing, how the hell was the door handle so freaking hot?!

Of Course, she couldn't twist and turn a burning hot doorknob and harm her chances of success. So, she decided on other ways of opening the door. She kicked, pushed, forced it with the tad bit of strength left in her, but the door didn't even budge a single inch.

Her ankle sprained with the forceful kicking, she sat down. Tears rolled down her eyes, but she couldn't decide why.

The pain in her ankle, the fear of failing or a mix of both?

But obviously, No pain greater than letting down those whom you love.

She couldn't comprehend the time she was losing as she sat there, crying silently. She slowly started to rise, but couldn't bother to wipe her tears. Wasn't this what Miles Danvers wanted to see? She let him enjoy his short-lived victory.

Forgetting that the doorknob was hot as hell, she held it, and before she could withdraw her hand, her eyes fell on a cuboidal machine stuck just below the spherical structure.

This time, she did wipe the water from her glassy eyes, to get a better look.

Pooja switched on the flashlight and looked closely at it. So this was the mini devil burning her palm. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the black box closely, her eyes caught a red button on the downside of it. She went on to switch it off, and as soon as she did, the faint, almost inaudible buzz coming from it stopped.

The devil had been silenced.

But she knew that it would take time for the knob to cool down. She searched her jean pockets, and luckily her baby blue handkerchief with a neat P Alekhya has sewn on it was there to save the day.

She folded the kerchief in half and with it tried twisting the knob. A Few failed attempts later, she slowly opened the door.

But as soon as the light fell inside the room, her phone and kerchief, both fell on the floor.

The floor swayed under her feet. In front of her on a one-arm broken couch, lay Ethan.

Her Ethan.

The only light-emitting source of the room now lay covered on the floor, preventing her from taking a better look. And she was shaken to the core by the way events unfolded, layer by layer, that there was nothing to say at all.

Her brain froze, all ideas drowning down the drain, her confidence uprooted by the pain she felt seeing her love like that. A Thousand thoughts spiralling in her mind, but she pushed them aside. Her knee bruised by the fall, her feet wobbled as she tried to get up. Garnering strength on an empty stomach & little sleep was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she needed to go on.

Giving up was never an option

She got up and decided to look around for a way out of the musty building with Ethan, all while hiding from Miles' eyes. Because he had been keeping an eye on her.

Picking up her phone, she directed the light around the room. Raggedy and Unclean, her fingers clenched around her phone as she felt fury fill in her veins. If she didn't have morals, she would have killed Miles herself at that very instant.

There were no cupboards or drawers anywhere around the room. She strolled around with careful steps and heard dry leaves and glass crunching underneath her foot. Pooja looked at the floor, and seeing its condition, didn't hope to find anything helpful.

That's when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. She picked the dust-coated sheet which had become brown from its originally white colour. She tried opening it up using a single hand but ended up tearing it a bit. Pocketing her phone, she opened the sheet up gently and then took the phone out again. Flashing the light, she slowly went through the contents.

It was a map of the building, and she had never felt as grateful as she did at the moment.

She studied it closely, carefully and located a narrow stairway at the corner of the first floor, i.e. the floor she was on, that would lead her out of the building without having to use the main entrance.

She needed to take E out of here, at any cost. But how in God's name was she going to carry her Dr Giraffe alone, all while making sure Miles didn't have suspicions?

She made his unconscious body sit upright as the couch creaked. This broken shit isn't going to last much longer, she thought to herself. She couldn't take any chances of getting caught. Whatever you have to do, do it quick.

She bent and locked his arms around her neck. Then, she stood up slowly and an Uff! escaped her mouth. Wish I had paid attention to the weight lifting lessons.

Pooja lifted him off the sofa and enclosed his long, really long legs, around her waist. And as she started to walk, she stumbled back and forth, and almost fell, as she gained a stable posture. She slowly got out, making sure her shoes don't prompt the creaky floorboards to begin a musical. She scooted to the farthest edge of the floor and walked quickly to reach the darkest corner.

A walk of a lifetime and approaching the darkness, her eyes struggled to make out the door for the staircase. She trusted her intuition and slowly, very carefully, placed a foot in front of the other, as she made her way down. She worried that E might get hurt, and she would hate herself for the rest of her years if that happened.

The grey light at the end of the staircase was a ray of hope for her. She thanked her past self for parking the car closer to this side of the building as she hurried to place Ethan there. She felt her pockets and found the key faster than her expectation. She opened the passenger seat and placed E down on the floor because as much as she hated it, she couldn't take chances with Miles locating him in the car in case he came for a lookout.

Phew! She was relieved that whether or not she makes it out of the mess she had got tangled in, her love will be safe. Locking him safely in, she rushed back to the mansion.

On her way back, she rushed a bit too much, all while forgetting to switch on her flashlight. She tripped badly on the stairs and fell facedown. When she got up, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt a blank space in her mouth. She had lost a tooth.

She made her way back and expressed her gratitude to God for letting her make this trip safely. She remembered to shut the door behind as she left and made her quickly to the room where Ethan was held captive. A mistake she had noticed the time she looked at the map was that she had entered the wrong room.

And it was a four-leafed clover for her.

She closed the door of the forbidden room just as her ears pricked up. Tips & Taps of someone's footsteps made her heartbeat rush as she quickly moved to the actual room she was supposed to be searching.

"Hmmm" Miles arrived behind her, hands in pocket. The room in front of her didn't have a door.

"So are you planning to spend the rest of your life chillin' here? That'll be a wonderful plan!" He mocked her and the list of the number of times Poo had wanted to punch him had just become longer.

"What the fuck do you want?" She hissed.

A lopsided grin told her that he was having the best time of his life tormenting her.

"No, I just wanted to check if you will ever make out of here or not."

"And what conclusion did you arrive at?" She mocked curiosity.

"I think- No, scratch that. I am sure, that this" He gestured around him, "is your Final Destination"

His grim laughter filled the place as he went around, checking his surroundings, especially the forbidden room.

Poo had smartly switched on the Make-Hot machine to avoid any suspicions. Seeing, rather, feeling that the door handle was perfectly hot as hell, he returned, and she let out the sigh of utmost relief.

Her heart was filled with gratitude as she thanked God, over and over again, as things turned out in her favour in a place where she had no resource & no help. Although she still felt as if she had been left on the battlefield without preparation or weapons, she used her skills to pave her way safely.

The last room, surprisingly well-kept, lay open before her. Please let me pass this last one, she let out a silent prayer and went in.

Flashlight on, she looked around. This time it was only evidence and no clues and keeping that in mind she carried on her search. A bed lay at the centre of the room. All around were shelves and cupboards which had been kept to mislead her and make her waste her time. A 40% charge in her phone and the clock telling her that she had only 20 minutes left to get out safely, she hurried away.

Quickly opening one drawer and then the other, disappointment flooded her as she failed to locate any file, folder, hell, even a piece of paper.

At last, all drawers, cupboards done and nothing there at all. She felt let down, her heart palpitated. She sat down on the bed and as she placed her hand, heard the very soft scrunch of paper. The stillness of the surroundings was the reason why she could hear it.

She quickened her actions and lifted all the goddamn blankets, to reveal a bunch of paper, half folded, half-torn. She gathered them all. Suddenly she felt something stuck behind one of the sheets. Turning it revealed a USB drive.

Fuck, this was her gold!

She rushed out, picking the papers and the blue file she had collected from the first room. She remembered to check back the second one and the M something code. When she tried to reopen the door, however, she failed. All her trials went in vain. Unlike last time, the door didn't even budge this time.

And then, the entire manor shook as the roar of a bullet echoed all around her. It had been shot just next to her foot, and she stood frozen at her place. She slowly turned around, and saw Miles, with the evil expression on his face appearing to shine in dim light, standing there with a gun.

Slowly, Stuttering, Pooja asked, "What, what, t-the h, hell do you think you are, are doing?"

"I said I will give you the clues, I never said I will let you get away with them. Why would I invite my danger, when putting you to the deathbed would be much, much, easier?" Miles Danvers hissed.

"You want to do a second murder, lose the chance to save your brother forever?"

At the mention of Mark, Miles did fall a little weak, but that passed in a heartbeat.

"Girl, if I really cared about him, I would have never plotted against him in the first place. Bringing you here, was just a ploy, a mask, so that I can finish all four of you and live my life in peace."

He moved forward, one step and the next, as Pooja tried to run. He held her hand with a bone-crushing grip and twisted her hand to her back and held the gun to her cheek. She tried to free herself as she cried out in pain. Her eyes widened as the cold metal touched her skin.

She had really walked into hell at her own will.

Pooja knew her twisting and turning will not be able to help her a bit. So she tried to remember the self-defence techniques she had learnt in her teens and using her foot, kicked him hard in the groin.

He groaned in pain and his attention shifted. Pooja taking the chance, ran swiftly down the stairs, only to slip down the stairs and land on the ground floor. She incurred painful injuries and couldn't move for a good minute.

