#theredflag

[slutforpringles]

Hate to admit it, but TheRedFlags Podcast's interview/conversation with Daniel was really good; genuinely one of the best Daniel interview I can remember for quite a long time. Lots of funny stories and jokes, but also some surprisingly deep, more thoughtful topics and chats.

[gender-dyke]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Saw (Movies), Saw (2004) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight/Lawrence Gordon, Alison Gordon/Lawrence Gordon Characters: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight, Lawrence Gordon, John "Jigsaw" Kramer, Amanda Young Additional Tags: Necrophilia, light cannibalism, Grief/Mourning, Post-Movie: Saw (2004), it's adam in the bathroom guys!!, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Canonical Character Death, Minor Alison Gordon/Lawrence Gordon Summary:

It had been a week since Lawrence had escaped the bathroom.

A week since he had last seen Adam.

Lawrence knows he has to go back.

[looksolong]

#IMT #IMTNJ #InternationalMarxistTendency #Communism #Communist #commie #Socialism #bolshevik #theredflag (at Brooklyn, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4qk0YcnK7D/?igshid=uq0l1t8dd3uw

[whatifitscool]

***NEW EPISODE ALERT*** Video verision available on @spotifyaunz https://open.spotify.com/episode/4cCiefyxxp9rWLUWLJ3vSA?si=hnbatLhYS7qzpJmUUpzerg&app_destination=copy-link And on @youtube https://youtu.be/M4axbAW4a-E In this episode, Join Daniel-Paul as he chats with the handsome Harrison Quinero. They talk about his rise in the Australian wrestling scene, why he doesn't have an # and (what will shock you) what he finds cool. So sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Peace Make sure to give #harrisonquinero a follow Instagram: @harrisonquinero Harrison will be appearing at @victoriaprofessionalwrestling 's Don't Hold Back Event on April 29th For all ticket bookings & information please call 0481 238 676 Thank you to everyone that has reached out and donated so far. If you can please donate to my nephew's gofundme page https://gofund.me/86b8c34d Thank you for watching Please make sure to like, share, and subscribe to the show. Keep that support coming Make sure to also listen to the podcast https://linktr.ee/Whatifitscoolpodcast And don't forget to follow the show on Youtube - https://youtube.com/c/WhatIfItsCool Twitter @whatifitscool Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/whatifitscool Instagram @whatifitscool Tumblr - https://whatifitscoolpodcast.tumblr.com Tik Tok - https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSJpGbUNX/ Peace #fyp #fypシ #foryou #foryoupage #foryourpage #theredflag #theredflagharrisonquinero #wrestler #australianwrestler #wrestling #prowrestling #australianwrestling #wwe #aew #wwf #tna #wcw #nwa #impactwrestling #nwatna #tnaimpactwrestling #njpw https://www.instagram.com/p/CplaPyfSlj1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[slatteroo-blog]

What is one to do on a snow day but draw radically left wing mice? - - #art #drawing #illustration #animals #mouse #leftwing #leftie #revolution #socialism #seizethemeansofproduction #theredflag

[gayredmage]

Moonlight Sonata

Pairing: Sephesis Rating: T/sfw Prompt: Apocalypse/Moonlight courtesy of @lilly-white Word count: 2421 Summary: Genesis awakens and is confronted with a post-Shinra era world where Sephiroth has scorched the planet. Sephiroth has faith that his lover will join him.

A/N: Tag said sfw for this prompt...Look, I tried. I really, really did. But there are non-graphic mentions of sex. This is also more post-apocalyptic.

I see you there. Traveling always under the faint light of the night's sky. Riding in the passenger seat of a farmer's pick-up truck across the arid dust bowl of old mines and environmental wastelands. Hitched your ride in exchange for some head at a truck stop, you'd say. But he saw that flip knife in your hand and your eyes, bright like they were on the breezy plains of Eastern Wutai. You close your eyes. Not able to stand the sights and smells of burning cities. Of people rebuilding civilization in the image of a lost era.

They've forgotten you. Your charm. Your wit. Your betrayal. How your exercise in rebellion cost you your family, fame and fortune. Rendering you to the lonely, wondering soul that you are now; trying to find his way into a world so foreign to him. Even the lies they made of you were lost to time and war; I knew the Turks killed your parents, you always said you were adopted and appreciative, I also knew that you left with your engagement ring affixed to your left ring finger.

The farmer leaves you at the broken down train stop of Edge. From a night of coercion he told you about his wife and four children. How the cabbages in the back were to be sold so he could provide for them. Send those kids to college if there will be one again on the continent.

"E-Edge!" he yelped, knife to his throat. He tried to touch you in your sleep. His broken wrist remembers that, "It's where everyone is! Midgar...it's ain't a city no more. Rubble it all is. But Edge. That's the hub. The home of the new world government."

Pleads for his life he does. You took his word for it. Step into the rainy town, because a city without street lamps was a husk.

