#see to it that it either gives an arresting effect to the else blunt room or differently combine with the mood of it. You can also use an o

[dezineinnovation]

Low Cost Interior Design and Decorating Tips

Thinking of a home or office addition, but upset about the cost of the interior designing and decorating? Do you suppose you cannot go to spend much on the interior designing but wish for an elegant make over for your room? You do not have to get vexed about not having too important plutocrat to spend on your decoration, because you can do a fabulous job of decorating your house without spending much of your pennies, if you do it wise.

 Plan your budget

 Low or high, you should always have a specific budget plan for your work, rather than saying' I want the room's interior design to be done at a low cost it's better to have an idea of how much you're ready to spend. Coming to the correct value may not be possible but giving an nearly accurate estimate will always help. Divide your budget under different task like, Rs 1lac for new cabinetwork, Rs. 50 thousand for makeup etc rather than quoting the whole quantum. But flash back your budget plan should be realistic and should be rigorously followed for a successful low cost interior designing.

 Be the interior developer yourself

 Hiring a establishment or a specialist to do the makeover might give you a fully remarkable room or office, but flash back the more established they are, the more you'll end up paying them for the service alone. So it's stylish to take your imagination into play and come up with how much you're going to spent and what would have to be changed or introduced. You can relate papers in magazines or the internet to get ample ideas on how to do the job at minimal cost.

 Protect downward and wide

 You're planning to embellish the interior of the room, so it calls for full day fun shopping. Are you apprehensive that utmost of the goods you buy at the ingrained Shoppe may be available at a possibly slashed price in original shops and transaction houses? So take your time to hunt in the alternate hand shops, bargain request and any shop with a time ending trade or shop addition trade sign board. You're going to hit on commodity great at an unthinkable price. But just getting the thing at a low price shouldn't tempt you to buy it; you should buy only those effects you came to shop for. Else, the low priced shopping experience will turn to a clashing one.

 Get your effects auctioned

 Still, you may have to remove a piece of cabinetwork, curtains and a lot of junk you may no longer bear, if you're revamping the place. Rather than shifting them to the stockroom, you can get these effects vended at a low price to get a tip on your budget; you can either auction it or vend it to an alternate hand shop. Flash back your stuff might not cost much, but removing these will help you to de clutter the room and at the same time get a small rise on your budget. But if you're doing the interior designing and decorating from launch, do not worry for not having anything to vend; you can have an option of choosing veritably wisely and designing the room anew with no time loss.

 Exercise your stuff

 You can use a lot of effects at hand in a novel and creative way to make the interior designing a fun and creative experience. You can make a bumper cover out of your old curtain by suturing together the pieces but while choosing the fabric, see to it that it either gives an arresting effect to the else blunt room or differently combine with the mood of it. You can also use an old piece of cabinetwork and polish it to make a centerpiece of the room. Your grandmother's casket hole can boast the main magnet in your delineation room if you space it well and take care to design it.

 Ornamental pieces

 Ornamental particulars and wall oil can come in any range and occasionally it may bring you a fortune. But it's not just expensive ornamental pieces and antique collections that can make your interior boast a good appearance. You can use a family portrayal or oil your little bone

 Did to give a new look to the walls. These oils and prints do not just come free, they're empty and just a good frame will do the job. You can also use ornamental candles and gift pieces in a creative way to change the face of your room.

 An redundant fleece of makeup

 A redundant fleece of makeup can always give a face lift to a room. Interior designing is no way complete without a well painted wall. Choose the same shade of makeup as your former bone

 As getting a new shade will bear further fleeces of the makeup and hence it'll increase the cost of oil. But you can do a differing shade on just one wall if you're wearied with the' same old makeup' this not just give a new face to the room, it also saves a bit on the makeup.

 Keep it simple

 Be it kitchen, bedroom, office or study; keep the room as simple as possible. Reduce the number of cabinetwork and redundant piece of settee to give your room a neat, organized, commodious and new look. Your apartments and office should also have a touch of your personality so work on it.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

[hawklanthebard]

Fractured Diamond Chapter Two

"Wakey, wakey, Diamond-boy~."

The first thing Mondo heard as he came to slowly and painfully. A singsong tone from a gruff voice he swore he'd heard once before.

Mondo was never the fastest Diamond in the gang. Always slept in, always arrived late at meetings, always slow with clever comebacks when criticized by other members, and worst of all always drove too slow. It was no wonder why he'd mostly get left behind after a heist, not that he'd expect anyone to slow down for him. It's every man for himself out here, and if Mondo were to one day cover for his brother's role as the leader, he'd have to learn how to carry his own weight. Otherwise, how would he be expected to carry the gang? Even if he'd have to find his way out of jail.

Getting arrested was probably the most shameful thing to happen to a gang member. It's bound to happen at some point to any criminal, but to a Diamond, its weakness unfolded. Diamonds are strong, everyone knows that. Nothing can ever break a diamond, except perhaps another one, a reason why infighting was strictly prohibited within the gang. Diamonds are stronger when they're packed together, but each one is made to be strong itself. No chips, no cracks, not even a chink. A weak link can break the chain, as they say. Mondo was a prime example of that. It was one thing to fall behind and get yourself arrested, it was another thing entirely to fall behind and get captured by a rival gang.

"I said, wake up!"

The voice burst between the cracks of Mondo's returning consciousness and struck him square in the stomach. Literally. With what felt like an iron fist.

Before light could pierce through his vision, shapes began to form and dance around his head. His throbbing head. It hurt like hell, and he was certain there was a pretty good-sized bruise on his temple. Although he couldn't for the life of him remember how he got it, either the ground or blunt force. Probably a side effect of his injury. He recoiled in pain, hoping to find at least some sliver of comfort after coming to, only to find he was standing uncomfortably upright. Most of his body weight seemed to be supported by his arms above him. He moved them and was met with what unmistakenly sounded like a chain rattling. He'd figured he was probably cuffed if it weren't for the obvious splintered rope eating at his wrists. Mondo realized his shoes were missing when the icy concrete under his feet surged through his body, but at least he was able to release the tension from his sore arms, finally able to comprehend his condition. Hanging by the wrists on a meat hook, maybe? Mondo recalled something like this happening in a horror movie he and Daiya used to watch on Halloween, only the victim wasn't hung by their wrists. Mondo was slightly grateful his captives weren't that fucked. Slightly.

As if his eyelids were anchored by boulders, Mondo was finally able to get a view of his surroundings and see the silhouetted owner of the gruff voice who brought him back from unconsciousness. The Diamond tried to speak but his throat was stuck together as if it was pasted with glue and shards of broken glass in some psychotic kid's art project. Only a hoarse groan escaped through his teeth.

"Ugh..."

"Well, looky here, boys. Sleeping Beauty awakens." the voice taunted. "Oof. That's quite a bump ya got there, boy." Mondo's face twisted in pain as a pair of fingers flicked his throbbing temple, earning a sea of gruff chuckles from the other men in the room.

Mondo swallowed, somehow managed to utter a noise through his hoarse, weighted throat as if he was speaking with a chest full of sand. "Hha...hoo ah...yuh..."

The man mockingly cupped a hand over his ear, grinning at the miserable boy. "Hm? A little louder, champ. I'm hard of hearing. 'Old man', as you said."

Mondo didn't try to figure out what the man meant by that. He didn't have the energy. He tried to swallow but to no avail. His tongue couldn't even produce saliva at the moment to help his parched throat. "W...wuhh..."

" 'Wuh'? 'Wuh', what, boy?" The man pretended to mull it over. "Wah...wah... Oh! Water? You want water, boy?"

Mondo licked his lips and let out a tiny hoarse cough as if to confirm the man's "guess". The man turned to the group behind him. "The boy's thirsty. Give him some water."

Another muscular man holding a plastic bottle approached Mondo with the same sick grin as the first man and unceremoniously poured the water over Mondo's head. His body slightly jolted at the sudden action as if naturally trying to get away from the cold liquid. Of course, no prevail, much to the men's amusement. Mondo's pompadour draped over his face, the water sticking no matter how many times he may shake it.

"Aww, you ruined his pretty locks." said the first man in mock sympathy. "So sorry, boy. Must've taken hours to do." He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a canteen. "Alright, here ya go, boy."

The man pressed the nozzle over Mondo's lips, who greedily began chugging. It was then when he was immediately struck with a foul taste on his tongue, and he spat out the beverage onto the floor, followed by the remaining contents of his stomach. He coughed and gagged, feeling much worse than before. The men laughed again.

"I guess some "men" just can't hold their liquor." the first man chortled.

"Fug yoo..." a whisper crawled from Mondo's throat. Even he didn't hear it, but sure enough, it met with the ears of the other men.

"What was that, boy?" the first man towered over Mondo, who scowled through his eyebrows and mangled hair.

"Fuck...you..." the Diamond hissed as if his voice was poisonous. A stupid thing to say in his position, but Mondo was prepared to die for it.

The man snatched a fistful of Mondo's wet bangs and forced his head back to meet eyes. Mondo heard a small metallic sound, followed by something sharp being pressed against his throat. It didn't take long to decipher what it was.

Before the man could do or say anything else, another male voice thundered from the lit doorway.

"He's awake, I take it?"

The first man's eyes widened before turning toward the new man. "Y-yessir." A superior, Mondo thought.

Sure enough, his suspicion was correct in a way Mondo could not be proud of himself for. The men parted, making a small path for their boss to enter. From the towering heads, Mondo was able to see the man in full form. A taller, brawny man with short black hair and piercing blue eyes as if they were made from hell flame. He was shirtless and wore bandages around his abdomen like the Diamonds and other gangs, but his shoulders were draped in a grey trenchcoat, and he was covered in tattoos. The vice leader of The Deadly Grey Reapers. Mondo remembered seeing a bigger man, the real leader, who always accompanied this one. For some reason, he was nowhere in sight.

"Good." the man approached Mondo slowly, making sure each step added more and more growing intimidation, if not to Mondo then to his subordinates. They all lowered their heads and stared at their feet. Mondo internally scoffed. How pathetic. To have to intimidate your members in order to control them. Daiya never had an issue with insubordination, and it wasn't because he was soft or weak as other gangs believed. Daiya treated his members as if he was one of them, and he was. He served them, not the other way around. 'A true leader walks among his people, not above.', Mondo remembered his brother saying. If he were here, he'd talk some sense into these so-called "men".

The grey-clad man finally reached Mondo, towering over him as if the Diamond was a mere insect that needed to be squashed. "Mondo Owada. Do you remember me?"

Of course, he did. It was only a few hours ago that night, longer depending on how long he was knocked out. A typical heist near the shopping district, followed by a classic case of wrong place wrong time, which in turn turned into a turf war. Maybe a few steps were missing, but those were the only ones that mattered right now. In the end, the Diamonds were victorious and made haste before the cops showed up. What happened afterward Mondo could take a few guesses.

He said nothing, furrowed eyes fixed on the man as if his looks could speak for him.

The grey man cocked a brow. He didn't smile. "What, they finally cut out your tongue?" he said unhumorously "It's disrespectful to stay silent when asked a question, boy. I took the effort to remember your repulsive name. Didn't your brother ever teach you to respect your elders? Oh wait, that's just not his style, is it?"

Mondo's brows arched deeper against his violet eyes. Still, he chose to be silent, although the need to smack talk the older man for disrespecting his brother was clawing its way through the back of Mondo's throat.

The man shifted the toothpick sticking out between his lips -Mondo had always thought about shoving that toothpick down the man's throat every time he sideglanced Daiya- to the other side of his mouth as he glanced down at the young biker's feet.

"Why is he all wet? And why is there vomit on my floor?" the boss asked coldly, barely turning his head to imply he was speaking to his subordinates. The men glued their eyes to their feet, making only subtle glances at each other, almost urging one of them to speak up before things got messy. Finally, the man that Mondo woke up to opened his mouth.

"H...he said he was...thirsty, boss." the man's voice quivered as something wet splashed onto the ground below him "S-so, we gave him some..."

The grey man glanced over at the empty plastic bottle and flask near the mens' feet. He let out an exasperated sigh with an almost disappointed tone. "I thought I told you not to harm him."

The first man gulped. "U-um, w-we didn't-"

"Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?!" the grey man shot a glare over his sticking-up jacket collar with eyes like icicles shooting across the room and into the other man's chest. He was forced to look at his boss this time.