Even as she mustered the courage to sit up, her body ached in extreme pain. She must've sprained something real bad. Miles was still withering in pain, and she took the chance to get up and slowly move towards the exit.

She dragged her foot and muttered to herself,

Just one more step, just one more.

This rhyme gave her the strength as she almost made it to the door and then

AAH!

Blood splattered on the ground as the bullet pierced through her left hand, and she held the door to support herself. Tears rushed out of her eyes as Pooja screamed in pain.

At least it was her hand and not her mind that had been hurt. Even in pain, she acted smart. Throwing away the files that she held in her right hand outside, she took out the pepper spray that she always had in her pocket and sprayed a good bit of it at the approaching Miles.

It was her black, powdered dynamite, her most powerful weapon.

Coughing, Sneezing, Stumbling, Miles let out cries of help and the gun was very soon forgotten.

Smirking through her tears, Pooja chanted, It's the end Miles, It's the end.

Getting out of there, She shut off the main entrance door on his face and collected all the papers with her non-injured hand. Dragging her foot slowly, she escaped, pride and contentment filled in her heart.

Whatever she did, whatever pain she received, all paled as she bathed in the joy of the possibility of finally being able to rescue her people, her persons.

She did it, for her family...

You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

PS: I would have killed Miles myself if given the chance😡 Also sorry for this dark, twisty tale after my birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this mess and here's to hoping that you have a wonderful day ahead🧡! Love You!

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#pixelberry choices #choices stories you play #open heart #playchoices #choices oh #choices open heart #choices stories we play #detectives by chance #my fanfics✒ #choicesaprilchallenge2021 #cac2021 #pooja sharma #ethan ramsey #mark danvers #alexandra walton #ethan x pooja #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices #choices the stories you play #open heart ethan #open heart second year #open heart third year #choices oh2 #choices oh3 #open heart oc #ohsy #ohty

[maevesdarling]

Take me home tonight

Sooo, I decided to post chapter 1 of the story @unicorn-cloud and I have been cooking up for a while. This plays post series in an alternative universe. There’s mentions of gore and canon typical violence in both this and the second chapter, basically Walt is not dealing with things as good as he thought... I’m not sure how many chapters this story will have, probably around 3 to 4, also please be kind to me it’s been a long time since I uploaded my works to Tumblr, thx!  

Chapter 1: The Call

Later, after he put his gun and badge down and moves further away from the border, Walt gets a call from an unknown number. He contemplates not picking up. It's been years since Kiki's death and operation Leyenda. He thinks, for a moment, that it could be Miguel Angel, calling him from his jail cell to taunt him, but no, he's not important enough to that man and besides, Miguel Angel doesn't wield as much power as he used to.

There are others. New players in this fucked up game, Walt knows that. He saw them rising on the horizon like a looming thunderstorm, ready to destroy the earth in it's path. But for now, he decided to enjoy his peace. His back's been bothering him more as of lately and he's got a few more grey hairs. He quit smoking about a year ago, after his doctor told him to do so. He's had a few setbacks since then, a half finished pack is always hidden underneath his kitchen sink, just in case he needs a fix. But overall, he's trying to stay away from the cigarettes and eat more healthy, even though the microwavable dinners at the supermarket look damn tempting, especially since it's only himself he's cooking for.

He's up in Colorado these days. The DEA was kind enough to leave him with a nice sum of retirement money, probably to shut him up after all the shit he pulled of during his career and to be fair he doesn't blame them.

He buys a nice enough house on the outskirts of town, with some additional property, a rundown barn and an old apple tree orchard that he has no plan on using. The weather's less hot, and there's a few lakes where he can fish, but otherwise, it's pretty much like any other town he's lived in. The dark red sandstones dotting the farmland remind him of Mexico. Of sitting in the hot sun and watching a small airfield in the distance, with a pair of binoculars in his hand. Sal's voice next to him asking about their next move. It's nostalgic in a way.

The first day, after he finished dropping off his stuff in the small, rundown house, he sets off to drive around, get familiar with the place. He finds a shabby bar, a small supermarket, a post office, a family owned diner and a few farms, with cows and hundreds of chickens roaming the surrounding fields, that sell local products. Over time, he ventures out further and discovers some more bars, supermarkets and, to his surprise, a gay club.

It's well hidden, two cities over, wedged between an antique bookstore and a barbershop. It looks nothing like a club from outside, and from the inside, it's hardly distinguishable from any other bar Walt has ever set foot in. But he knows where to look, it's something you learn over time.

The first time he orders a drink, his eyes fall on a guy sitting on the other end of the bar. Dark hair and dark eyes, with a bristly moustache. He's wearing a black cowboy hat and a jeans jacket, it's not what he would have worn. Plus he only looks a slight bit like Sal, his face is much older, more weathered from years of hard work in the sun, but it's enough for Walt to give in to his yearning.

He buys Not-Sal a drink and they fall into an easy chatter. Two hours later, Walt is driving him back to his house. Not-Sal is more experienced than Walt had thought when he starts undressing him with steady hands, his fingers touching in all the right places, he's already prepared, as if he'd been expecting this to happen, and doesn't mind it when Walt accidentally let's Sal's name slip at the height of his pleasure.

They lie together afterwards, sharing a cigarette between them, neither of them ready to leave yet. Walt is slowly falling asleep to the feeling of another person combing their hands through his hair. When he wakes up the next morning, the house is empty. There's a note on his kitchen table, a short thank you message, that's it. Next time he's at the club, Not-Sal is gone. He finds someone else. A different man, with dark hair, dark eyes and a friendly face, and then another and another. Some of the men he brings over are kind, they'll stay the night and sometimes even the morning, to share a quick meal with him before they move on, others leave almost immediately after they finish. Some of them yell out Walt's name as they come, others don't. And some yell out another man's name, but that's okay because so is Walt.

He's careful with the company he keeps. Always making sure that no one sees him leaving the club with another man, driving different routes back home and of course he's always stocking up on enough condoms because he's not stupid, he knows how important protection is.

Even though he's had a few men over, none of them return for longer than a couple of times. Its fun, to fill the mornings with senseless chatter, and to fall asleep in another person's arms. But they're not Sal.

He's longing for him. Even after all those years he's still longing for him. It's been three, almost four years since he last heard from Sal. He was moving to San Francisco. The DEA wanted someone new up there and Sal was growing tired of the shit hole they had placed him in after Mexico. They had called each other almost everyday, sometimes they would even meet each other, for a quick chat and an even quicker fuck. There was never enough time.

Sal wanted to call him back, he promised, once he was in San Francisco, to call him every day. Write a postcard. But nothing came. The telephone was silent for two whole months and Walt was desperate. First, he checked the newspapers for any missing or recently deceased people, when that search came up empty, he started to search the phone book for Sal's new address but of course that came up empty as well. He kept buying new phone books, just in case and by now, there was a small bookcase filled with old phone books in his house, and not a single one held an address for Sal Orozco. It was almost like he never exited. Only Walt's memory kept him from going insane. The fading photos on his wall, the one he kept in his wallet, next to a picture of Greg and his family. One of Sal's shirts he forgot in Walt's apartment in Texas, it had long stopped smelling of him, but nevertheless, Walt would pick it up and inhale deeply, thinking that the ghost of Sal's smell was still there, etched into the fabric. He slept with the shirt, on those nights when he woke up drenched in sweat, screaming and with a thundering heart. He wrenched his eyes open but he saw them anyway, Amat, Ossie, Danilo, sometimes even Kiki. He saw them die, he saw their bodies, bruised, burned, riddled with bullets, standing in front of his bed, he could hear them calling out his name. "You killed us, Walt." They'd point at him, blood dripping from their fingertips onto his bedsheets. Those nights were the worst. Sometimes they could only be stopped with an entire bottle of whiskey.

The dreams had gotten better since he found the dog. The dog didn't have a name. He was a stray, with dark, golden fur and dirty white paws. He picked him up on his way home from an unsuccessful night at the club, the dog was covered in ticks and fleas, one eye had been badly bruised and he was tied to a tree by the side of the road. Clearly abandoned. He expected the dog to bark at him, or worse, bite him, when he kneeled down beside him to untie him, but instead, it sat down in front of Walt and started wagging it's tail, as if he'd known Walt all his life. He took the dog in and gave it a bath, making sure that no ticks or fleas survived, before driving him to the vet the next morning to check out his eye. The vet couldn't save it and so Walt decided to take him in, just another broken thing keeping his company.

He put a collar on the dog and called him his, they slept in the same bed and sat on the couch together, watching football games and stupid action movies. The dog went fishing on the lake with him, even though he was no big help in catching the fish, he also liked to run around the orchard and sit on the front porch to sleep, and Walt liked to sit beside him and think, scratching behind his fluffy ears. Sometimes he wondered if Sal liked dogs. What he'd say if he met his dog.