It's early afternoon and those clouds were thick like smoke. You weave your way through the streets, narrowly missing a rat chased by a small girl with a shiv. What did you wake to? Does it please you? Or do you wish that slumber had not ended?

You make your way to the only source of light you can see. Flashing neons, coffee in the air and flames crackling. Seventh Heaven.

POSITION AVAILABLE

APPLY INSIDE!

A job. Get to know the locals. Facilitate some income. Find yourself. Is a bartender your calling?

The bell above the door rings as you enter. A woman approaches. Smiling. Cheerful. But mature.

"Hi! Welcome to Seventh Heaven. Name's Tifa, I run this gig. New face, you are. Not a bad one either." She winks, you smile.

"Certainly not as pleasant as yours." You turn on that charm. She laughs. Your lip curls in that smug, self-important manner.

"So, what can I get for you, new man?"

You sit at the bar, eyeing the menu written on the chalkboard.

"If it's not too much of a bother...a pina colada. Don't skimp on the umbrellas either."

"Would two umbrellas be enough?"

"I won't be happy until there's at least four."

She talks to you. Teases you. Watches you try to drink your alcoholic concoction between six umbrellas. "If they fall off, I'll charge you double."

She has a foster child. She takes care of two children. She runs a bar and diner all on her own. She's got an Avalanche HQ sign stuck to the wall, and a picture of her and a troupe of interesting characters.

"You know...you look really familiar." she says, "Are those mako eyes?"

You smirk. "I'm not sure of the state of Avalanche today, but rest assured, I'm more interested in applying for that bartending job you have available than standing in the way of whatever it is you plan to do."

She nods. "How good are you in the kitchen, soldier boy?"

Tifa trusts you. She probably remembers you vaguely flying around Nibelheim. How you watched as Zack left her behind. How you foolishly, for a brief moment had the weakness to cast a healing spell to delay her injuries and wipe away the blood from her face. You shouted for help, had a disguised clone help drag her to safety before departing. Maybe. That or she's stupid enough to trust you.

You make dinner service a breeze. She gives you an impromptu pay rise for making good candied apples and seared steak.

"Come on, just say hi!" she drags a reluctant you out of the kitchen and presents you to everyone, "This is the man behind the magic!"

You know them. One squints foolishly at you. And the other has shock written on his face.

You ignore them. Thank the clapping ones for their compliments. Chat for a bit, before tapping out for a breather.

"I know ya." You turn to face the cigarette puffing engineer.

"So, you've joined Avalanche, Highwind."

"Genesis Fucking Rhapsodos."

"It's Francis actually." you joke.

Cid cusses. "He's dead, yaknow. Or at least we all sure hope so."

"I've gathered from what I've seen. But do you know where he was killed?"

"What? You plannin' on makin' a funeral?" he shakes his head and speaks to you sincerely. Or at least as sincerely as an uncouth bastard could, "Look. I get it. You two were an item. But what he became...not even human. No human could call on a meteor to destroy the planet. Sure a human could damn well wish for it ta happen, but the shit he's done...you'd have killed him yourself."

You smirk. I wondered what you were thinking. Maybe you wanted to agree. Maybe you wanted to punch his eyes out of their sockets. But whatever it was. You worked hard. Gained their trust. Slowly learnt more about me. Stuck around that Tifa woman. Joked with her. Bought her gifts. Took her out to dinners and cabaret shows. Everyone was loving you.

But Tifa especially talks to you openly and honestly. Takes you on expeditions. Trusts you deeply. Believes you to be a good man who will aid them. Tells you of all the tragedy I have caused - the deaths, the attempts to end all life. But did she ever tell you that I did all of this for you? For your legacy? I had plans for us. To have a world where it is only you and I. So no one could destroy the bonds we have and force us apart again. I regret...it's my only regret, that I did not leave with you. Had only I not been so foolish to believe you spun lies out of jealousy - to believe the rhetoric about you that Shinra fed. For I trusted that opinion more than my own instinct - than the own knowledge I had from having you in my bed and you as my only love. How could I believe that they knew more of the man I would die for than I did myself?

But you understand this. You know me. You know what actions I would take. You know that you were the greatest thing in my life. That I would bow to you and work for your favour. That I would abandon whatever motive I had if you so disagreed.

Tifa trusts you. But do you trust her? Or do you trust your knowing of the man you called your Gift of the Goddess? You humor her. You called her a sister. Worked her into your palms. What are your plans for her, exactly? No one seems to mind your relationship. The children appreciate having a father figure who wasn't a broody brat that vanished for days and weeks. You taught them poems and arithmetic. Took them to school, went scavenging for children's tales and other books, took them kite flying in the plains. You've always been a kind-hearted spirit. I believe my brothers would have appreciated just as much listening to you talk about the apple trees by the fireplace and being tucked into bed after you made sure they brushed their teeth.

But Cloud. He felt threatened. Reeve had teased him about you stealing the show - putting more work and effort into rebuilding camaraderie and the city. Tifa confides in you hushedly, asking for romantic advice. You take her hand and speak to her sincerely. But he cannot here you. Only see as you whisper in her ear and she giggles. You made a crass joke about your preferences.