"Wh-wha-!"

"When I said not to harm him, did you think you could draw a loophole or somethin'? That I wouldn't notice if you did anything at all other than subdue him as I told you to? You thought you could get away with it?"

A shadow cast over the first man's sweating form. "Uh, w-well, boss, ah...h-he gave me and the boys a...rough time back there, a-an' w-we-I-I thought that m-maybe we could h-have some fun w-wi-"

KRRSK

Silence swept across the room. Mondo would've thought he'd gone deaf from the sickening crack if it wasn't for the sound of droplets falling from the grey man's knuckles and forming a puddle onto the concrete floor. The same color that stained the wall before him with the limp form of the first man. The back of his skull had been cracked open like a melon and blood poured from his face onto his lap. He was dead.

'One hit...he killed him in one hit...' Mondo thought. If he anything left in his stomach, he would've made a new mess over his old. Instead, all he could do was stare with unbelieved eyes and parted lips. He'd seen bloodshed many times, but not like this.

The other men barely flinched, which only deepened Mondo's growing fear. Was this a common occurrence?

The grey man flicked his hand, spraying the remaining wet beads from his knuckles before wiping them with a cloth he pulled from his pocket. Two other men made haste to drag the bloody corpse from the room, others followed behind, leaving only Mondo and the grey man alone.

"That give you a pretty good idea about how this works, boy?" he shoved the bloody rag back in his pocket, "I imagine this is your first time with a real gang, so I decided to give you an illustration. That, and I just hate wiseguys."

Mondo knew he had to look at the man in the eyes to avoid severe punishment, but he couldn't tear his vision away from the red stain on the wall. The longer he stared, the more he realized gruesome details like teeth and pieces of broken skull with dark hair still attached scattered across the floor. When Mondo was finally able to find his voice, he spoke as steady as he could.

"What do you want from me?"

"Glad to see we're on the same page. Maybe there's hope for you after all." The grey man began pacing back and forth, "It isn't about what I want from you, more what I want from your brother. He's done me a great pain this evening. I want to deliver the same onto him."

Mondo raised his brow, eyes fixed on the man as to assure himself he heard him correctly. "Pain? In what, the heist? It was a simple robbery. Just in and out the plaza. It didn't have shit to do with you, but you guys decided to turn it into a turf war, and we kicked your asses. None of us were stupid enough to stick around when the cops showed up. And here you are, taking it out on me like a pussy. If you want that shitty plaza in the middle of nowhere just barely off the highway, be my fucking guest, just leave me out of it."

A pair of boots stopped dead in their tracks. Mondo was facing the grey man's back, the aura darkened around the room as the man spoke in a voice like molten gravel.

"You think this is about that stupid plaza?" the man's knuckles turned white against the faded crimson. "Do you remember my brother?"

His brother? Was that the man Mondo remembered seeing with him all the time? The true leader of the Grey Reapers? That's his brother?

"Isn't he the leader here?" Mondo asked unsurely.

The grey man turned back towards him, eyes shadowed over his face. "He was," he said in a harsh whisper, making sure to put extra poison into that last word.

" 'Was'?" Mondo didn't really need to ask what he meant by that, he could figure it out quickly, but he had to be sure.

"He was killed. After the cops showed up, and you hightailed, the rest of us Reapers stayed behind and fought. We could've scattered like you cowards, but my brother wasn't having it, and we put up a pretty good fight. But one cop aimed his gun at me, and my brother jumped in the way. Bullet went right through his head. I still remember the cop's face."

Mondo's face widened, almost sympathetic. He knew he'd heard gunshots and the sound of battle behind him, later drowned by his bike engine. It wasn't a sound he was unfamiliar with, it was an adventure like he was living in one of those action movies. The thrill of gunshots behind him, police sirens, thugs shouting. It's almost euphoric. But it never occurred to him the danger, death, and loss, the true bloodshed that came with it. With being in a gang.

"But...why me? What does this have to do with me?" Mondo asked

"Your brother needs a lesson. A message." the grey man glanced over at the red stain "An illustration. Everything happens for a reason, I believe. My brother died so I could live and become the leader. Your brother left you behind so I could punish him through you. The pain and helplessness I felt that evening, your brother will never understand until he feels it for himself." He towered over Mondo with intense eyes.

"So, what are you gonna do, kill me?" The biker tried to ask with masked bravery, but he wasn't sure if it came off like that. He heard another metallic sound, the same one he heard before.

"It would send your brother a message." the grey man said pressing the pocket knife against Mondo's throat "But I'm not going to give you what you want, a quick death. Like I said, I want to give your brother an illustration. Do to you on the outside what he did to me on the inside."

"You're wasting your time. He'll come back for me." 'He always does.', Mondo thought the last to himself in shame. How weak he really was.

"I have no doubt he will. But when he does, he won't find his brother. He'll only find a broken kid who shares the same blood."

"You...you won't break me. I'm-"

"-A Diamond? No one can break a diamond, is that right? But I can see right through you. You're not a diamond, not a real one. You're just a shiny piece of glass. And glass can break just as easily as bones. For instance,"

Pow!

Mondo yelped in pain with a sharp gasp as something hard rammed into his abdomen with a sickening crack. His knees buckled beneath him as his wrists once again were forced to support his body weight. Mondo could only take in short breaths, he was sure a rib was cracked. Horror crossed his mind when he remembered how easily that other man died from one punch. He was holding back.

"See? A real Diamond wouldn't crumble like that." the grey man said. Mondo winced as he grabbed a handful of his hair, hoisting his head up to meet eye contact. "You're going to break, Mondo Owada. You're going to be cracked. And what happens to a diamond when it cracks?"

Another blow landed on Mondo's midsection, this time definitely breaking a few more ribs. Mondo could only let out a small whimper as he bit his lip, fighting back the urge to cry.

"It becomes worthless."

[k-writer1998]

Not Bad, Rookie

Prompt fic: officer! jeongin x detective! reader

fluff

w.c: 2.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up to a call about a crime scene was a given with my occupation but it wasn’t appreciated when I was at the station late last night. I’m glad my hair didn’t need much care after I got a boy cut although my bangs have grown to my cheekbones and keep getting in my face. Brushing my hair to the side, I got ready and went to the crime scene. There were already officers around taking photos and numbering the scene but my eyes zeroed in on a particularly cheerful face talking with forensics. The moment he saw me approaching, his face fell a bit.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck being partners again,” He muttered under his breath.

“Well honey. Hate it or not, the universe loves to conspire us together,” I remark sarcastically.

“We are not in the Shakespearean era my guy.”

“I am either “detective” or “y/n” not “my guy” or whatever slang you have up your sleeve.”

      Although I understood why the chief continued to pair us together it didn’t mean I liked it any better than Jeongin did. Yang Jeongin… a fresh-faced officer known for his bright personality and friendly disposition, the complete opposite to my strict personality and blunt words. The chief says to learn from each other but playing nice with people isn’t really my cup of tea so not sure what else I could learn. I give him one thing though, the kid knows how to use his mouth if he doesn’t agree. The crime was a clear break and enter case, multiple stab wounds to the victim’s chest and abdomen, but no signs of robbery. Possibly premeditated… a stalker? Ex-lover? After investigating the crime scene more we headed back to the station.

“I’ll look into people close to the victim, check to see if there are any similar crimes. The scene feels too clean for it not to be a repeat offender.”

“Do y-”

“Y/n the chief wants you in his office.”

      I gave Jeongin a shrug as he let out a defeated sigh and went to do as I asked. When I entered the office both of us gave displeased looks which I don’t know what his was for. 

“Do you remember what you did on the last case?”

“I caught the culprit?”

“While endangering yourself and everyone in the surrounding area.” 

“There was no danger to anyone else other than myself and I had everything under control.”

“You need to stop with this reckless behavior. You’re good at your job but if you make the wrong move you’re not going to be doing it anymore.”

“Sir-”

“Don’t argue with me on this. I talked you out of a transfer today because the higher ups didn’t trust in your methods even if you bring in the bad guy at the end of the day. They’ll be keeping an eye on you so just stick with Jeongin on the case and don’t be reckless.”

“About that, why do you keep partnering me with him? I know you tell me to learn from him but I just don’t get it.”

“You need to stop letting your ego get in the way then. You’re a great detective, do your job and pay attention to the details and you’ll know.” 

      Dang. Okay I do admit that there are times where I’m too rushed in my decisions which may have resulted in minor injuries to myself… and property that one time… With a sigh I sit back at my desk and start working. After going over her personal records, noting contacts, and making calls I realized how late it was. Stretching before cleaning up my stuff, I started to head out but as I headed to the door I noticed a light in the very corner of the room. All I could see was a stack of files and a tuft of black hair peeking from behind it. Who knew there was someone who loses track of time other than me, the others are always teasing me about it. With it already being late I decided to let the person know they should head home soon but then they leaned back in a stretch and the familiar baby face appeared. Jeongin? Is he still working on the task I gave him? Walking up to his desk, I knocked on the shelf behind him.

“It’s late you know.”

“Oh is it?”

“Yeah, everyone else already went home.”

“Couldn’t tell behind all these files,” he awkwardly laughs.

“Do you always stay this late?”

“On occasion yes. I read more into other cases to make up a bit for my lack of experience.”

      His honesty threw me off a bit. We butt heads so much I never realized how honest he is. That on top of his effort to make up for the experience gap… maybe he isn’t bad after all. The air grew tense as neither of us spoke. This was the first time we’ve casually chatted and it wasn’t about work. On instinct my eyes scanned over his desk and noticed a small pile separated from the rest of the stacks.

“What’s that pile over there?” I nodded my head in it’s direction.

“You were right about it being too clean. There are three other cases in the last year with similar set up. Home invasion but no burglary and stab wounds in the victim’s chest and abdomen.”

“Is there a similarity between the victims?”

“Uhm… they’re all low ranked office workers in their twenties, female, short dark hair-”

“Okay, next thing tomorrow we’ll look into if there are mutual contacts among the four and any other connections but for now let’s go home kid.”

      Two weeks passed with reinvestigating the old cases and following leads, some which were dead ends, we were able to single out the culprit and gather enough evidence to convict him. Our investigation, no matter how careful we were, came around to him and spooked him so he hasn’t been around his home or work though for the arrest. We were currently discussing how to arrest him… well more of arguing. Let me be clear though in those two weeks investigating Jeongin and I had gotten to a pleasant place in our partnership. Once I stopped the superiority thing in my head, he was a smart kid who worked in a less direct, and at times more effective, way. He still talked back a lot but they were valid points he brought up when countering my probable bad choice of rushed decision making. Currently we were arguing over me being the bait.

“This is the best option, I check off all of the killer’s preferences.”

“But he’s jumpy right now, he knows we’re on his tail. You don’t know what he is willing to do to not get caught plus he’ll be careful about his marks.”

“I’m a trained officer Jeongin, plus you and several other officers will be in there to cover me.”

“It’s a crowded place though, it’s easier for him to take a hostage and it’s a possibility that we can’t get to you on time or might lose you.”

“Okay we obviously aren’t getting anywhere with this. Let’s flip a coin fair and square to decide cause neither of us will let up.”

“... fine.”

      He begrudgingly agreed and I pulled out a coin. I told him to call it and he said heads, oh Jeongin. I’m sorry for tricking you but you’re also at fault for being naïve enough to believe I wasn’t stubborn enough to force my way. I purposely flipped the coin in a way where it was sure to land on tails.

“There, no more arguments. I go in.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“I trust that you won’t let that happen kid.”

“I’m only a year younger than you,” he rolls his eyes.

“With that attitude, you got some ways to go before I stop calling you kid.”

      Too many bodies, drunk people, and music so loud I can’t even hear my thoughts. If this wasn’t the killer’s main hunting ground I wouldn’t be in this club right now, not my scene. At the bar I grabbed a drink and turned to scan the crowd, pinpointing each officer and Jeongin in the crowd. I ran a bored hand through my hair as a guy tried to hit on me until I caught sight of my target at the entrance. As he travelled through the crowd he kept his eyes trained on me and I was thankful for my friend for lending me this maroon off the shoulder top and leather jeans because I owned nothing that was similar to the victims’ styles.  Before he reached me I nodded at Jeongin before facing the bartender with a smile as the killer pulled up beside me. We started talking and everything was going according to plan until the killer leaned in to speak to me.