The other animals were intentional. Walt bought a couple of chickens to sell their eggs at the local farm, and to keep himself busy. Then he renovated the old barn as best as he could and bought three goats to sell their meat, but once he saw them in their pen, he decided they weren't going to the slaughter house and kept them for their milk instead. He also fixed up the orchard as best as he could and started collecting the apples. Soon the onslaught of apples was too much for him to handle and so he collected them in a few boxes, along with the chicken eggs and sold them to the nearest farm. Surprisingly, the people around town started knowing him once he started visiting the farm more frequently. He would have regular conversations with some of them and at some point, even started looking forward to see them. He didn't go to the town hall meetings, or to Sunday mass, and the people had been weary of him, but once they saw him with his dog and the boxes of apples in his trunk, they warmed up to him.

He enjoyed his new life. It wasn't luxurious, but that wasn't what he wanted for himself anyway. He was no Miguel Angel. He didn't need a fleet of private planes and a couple of hotels to be happy.

The phone rang again and reminded him of his current situation. The dog had stopped wagging it's tail on the couch beside him and was looking at him with his one eye, almost as if he was saying "what are you waiting for?"

And so Walt picked up the phone, fully expecting Jamie or Ed or someone else from the DEA to yell at him to get his ass back to Mexico.

"Hello... is this Walt Breslin?" The phone slipped from his grasp and fell, he caught it in his suddenly sweaty palms, pressing the shell back against his ear. Three years silence could not erase the memory of that voice. Hushed conversations between them, hiding behind a parked car as they watched over a suspect, a gasp and then a low moan, while Walt kept hitting that one spot inside him, that set Sal's body on fire, a chatty conversation over two mugs of steaming coffee in a diner that ended with both of them laughing hysterically. Walt had enough memories for an entire lifetime with that voice, he would recognize it anywhere.

"Sal-" He breathed, rearranging the phone against his ear.

"Is- Walt is that you? Oh my god- fuck- I found you!" There was a short pause on the other end of the phone and for a moment Walt thought he was imagining things, then Sal's voice returned. "I- I'm sorry, Walt. I'm so sorry-" He sobbed, apologizing over and over.

"Sal- How did you find me? Wh- Are you alright? Is- do you need help?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Walt. I am. I just- fuck- I missed you so much. Where are you? I called you're old address so many times- I thought something happened to you…"

"Shh, I'm okay. I'm in Colorado. Small town near Denver. I'll give you the address… That is… If you want me to…"

"Yes! I mean... yes I want- I want to see you. If that's okay. I need to- need to know you're okay."

He contemplated with himself wether to ask this or not, but in the end, Walt did it anyways. "It's been three years, Sal. Why did you never call? What's changed?" Another sobb from the other end of the line. "I'll tell you. In person. Friday? Is that okay for you?" Walt squinted at his calendar. Friday was in two days, he needed to clean the house, buy some groceries and pack the car for Sunday's apple delivery.

"Yeah, Friday works."

"Alright. I'll see you on Friday… Walt… I missed you."

"… Missed you too Sal."

He put the phone down slowly, feeling like he was still in a dream. The dog had noticed something was off about his behavior and was staring at him in concern. " 's alright bud, I'm just… surprised, is all. We'll meet a friend of mine on Friday. I hope you'll like him…"

Lost in his thoughts, Walt began his evening routine, closing the chicken pen, checking on the goats and refilling the dogs food in case he got hungry during the night, only when the brown cibbles hit the kitchen tiles did he notice his thoughts slipping off. The only thing on his mind was Sal. Sal with his kind face and the warm, dark brown eyes, Sal wrapping an arm around his hips and pulling him closer, Sal whispering into Walt's ear. A hushed love confession neither of them dared to talk about. So, so many memories they shared between them, how was he supposed to wait any longer to see him again?

Friday couldn't come soon enough.

#narcos mexico #walt breslin #sal orozco #My writing #fingers crossed I find the time to finish chapter 2 soon

[the-inky-isles]

take a break (i know a place where we can stay)

word count: 6553 warnings: alcohol, implied major character death, violence, blood ao3 link author’s notes: thank you to the aphverse discord server and aphblr for hyping me up!! thank you especially to bee (for the wonderful podcast), krow (for you absolutely delightful responses to the sneak peeks) and cyrus (for your cheering on and equally delightful comments to the sneak peeks <33) description: the four to five times that laurance tried to convince garroth to take a break and the two times he succeeded.

“Garroth, I swear to Irene that you are one of the most boring people alive.” Garroth rolled his eyes, keeping his attention on sharpening his sword. Laurance was leaning against the doorway to his quarters, his arms and expression crossed.

“Just because I prioritize the protection of the village over games doesn’t mean that I’m boring, Laurance, it means that I’m the head guard,” the blond replied. Laurance scoffed and lifted himself from off the doorway, making his way to sit next to his friend.

“At the academy, what did you do on your days off?” Garroth looked at Laurance questioningly, unsure where the conversation was going. Laurance motioned for him to answer.

“I don’t really remember,” he started, before pursing his lips. “I suppose I would just train for the next day, so that I wouldn’t get sloppy.” He turned back down to his sword and picked up a rag beside him to begin polishing. He saw Laurance shaking his head in the corner of his eye.

“What about as a kid? Before you left for the academy.” Garroth chuckled and shook his head.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Laurance, and it’s not going to work.” Laurance raised his eyebrows and turned to better face the head guard.

“Really? What am I trying to do? Please, enlighten me,” he said mockingly. Garroth sighed, set his sword down, and looked Laurance in the eye.

“You’re trying to get me to admit to a time when I took time off and how much better off I was for it,” he said wryly. “And it’s not going to work because I think we have established that having Garte as a father did not endear me to getting ‘breaks’.” Laurance stared at him, eyes wide in shock. The room was silent. Garroth sighed again and leaned back, using his hands to brace himself against the wooden bench. “You can set up this game night, if you’d like, but I will remain on patrol. It would be remiss of me not to.”

“What, so the rest of us get a break, but you have to be all holier-than-thou and self-sacrificing? Bullshit!” Garroth spluttered, turning slightly red in the face.

“Watch your language,” he whispered hysterically, “you can’t speak like that so loudly!” Laurance rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, you prudish princess, no lady is going to faint because she heard me swear.” Garroth stammered for a response, but Laurance cut him off. “You need to take a break. If you pass out from working too hard, the Lady will not hesitate to kill me, you know that.” Garroth’s face turned an even brighter shade of red, and he looked away to the opposite side of the room.

“The Lady would do no such thing to you, we both know that.” He heard Laurance scoff.

“Please, we all know how fond of you she is. ‘Second-in-command’, aren’t you?”

“The Lady is plenty fond of you as well, Laurance,” Garroth shot back, a hint of irritability in his voice. Laurance gave him a deadpan look.

“She’s not in love with either of us, we know this,” Laurance said bitterly. Garroth scrunched his nose and then let himself rest his elbows against his knees. He kept staring at the floor.

“I am well aware.”

Minutes passed between them, Garroth leaning forward and Laurance resting his head against the wall behind the bench. It was so odd, being in love with the same woman as his best friend. They both knew she didn’t love them, but it didn’t stop them from pining piteously and squabbling like hormonal teenagers. Nevertheless, it allowed him to have a deeper understanding of Laurance’s character. There was something beating in both their chests; only the two of them really knew what it was and could truly comprehend the adrenaline rush and agonizing insecurities that came of it.

For all the pain that came with being in love with the same woman as his best friend, there was an awful lot of reward.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Laurance said, his soft voice breaking the silence.

“About?”

“The whole game night thing.”

“Oh.” Garroth exhaled harshly and sat up straight. He picked up his sword, which was laying length-side beside him on the bench. He grabbed his rag off the floor where he dropped it and got back to polishing the grimy blade. Laurance scoffed and Garroth heard his friend’s head thump against the wall in frustration.

“This is your passive-aggressive way of telling me that you’re not gonna join, isn’t it?”

“You know me so well.”

-

The winter days were short, but the nights lasted an eternity. Being by the water endeared the village of Phoenix Drop to hazardous cold weather and dreaded slush that seeped through even the thickest of fur-lined leather boots. Moving around in chilled chainmail was the worst of it all, ice growing quickly in the crevices of the armor, despite how often the patrol would slip inside the guard tower to soak up the heat of the fire. Assassins and spies and thieves came in more frequently in the winter, the snow and cloud cover giving them the perfect camouflage. Barely a day went by without the jail cells being filled to the brink. Most nights, the small unit of guards in the tiny village ended their days at the make-shift tavern in the plaza, warming their frozen hands by the fire and their shivering social lives with a pint. Laurance joined them, more often than not, reminiscing in his mind of the times in Meteli where Ulrich and Glenda would join him in drunken song as they stumbled home. On one notable occasion, Sasha had joined them after a long day and he woke up the next morning, a white hyacinth on his nightstand and warm, empty sheets beside him.