“How about we take this outside?”

“Wow forward aren’t we?”

“You can say that.”

      Suddenly the tables turned as I felt something cold poking at my side. Instinctively my body wanted to jerk away but his arm had wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him and the weapon. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t want to cause a scene now do we? Let’s head out now.”

      Shit. My eyes caught with Jeongin’s whose eyebrows were furrowed as he saw us starting to move out. I used my eyes to signal him to follow but then the killer was pulling me through the crowd and my focus had to go back to avoiding the mass of people. My eyes tried to scan the crowd for any familiar faces but there were too many people and the killer was purposefully pulling me through the most crowded parts of the club. By the time we reached the street there were no signs of the others coming. He pulled me to the left, continuing down the road until we reached an off road where a car with a small group of burly men waited. One opened the door and the killer moved towards it but stopped short as he addressed me again.

“So Ms. Officer are you disappointed I caught you?”

“Surprisingly not really but how’d you know?”

“Your hands. They’re too rough and most women who work in offices are very careful with their hands.”

“Valid but insulting.”

      He pushed me into one of the burly men who locked his hold on me as the killer got in the car, the whole time the gun still trained on me. The door closed and the window rolled down to show the killer’s face once again. Of course he has to get the last word, typical villain but what did I expect when he hired bodyguards? I rolled my eyes.

“I believe this is a checkmate,” he turned to the guard, “make sure she doesn’t follow.”

      And with that the car drove off leaving me with two of the guards flanking me. I struggled against them as they tried to pull me away from din on the main road. I didn’t have my gun and I wouldn’t be able to take both of them like this so I did the next best thing. I screamed. It was a short lived one, because the man holding me clamped his hand over my mouth, but hopefully it would be enough to draw eyes so they can’t do anything. The next thing I knew I heard the fall of footsteps and one guard was rammed into by Jeongin before I saw his arm wind back. Instinctually I ducked right as his fist connected with the other one’s jaw, loosening his hold enough on me to be ripped free by Jeongin who started running… deeper into the abandoned street?

“What are you doing? You have your gun, why are we running?”

“We’re still too close to the crowded street; we'll corner them further away.”

      I… he was right so I continued to keep pace, cursing the fact of these stupid heels slowing me down. We turned a corner into an alley and I grabbed his comms to let the others know the killer got away in a black sedan and gave them the license plate number. As I finished giving the rest of the orders the two men barreled in and Jeongin pointed his gun at the two. Back up showed up and the two men were sent to the station. There was no pin on the car yet, leaving me and Jeongin to be sent home by the chief while everything else gets handled. As we walked back to the main road I couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you smiling? If I wasn’t there to get you out of it you would’ve been in trouble with those two guys.”

“Cause I was right. I said I trust you would get me out of it and you did but I didn’t think you would go after us alone.”

“I didn’t. I sent the other officers to the right since it led to the main road and there was more ground to cover but a gut feeling told me to go left. The others are right when they say you’re reckless you know.”

“Smart move to send the bigger group to the more crowded area. Not bad, rookie but I hope you can deal with reckless. I heard the chief is making permanent partners so I guess you're stuck with me now Jeongin.”

      My smile grew bigger as he froze for a moment taking in my response, what can I say? He’s grown on me and if we’re to be stuck together might as well address him properly. I took that time to put distance between us but I could hear his footsteps fall after me as he called after me, the happiness evident in his tone.

“So I’m finally not “kid” anymore?! Y/n wait, say it again!”

[ashfountainfanfics]

“This is ridiculous,” Mike sighs in exasperation, “my friends and I had nothing to do with any of this.”

The detective at the other end of the table doesn’t seem to accept this. She’s a recent transplant from another state. Most of the Derry police department leaves Mike be, summing up his interest in police matters as a side effect of his fascination with Derry history. She doesn’t seem to be interested in giving that same assumption.

“You keep saying that,” she pushes, “but I think it’s strange that you show up to all the crime scenes and that two of your friends harassed one of the victims. Not to mention that Henry Bowers was found dead under your place of residency.”

Mike is growing more and more frustrated. It was surreal when the police showed up at dinner last night. The Losers Club plus the small group of cops nearly overwhelmed the small Italian place they’d been enjoying.

Bev, Ben, and Eddie are sitting in the lobby while Richie and Bill are in cuffs. Mike is somewhere between the two options or so he figures. He’s not sure he likes those odds.

Detective Lopez fixes him with a look that lacks any hint of retreat or gentility. She’s a no nonsense kind of woman. Her curly, dark hair is cropped in a pixie cut and her face is bare and set in a deadpan expression. Her blouse is a gray button up and the lanyard of her badge is tucked under her collar.

“It’s a small town,” Mike responds, “coincidences are everywhere.”

“Nothing is ever just a coincidence. Did you know Mr. Bowers?”

Mike calmly explains how Henry Bowers was the resident bully when they were children. How often that bullying went past simple pranks and low grade violence. To stop at calling Henry a bully was like trying to call Ted Bundy just an unfortunate date.

“You can ask Ben about his scar, that should give you a clue.”

“I understand that Mr Bowers had a history of violence and mental illness-“

“Being an angry white boy is not a mental illness,” Mike points out.

“Agreed,” Detective Lopez says flatly, “but that isn’t my point. My point is that several children and a man named Adrian Melon are dead and the escape of Mr. Bowers does not correlate with those deaths.”

“It doesn’t correlate with the arrival of my friends either. They weren’t here.”

“But you were.”

Mike is taken aback by the remark. All this time he’s been keeping watch, dreading the day that Derry needed saving but looking to save it nonetheless. Not that this town ever gifted him much beyond tolerance. He has no adult friends here, no significant others, only a series of routine faces that note his presence. Derry, Maine isn’t friendly or good. It’s not even scenic but he wanted to save it anyway. His jaw tightens.

“Of course I was here. I live in Derry. I’ve lived here most of my life, where else would I be?”

“You didn’t know these kids. You didn’t know Adrian Melon. Why did you visit the crime scenes? What business did you have being there?”

Detective Lopez is standing over him now with her hands planted on the table. She does this all calmly with very direct body movements. She never lets her frustration get to her. She harnesses it into orderly conduct and in a way it’s terrifying.

But she’s an outsider without all the facts. You can tell she comes from a big city by her demeanor and her thought process. Often a crime is committed by someone close to the victim or someone that makes themselves close. Contrary to the movies, the person most likely to kill you is the one in plain sight and right next to you. Monsters that hide in the dark and stalk you like prey aren’t the norm.

Mike is glad that he and his friends got rid of that norm for Derry.

“Detective Lopez? Have you ever seen someone die-“

“Of course I have. I’m a homicide detective.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Mike insists, “I was asking if you’ve ever seen someone die when you were a child?”

This gives her pause. Her elbows soften the smallest amount and her hesitancy is plain to Mike. She doesn’t sit. There’s no way she’s backing down that quickly but it’s clear she’s listening.

“I can’t say I have, why?”

“If you take the time to look into me a bit more you’ll know that my parents died in a fire and I was in the other room. I was too little to help them. I couldn’t save them.”

Now Detective Lopez sits down. Her posture is unnaturally straight and her gaze is still unwavering. This is either the best she can do to convey being receptive or it’s the most she’s willing to give.

“Can you imagine the sort of impact that has? I couldn’t even put down a sheep on the farm I grew up on. The idea of causing harm to anyone or anything, indirect or necessary or otherwise, still makes me sick. So please, Detective Lopez, don’t insult me with what you’re trying to infer.”

“Be blunt then. What were you doing?”

“Trying to see if there was a way to stop it. If you look at our history, you’ll see there’s a pattern. Every 27 years since the town was formed, a stretch of terrible things happen. That’s longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than my family’s been in Derry.

I thought maybe if I could pay attention for the next phase I could find the connection. I could save them.”

Mike can see that she’s regarding him as an absolute looney but Mike hopes it’s the harmless kind. She can picture him tinfoil hat and all if it means she doesn’t see him as a murderer.

“And what did you find?”

Mike decides that this is as good a time as any to tell one last lie. It’s not like she’d understand the truth of the matter. She’s the type to only accept hard facts and indisputable evidence. There isn’t anything he can show her to back the truth. Nothing but a lot of rubble on Neibolt street.

“I found nothing. Whatever makes this town the way it is, it’s not for me to understand.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Pennywise was just a part of what made Derry the way it is. Its death isn’t going to cure Derry of its bigotry overnight. There will still be small minded people, violent people. Mike will never understand that.

“So you’re giving up? Just like that?”

“I almost died because a literal living relic of my past broke out of an insane asylum and tried to kill me. I think that’s a sufficient wake up call that I’ve wasted too much time on this town and my own baggage.”

Mike can’t tell if she’s buying it or not. Detective Lopez gives away nothing. She’s an absolute professional to the core. Mike respects that. Derry could use someone on the force who can’t be swayed.

“I may need you to call you back in to corroborate a few stories so don’t skip town,” she gives him a curt nod, “You’re free to go.”

Detective Lopez opens the door to Mike’s freedom. Mike has a feeling that the others have been given similar instructions or that they will be given them. He wonders briefly if they should have thought ahead to confirm a set story with each other but he thinks better of it. None of the Losers are crazy enough to tell the truth.

“Hanlon, wait,” the detective stops him as soon as he’s out of the door frame, “tell your comedian friend that making jokes isn’t going to work with me. It’s not endearing and he’s digging a much bigger hole for himself.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, trying to get him to stop is a joke in and of itself.”

—-

“Her first name is Jennifer!” Richie shouts as if wounded, “Last name Lopez! What did you want me to do?”

Richie can tell that his lawyer is not amused. His voice sounds really far away and it is. He’s driving to Derry as fast as he can.

“Richie, this isn’t your usual legal trouble. This isn’t stolen material or a damaged room-“

“That was one time and I was still a baby! How was I supposed to know what ecstasy looks like? You’re about to see the podunk town I grew up in, man.”

“They’re talking homicide!”

“I still cry over Bambi, for fuck’s sake. Do you seriously think I’d kill anyone for fun?”

“Of course not.”

Roger Clemming has been Richie’s lawyer since the start of his career. He’s a cousin of his manager and normally Roger has no qualms about representing Richie. Most of his legal cases aren’t even his; the man doesn’t write his own stand up so he can’t exactly be held responsible if it’s stolen. Richie Tozier is an easy client.

“I didn’t even mean to kill him. He had Mike and it was clear that old Bowers was totally batshit. I reacted. I don’t know.”

“So we have a witness. That’s good. The more witnesses the better. I just wish you hadn’t pissed off the Detective.”

“Yeah yeah I’m an asshole but I didn’t say anything about the case. And I stayed away from ass jokes!”

“I’m sure that’s what will save you.”

The Derry police station is not a big place. The holding cell is visible to the front lobby and there’s only two private rooms; the sheriff’s office and an interrogation room. Richie can see Eddie, his arms crossed and his face looking like he bit into a lemon.

Stressed out, Eddie spaghetti? You’re not on this end of the station.

“Be honest with me, Roger, am I going to jail or not?” Richie clings to a rare moment of seriousness.

“You defended someone from an escaped convict. If you sit back and don’t make an ass out of yourself we may not even go to court.”

Richie sighs and he wishes he could telepathically share this news with Eddie. He stares down Eddie in the hopes that somehow they do share a psychic link. Eddie remains pissed at some very specific wall instead.

“And, uh, my friend? Bill?”

“I’m not sure a trial can be avoided on that, but as long as there’s no physical evidence then the best they’ve got is circumstantial with no real motive. They’ll be grasping at straws if they charge him. Dead kids do make for angry parents though and sometimes they’ll pull a guy to trial because they’ve got no one else to blame.”

“So 50/50 chance?”

“40/60 of an arrest being made and I can’t begin to estimate the odds on him being found guilty. That all comes down to the kind of town your Derry, Maine.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Richie groans and buries his face into his free hand.

“Watch it, Tozier,” the nearby cop warns him.

Richie apologizes and feigns composure.

“Sorry kid,” Roger’s using his turn signal given the soft ticking in the background, “I’ll do my best but I make no promises.”

Richie mutters a sentiment of gratitude before hanging up. It would still be the better part of a day and a half before his representation gets here. Technically he’s not even sure if Bill wants Roger to represent him but Richie figures it couldn’t hurt to arrange it. After all, do either of them really want to trust whatever a Derry lawyer looks like?

---

Bill settles in for the night. To be honest, he’s slept in far more uncomfortable places than a holding cell. He wasn’t always a big famous writer. He remembers when he had to sleep in his shitty, used Toyota back in the early days. Now he’s got two houses, a celebrity wife, and a second movie deal. None of which he’s particularly sure he wants anymore.

It’s startling how unconcerned Bill is about the charge against him. He’s been taken in on suspicion of murder but Bill knows damn well he didn’t kill that kid and Detective Lopez doesn’t have much of anything on him except that he was seen yelling at the child earlier at the day and had been spotted at the carnival. 

Bill didn’t want to seem entirely unhelpful though despite knowing they were never going to catch what killed that boy. He offered an account of what he thought was an animal attack but it was difficult to make out. Richie’s lawyer probably won’t like that he talked without him present but Bill doesn’t really care.

Bill blamed the yelling on a mental breakdown. His hometown memories were complicated and a failing marriage and work pressure wasn’t helping. When he saw a kid about Georgie’s age living in his old house, he lost it. It was easy to sell this because it wasn’t really a lie. Detective Lopez did make a comment to Bill about how childhood trauma seems very convenient in this town but Bill didn’t know how to respond outside of confusion.

“All right, everyone,” a tired cop announces into the lobby, “Y’all should get yourselves to bed. Visiting hours are over.”

The other members of the Loser’s Club are essentially draped across each other in the lobby and half asleep already. Ben is in the middle like some sort of handsome centerpiece. He has an arm over Beverly and Mike is leaning on his free shoulder. Meanwhile, Eddie is sitting on the floor at Ben’s feet looking tense and irritated.

They gather themselves up except for Eddie who continues to sit on the floor.

“Eddie, honey,” Beverly says softy, “it’s time to go.”

“Richie and Bill didn’t do anything wrong. I will leave when they do.”

Bill chuckles a bit at this and looks over to Richie on the other side of the holding cell. The look on his face gives him pause because it’s not what he was expecting. Eddie looks genuinely frightened in here. He’s also watching Eddie as if looking at the last boat on a sinking ship; one that’s just too far out of reach. Bill isn’t sure what to make of that.

“They’ll be okay,” Mike assures the sulking man on the floor, “I know these cops. They’re decent.”

Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Sweetie,” Bev is getting a hint of irritation to her voice, “we can come back in the morning.”

“I refuse to get up. This is a protest.”

Bev sighs and looks to Ben.

“We’re going to have to force him.”

“Force him?” Ben asks back incredulously, “Force him how?”

“Ben, he weighs 90 pounds soaking wet, what do you think?”

“Oh Lord,” Mike immediately understands the implication.

Ben thinks about it for a second and it dawns on him the same exact time it dawns on Eddie. Ben is briefly horrified by the idea.

“You wouldn’t” Eddie challenges him.

Ben looks helplessly at Bev who shrugs as if to say that there’s no other way. Eddie recoils as Ben clearly accepts his orders and approaches Eddie with strong arms ready to lift him. His stance is that of someone attempting to capture a wild animal.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” Eddie screams while rapidly kicking his legs to slide away.

Bill again turns to get Richie’s reaction to all this. He’s pleased to see Richie desperately stifling a chuckle. The cop stationed here for the evening seems to be frozen in disbelief as one grown man is trying to catch another and that other fully grown adult man is essentially crab scuttling his way to safety.

On reflex, Eddie sends a hard kick and gets Ben right in the shin. Ben stops his pursuit to cradle it.

“Eddie! What the hell!?” Bev scolds him.

“Now that’s enough!” the cop finally sees fit to reanimate, “I’ve seen some bull shit in my day but I won’t have a brawl in the station! Sort yourself out or I’ll put you in holding! Got it?”

Eddie gets up from the floor.

“Oh no,” Richie says quietly.

Bill’s confused but looks back to the scene playing out before him. Eddie looks apologetic and humbly confronts Ben.

“Sorry, Ben” he says meekly.

“It’s just my shin,” Ben responds, “It’ll bruise but it’s fine.”

“No, I’m sorry about this.”

Eddie uses his whole body to send a punch right into the side of Ben’s scruffy and very shocked face. Eddie’s fist retreats just as quickly as it had departed and he’s shaking out the pain of contact. Ben cups his cheek, obviously not very wounded. The man’s essentially built like a brick house for fuck’s sake. This does get the cop moving though.

Eddie is escorted into the holding cell with Bill and Richie. Richie looks in awe of Eddie either because he was so reckless or stupid Bill can’t figure which. He does have sneaking suspicion however that Eddie’s little stunt has more to do with Richie than with Bill himself.

Eddie is still pouting and sits square on the floor all over again.

“The little guy will be free to go after he cools down, unless you want to press charges,” the cop asks Ben.

“What? No. No… it’s fine.”

Mike quietly exits as quickly as possible. He’s clearly done with the nonsense that just played out. Bev and Ben stay behind a minute as Bev checks his cheek over again. Bill can make out the soft conversation they’re having but just barely. She’s apologizing for her plan, saying she didn’t think Eddie would fight that much.

“No no, it was a good idea,” Ben assures her.

Bill can see the way that comment washes over her. Ben was always full of a certain sincerity and purity that none of the other Losers ever really had. He’s soft and probably the only one of them that didn’t end up with a ridiculous amount of paranoia or cynicism. Bill doubts that Ben is unscathed but it looks like he at least had the good sense not to unleash his unknown trauma on anyone else.

Unlike Bill and his marriage to Audra.

It’s painfully clear to Bill right now just how much Audra looks like Beverly. They’ve got similar frames, similar facial structures and they’re both redheads. Granted, Audra’s red comes from a salon but it suits her as naturally as it does Bev. They could be sister’s.

‘Why can’t you be how I want you to be?’ Bill remembers saying to Audra not long before he took off to Derry. He’s disgusted with the comment now. He’s disgusted with the fact that he kissed Beverly and it meant more to him than his entire marriage. He’s disgusted with himself.

“See you in the morning, boys,” Bev waves to everyone in holding.

She doesn’t give Bill any special treatment. No lingering eye contact or wistful gaze. It’s as if she never had a crush on him at all, as if they’ve never shared anything. Before it always felt as if she was looking to Bill and now she’s looking at Ben.

Despite a sense of heartbreak, Bill takes comfort in that difference.

---

There’s only two beds in the holding cell. One of which is already taken up by Bill who is sound asleep. Eddie is still sitting on the floor and up against the wall. He watches for the cop to doze off. Sure enough, he’s starting to snore in his chair.

Eddie quietly and carefully scootches over to Richie. Richie’s been lying on other cot, entertaining himself with some sort of impromptu, silent puppet show. He breaks from it as he notices Eddie encroaching on his personal bubble.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers.

“Hi…” Richie answers.

Eddie isn’t sure of how to move forward. Originally he had mapped out exactly what to say after the gang’s celebratory dinner. He was going to apologize for kissing Richie, explain again that he had panicked. He would ask that they move forward from this and go back to normal. He wanted to reassure him that he is very alive and not going to die anytime soon too. He wanted to know how much it meant to him that Richie cared so much. He never knew he was that important to anyone.

Eddie did not plan on embracing his inner chaos and landing himself in a cell for the night. He still isn’t entirely sure what came over him in that moment. The idea of leaving just hit so hard and quickly that he couldn’t do it.

“I went to jail for you,” he glares at Richie.

Well that’s not a good start, Eddie mentally notes.

“I see this. I’ll file it under your list of uncharacteristically brave fuckery.”

“I mean that I want to talk. We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause between them. That pause grows into a prolonged period. That period slinks into awkward silence. Eddie is aware since he brought up the conversation that he should actually start it but his head is empty. All he can think about is how the stab wound in his cheek hurts and how flustered Richie looks.

“Look, man,” Richie gives in, “We don’t have to talk. I get it. You panicked. Case closed. Mystery solved. We both deserve a Scooby snack for that epic conclusion.”

Eddie realizes for the first time that Richie is hiding behind his humor. He feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner but his eyes are a dead give away. Richie is making more eye contact now than usual. It’s like he’s forcing himself to present a put together facade. He’s watching Eddie to make sure he believes it.

Eddie wonders if it might be prudent to look at Richie in a different light. In childhood, he was always just that asshole friend. He liked to pick on him but never past annoyance. You’d think trying to steer clear of Henry Bowers would have made Eddie resistant to a friendship built on teasing. In retrospect, Eddie’s not sure what did open him up to it. By all logical accounts, Richie shouldn’t mean much of anything to Eddie and vice versa.

“Why do you do that?” he decides to approach it directly.

“I’m a comedian, Eds. Cracking a bad joke is as natural to me as breaking wind.”

Eddie could easily feed into this but he doesn’t want to. He physically sits up straighter and takes a calm breath in. It’s tempting to write Richie off as immature and continue down the rabbit hole of humor at Eddie’s expense but he refuses. Richie is keeping a secret of some kind which seems painfully obvious to Eddie now. If he’s ever going to move forward from recent events he’ll need to know what it is.

“What are hiding?” he leans in close.

Richie’s face loses all color. He stammers for a moment and Eddie is secretly pleased with himself. He’s so used to Richie getting at him that it is deeply satisfying for the tables to turn. Eddie tries not to stay in that mentality though. He wants answers not revenge.

“Bill’s the one with the stutter,” Eddie points out, “fess up. You’re hiding something from me and you’re using your crap jokes to do it. I won’t go to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.”

It seems a little overkill but Eddie is feeling the dramatics today. They saved each other’s lives earlier. They should be able to talk. Eddie debates their closeness as he waits for an answer. Sometimes it felt like they were the closest two people in the room and other times they were the furthest. Eddie wants to know why.

“I- uh,” Richie is sweating at the forehead, “I want to say first that- shit no. Okay, growing up I- fuck no that’s going to take forever.”

Eddie continues to glare down his friend. It’s not that he wants to force the truth out of him but rather his concern is growing. Showing Richie his soft side doesn’t come naturally though. So here he is trying to be a good friend but acting like a displeased asshole.

“Okay, here goes,” Richie takes in a breath of confidence, “Dinner.”

“...dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What about… dinner?” Eddie says bewildered before getting accusatory, “I swear to God, Rich, if this is a set up to a mom joke I’ll-“

“Dinner!” Richie says again a bit too loud.

The guard stirs. The two men freeze. A few seconds later a loud snore emerges. Eddie sighs in relief. He’s done just enough to end up in here. He doesn’t want to get in enough trouble to stay.

“You and me. Dinner. Us. Dinner. Together. Y’know, dinner?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. So it’s not a joke about his mom but a joke nonetheless.

“Oh. I get it. Ha ha, very funny. Like a date,” Eddie comments sarcastically.

“Yes.”

Richie isn’t grinning. He not casually avoiding eye contact either as he does with a usual set up. Instead he’s looking directly at Eddie with everything he’s got. It’s the ‘please believe me’ look from before but in an entirely different context. It’s sincere.

Jesus Christ, I think he fucking means it, Eddie panics.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying even as confused internal screaming fills his insides.

“Shit. Really?” Richie is as shocked as Eddie is.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going on a date.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“I guess.”

This is all on the premise that Richie is released in time for a date. He may end up in real jail. Then what would they do? A prison dinner date doesn’t have the most enticing ring to it.

Eddie feels like a part of him has detached from his own brain. Whatever his body is doing is past his control now. The surrealism of this unexpected direction broke him.

“Move over,” Eddie demands quietly.

Richie backs up as far as can, looking absolutely befuddled. Eddie climbs into the small space left on the cot. He’s tired. There’s only two cots and one is taken. It makes direct sense to share at least when you’re not entirely in your own body anyway.

Eddie remembers briefly about how the two of them would often share the hammock as kids. Eddie unceremoniously plopped himself in and fought for space so often that it became customary. He never did it to anyone but Richie though. He was the only one.

Richie braves putting an arm around Eddie and at first Eddie’s spine goes rigid. He’s not ready to think about this, not even sure if acting on it is right yet. He still feels far away from all this even as he Richie’s body heat cradles him.