Garroth never stepped foot inside the tavern, other than to drag Dale out by his hair. The other guards complained of how much of a hard-ass he was to them and Laurance was inclined to agree. He pushed the guards to rigorous training levels, often forcing them to come in on their days off. Patrols went on longer and they went out farther and the guards were gone for hours in the cold without a fire to heat their skin and bones. It was practically inhumane, to the point that Laurance humorously wondered who really was the Shadow Knight between the two of them.

Though he never voiced it to the other guards, he understood Garroth’s twisted reasoning. The winter season was a stressful time for a head guard, as Laurance had come to learn during his time in Meteli. People needed feeding so you had to watch for thieves stealing from stores and occasional shipment of goods. People couldn’t be fed without a lord to delegate the storage and rations, so you had to keep a strict eye on potential assassins. Not to mention that the weather was draining on anyone’s morale and sometimes it felt like drowning yourself in patrol and training was the only way to get through to the break of sun through the clouds. He watched as Garroth sulked off after training, observed as he marched across the village during patrol, noted when he caught another criminal and tossed them into one of the few jail cells they had.

It was disgustingly depressing and Laurance wasn’t going to let this go on for any longer.

“Guards, I have scheduled another training session for tomorrow,” Garroth announced after the day patrol had returned. “Be here before sunrise or I will come knocking at your doors and I doubt your wives and children will be too pleased about that.” A loud groan came from Brian, and Dale threw his helm halfheartedly in Garroth’s direction. It hit the ground with a clunk and Laurance could feel Garroth staring at it disapprovingly, even if he couldn’t see his eyes through the helm. Even Dante, who sported the optimism and drive common in young guards, smacked his head gently against the stone wall of the guards’ meeting place. “You all are dismissed.”

Laurance watched as Garroth turned on his toes and walked his way out of the room, his steel-toed boots clunking against the ground. “Lauraaaance,” Dante whined, his voice muffled by his face being smushed into the wall. “Can’t you talk some sense into him? These extra sessions are driving me nuts.” Dale threw his hand up in agreement, pointing it in Dante’s direction.

“I’ve barely seen my wife and daughter this week!” Dale added. Brian nodded; his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. “Brian and I have been just passing out at home and then His Majesty just busts down the door as if we don’t need to sleep!” Laurance pursed his lips, looking at the direction Garroth stalked off in.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said finally, “we’re probably not the only ones sick and tired of this.”

-

“Alright, asshole, spit it out, what’s going on with you?” Garroth barely jumped as the door slamming open against the stone, but his shoulders tensed at the swear. His helm covered his face and neck, but Laurance could only imagine how red in the face his friend was.

“Laurance, by Irene, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, you can’t say those things so loudly!” Laurance tossed his head back in frustration, groaning dramatically.

“Garroth, you’re a boring princess from O’khasis, let me live a little.” Garroth shook his head, still obviously flustered. Laurance marched across the room, throwing himself onto Garroth’s bed.

“You are going to fix those sheets when you get up or I’m going to lock you out tonight,” Garroth said, pointedly not looking in Laurance’s direction.

“I’d probably do it wrong, anyways, Mr. I-Had-Servants-To-Do-My-Chores.” Garroth made a face and opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Garroth grumbled.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Garroth spared a glance to where Laurance was sitting on his bed, probably rolling his eyes beneath his helm at the Cheshire grin spread across his friend’s face.

“What are you even here for? I thought you liked to go down to the tavern after patrols.” Laurance laid down on the bed, kicking his feet up onto the footboard. “Don’t you dare get dirt on those sheets.”

“Piss off, Garroth, I have a sister, I know better than that.” He clasped his hands beneath his head, supporting his neck, and shuffled to get comfy on the stiff, hay mattress. “And to answer your question, I am on a mission.”

“A mission,” Garroth said flatly.

“Yes, a mission.” Laurance heard Garroth sigh, and smiled slightly to himself.

“And what would that mission be?” Garroth droned, only barely playing along to Laurance’s scheming.

“My mission,” Laurance stated proudly, “is to get you, sir I-perpetually-have-a-stick-up-my-ass, to give the rest of us a break.”

“What.” Laurance snickered, pulled a hand out from beneath his head, holding it up in a “don’t look at me” fashion. He could practically feel Garroth's glare grow stronger.

“The guards are tired. I’m tired. These extra training sessions are killing us.” Laurance turned onto his side, keeping one arm tucked under his head. “I get that the winter is hard, Garroth,” his voice becoming softer, “but you can’t have guards and work them to death too.”

The room fell silent. It hit Laurance that Garroth was still dressed head-to-toe in armor, as if he was about to go on another patrol, despite Dante having just head out for one himself. His sword shone brightly at his side, but his friend was hunched over the small dresser he had in his quarters, clutching at the end of the wood. His hands trembled, shaking the dresser with it with a gentle clink-clink against the uneven floor.

“Garroth?”

“How long were you head guard at Meteli?” Laurance blinked, unprepared for the question. He sat up slowly, letting his feet fall from the footboard onto the ground.

“I- I’m not sure, to be honest,” he started.

“What’s your best guess?”

“Maybe…three, four years? I was sixteen when I graduated from the training academy, so I would’ve been twenty when I took over as head guard. My dad-” Laurance’s voice caught in his throat and tears burned at the corner of his eyes. Garroth shifted slightly to glance at him, but Laurance ducked his head down. “The lord of Meteli died six months before I met the Lady.” Laurance swallowed hard, breathing in deeply to get rid of the lump in his throat. “It’s hard, when feelings get involved.” Laurance said, his voice solemn. A beat passed and he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Doesn’t give you a pass to beat your guards down to the point where you don’t have any left.”

“You still don’t understand,” Garroth said quietly.

“Try me,” Laurance shot back.

“In Meteli,” he started, “you had a wide array of guards underneath your command, correct?”

“Yes, I did.” Laurance wiggled further back along the bed, letting his body lean against the wall the bed was pushed up against. “Where is this going?”

“You had several well-trained guards at your beckon and call, many older than you and with more experience,” Garroth continued, acting as if he hadn’t heard Laurance’s question, his voice getting louder with each word. “Meaning that you didn’t have to worry about a father and son with zero technique with a baby girl and a wife and mother at home!” Laurance’s eyes blinked in surprise and he sat up on the bed. “It means that you didn’t have to deal with the fact that if a sixteen-year-old dies on your watch, you will have to hunt down his family and tell them about how it is your fault he died!”

“Garroth, wait-”

“You don’t have-” Garroth choked on his own words, forcing himself to swallow. “You weren’t here when she first arrived,” he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. “If she dies, that’s it for Phoenix Drop. That’s it for the entire region. We have no more second chances.” Laurance could see the barely suppressed sobs shaking Garroth’s body.

He got up from the bed and gently put his hands on Garroth’s shoulder. If even possible, he felt his friend tense even further beneath his hands, but he applied a bit of pressure against the shoulder plates and Garroth forced his shoulders to drop. Laurance reached underneath the shoulder plates, undoing the leather straps he knew were hidden beneath the cape that denoted Garroth’s position as head guard. The two plates were swiftly thrown to the floor, clanking as they hit the stone. As soon as the cloak fluttered to the ground, some amount of tension released from Garroth’s shoulder. Slowly, Laurance went for the buckles for the chainmail sleeves and armor they all wore beneath their tunics. It slid to the ground, and when Garroth seemed to make a move to pick it up, Laurance gave him a kick behind the knees. “Don’t move, this is hard enough as it is.” His friend didn’t say anything back.

Soon the belt and scabbard were also on the floor and the diamond sword was in its proper rack. At this point, Garroth was like a rag doll, held up only by leaning against the dresser, his hands struggling to keep their grip against the wood. Laurance gently lifted the helm from his friend’s head, setting it on the top of the dresser. He pressed gently against Garroth’s side and his friend all but collapsed into him. They stumbled over to the bed a few paces away and Laurance lay Garroth down, making sure his head hit the pillow.

As soon as Garroth seemed comfortable, Laurance sunk down to the ground, sitting so that his side was pressed up against the bed frame and he was facing the head of the bed.

“You need a break,” he whispered, grabbing onto his friend’s hand. “We all need a break.” Garroth nodded and turned his head towards the wall, closing his eyes and exhaling. Laurance watched as his friend’s breathing evened out, and, content that Garroth wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon, rested his head against the edge of the mattress frame. He could barely think a thought before he was fast asleep, clutching his friend’s hand and curled up on the stone floor.

When he woke up, maybe an hour later, he was laying on top of a cold bed in room suspiciously devoid of armor and a certain diamond sword and shield.

“Damnit, Garroth.”

-

“Laurance!” said guard turned to look over his shoulder at his name being called to find his lord waving at him as she walked down the road he was patrolling. “What are you doing this lovely spring day? Isn’t Garroth giving you guys a day off for today? It is so nice down by the docks,” she said excitedly. Laurance smiled.

“I volunteered to patrol for part of the day but I’m taking a break after I walk around for a bit more, if you’d like to walk with me till then?” Laurance offered out his hand and Aphmau giggled, her cheeks turning red. His heart beat a bit faster as Aphmau looped her arm around his. They walked down the side street of the small village, his Lady in one arm and his sword in the other. “How is your day going, milady?”

“Levin and Malachi have been getting along really well, so I took them both down to visit the docks for a bit! Levin is used to being inside all day, but after centuries of being inside a castle, Malachi is a bit of a restless spirit.” She paused for a moment, before laughing. “Accidental pun!” Laurance chuckled.

“I’m glad that he’s adjusting well to Phoenix Drop. Can’t be easy being him,” Laurance murmured and Aphmau nodded in agreement.

“How’s Garroth doing?” she asked casually and Laurance’s heart drooped for a moment at the attention being drawn to his romantic rival and friend. He shook his head internally, forcing himself to not think about it. That would be saved for when he didn’t have the love of his life right in front of him.

“He’s fine,” he said cautiously, “I think he’s glad for winter to be over.” Aphmau furrowed her brow, looking up at Laurance in confusion.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Laurance quirked his lips questioningly. He would’ve thought that as lord, she would have known the trouble the head guard went through during the winter, especially since half of it was making sure that she didn’t die midway through the season.

“Well, guard heads usually have to increase security because of an increased threat of thieves sneaking in,” he explained. Aphmau made a little ‘oh’ in understanding and he took it as his cue to keep talking. “Not to mention, it’s much harder to keep our little lord alive with all of those assassinations attempt coming from O’khasis.”

“What?!” she exclaimed. “What assassination attempts?”

“The ones you aren’t supposed to know about, milady,” said a voice coming from behind them. The pair turned around to find Garroth, without his helm. “But Laurance has never been keen on keeping his mouth shut when he needs to.”

“Oy,” Laurance laughed, “not all of us can be the oh so perfect Sir Garroth.” Garroth rolled his eyes, his cheeks lighting up only the slightest bit red.

“Laurance was telling me about all the stuff you had to do during the winter, since you’re the head guard,” Aphmau said, before turning on Garroth with a pout. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so stressed? I would’ve done something to help out.” At his expression, it almost looked as if her words had physically hit Garroth in the chest and Laurance had to keep from laughing at Garroth’s incessant stammering.

“W-well, I just didn’t want to bother you, my Lady.” Aphmau pouted even further and red started creeping up Garroth’s neck. “Besides, I kept everything fairly well-balanced, it wasn’t that difficult of a winter.”

“Bullshit!” Laurance sang out, a cheeky grin making its way onto his face at Garroth’s suddenly straining smile and betrayed look in his eyes. “I tried to get him to take a break so many times, but someone has issues.”

“Laurance,” Garroth said warningly. Laurance sheathed his sword and held his hand up in a defensive motion.

“I just speak the truth,” Laurance said, a mock-innocent tone in his voice. He turned to Aphmau stage-whispering, “I even tried to start a weekly game night at the guard tower, but he completely shut me down!” Aphmau gasped.

“Oh, a game night! That would be so fun, wouldn’t it, Garroth?” she asked, clutching tighter onto Laurance’s arm as she bounced on her toes. “I could build you guys an extra space at the tower so you could play! I’m sure there are some board games we could ask Logan to order and I’m sure KC could get snacks-” she stopped, squinting slightly before looking up at the two men. “I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” Laurance laughed.

“Just a bit, Aph,” he said, his voice slightly apologetic. “But…now that you’re on board with my idea, I’m sure you could convince Garroth to allow it, right?” He made eye contact with Garroth over the top of Aph’s head, trying not to chuckle when his friend made several non-discreet ‘cut it out’ gestures.

Aph spun on her toes to face Garroth, letting go of Laurance’s arm to grab onto Garroth’s free hand. “Gar, it would be so cool if you guys would have a game night. You could be…” she gasped dramatically, “game knights! Like with a ‘K’!” She giggled and peered up at him through her eyelashes. Laurance crossed his arm and smirked as Garroth visibly melted beneath her gaze. “Please, Gar? For me?”

“A-ah, well, it would take sig-significant planning, I would think,” Garroth stammered, desperately trying to avert his eyes. Something caught his attention and Laurance quirked his head to the side, trying to figure out what he was looking at. “Besides,” he began slowly, a sly smirk spreading across his face, “didn’t Laurance promise to help Cadenza show off some of her new clothes? Wouldn’t you want to help out with that?” Laurance’s eyes widened and he followed Garroth’s gaze to where his sister was loading some new ridiculous new dresses into the glass display cases. Aphmau gasped.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Aphmau exclaimed. “Laurance, you are gonna look so pretty in that green dress over there. Cadenza!” She grabbed Laurance’s arm, dragging him down the street to his sister’s shop.

“Wh- wait! Hey!” He tripped over his cloak, completely caught off guard by the sudden shift in attention. Behind him, he could hear his friend chucking quietly. “Oh, fuck you, Garroth!” he shouted, throwing up his middle finger. “I’ll get you to take a break one of these days!”

-

“Garroth!” he shouted. Through the rain and mud and clamor, he managed to get his friend’s attention. “Garroth, where have you been, it’s been hours-” Garroth stumbled forward and Laurance reached out to grab him. Garroth stabilized himself against Laurance’s bracers, but his feet were still unsteady beneath him and Laurance could feel his friend swaying slightly. “Are you okay?” Garroth only clenched his eyes shut, panting heavily before spitting out saliva and what looked like a tooth onto the blood-stained ground. His grip on Laurance’s bracers tightened and he pitched forward slightly. “Okay, it’s alright, Gar, I’ve got you.” Laurance scanned the horizon, all too aware of the incoming soldiers and his friend’s uneven breathing against his chest. “We’re gonna get you help.”

He and Garroth stumbled behind an old, abandoned shop and Laurance pressed them both against the wall, watching with anxious eyes as the guards of the city passed by them, some general shouting orders over the stomping of feet against the cobblestone ground. As soon as the path was clear, he pulled them further down the alley into the shadows. He carefully laid Garroth against the wall and he winced as his friend spasmed in pain. “I didn’t expect there to be guards so far in the forest,” Garroth groaned, rolling his head back as he clenched his fists. “The patrol never went out that far when I lived here.”

“They probably expanded their routes to try and spot incoming armies after we announced the new alliance,” Laurance hypothesized, making quick work of Garroth’s armor in an attempt to find where the bleeding seeping through his friend’s tunic was coming from. “It makes sense. I should’ve stayed with you, I should’ve seen this coming.” Garroth started shaking his head before Laurance finished speaking.

“No- gah, be careful, would you?”

“Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed with me, Laurance,” Garroth continued, his voice getting breathy as Laurance started prodding around the edges of the, admittedly, gruesome wound. He had to find Garroth someone with healing magicks for this to heal and quick. Where he would find someone with healing magicks willing to help them was another story. “There were so many of them, you would’ve been kil-“ his voice spun off into a low groan, tears slipping down his dirt-stained cheeks. Laurance tightened the cloth he ripped from the bottom of his jacket around the wound and pulled out some thin cloth bandages he had the foresight to shove into his pocket on the way out of their camp where Garroth had stayed.

“I’m sorry,” Laurance whispered. Garroth reached out to grab the side of Laurance’s face and pull him down so their foreheads were touching.

“You’re doing the best you can,” Garroth said. “You’re a good friend and a good guard, Laurance.” The ginger chuckled, his voice slightly hysterical as he pulled away and shoved bandages beneath the tightened cloth to try and staunch the bleeding.

“You’re being oddly sentimental, Gar,” Laurance commented as he tried to try the chainmail back to the shoulder plates. “You’re not allowed to be sentimental right now, we’ve gotta get you back to-” Garroth tightened his grip on his friend’s face, forcing Laurance to look him in the eye. The expression of sheer determination and acceptance scared Laurance. Garroth looked like a man who had seen his own death foretold before him and was ready for it.

Laurance wasn’t ready for Garroth to die.

“The wound is too great, Laurance, we both know that,” Garroth panted. “I’ll die of blood loss before we even make it to the city limits, with all the guards out there.” He adjusted his grip on Laurance’s face, straining to pull his other arm up to hold his friend’s face between both hands. “You will replace me as head guard, alright? You will-” Laurance tried to pull away but Garroth kept him there. “You will protect Lady Aphmau and you will love her in honor of me.” Laurance kept trying to shake his head, tears burning the corners of his eyes.

“You will not die, Garroth, not now,” Laurance said, his voice cracking. Garroth smiled sadly and his thumb chased over the swell of his friend’s cheek. “You can’t die, please.” The determination in Garroth’s eyes became cloudy and the grip on Laurance’s face faltered. The sound of marching came ‘round the corner and Garroth’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath stuttering and uneven.

“You there! You and Garroth Ro’maeve are under arrest for treason! Surrender immediately or face death!” a guard shouted from behind them.