Something about the way Richie’s hand cups the small of his stomach feels...good. Eddie’s body relaxes and he realizes how fucking exhausted he is. It’s been an exceptionally long 48 hours. A little shut eye and a cuddle isn’t so ludicrous. Even if it is with Richie Trashmouth Tozier.

“Just keep it in your pants,” Eddie yawns before falling asleep.

[elenatria]

What are your thoughts on chernobyl episode 3 ?

Bestest ep ever.

This episode starts with silent looks.

It’s so heart-warming to see Boris’ boyish smile of pride and relief as he claps and waves, like a kid watching national heroes parade right in front of him. He’d be waving a flag if he could.

Of course Valery has no time for smiles because he knows better, he knows this isn’t over. However they do exchange a glance, starting to appreciate what they’re both doing for the cause, starting to realize the power of their collaboration.

In the next scene they’re almost demolishing what they just built, the trust and respect. Valery lashes out at Boris about the evacuation zone. Boris gets defensive because he just won’t have his newly found partner blaming him. This is getting too personal.

And oh, here it comes, the revealing “Don’t use my name” moment of this episode but in reverse.

Boris is not just offended by Valery calling his peers apparatchiks. 

He’s deeply wounded. And he delivers his next line in the darkest, huskiest tone imaginable.

Because hey, Valery could be talking about him for all he knows. So yeah, watch your tongue because I’m one of the people you loathe and I DON’T want to be one of the people you loathe, I’m not one of them, do you understand?

Of course he’s quick to hide his hurt behind a wall of authoritativeness.

 But Valery knows the meaning behind Boris’ words. He stops and stares and blinks and drops his head not because he’s embarrassed for being rebuked but because he got to hurt Boris’ feelings again. He wants to  learn not to hurt him anymore, and fails.

Pikalov then comes to bring some good news about the reduction of iodine 131 and Boris grabs this opportunity (the first in a series of attempts to cheer up Valery) to help the scientist see the glass as half full, not half empty. He still needs Valery’s approval and to tell him he’s doing things right. 

Valery turns to face him because he really really wants to be on good terms with him and Boris looks away casually as if to say “We’re good, no harm done.” Or maybe he can’t face him just yet.

Next scene, Valery is being his usual blunt self to Gorbachev himself. This Nerd is getting more and more dangerous to himself, not to mention an embarrassment to Boris.

Naturally Gorbachev, offended by Valery’s aggressive tone, hangs up.

And then we have Boris asking to do something as intimate as taking a walk with him. Is that… the equivalent of a first date?… That’s… like… fanfic material right there.

And then… Valery blurts out the most common excuse in the book. Wait, “common”? Yeah it’s common but the way he utters it he sounds like Boris’ girlfriend “having a headache”, y’know. “Not tonight, love, it’s late and I’m tired.”

But see, Boris Shcherbina is Boris Shcherbina and he won’t take no for an answer. I don’t think he ever took no for an answer tbh.

Valery breathes out a sexy resigned exhale and stares back because yeah Boris is being his usual self with that hoarse authoritative tone, however this time they’re alone and Valery is probably having a massive boner right now, being ordered around. Ordered to have a walk. Anything else you want to order me, Boris?

Next they’re seen walking and Valery is starting to learn how he should act around people. Of course he’s resisting. “Yes I know I embarrassed you in front of Gorbachev but here, have my non-apology instead, it’s better than nothing, yes?” Yeah, Valery, like you care how Boris feels. Or do you?

Then Boris asks him about the effects of radiation. The description gets more and more gruesome but Boris is a big boy, he can take it. And he wants to learn. From Valery.

Now this “Continue” here is like a total plot bunny for any bottom!Boris smut fic because yeah, imagine Valery on top of him, hesitant, not sure if he should enter him or not but Boris, like the power bottom that he is, is ready for anything and urges him on. Because he wouldn’t let anyone top him but he would make an exception for Valery. Because who doesn’t want to let go once in a while and be fucked by a brilliant scientist, amirite?

Ok. Mind. Out of the gutter. NOW.

A-hem. Sorry for that, that was my evil smut-writing twin. Moving on.

And this is when things get even more intimate, this is every fangirl’s (or fanboy’s) dream. After listening to the horrible effects of radiation on a human body Boris wants to know how “lucky” he is compared to those doomed men. How lucky THEY are, and how much time they have on this planet.

Yeah, it sure is a friendly “we’re in this together” moment but there’s something more, right? The way Boris delivers that line is like they’re an item, they’re “us” now. He’s not alone. And Boris is not the only person Boris cares about.

Valery takes a step back, pauses and squints as if he’s thinking “not sure if Boris is just worried about his hide or if he’s genuinely concerned about me, about us, and… is that a glimpse of hope and lust in his husky tone?”

AND THEN WE GET THE BESTEST (ok one of two bestest) VALORIS MOMENT OF THE EPISODE.

That’s Boris seeing the glass half full once more, encouraging Valery, and practically telling him “You know what, I’m glad I’m not alone in this and it could have been worse and I’m glad we get to live a little longer and I’m glad YOU get to live a little longer. With me.” And I mean, look at his face when he says those words and LISTEN TO HIS VOICE  as he gradually reduces it to a tender whisper saying “Valery…” Is that the first time he calls Valery by his first name? I think it is. And it’s a payoff of the first time Valery called him “Boris”. Now Boris is finally apologizing for his tone in the helicopter and acknowledging the fact that using their first names gives him life.

Then we have the second time Boris asks about Valery’s feelings, the second “what?” scene.

Ooooh first names again. The boys are so getting used to each other and Valery is acting like an insecure lover, asking for support.

Next scene, the second best Valoris scene of the episode.

Boris staggers into Valery’s office like he’s had one cup of Vodka too many with the guys and obviously Valery didn’t want to join them because work, because Apocalypse, because Armageddon. So Boris will bring the party to him whether he likes it or not.

THEN WE GET THE SECOND GREATEST VALORIS MOMENT OF THIS EPISODE.

Boris calls Valery by his nickname (are we on a nickname basis now??). And to my uneducated western ears that still sounded a bit too intimate. If google is correct Valera is pronounced Va-LYE-ra or something but you get my drift.

What’s next, Valery calling him Borja or something?

Valery begrudgingly shakes his head in approval but basically ignores him.

Look at Boris being frustrated and hurt once more by Valery’s coldness.

But nooooo Boris won’t have anyone ignoring him, especially not Valery. Not when HE is happy. So Valery should be happy too. So he makes him drink. He demands it.

And to me btw that glass being dragged between Valery’s hands is the equivalent of Boris dragging himself between Valery’s knees and grabbing his face for a kiss. You can’t ignore me now, can you? 

Boris tries to cheer him up and uses the worst words he can.

The double (and fateful) meaning of that phrase doesn’t get lost on either of them.

And oooooh the naked miners’ scene. Look at their shocked faces lol. 

Valery witnesses Boris not acting all-knowing all-powerful in front of his inferiors for the first time. That’s progress. And he feels bad for him.

Later on, upon hearing the news of Ulana’s arrest Valery appeals to Boris as if asking his boyfriend for help. First name basis always.

Yes, Boris, Valery is a demanding boyfriend.

And oh, Boris won’t have his boyfriend embarrass him in front of the committee. 

When Valery storms out of the room to address the chief of the KGB in his usual blunt manner Boris  is scared shitless. “I didn’t bring you here to have you sent out to some gulag because you’re a STUPID, unceremonious and reckless nerd.”

And finally, one of the funniest yet tender moments of the episode. Valery is looking at Boris for approval. He knows he almost got himself arrested but still Boris’ opinion counts more than anything. 

And that’s Boris telling him “you scared me shitless, you idiot, did you know they could kill you for that? Don’t EVER do this to me again.”

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 21 -- The Dossier

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“So, before we start, what did we end up doing with the, uh,” Ariadne asked as the crew filed into the briefing room, “gift from our new friend?”

“The what?” Sweettalk asked.

“The head,” Sasha replied.

“Ah,” Sweettalk said, “don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, boss.”

“Noted,” Ariadne conceded, “Spacebreather, would you care to catch the crew up on what we learned from Prescott’s dossier?”

Spacebreather nodded. “Our target is The Zealot, and we now know his true name to be Dr. C. Alexander Simon. Archival photos of him match up with the photo we received from La Pesadilla, and our friend ViLaz.” Spacebreather jerked her head in the general direction of a visibly distraught ViLaz. “Much of this information concerns ViLaz directly, so for the sake of her privacy, we will only be sharing details which she has agreed to disclose publicly. Everything else will be kept absolutely need-to-know.”

ViLaz seemed barely able to hold herself together. Tears were welling up in her eyes, which would have come as a surprise to anyone who was paying close attention to her eyes, since one of them was synthetic and no longer should have had the ability to produce tears.

Spacebreather continued, “ViLaz has been raised to believe that Dr. Simon is her biological father. Technically this is true, but not in the sense you’d expect. He is, in fact, her sole biological donor. According to Prescott’s dossier, ViLaz is one of three genetic identicals produced from Dr. Simon’s DNA.”

“So, she’s a clone?” Taryn called out.

Spacebreather wiggled her hand noncommittally. “See, that’s what I said too, I don’t really understand it, but… Ariadne?”

“Well, yes and no,” Ariadne explained. “For lack of a better term, the process used to create them could be described as ��cloning,’ but it’s important to note that she while her DNA was taken from Dr. Simon, she does not seem to be genetically identical to Dr. Simon himself.”

ViLaz flinched at this.

Ariadne continued, “Prescott’s intel tells us that Dr. Simon’s area of expertise before his theories were discredited and the controversy surrounding his experiment forced him to retire in disgrace was the search for a way to induce biological immortality in humans or, failing that, maintain continuity of consciousness.”

Spacebreather restrained herself from smiling. “And when you finally get her to translate that from nerd, what you basically get is that he wanted to either find a way to make you live forever, or to put your brain in a new body.”

Sweettalk’s hand shot up.

Spacebreather pointed at her. “Not a classroom, ask your question.”

“That doesn’t sound all that controversial, I mean,” she said, “That just sounds like basic medical stuff. Sasha’s whole shtick is cheating death, right?”

“The concept is not what was controversial. The methods, on the other hand…” Ariadne began, glancing over to ViLaz, who was silently crying and hoped no one would notice. Everyone collectively decided to pretend they didn’t, and Ariadne continued, “he was spearheading a project that would allow a dying person to save their consciousness and memories to computer, and then, using the indoctrination tech we learned about from La Pesadilla, eventually download that mind into a new body. In order for the transplant to take, the body would have to be a close blood relative, and it wouldn’t do any good to have the new body die from the same thing as the old one, so the goal of the experiment was to create a genetically engineered clone designed to withstand whatever killed them the last time.”

“Rumor has it, Dr. Simon is not well,” Spacebreather said flatly, “some kind of terminal genetic condition that killed his father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather, and all of his relatives born with a Y-chromosome, in their 40s. Based on ViLaz’s recollection, that’s about how old our Zealot would be right around now. Our belief is that he continued his experiments after he was forced to retire, hoping to create a new host body that wouldn’t fall ill like his original body.”

“Hoping to create, as our Dossier calls it,” Ariadne paused, “a Viable Lazarus.”

The crowd murmured in shock and, again, collectively pretended to not notice ViLaz crying.

“Dear lord,” Sasha whispered, “ViLaz, I’m so—”

“Don’t call me that!” She spat back.

“I’m sorry,” Sasha said quietly, and backed off.

“My visions of the Red God always told me that I was to be his vessel in the material world,” ViLaz explained, wiping her tears off on her sleeve, “he said that my father’s body was too weak and infirm, and that he needed a strong healthy vessel to carry his word to the people.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ariadne said, “the whole time you knew you were being used as an… an organ farm?!”

“The Red God told me I was to be his prophet,” ViLaz replied. “It just all seems a little too coincidental, if the Red God spent all those years telling me to give up control of my body, and now I find out my father created me as a host for himself. It’s… blasphemous that he would use an ancient and beautiful religion just to manipulate people like this.”

There was a fairly stunned silence through the entire hall, which is more or less to be expected whenever someone’s religious beliefs, or lack thereof, suddenly become a central fixture in a conversation where they were not expected. Of course, in most situations, it would simply be a matter of opinion, and most people would simply let it slide rather than get into a theological debate that no one could ever possibly definitively win.

Ariadne had two reasons for not letting this particular statement slide. The first was that she was a very passionate Atheist, and unfortunately had a rather nasty habit of being somewhat condescending when discussing it, especially towards those who still subscribed to the religion she practiced as a young girl. The second, and the much more important reason was that ViLaz’ statement about her religious beliefs was objectively, factually incorrect.

“V— Sugar …” Ariadne caught herself before using the name that would remind ViLaz of her father’s machinations, and knelt down to meet her gaze, “first of all, people have been using religion to manipulate people since the first caveman found a rock to worship. Second, I hate to break this to you, but the Red God cul— church— is not an ancient religion.”

ViLaz looked confused and upset. “What?”

“The earliest written references to it are in the last few years,” Ariadne said, “most of the scripture we’ve gathered just seems like watered down Christian Dogma, we think that’s why he had all those Church documents and artifacts. He was studying the growth of an effective religion so that he could pervert it to his own ends. His servants just told you it was an ancient religion to put the pressure on to do what he wants.”

Something dropped within ViLaz, as though she’d just looked at her entire world from a distance only to realize it was nothing more than a rubber balloon floating five feet in front of her face.

“The Red God really was just him all along, wasn’t he?”

Ariadne sensed that she had perhaps been too blunt, and quickly tried to turn the conversation around. “Come on, let’s get you to the library. Fastwing?”

“Yeah boss?” Alicia asked from somewhere near the end of the crowd.

“Take… our young friend to the library, find her a really good book, read it with her, and help her pick out a new name. I think there’s a lot more to her than just a Viable Lazarus, and I think she deserves a name that captures that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alicia said, and walked up to ViLaz. “Come on, babe, let’s get you a nice cocoa too.”

“Cocoa?” She asked as she was ushered out the door.

“Oh man,” Alicia said, “your day is about to get so much better.”

Once they were out of the room, Spacebreather continued the briefing. “The cult, the whole religious aspect, was just a front to get more test subjects. From what ViLaz has been telling us, right now he can only permanently take over one of the clones’ bodies if they consent to the transfer. But, there’s a reason why everybody who goes into the Life Centers seems to come out a suddenly devout missionary.”

Ariadne picked up here, sensing that Pilar didn’t like describing the more technical aspects of the dossier. “With the data Prescott gave us, our best guess is that the Suffering Test they administer at their life center uses the same tech from the Immersion Pods. It overwrites people’s personalities entirely and turns them into mindless zombies who live only to serve the cult. He shows them some horrible vision of the hell they’re going to, and they’re so scared they sign up for the conditioning. I’m assuming that’s how he got the Acolytes to raise ViLaz the way they did, so during our assault on their compound, let’s try to remember that it’s generally unethical to kill the mind-controlled.”

“We think he probably appropriated the name Ariadne for his prophet character in order to capitalize on our legend,” Spacebreather explained, “he probably figured there was no real Ariadne and that it was just some name punk kids gave when they were arrested, and decided that claiming to have the Real Ariadne would bring in lots of new curious people that he could subject to his brainwashing.”

Sweettalk, having taken her earlier admonishment to heart for the first time ever, spoke without raising her hand. “This is all really nice to know, but Prescott promised a Silver Bullet. How does any of this help us take him down?”

“The implants in the clones’ heads are linked to a master unit directly controlled by Dr. Simon. It’s how he was able to make ViLaz see the Red God and—” Ariadne paused for a moment and considered the ramifications of telling a partial truth, then decided to give only the information her crew absolutely needed to know, “It’s how we’re going to find him. All we have to do is reactivate the implant and with a little clever hacking thanks to yours truly, we should be able to pinpoint the other implants it’s linked to and reveal the true location of their compound. We’re going to need time to prepare, and a much larger strike force than we had at the casino. Deathsbane, I’d feel safer if you picked out an apprentice and started showing her the ropes, we’re going to need a medic on the ground and another on call in the ship with Fastwing.”

“Sasha will remain in the ship, her apprentice can join us in the assault.” Pilar said flatly.

“I thought we were past this,” Ariadne sighed, “we got kidnapped and she got arrested last time you—”

“And last time we let her go planetside with us, someone died.”

Sasha turned bright red, which Sweettalk noticed and felt a near-compulsive urge to defend her. “Nobody that mattered! And besides, you can’t possibly blame her for—”

“Do me a favor and shut your goddamn mouth, Sweettalk,” Spacebreather said.

Sweettalk was taken aback, but stood up and tried to stretch to Pilar’s height. “What did you just say to me?”

Sasha was somewhat stressed. Her sister was wrong, but she still didn’t want to see her get punched, especially not when she already held such a grudge against Sweettalk as it was.

Ariadne desperately wanted to keep the peace, so she attempted reason again. “Remember what Beam said—”

Pilar swung around to face Ariadne and held up her index finger to cut her off. “I… Said… No… End of discussion.”

Spacebreather then stormed out of the room, leaving everyone too stunned to respond.

Sasha stood up. “Thank you for standing up for me,” she said to Sweettalk and started walking toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Sweettalk asked.

“I’m finally standing up for myself.”

[douxreviews]

Arrow - ‘Emerald Archer’ Review

“We knew what we were getting ourselves into when we agreed to this.”

By framing its 150th episode with a documentary, Arrow does what it does best. Focusing on the cost of being a hero and the damage created when you don’t succeed by revisiting the past and simultaneously resetting the stage for things to come.

From the first moment, we knew we were in for something different.  Gone was Oliver’s opening monologue followed by the requisite action scene.  Instead we open with Warner Bros. Pictures title card and a posthumous interview with Quentin Lance expounding on the need for vigilantes even as he admits they work outside the law.  The voiceover poses the age-old question – are vigilantes heroes or criminals.  

It is soon clear that Oliver’s commitment to transparency includes allowing a documentary crew full access to his home and at work.  His hope is to win back the city’s trust and become the hero he always wanted to be.  Towards that end, he candidly recounts the decisions he made and admits to his failures.

He’s not the only one.  Either the documentarian is an adept detective, which is not out of the realm of possibility given that she’s been working on this for years, or Oliver also offered up his friends and family to be interviewed.  Regardless of how she found her interviewees, it’s obviously Oliver did not coach them on what to say.

Barry claimed Oliver was unbelievably damaged before hastily backtracking in fear of harming Oliver’s reputation further or admitting to knowledge of his formerly secret identity.  Curtis called him flawed although stated he was a hero.  A season 1 Diggle claims there is no way Oliver could be a hero while the present-day version just said that Oliver has “grown.”  Thea, Sara, and Sin, discuss vigilantism without ever mentioning Oliver by name while Rory and Rene only mention their own exploits.  Laurel, forced to take on the mantle of her Earth-1 namesake is blunt when she claims that vigilantes cannot be law-abiding and they know it, which is probably one of the few things on which she and Ricardo Diaz can agree.  

And they’re right.  The reason the police come up short when faced with these criminals is not that they are incompetent, ignorant, or untrained.  It’s that they are obligated to work within the confines of the law.  Vigilantes are not.  How many times has Oliver and Company broken into random tech company #3 to steal the one gadget that can defeat this week’s villain or hacked into a government or military database to obtain someone’s personal information – warrant be damned.  If the police were allowed to use the vigilantes’ methods, they could have the vigilantes’ results.  We should be happy they can’t.

These questions are brought to a halt when the SCPD investigate a possible shooting and vigilante sighting only to discover a maskless and winded Rene.  Rene explains that the New Green Arrow has been captured and Oliver’s first response was to turn off the cameras.  He’s fine with the documentary digging into his own life but not his sister’s.  Or his son’s but we’ll get to that shortly.  

Giving Oliver the benefit of the doubt, I’ll say that these events provide him with an opportunity for a little transparency with his friends too.  Oliver comes clean to both Diggle and Dinah about his relationship with Star City’s newest vigilante.  While neither was particularly surprised by Ollie keeping a secret, they were shocked at the secret itself.  That doesn’t stop either of them backing his play.  Diggle uses A.R.G.U.S.’s super secret satellites to rescue Emiko and Dinah uses all of SCPD’s resources to locate her captor, not that they are successful.  

Which is when Diggle approaches Oliver with the idea of getting the Band back together.  Star City Police Department may not be able to handle the Chimera but Team Arrow can.  Diggle counters Oliver’s argument that Team Arrow no longer exists by saying it does. It’s just morphed into a different form.  Dig informs Oliver that Team Arrow is willing to go into the field with him even at the risk of violating the Anti-Vigilante law.  

This only makes sense if my previous argument is true considering that with the exception of Rene all of Team Arrow is involved in law enforcement of one stripe or another and could assist in that capacity.  By choosing to go out as vigilantes they are not hamstrung by those rules and regulations.  For whatever reason, Oliver agrees.  

Realizing Chimera will use the Mayor’s debate with Oliver as an opportunity to attack Oliver, Team Arrow lies in wait.  As expected, Team Arrow succeeds where the SCPD fails and is thanked for their help by being arrested.  All of which is captured on film.  This leaves Mayor Pollard in a bit of a quandary since the Anti-Vigilante law she wrote is still in effect.  Her solution is to deputize all of them.  

With that in mind, Oliver returns to the Bunker, film crew in tow, with the intent to rebuild.  We never get to see the documentary’s conclusion about the nature of vigilantes.  Although, if Maya is to be believed it must have shown them in a positive light.  However, given her comments regarding vigilantes being the death of Star City and getting what they deserved I doubt the Mayor’s solution was successful.

The B plot revolved around William’s return home.  He’s brimming with anger at being sent away to boarding school, at not being able to come home for the holidays, at Felicity’s newfound security consciousness and probably a little at himself.  William got expelled from school and apparently made an impressive effort to hide the fact.  The feat might have fooled just about anyone but Felicity.  We also get hints of the William yet to come – from his recognition of Felicity’s security measures to the budding friendship between him and Zoe and his reluctance to discuss his school crush.  Please, please, please let the reason for his dismissal be something other than his sexual orientation.  

Why William was expelled is just one of a multitude of questions I have.  Does the resurrection of Team Arrow mean Diggle and Curtis quit their day job?  And does it include Emiko?   And is Ollie in charge or Dinah?  And, and, and...

Other episodes may have more emotional heft but this was brilliantly crafted.  There was nothing I did not love.   However, given what we know of the future I’m left with one fervent hope.  That Nora West-Allen of this season’s Flash is correct and the timeline is malleable.

5 out of 5  Black Watch Satellites

Parting Thoughts:  

This episode was filled with Easter Eggs.  From Sin’s last name is the name of one of her co-creators to Kevin Meltzer being named after two of The Green Arrow’s more famous writers, Kevin Smith and Brad Meltzer.  The streets Nutter and Winter were none other than  Pilot Director extraordinaire David Nutter (Arrow, Sarah Connor Chronicles, Supernatural, Smallville, Dark Angel, Roswell, and the upcoming Batwoman just to name a few) and former Arrow Director of Photography and Producer Glen Winter.  And lest we forget the Documentarian was named after CW President Mark Pedowitz.

In case you missed it, the voice over was narrated by Kelsey Grammer.

Was Diggle going to tell Oliver about Diaz when Curtis interrupted?   The world may never know.

Rory and Helena are missing?   Helena’s no big loss considering she’s more villain than vigilante.  But Rory?  Say it ain’t so!

Connor was supposed to be Diggle’s son, right?  So what does that make Maya?  Her hatred of vigilantes has a distinctly personal tinge.  

Quotes:  

Dinah: “He just dresses in green leather and runs around with a bow and arrow. Which sounded a lot better in my head.  

Rene: “You have a cute shiny new badge (turns to Dinah). Thought about giving one to anyone else?

Mayor Pollard: “Your little stunt of deputizing Oliver Queen has set off a firestorm.” Dinah: “That’s funny. I actually think that’s a different superhero.”

Felicity: “It wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was one of those ‘mom’ things where if you don’t talk now, you’re grounded.  So...”

Diggle: “Who’d have known that wearing a hood and carrying a bow and arrow runs in the gene pool?”

Diggle: Oliver needs access to the Black Watch satellites." Curtis: “Does he know about those?  (To Oliver) You know about those?” Oliver: “You’ve met my wife, right, Curtis?

Curtis: “We gotta call him something.  I thought ‘Chimera’ sounded cool. Ok, do I look like Cisco?”

Rene: “Do your folks know you’re here.” William: “I’m not 7.”