The outskirts of Laurance’s vision pulsed with red, in time with the beating of Garroth’s slowing heart. The voice of the guard came closer and the sharp sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard matched the shutting of his best friend’s eyes, for what might be the last time. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, clouding his vision as the world all of a sudden became crystal clear. The red crept closer and closer, seeping into his eyes as time seemed to slow around him. His veins glowed scarlet as his brightened eyes cast an eerie shadow against his friend’s bloody face. He grabbed his sword from beside him and the world’s clock rushed to match his speed as he spun around on his knees just in time for the other guard’s sword to meet his own.

“You will pay.”

-

They almost hadn’t made it in time.

Laurance remembers running through the village gates, Dante right on his heel, demanding to know what had happened. He burst into the old farm house, shouting at everyone and anyone who was in hearing distance to get Kiki and a doctor. Dante and Brian had to drag him kicking and screaming away from Garroth’s body so that their friends could actually help Garroth.

It wasn’t his best moment, he’ll admit.

That had been three days ago. Kiki, while not versed in the practice of healing magicks, had a healing touch of her own and Garroth seemed to be pulling through. He refused to wake up though, meaning that for three days, Laurance had been sleeping on the floor of the old farm house, ears straining to hear the steady in-and-out of his friend’s breathing. Aphmau had come to visit, a stack of board games in her arms. He almost threw her out at the sight of the games, the thought that he came so close to never being able to teach Garroth how to play a child’s game making him sick to his stomach.

She seemed so less distraught over Garroth’s potential death than he was and for a split second, he wondered if she even cared about them, or if they were just pawns to her.

He shook his head, as if trying to physically remove the thoughts from his brain. She just hadn’t been there when the guards found them. She was removed from the situation; it didn’t mean she cared any less about Garroth.

Laurance had his back to the side of the bed, leaning against the wooden frame. There were blankets and pillows everywhere on his side of the room, evidence to his restless sleeping habits. He tried to keep it neat but felt it futile after they just kept getting thrown around during his nightmares. He picked up one of the closest fabrics, rubbing it gently between his fingers. “Garroth, you had better wake up soon,” he whispered, more to himself than to his unconscious friend. “I’m going stir-crazy here.”

“Good thing-” a raspy voice called out, before devolving into a coughing fit. Laurance twisted around from where he was sitting to find his friend propped up on one arm with the other lightly smacking his chest to try and get the cough out. Laurance scrambled to his feet and braced one knee on the mattress to gently grab Garroth underneath his arms to help him sit up further. “Good thing I’m awake now,” Garroth finished, panting slightly. Laurance didn’t say anything, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

He knew Garroth would wake up at one point. He fought so hard for his friend to stay alive; he wouldn’t just let him pass in his sleep. But it seemed so surreal to have Garroth talking to him, especially after having night terror after night terror of his friend’s blood on his hands. He kept Garroth propped up and slid in behind him, reaching down to unbuckle his boots before throwing his leg over the mattress. Without a word, he pulled Garroth so that his back met Laurance’s chest. Laurance waited a second for Garroth to protest, but the other man didn’t say anything, so he buried his face in his friend’s hair, wrapping his arms around his friend’s uninjured chest. Garroth reached up an arm to grab Laurance’s hands where they were clasped above his heart. “I’m alive, Laurance,” he whispered. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“But you did,” came the broken response. “You didn’t see how you looked in O’khasis. You knew you were going to die, you didn’t try to fight it or anything-” Laurance cut himself off with a dry sob. Garroth pressed his weight back against his friend.

“I’m here now,” Garroth stated resolutely. “You haven’t lost anyone. I’m right here.” He squeezed Laurance’s hand. “I promise you, I’m not going anywhere, because there’s this very annoying man that I know,” Laurance laughed wetly, shaking his head in Garroth’s curls, “he keeps making sure that I don’t die in some back-alley.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” Laurance murmured. “Not like you have the best track record of taking care of yourself.” Garroth’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh before he hissed in pain, shoulders curling in. “Everything okay? Is it bleeding through?”

Garroth shook his head, though his breathing was heavy. He leaned his head back into the crook of Laurance’s neck. “It’s just your standard battle wound,” he said, sounding tired.

“You should rest some more,” Laurance murmured, but Garroth shook his head.

“I don’t want to leave you alone after just waking up.” Laurance felt his heart swell to the point of bursting and tears burned in the corners of his eyes.

“I’ll be okay, Gar, I’d be better if you actually took a break for once in your life.” Laurance unclasped his hands to reach one up to run through his friend’s greasy, limp hair. “You’ve gotta stop sacrificing yourself for others so much. I’m scared for you.” Garroth just exhaled a chuckle.

“But then I wouldn’t be…well, me,” Garroth whispered. “I’ve got to make up my mistakes somehow, Laurance.” Laurance shook his head, but didn’t say anything else.

“Sleep, Gar,” Laurance said, “you won’t be letting anyone down by doing so.”

“If you say so.”

-

After Garroth woke up the second time, Laurance had gone and fetched Kiki and the doctor and they pronounced Garroth alive and semi-healthy. The threat of infection was still prevalent, but they let Garroth return to the guard tower to continue healing. Kiki had pulled Laurance aside, making sure he knew to force Garroth to rest, otherwise the wound would never heal. Laurance only laughed, and promised to sit on the man if he had to.

Much like Laurance was while waiting Garroth to wake up, the head guard was restless. He kept trying to walk about the tower, resisting all attempts to actually sit down, saying that he had to get back to his duties as soon as possible. The times Laurance weren’t around, Brian and Dante told him about Dale picking Garroth up by the legs and almost tying Garroth to his bed just so that he would sleep.

They finally got that game room set up, courtesy of Lord Aphmau. Without being able to patrol, Garroth was constantly itching to do new things to occupy his mind and Laurance finally broke through his friend’s resolve against the supposedly wretched game night. That’s where they were now, Garroth propped up by what seemed like hundreds of pillows on Laurance’s right and Dante and Brian to his left. He held up a stack of cards, all in different colors.

“Okay!” he started, “Welcome, everyone, to the first game night.” Dante cheered and Brian snickered at Garroth’s playfully annoyed expression. “The Lady was kind enough to ask Logan to find some games for us to play and, since this night was my wonderful idea-” Garroth rolled his eyes, “I can see you being snarky over there, Mr. Head Guard, don’t think I won’t drag you back upstairs to your room.” Brian outright laughed at that. “Anyways!” Laurance continued, “we’re playing Uno. My sister and I would play this a lot.”

He explained the rules and dealt out the cards for a trial round. Almost immediately, Brian used his plus-two card on Laurance and Garroth and Dante had the gall to laugh. “Watch it, kid,” he warned, but Brian just shot him a sneaky smirk in return.

The game continued as everyone made sure to stack the odds against Laurance. Brian, Dante, and Garroth had this infuriating way of making hand signals to ensure that they stacked up at least three plus-two cards so that when Laurance’s turn came around, he would have to pick up even more cards. The final straw was drawn when Dante pulled out his final and remaining card, a wild plus-four, and dropped into the deck. The room was silent before Laurance lunged for Dante and the younger guard screeched. Brian choked on a gasp, laughing at the same time, while Garroth just shook his head with a smile. Dante and Laurance rolled over a few times, tussling against the cold stone floor, each one trying to pin the either. Laughter filled the room as Dante tickled his fingers against a patch on Laurance’s ribs. “Cheater!” Laurance shouted, laughter breaking up his words. “You’re a damned cheater, Dante!”

“You never said it was against the rules!”

“Oh, you – get over here, you Irene-damned menace-” Laurance barreled into Dante’s stomach, sweeping him up and over Laurance’s shoulder. Dante began kicking, slamming his fists into Laurance’s back, but the pair still stumbled through the balcony doors connected to the game room. Brian watched in unrestrained awe and glee, while Garroth’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Stop wiggling, you bastard child, I will dangle you over the parapet, watch me-”

“Put me down, I demand it! A guard of Phoenix Drop should never be put in such a compromising position,” Dante shrieked, his flailing legs getting dangerously close to kicking Laurance’s face.

“Oh, you want me to put you down, huh?” With a gleeful smile, Laurance quickly maneuvered the wiggling teen so that he was holding him up by the underarms and used momentum to toss his friend’s legs over the balcony wall.

“You maniac,” Dante screamed, grabbing at Laurance’s arms, “I’m gonna die, get back to the other side- Laurance, stop jiggling me, Irene, have mercy on my soul!” Booming laughter came through the balcony doors and Laurance turned his head to find Garroth practically on the floor, tears of joy streaming down his face. A wide, earnest smile unwittingly broke across Laurance’s face and his grip on Dante faltered. “Laurance, you’re dropping me!” Eyes wide, Laurance turned his face back to watch as Dante slipped from his grip. He shot forward, grabbing the guard by the shirt and yanking him over the edge of the parapet. They both stumbled back, falling onto the ground. They panted with exertion, broken by Laurance’s hysterical giggles. “Can’t believe you almost killed me, have you no shame?!”