Rene: “Sure, you guys can have the living room. I’ll be in the next room.  Cleaning my gun...”

Rene: “You are so stubborn.  You sure you and Oliver aren’t related?”

Dinah: “We have a new problem.” Oliver: “Don’t we always?”

Officer: “SCPD.  Don’t move! Freeze!” Curtis: Maybe you were all too busy being unconscious, but we just saved everyone in here."

Nick: “Fans have a strange way of showing their affection.”

Laurel: “Get that camera out of my face before I give you an enema with it.”

William: “Where’s Dad?” Felicity: “Oh, he just came across a very unexpected- completely expected setback.”

Pollard: “Oh, it’s a party.”

Shari loves sci-fi, fantasy, supernatural, and anything with a cape.  

[therobincastle]

Go Mad For a Couple Grams || Self-Para

TW: Drug Use

ur comin tonight right?

havent seen u in forever

where r u ???

dont bitch out on me dude

Robin chewed his lip, staring down at his phone and all the incoming messages. Some of his old “friends” who worked on the same studio lot as Daemon Above were having a get-together and word got out that he was back in town. They had all been texting him nonstop all night and even though Robin was yet to reply, he hadn’t completely ruled it out. Maybe this would be a good thing. He was back in the real world finally, and what was wrong with going out with the people he used to go out with? Other than the probability of him falling back into his old habits...

Deciding to just throw away any leftover inhibitions he had, Robin grabbed his dagger from underneath his pillow and strapped it into his belt, throwing on a long shirt and jacket to cover it. He texted their family driver to meet him at the end of the drive and grabbed his wallet and keys before slipping out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The lights were all dimmed in their unneccessary-because-there’s-literally-two-people-living-there-three-story house on the beach, Robin’s steps slow and careful so he could sneak out without getting caught.

“Robiiiiin,” Dove’s slow drawl rang out from the hallway behind him. Shit. He turned to see his mother exit from the kitchen, frowning at him with a glass of almost-finished wine in her hand. “Sweetie, where are you going? It’s late.”

Robin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and he refused to look guilty, even knowing that his mom could always tell when he was acting. “I’m going out. Is that a problem?”

She sighed heavily, leaning against the wall as she sipped at her glass. “Who with?”

“Just some friends,” Robin shrugged.

“Which. Friends?” Dove asked slowly, her usually pretty features screwing into something more pained. “Robin, we talked about this.”

“Bullshit,” Robin sighed. “I need to go out, Mom. How else are people going to think nothing’s going on with me if they know I’m back in town but not even allowed outside of the house?” It was sound logic, more to a manager than a mother. Robin hoped she was swaying more to the former tonight. “Come on, I’ve wrapped on Buddy Holly, can’t I enjoy my time back in LA?”

“Baby...” Dove pouted, walking over to him. She ran her fingers through his curls, tugging worriedly at his ears. “I want to trust you... If I let you go, you have to promise me you’re going to make good decisions, and that you’ll be home before your new curfew.”

Robin flashed a cheeky grin. “Three a.m.?”

She gently smacked the side of his head. “Two. I want you back before two. And you leave your cell phone here and off. You have Drachma, so Iris Message me as soon as there’s an emergency,” she kissed Robin all over his face until he managed to wriggle free, crying out in embarrassment. He jogged down the long driveway, entering the code to their gate so he could slip out into the neighborhood. His driver was smoking a cigarette in front of the SUV.

“Hey, Maurice,” Robin greeted as the man opened the back door for him. “Why don’t we sit up front together?”

The man looked slightly surprised but smiled and shut the door, now offering him shotgun. “Good to have you back, kid.”

They pulled up to the apartment complex, Robin promising he’d be back out front by 1:45 so they could get home and that he’d have his mother call him if he ended up needing to go home earlier than that. He could already hear music blasting from the loft as the elevator doors opened on the correct floor, the door unlocked. There were about fifty people all hanging around the apartment. Robin’s appearance had a ripple effect, people too high, drunk, or both to notice his arrival right away. Slow yells of recognition rang out, varying jeers and rough hands giving him a greeting. He recognized some of the people but didn’t know them by name, looking around for the kids he did know. There was a pile of them all sitting on a king-sized bed on the floor in the corner of the room.

“Rob, man, you made it!” Flynn, cried out, jumping off the bed to grab him. “Holy shit, you got tall! You’re looking skinny too,” he grabbed at Robin’s arms and gave them a shake.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin brushed him off, kind of annoyed because he thought he was starting to build a little muscle thanks to camp.

Flynn flung an arm around Robin’s shoulders, dragging him over to sit on the bed. “You remember Arissa, Vic, Marnie, Jules?” he pointed out all the people and Robin nodded despite not really remembering them at all. They were all in their early twenties, none of them actors like Flynn, just friends he made through the scene. “Dude, Jules got the nastiest shit bro, you gotta try it, it’s life changing,” He leaned over the nightstand and grabbed a razor blade to make a line of whatever mix of cocaine and probably Adderall on the table for him. Robin felt ill just looking at it.

“Ah, actually man, I’m not really down for that tonight,” he scratched the back of his neck.

Flynn scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, Robin. This isn’t like last time when that shit messed you up for two days. We got this from a way better guy, not shady at all,” he finished up the line and pushed a straw into Robin’s hand. He tossed it aside on the bed, Flynn flashing him an annoyed look. “What the fuck, man? Next you’re going to tell me you don’t what a shot of top-shelf tequila next.”

“I don’t,” Robin said stiffly, standing up now. “Listen, man, I just came here to hang out, I don’t... I don’t want anything.”

“They allllll say that,” one of the girls, Arissa or Marnie, he wasn’t sure since these Instagram models all started to look the same to him. “You’ll change your mind after you try it.”

The other either Arissa or Marnie sat up now where she had been draped over the edge of the bed. She wasn’t wearing a top and her make up was smeared. Robin decided to focus his attention on the false eyelash clinging onto the corner of her lid for dear life. “Didn’t you guys hear? Lil birdie here has been locked up,” she slurred.

“What, like house arrest?” Flynn scoffed before snorting the line he had just insisted Robin take. He started making another two immediately.

“Rehab,” the girl corrected before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“No shit,” Flynn said with wide eyes, looking at Robin. “That true?”

“Of course not,” Robin scoffed immediately, crossing his arms. “Just been working on personal projects right now.”

“That why you get kicked off that dinky zombie show?” the other guy on the bed snickered. A few other party-goers had wandered over, all vying for more of whatever these drug-mongers had holed up in the corner. More of their attention was starting to shift to Robin, as blurry and incoherent as it was.

“I wasn’t kicked off,” Robin denied with a clenched jaw. “I left. It was a mutual decision.”

“Lay off him, guys,” Flynn crowed in annoyance before looking back at Robin. “Listen, kid, I believe you!” He starts prepping a needle now, one of the girls climbing over and sitting next to him like a patient lining up for her flu shot. “If you’re not one of those bitches who gets sucked into that rehabilitation bullshit, then take a hit.”

Robin shook his head. “I’m just gonna leave if this is how you’re gonna be, you dick.”

Flynn stared at him coldly, looking him over again. “This ain’t a good look for you, Baby Boy.” He turned to everyone else on the bed as he injected the girl sitting next to him. Robin watched the way the needle sank into the skin, wondering how many collapsed veins the girl already had. He watched the plunger sink down, hardly hearing what Flynn was saying until he came back to himself. “...what happens when you go to rehab, folks.”

“I wasn’t in rehab!” Robin shouted over the music. “What the fuck is wrong with me just trying to get clean?” He crossed his arms uncomfortably over his chest. His faded track marks were starting to itch just watching the administration in front of him. People were staring now, the interaction sobering them up somewhat. Robin could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his ears going red. “Whatever. Just get me a fucking blunt if that will get you guys to lay the fuck off,” he groaned. He had cut himself off cold turkey, and the strong stench of marijuana hanging in the air was like a secondhand high that his body craved more of.

It’s not that bad. A puff or two isn’t that bad. You’re not backsliding. No one at camp will have to know and these people will keep their mouths shut.

“No,” Flynn chuckled, reaching out to stop one of his friends who was holding a roach out to Robin. “No, no, no. You wanna prove you weren’t in rehab?” He scraped together another line. “Bump this shit.”

“I already said--”

“I know what you fuckin’ said,” Flynn interrupted. “But I know it’s a fuckin’ lie if you’re gonna stay up there on your high horse now that you’re too good for a little fun.” He held out the straw again. “Now shut up and snort the damn coke, pussy.”

Robin angrily snatched the straw from him and bent over the table, immediate drunken cheers of approval coming from the onlookers. Robin hesitated, looking at the dusty little line of coke. He thought about what happened when he was angry and frustrated with someone. How easy it would be to turn one deadly look on Flynn and make him wish he hadn’t tried to threaten Robin’s life, his career. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to make him pay-- teach him a lesson. Use his powers to drive Flynn to be locked up in a place much worse than rehab. He deserved to have his mind turned inside out, that dark impulse sneaking up on Robin’s clear and sober mind.

Then he thought about his mother’s face, covered in tears as he shook him awake, a needle still poking out of his arm. Melody’s kind smiles every time she helped him work through the withdrawal symptoms. Penny screaming at him almost two years ago that he needed to quit. Dean and Aaron’s endless support no matter how frustrating or annoying he was.

The burn felt great.

“Atta boy,” he heard Flynn mutter under his breath as Robin stood back up, wiping his sleeve across his nose.

“Yeah, whatever,” Robin dropped the straw to the table and walked away. It would be a matter of time before the reality of his situation sank in on him, but Robin didn’t mind. The high was supposed to be fun, right? It was the calm before the storm, and Robin did feel calm. Sated enough to forget how close he was to using his powers on Flynn.

There wasn’t really anywhere to go in the studio apartment, but he managed to slip outside where another group sat on the balcony, all smoking weed. They greeted Robin with lazy waves and grunts, not paying him any mind as he sank down. He stared out blankly at the city below, a beautiful and ugly place. His hands were trembling now, Robin lowering his head between his knees. “Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that,” he breathed softly. “Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit!” He kicked his foot out angrily, his sneaker colliding with the railing with a metallic shudder.

The group glanced over at him at he turned his face away, embarrassed by his outburst. “Yo, kid,” one of them called over to him. “You look like you could use some of this.” Robin didn’t need to look over to see that he was being offered some pot. 

“I’ll pass,” Robin said, swallowing back the bile in his throat. He didn’t like how hard it was to say no.

“You sure?” someone else asked. “It’ll help. I’ve got, like, a vape if that’s-- Shit, kid, your face.”

Robin looked fully at them now, brow wrinkling in confusion. He suddenly felt a warmth pooling against his shirt collar and turned to look at his reflection in the glass sliding door. Blood was gushing from his nose and he hadn’t even felt it. “Shit--” An irony tang sat on his lips as he scrambled to his feet, holding his sleeve over his nose and mouth. He stumbled back into the apartment, looking around for a bathroom. There were people milling around outside of it, a couple of girls doing more lines on the bathroom sink when he burst in. There were cries of annoyance asking him to knock, their irritation going ignored as Robin yanked on a toilet paper roll to get enough to mop up his bloody nose. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he said as a soft mantra, clutching it to his face. The girls quickly hurried out of the bathroom, leaving the sink open. Robin clutched the stained surface to hold himself up, slowly lifting his head to look at his reflection.

Crimson was still smeared across his nose and chin, Robin running some water to try and wipe it away. “You’re a fucking moron, Castle,” he muttered to himself. The anxiety from before was coming back tenfold then, Robin’s eyes welling with tears. “Why did you do that?”

He knew exactly why. It wasn’t the peer pressure. It wasn’t the stupid double-edged threat of having to snort coke just so other people wouldn’t find out about his addiction. It wasn’t even the difficulty of recovery.

He did it because he wanted to.

Robin emerged from the bathroom, grabbing hold of the first guy he saw with a roll of something lit on the end. “Can I?” he asked dryly. The guy just nodded and pass him the joint, letting him take a pull. He coughed on the smoke, feeling his eyes sting as his lungs protested the sensation they hadn’t had to feel in a while.

Getting high won’t fix this.

You’re making it worse.

Stop now, you can still get home and sleep this off.

Mom’s going to hate you.

Robin sat outside of the apartment, back against the wall. No one paid him any mind as they came and went, a few dirty looks from neighbors who weren’t happy about the party inside but weren’t going to call any cops about it. It must’ve been 1:45 because as he sat there in a daze, he could feel a large man pick him up and sling him over a shoulder to carry him downstairs and put him back in the car, letting him lay down in the backseat. “Oh, kid...” he heard Maurice’s voice as a distorted echo, the world around him blurry and confusing even as he was helped into his house.

“Mom?” Robin called out in a weak voice. No answer. He closed the door quietly behind him and shuffled into the kitchen to get some water. There was no comfort food to be found, not in their kitchen. Robin caught his reflection in a hallway mirror as he made his way for the stairs. There was still some blood on his shirt and his eyes were bloodshot, hair messy. “Idiot,” Robin muttered, ascending all the way to the top step before he heard his mother’s voice from below.

“Robin?”

She sounded sleepy. Maybe she had stayed up after all. Robin contemplated rushing to his room. How was he supposed to face her like this? Still coming down off his high, throat raw and face pale. He backed up slowly, peeking into the den to see her lifting her head up from behind the couch, an empty wine glass tipped over on the glass coffee table.

“Robin, sweetie, how was your night?” she asked sleepily, yawning as she rested her cheek on the cushion. “Come here, baby.”

“I... I’m really tired, Mom,” Robin said, lip trembling. Fuck, his voice sounded so shaky.

“Just come here,” she requested again, softly. Robin turned and walked the rest of the way down the stairs, slowly going over to her. She looked at him sleepily, a slight frown clear on her face that would probably look more severe had it not been for the botox. He stood stiffly, feeling dead on his feet as she reached out to hold his hand, her own grip lazy. “I’m so proud of you, darling. I know how hard this has been and I’m glad to have you home.” A warm smile.

He flung himself down into her lap before he could stop himself, immediately bursting into tears. You stupid fuck up. He sobbed against her for what felt like hours, Dove rubbing his back and carding her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he cried into her chest, heaving to catch his breath as he wept. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, baby,” she mumbled, hugging him tightly against her. “You don’t have to be sorry. You got home before curfew,” she pat him on the head before sinking back onto the couch, letting him curl up into her. She doesn’t get it. “I know it’s tough but I knew you could do it. I knew that camp would be good for you,” she yawned and rested her chin on top of his head, quickly falling back asleep. She has no idea what you’ve done. “And I’ve been thinking... I think you’re ready to come stay here for good.”

Robin had been waiting to hear those exact words for months, but now it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t deserve this.

Robin didn’t sleep well that night, and it wasn’t because he was curled up on an aesthetically pleasing and wholly uncomfortable couch with his mother. He woke up fully and alone sometime around ten. “Mom?” he croaked, looking around their open concept home. There was music playing softly from another room, but that didn’t mean much in their household. Robin eventually made his way upstairs, his poor decisions last night weighing heavy on his heart.

Without really thinking through the motions, he grabbed his largest duffle bag and started packing. He threw his dagger in last before hooking the huge bag over his shoulder. As he trudged down the stairs, he was mumbling to himself, trying to figure out the wording of a note he needed to leave for his mom... Maybe he wouldn’t leave a note at all. Just disappearing would be easier on the pains in his chest. Maybe he could make some bullshit up in a week about how he missed camp or something. 

Maybe she’d even pretend to believe him.

Robin’s hand was on the front door knob when he heard footsteps behind him. “Robin?” his mother inquired softly, rounding the corner from the kitchen. “Where are you off to? I was about to make breakfast-- or maybe we could go out? How about that gluten-free bagel shop you like so much? We should get you nice, well-balanced meal before your photoshoot today--”

“I did coke last night.”

Dove stood there, frozen. Robin almost couldn’t bear to meet her eye and be subjected to the heartbreak written across her face. “Are you joking, sweetie?” she asked softly, her voice breaking delicately over the question.

Robin chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling a tingling prickling at his ears. There was a phantom burn in his nose, a reminder of his transgressions from the night before. He shook his head and turned away from her. “I’m gonna go back to camp for a while.”

She didn’t reply, and her silent disbelief was too much. Robin wrenched the door open and didn’t look back.

[airadam]

Episode 114 : Enter The Midnight

"...we fighting back - sorry Martin."

- Erick Sermon

This month marks twenty-five years (!) since the release of two monumental albums - "Midnight Marauders" by A Tribe Called Quest, and the Wu-Tang Clan's "Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)". I still remember going to buy each of these albums which have had a huge influence on me over the years, and I thought that this episode would be a good time to feature them both. We have a mix of original tracks, alternate versions, covers, and original samples, alongside plenty of other tunes to keep your head bobbing!

There are still a few tickets left for Schoolly D and DJ Code Money on December 15th in Manchester - but you might want to be quick!

The Mouse Outfit are playing an Xmas special at Band on the Wall on December 18th - a few advance tickets left for that one too.

See Children of Zeus on tour!

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Minnie Riperton : Inside My Love

An excerpt of a soul classic from one of our departed greats. Minnie Riperton was well capable of singing well into the whistle register, and demonstrates that to spectacular effect at the end of this track from the essential "Adventures In Paradise" album, which I first encountered as part of "Lyrics To Go"...

A Tribe Called Quest : Lyrics To Go

This sample use was absolute genius. When I first heard this as a teenager I didn't have a clue that the high tone running through the whole track was actually a singer and not a keyboard, and it still stuns you the same way twenty-five years after release. Perfect production, together with Q-Tip and Phife (RIP) on the mic, make this album cut from "Midnight Marauders" every inch of a classic.

Funky DL : Midnight

London's Funky DL first came to popular notice as an MC, but clearly also has major skills as a producer, arranger, and keyboardist! His "Marauding At Midnight" album is a tribute to "Midnight Marauders", with instrumental versions of every track played with no sampled breaks/loops - just instrumentation, as well as backing vocals. "Midnight" was one of my low-key favourites on the original LP, so it's great to hear his take on it here. I couldn't resist the opportunity to cut a few samples over the top :)

Wu-Tang Clan : Clan In Da Front

On my first listen to "Enter The Wu-Tang", this was the track that made me know for sure that the album was a classic. The Wu members regularly battled to see who would get to be on any particular RZA beat, and you can hear for yourself how undeniable GZA was on this one - one of only two tracks on the album to feature just one MC.

The ARE : Clap Ya Hands

The "Manipulated Marauders" project is much older when I look at the release date (2007) than it feels, but still gets solid play from me on a regular basis. The ARE tears up the classic Bob James "Nautilus" sample amongst others to bring some freshness to the familiarity of the Tribe "Clap Ya Hands" track from "Midnight Marauders".

Rockwilder ft. Erick Sermon, Method Man, and Redman : Clutch Reloaded

I missed the original version of this track, but this remix is absolute fire! This might be the most aggro I've ever heard Erick Sermon, and I can't be the only one struck by the combination of "bunch a n****s walking down the block like it's Selma" and the lyric that gave us this month's epigraph. Following Erick, the match made in blunt smoke, Meth & Red, continues the lyrical assault, and Rockwilder's beat is a banger that reminds you of a classic sample atomised. A must-purchase!

Ice Cube : Arrest The President

The man who brought us "I Wanna Kill Sam" back in the 90s is back to burn and has absolutely no problem going in on Mango Mussolini! Atlanta's Shawn Ski provides a stomping, horn-laden beat while Cube calls out Agent Orange for being an asset of Russian intelligence, and his general devilish behaviour. This tune definitely puts you on notice for the upcoming "Everythang's Corrupt" album.

[DJ Quik] Nate Dogg ft. Eve : Get Up (Instrumental)

One of those singles I somehow picked up a couple of a while back and still barely play! The first single from Nate Dogg's third album, it's not crazy but does have that Quik flavour and the beat a good bridge between the bombast of the Cube track and something a little more subdued...

Public Enemy : See Something, Say Something

I was looking for something funky in this spot and this fit the bill perfectly. Chuck D is from the right kind of era to know what to do with a groove like this, and has the experience and intelligence to drop wisdom all over it. Gary G-Wiz is on production on this lyrically clever flip of the Department of Homeland Security slogan, an overlooked track from "How Do You Sell Soul To A Soulless People Who Lost Their Soul?"

El Michels Affair : C.R.E.A.M

Much harder to mix with than I thought, but that's often the case with live bands - tempos are much more likely to shift within the track than with electronically sequenced music! Anyway, this is just one of the many great Wu instrumental cover versions from El Michels Affair, who gave us this tribute to the 36 Chambers classic on "Enter The 37th Chamber". It's always interesting when a band is sampled by a Hip-Hop producer as part of a composition, and then another band interprets that new version.

A Tribe Called Quest & Busta Rhymes : God Lives Through

The original "God Lives Through" included the voice of Busta via a sample from Tribe's own "Oh My God" on the same album, but he wasn't actually on the track. As he says, he always wanted to rhyme on it and here he gets his chance! This version is from the Q-Tip and Busta mixtape "The Abstract and the Dragon", and here I've just gone with the Busta verse and then Phife's - which is the same as the original, hopefully you own it by now :)

Black Milk ft. Fat Ray and Elzhi : Sound Of The City

Detroit time! Black Milk covers the low end lovely with well-engineered kicks and bass driving this track along. The title track to his first solo LP is a worth headliner, and I always laugh at the shade thrown at Mike Jones at the end of the second verse!

Hall & Oates : Method Of Modern Love

A new one to me, but after reading recently that this was the song that inspired the hook to "Method Man", I took a listen and thought I'd play a snippet here. You hear the first eight bars looped up for a couple of minutes, then we let it go so you can hear the introduction of the chorus - then stop the track and merge into...

Wu-Tang Clan : Method Man (Home Grown Version)

...the tune that drew from it! This isn't even the version from "Enter The Wu-Tang", but an alternate version that was on the 12", and is even more raw and lo-fi than anything on the album. It sounds like it was recorded in a basement and probably was, and I'd bet that this was the original, later re-done for the LP. For the turntablist heads, this is the version Mista Sinista used for his killer juggle - solved a mystery for me!

Cypress Hill : How I Could Just Kill A Man

Classic Cypress! Back in the pre-internet days, some New Yorkers thought this crew were locals from the Cypress Hills housing project, but in fact they were from all the way over in Los Angeles. The first album is still my favourite after all these years, and this track was fierce - a hit without even an attempt to soften up for the radio. DJ Muggs layers up legendary breaks for the beat and even has a few bars on the mic at the start of the second verse, while B-Real spits memorable bars on the kill-or-be-killed lifestyle, and Sen Dog jumps in for the hook. Early 90s heat.

Slum Village (ft. Young RJ) : Nitro

Detroit in the mix again, with the 2009/10 lineup in full effect, along with family member Young RJ on the boards and rhyming as well. The beat actually has a lot of RZA feel to it, and I could easily have imagined this on one of the early Wu albums. No slacking on the mic either, everyone represents and make this a tune worth tracking down - I got it on the "Villa Manifesto" LP, but it's not on all versions so look out for that when buying.

Inspectah Deck : R.E.C. Room

I'd forgotten that it wasn't until six years after the release of "Enter The Wu-Tang" that we finally got a solo album from Inspectah Deck, but "Uncontrolled Substance" did eventually arrive - maybe it needed that incredible verse from the start of "Triumph" to create the momentum! I believe this was the lead single, a tribute to the rec room parties from the Wu's youthful days, with a characteristically Wu-Tang beat courtesy of True Master, who cooked up some great tracks over the years.

[DJ Premier] Gang Starr : Just To Get A Rep (Instrumental)

One of those tunes everyone either knows or really should! I think the 12" will have an instrumental on it, but this is taken from a white label instrumental version of the whole "Step In The Arena" LP.

Air Adam : 13th Chamber

I wondered if this was worth including, but if not now, then when? I recorded this maybe 10-15 years ago, and while some of the plain movie samples were just layered over the top from my DVD collection, everything else comes from the turntables! The bassline is a plain tone being modified with the 33/45 button and pitch slider, the drumming is all done with scratches, and then the kung-fu samples that were available on battle tool vinyl (no Serato back then!) were scratched over the top. This was my tribute to/version of Wu's "Wu-Tang : 7th Chamber - Part 2" from the first album, derived from a battle routine I once developed, and was on my "Sleight of Hand" mixtape - a few of you might still have it!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!