“Oh, come on, Dante,” Garroth’s voice came through the doors, “you have to admit that that was at least the slightest bit humorous.” Dante shot to his feet, stalking back into the room

“You won’t be saying that when I dangle you over the edge of the tower-”

“Wait, no, Dante, I surrender-!” Laurance cackled as Dante picked up one of the pillows, smacking Garroth over the head.

“Go, Dante, beat his ass!” Brian cheered.

Laurance smiled as Garroth’s laughter and Dante’s shrieking and Brian’s cheering washed over him. His vision went cloudy for the first time in days and his grin felt like it was splitting his face.

It was a good day.

#garroth ro'meave #laurance zvahl #minecraft diaries #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau mcd #aphmau mystreet #aphmau dante #dante aphmau #implied major character death #tw alcohol mention #tw alcohol #tw blood #tw violence

[scotianostra]

 Johnny Ramensky, the Scottish safe cracker was born on April 6th 1905 in Glenboig, Lanarkshire.

This is the type of story that would make a great film, so settle down to enjoy the life of the man born Jonas Ramanauckas, who became known as  John Ramsay, Gentleman Johnny, and Gentle Johnny

His father was a miner who died when Johnny was young and the young Ramensky also became a miner. It was while he was down the pit that he learned his skills with dynamite which were to prove so useful to him in later years.

Johnny drifted in and out of trouble from the age of eleven and moved to the Gorbals area of Glasgow during the Depression with his mother and two sisters. He developed an amazing physical strength and acrobatic ability but in order to obtain some money, he became a burglar, specializing in robberies involving climbing up external rone-pipes to gain entry to premises. He also developed skills in picking locks and safe-cracking with explosives.

While his activities were criminal, he had his own code of conduct and raided business premises rather than people's homes. And when he was caught, he never resisted arrest. His philosophy seemed to be "if you are caught, you are caught - it's all part of the job".

His life of detention began at age 18 when he was given a term in Borstal but later he served various terms in both Barlinnie and Peterhead Prisons. He eventually spent more time behind bars than outside. It's often easy to sentimentalise and sugar-coat the past, there was something about him which meant that even the police who snared him and the courts which he frequented as regularly as others visit their local supermarket, regarded him as somebody who was more interested in eluding an alarm and breaking a code than becoming rich from his forays.

Johnny was married during one of his spells out of prison and the couple had a baby daughter. But in 1934, while he was serving a sentence in Peterhead, he was told that his young wife was dead. He was refused permission to attend the funeral and Johnny's sense of justice was outraged. So he made the first of many escapes from the prison.

  In 1942, he was serving yet another jail sentence in Peterhead Prison. The army offered to give him special commando training and Johnny accepted. After all, it meant he was out of prison, earning a wage - and fighting for his country. Part of a crack commando unit, he was dropped behind enemy lines and used his skills with both explosives and burglary to good effect, stealing important German documents.

During the war in Italy, he entered Rome with the first troops to reach the city and blew open the safes in 14 foreign embassies - all in one day!

For his commando service and dangerous exploits, he was awarded the Military Medal and given a free pardon at the end of the war. But not longer after his return to Glasgow he was back to his life of burglary and was caught and jailed again.

In November 1955 he was sentenced to 10 years’ "preventive detention" at Peterhead Prison, which should have given him a few privileges. But he found there were none. He served over two years with exemplary conduct and still there was no move to the better conditions of "preventive detention". So Johnny responded in the only way he knew how - he escaped. Of course, he was later recaptured but he was at least given an opportunity to put his case to the prison authorities - which achieved nothing. Johnny escaped (and was recaptured) from Peterhead (Scotland's strongest jail) no less than five times including three times in 1958. Sometimes the prison warders didn't know whether he was inside or outside the prison. His fifth escape evoked wide-spread sympathy amongst the public which was illustrated by a song "The Ballad of Johnny Ramensky" by Norman Buchan (a Member of Parliament), which was printed in the Scotsman newspaper, and another musical tribute, Let Ramensky Go, was penned by none other than Roddy McMillan, the star of Para Handy.

Not long after starting a prison sentence in Barlinnie in Glasgow, Johnny was in the exercise yard and suddenly threw off his boots and shot up the wall, using cracks in the mortar as toe-holds. He reached a roof - but could get no further. Equally, the warders couldn't get him down - and Johnny was demanding to see the Chief of the Prisons Department! Attempts to reach the roof were met by a barrage of roof slates - watched by a growing audience outside the prison walls. He stayed out on the roof for five hours, eventually coming down when it started to get cold.

In 1962 Detective Superintendent Robert Colquhoun (retired), said "Like most policemen who have come in contact with Ramensky, I find him an engaging character, the kind of man who, applying his brain to another, more acceptable, type of occupation, could probably have made good." Before he had retired, DS Colquhoun received a message from Johnny (who was once more in prison). He had heard that the policeman was seriously ill. The message contained his good wishes for his speedy recovery, plus the advice that he’d been taking too much out of himself chasing Johnny around! As he grew older and the escapes continued one question was being asked: Why does he keep on doing it, at his age and in his state of health? A police officer who knew him well said "Johnny never expects to get far when he breaks out now ... he's just got to do it to prove that he still can."

Johnny remarried and started a second family during his all too short periods out of prison but persisted in his life of crime into his old age - by which time his abilities as a cat burglar were beginning to fail him. In 1972 he collapsed in Perth Prison and died shortly after in hospital. In addition to his family, the many people who attended his funeral came from both the law enforcement and the law breaking sides of society. Whatever his faults, Johnny Ramensky was respected by them all. His obituary appeared in every Scottish national newspaper.

That's not the end of Johnny Gently though, he lives on at Peterhead Prison, now a museum where Ramensky served so many years behind bars, has created a exhibition space which highlights different aspects of his career.

I couldnae find the Roddy McMillan  version of Lat Ramensky Go, but former BBC Young Traditional Musician of the Year, Claire Harings makes a great job of singing it, the lyrics below are the original version, Claire sings a slightly different version. 

Let Ramensky Go

There was a lad in Glesga town, Ramensky was his name Johnny didnae know it then but he was set for fame

Now Johnny was a gentle lad, there was only one thing wrong He had an itch to strike it rich and trouble came along He did a wee bit job or two, he blew them open wide But they caught him and they tried him and they bunged him right inside

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

And when they let him out he said he'd do his best but then He yielded tae temptation and they bunged him in again Now Johnny made the headlines, entertained the boys below When he climbed up tae the prison roof and gave a one-man show

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

But when the war was raging the brass-hats had a plan Tae purloin some information, but they couldnae find a man So they nobbled John in prison, asked if he would take a chance Then they dropped him in a parachute beyond the coast of France

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Then Johnny was a hero, they shook him by the hand For stealing secret documents frae the German High Command So Johnny was rewarded for the job he did sae well They granted him a pardon frae the prison and the cell

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

But Johnny was in error when he tried his hand once more For they caught him at a blastin', and it wasnae worth the score

The jury pled for mercy, but the judge's voice was heard Ten years without remission, and that's my final word Ten years, my lord, that's far too long, wee Johnny cried in vain For if you send me up for ten I'll never come out again

Oh give me another chance, my lord, I'm tellin' you no lie But if you send me up for ten I'll sicken and I'll die

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Now Peterhead's a fortress, its walls are thick and stout But it couldnae hold wee Johnny when he felt like walking out Five times he took a powder, he left them in a fix And every day they sweat and pray in case he makes it six

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go..........

Here are some reports on him.......[1958:] Twelve hours after Johnny Ramensky had done his fifth and most baffling "vanishing act" in Peterhead jail yesterday it was not known whether he was INSIDE or OUTSIDE the prison. This was admitted late last night by a Scottish Home Department spokesman. Here is the sequence of events leading up to the cracksman's third escape in ten months.

Because of rain, 45 prisoners, including Ramensky, were being exercised in one of Peterhead's large prison halls. At 1.40, the exercise ended and the squad began a 50 to 70-yard march, in organised lines to the tailor's shop. At 1.43, they arrived at the shop WITHOUT RAMENSKY.

The alarm was raised. Every corner of the prison was searched. But there was no trace of the "King of Peterhead". No rope or ladder with which he could have scaled the jail's 18-foot wall was found. One theory was that Ramensky had a key to the back door of the tailor's shop, which is only ten feet from the wall. For it is believed that he had a key for the tailor's shop door on his October break-out. Out went the word to police all over the country:

 "Ramensky's free again."

Two hunts went on - in swirling snow and at temperatures below freezing point - for the 53-year-old convict who, despite ill-health, had made another freedom bid. Throughout the whole of the North of Scotland road blocks and police checks sprang up. Tracker dogs went out. A strong cordon was thrown round the immediate prison area. For on his last bid in October, Ramensky was found, after 40 hours of freedom only 200 yards from the prison. It was ill-health that beat him then. He collapsed after a child spotted him in a barn.[...]. 

Last night people living in the Peterhead area spoke of him without fear. For he is known as "Gentle John" and those beside the prison take bets on how long he will stay free. His escape in February this year lasted 24 hours, before he was caught in Peterhead's main street wearing a warder's cap and a long black coat.

One question was being asked: Why does he keep on doing it, at his age and in his state of health? A police officer who knows him well said last night: "Johnny never expects to get far when he breaks out now ... he's just got to do it to prove that he still can.

"Here is a description of the clothes worn by the wartime Commando who cracked safes behind enemy lines: Brown moleskin trousers, brown battledress tunic, brown jersey, blue and white striped shirt, black leather shoes ... and possibly wearing a cap. (Daily Record, Dec 18)

The six-day hunt for gentle Johnny Ramensky was called-off last night. And baffled police admitted: "There are still no clues." [...] The authorities believe that 53-year-old Ramensky, if still alive, is bound to make a mistake sometime, or to leave a clue somewhere. It is understood that police opinion is split over the reason for the absence of a "trail." Some feel he is dead in the sea, but others are convinced he is in the Peterhead area, possibly quite near the prison, and is being fed and sheltered. (Daily Record, Dec 23)

[1959:] Johnny Ramensky (53), the safe-breaker who made a sensational jail-break from Peterhead prison, remaining at liberty for nine days, is back in prison. He was caught at Persley, on the north bank of the River Don about three miles from Aberdeen. A police spokesman said after the capture that Ramensky was looking wonderfully well, apart from being footsore, and considering the long period he had been on the run. He was dressed in blue dungarees and a green jersey and his shoes were cracked and torn. It is understood that no police charges are impending against Ramensky on account of his escape. There have been no reports of break-ins or thefts. His fifth escape has evoked wide-spread sympathy amongst the public. During the war Ramensky was an instructor to Allied agents in blowing safes. (Weekly Scotsman, Jan 2)

#scotland #scottish highlands #criminal #cat burglar #sage cracker #soldier #hero #escape artist #history #peterhead #barlinnie

[ragingbookdragon]

The Batfamily Summer Pool Party

A/N: Actually, this was the first HC’s I ever did! Enjoy! -Thorne

ª     Headcanon that at the start of summer, Bruce allows everyone to come over to the manor for a ‘Start of Summer Pool Party’.

ª     Meaning, every Kryptonian, every Speedster, any and every alien on earth, the Teen Titans, the Titans, the Outlaws, and the Justice League.

ª     The first time Bruce mentioned doing it, the boys thought he’d officially lost it.

ª     The League did too.

ª     But after the first official pool party, it became a regular thing that kicked off summer for everyone.

ª     Bruce was wary about continuing it, but after seeing the unadulterated, ecstatic joy and laughter from his family, he’d realized it wasn’t so bad.

ª     He always spends upwards to two-hundred grand, but it’s money well spent.

ª     All the food, drinks, and games money can buy, he’s bought it.

ª     There are always three giant tables that Bruce always must explain.

“Middle one has all the food, the one to it’s left is alcoholic drinks-Tim put the Seagram’s back, you’re seventeen-I don’t care if you’ve drank before. You know what isn’t fun? Sitting in a jail cell because I’ve been charged with supplying alcohol to minors. The one on the middle’s right is non-alcoholic-Tim get your Dr. Pepper and stop complaining.”

ª     Jason’s been put in charge of the grill since he’s the best griller.

“Jason, need any help?”

“Nooooope.”

“Want any help?”

“Nooooope.”

“Want another beer?”

“Hell yeah.”

ª     Each person there gets two songs to play.

ª     The standing rule is: It must be PG-13 and can’t be the same song each time.

“I don’t care Dick, you can’t play Cardi B’s ‘Money’.”

“Oh, I can’t play ‘Money’, but Jason gets to play Nickelback’s ‘Rockstar’?”

“It literally has two cuss word in it compared to the twenty-five in ‘Money’.”

“Well can I play ‘Take a Chance on Me’?”

“No, you already played it.”

“Why do you guys hate ABBA so much?”

ª     You know that famous internet picture where the group of guys tries to float an extension cord on flip-flops to run a laptop?

ª     Tim tries to do that every time.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to do.”

“Go put the extension cord back in the house Tim. We do this every year.”

“One day you’ll let me.”

“Not likely.”

ª     Damian usually sits up on the deck watching and hating every second that ALL THESE PEOPLE are in his pool.

ª     He eventually started to have fun once Jon came over.

“What are you two doing?”

“We’re seeing how high I can toss Damian into the air.”

“For what purpose?”

“Dunno…just sounded like a good idea at the beginning.”

“And Damian went along with it?”

ª     Cue Damian screaming as he plummets back towards the water.

“…Not…exactly?”

*Sigh*

ª     More than once, Bruce had to stop Dick from trying to jump from the balconies and windows.

“I don’t care if the balconies hang over the pool! You aren’t allowed to do it! If all your friends jumped off balconies, would you do it too? That was rhetorical and you know it Dick. What do you mean you used to do it when you were a kid?”

ª     Bruce is constantly reprimanding the speedsters for running around the pool.

“Bart, I said no running!”

“Sorry Mr. Wayne!”

“Wally that means you too!”

“I wasn’t even running?!”

“I’m telling you before you start to.”

ª     He’s constantly telling everyone to keep the water in the pool.

“Can we, I don’t know, keep the water inside the pool, not outside it?”

“What’s wrong with having fun Bruce?”

“Dick, when you pay the water bill, you can talk.”

“Touché.”

ª     The biggest game of Marco Polo goes down.

ª     The Atlanteans aren’t allowed to play anymore.

ª     Superman eventually gets into the pool and Bruce’s ‘No throwing people rule’ goes down the drain.

“Clark, I said no throwing people.”

“Well, yeah, but look how happy they are.”

“Do you know that hitting the water from certain heights is exactly like hitting concrete?”

“You’re acting like I’m throwing them the height of the Empire State Building.”

“…Stop throwing my kids.”

ª     More than once, Bruce has stopped Damian and Tim from trying to drown each other while the others egg them on.

“Tim let go of Damian’s arm!”

“Tell him to let go of my hair!”

“I’ll let go of your hair when you let go of my arm!”

“Twenty bucks on the demon-spawn!”

“Jason stop encouraging them!”

“I’ll up your twenty to a fifty and bet on Tim!”

“Conner. No!”

ª     He’s also stopped Jason from burning steaks for people he doesn’t like.

“Jason quit burning Roy’s steak.”

“Well considering the fact that I’m in charge of the grill and not you old man, I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“Why are you even burning it? Aren’t you two best friends?”

“We were until I figured out, he was using my Netflix and Hulu accounts without asking me first.”

“Children. You’re both children.”

ª     Bruce is absolutely one of those people who enforces the whole ‘no swimming after eating, you wait thirty minutes’.

ª     It lasted until everyone just jumped back in.

ª     Diana eventually joins Clark in throwing people up and back into the pool, and Bruce is starting to pull his hair out.

“Diana. I. Said. No. Throwing.”

“You did, but we are not listening.”

“Tell me about it.”

ª     One time, Dick accidently drank too many alcoholic drinks (you know the ones that don’t taste like they have alcohol and then…it hits you) and face planted onto the deck.

ª     No one’s let him live it down.

“Remember that time Dick got so drunk he fell on his face?”

“Ha-ha, shut-up.”

“It was rather funny Dick. At first, you thought the orange pool noodle was me and you kept flirting with it.”

“Thank you for reminding me Kori. Hey, how come we never talk about Jason’s drunk adventures?”

“Because I can hold my liquor lightweight.”

“That’s rude Little-wing.”

“You’ll live Golden-Boy.”

ª     Alfred is sitting on a chair relaxing for once, completely undisturbed by what’s occurring around the pool.

ª     He’s been giving the day off and he’s absolutely taking advantage of it.

ª     Eventually, the sun begins to set and when night comes, everyone goes to the theater room for movies.

ª     The pool party ended up turning into an overnight thing.

ª     The Bat symbol turned on and immediately everyone turned to Bruce who just pointed at them and went ‘No.’

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon Bruce, with all of us here, patrol will get done faster.”

“And let you teens and young adults have free reign of my city? I’d rather cut my own foot off.”

ª     There’s silence as everyone stares him down until Jason stands up and yells,

“He can’t catch all of us! Run!”

ª     Bruce and the JL spent the next six hours rounding up Teen Titans, Titans, and Outlaws.

ª     Patrol did get done faster; he will give Dick credit for that one.

ª     However, the phone call from Gordon and the mayor about the army of unannounced superheroes and the pure chaos as all the criminals fled in pure terror, was not one that he was overjoyed to get.

ª     But the ‘Start of Summer Pool Party’ had another success, and Bruce was happy to do it again the next year.

“Hey Bruce, can we do the pool party in Bora-Bora next year?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m flying everyone to Bora-Bora.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

#batfamily headcanons #batfamily headcanon #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #dc headcanons #dc headcanon #dc comics #dc imagine #dc imagines #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #batfamily #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily fanfic #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #clark kent #conner kent #jon kent #diana of themyscira #koriand'r #batman #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #superman