That cadet shattered a bottle and tried to gash your pretty face.

"Cloud!" Tifa had shouted. He hit the bottle hard. Gone for days at a time, but felt like he owned the woman. I'd have never done that to you.

But you just shrug. Feint and counter. Put him in his place with your boot to his chest. "There are children around." you whisper.

He breaks from you and Tifa questions him.

He points at you. "Do you know who he is?!"

"Yeah...my employee. He makes good margaritas and I'm not losing him to your stupidity!"

"I just...I just hate seeing you two so..."

"So what, Cloud?"

"So...So flirty!"

"Flirty?!"

You laugh. Maniacally so. You grab the edge of the bar to stop yourself from falling. Tifa sniggers. "He's not like that...you know. He's a man's man."

Cloud was confused. "The hell you mean?"

You wipe away a tear. "Meet me at a glory hole and I'll show you."

It became known as the day Cloud stopped being a complete ass to you. Tried to know who you were. Realised he knew so little of SOLDIER. Asked you to help him clear out Old Midgar of the dredge left behind. Bizarre monsters, the products of escaped Shinra experiments and the corruption of geostigma.

You work late into the night. Sent Cloud home early as the pack had thinned. He took off. Leaving you here. Alone. Picking through what were the remains of our apartment with only the light of your lantern guiding you.

December in Modeoheim. What were we thinking, you thought as you picked up the shards of a broken snow globe. You find the mattress. Burned, broken. You cut it open. Dig through the stuffing. You find it. Coordinates. Of Loveless Avenue, the one restored sector of Midgar.

I was waiting. Rented a room. Wore contact lenses to hide my eyes. Cut my hair. Became a blonde with an eye patch. A man named Seth Faremis. I smoked on the street corner. Waving away adamant street walkers that went by. And you were there. Standing in front of the bright lights of the Loveless Theater. Thinking about all the plays that you had seen here. The way you'd lean against me, hold my hand, whisper to me. You were so vibrant then. Like the life of the planet vanished with you and had returned.

I walk to greet you. Either you were pretending to ignore me, or you were planning to leave. But I knew that you felt my presence. You always had. You at least believed that I was still alive. But the face that greeted you...I saw that disappointment. But you entertained me. We saw a play together. Found a private dwelling of rubble in the Midgar ruins to make love on. I said how I never wanted this night to end. And you placed your hands over my throat.

"Where is he?" you ask, eyes alight with that determination which keeps me yearning.

I grin, "Deepground."

You start digging. You know the site. And I help you for the time being. We hit steel and make the descent. Your body aflame as you take control of the facility - slicing through the guards and muscle that stood in your way, blasting through defenses, reminding the world again of the power and finesse of a fine SOLDIER. The scientists try to shut you out. Call for Code Red and attempt to evacuate. The halls run red of the last of Shinra blood. You hurry to the central most room and the sight that greets you...

"I've found you..." you say. You kiss me. Thank me. Farewell me. Until I leave that corporeal form, this avatar, clone, and re-enter myself.

Bound to a chair. Gagged. I open my eyes and see you break into the white padded room using a computer virus that you used for years with your espionage team.

I'm pleased. To see you with my own eyes in my own flesh. Those full, red lips. That soft, auburn hair. Those heavy-lidded slanted eyes. You had always been so beautiful.

And now. What will you do? Will you release me? Will you embark on that journey you hoped for so long? The one where you walk down the aisle, exchange vows and say I do. We could do that. We could rule this planet, not hide ourselves, scurrying away after dark. Pretending that your bed was not indented with the form of my body.  We could do so much together. Could live the life we wanted. The one where we had an estate and a dog. The one where I would prepare firewood as you glaze the roast. The one where we traveled the world not as warriors, but us culture enthusiasts. You always loved the raw fish from Wutai. You would never put an end to all of that

Let's go to the hot springs. Relax. Take some time together. Plan that eternal future we will have slowly.

"I love you." You say. So softly and sweetly. You sit on my lap, unbind the cloth from my mouth...I kissed you. You kissed back.

"Genesis..." I say, not knowing where to begin and end, "It's been so long."

You unbind me. Believing that a wise decision and help me out into the dark. Where should we go in a world I am unwelcome? Under the cloak of a thick night we flee. Into the barren wastelands where the moon hangs high and you look so indelible writhing under the silver light above me. Moaning my name with the cricket's chirping. I touch your soft, warm skin, kiss your neck, watch the stars. Taste the milk of paradise.

We're panting. I open my eyes. Expecting to see your blushing face, tousled hair and soft, hazy blue eyes. But I saw the barrel of a gun. A gift from your father you stowed away.

Your left hand. Barren of any promises.

"I love you, Sephiroth." You say.

And I believe you.

[therockuver-blog]

The Red Flags ✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖ @theredflags #theredflags

[theredflagau]

Ch. 1

Bahorel sat the crate down on the desk and took a step back to stand next to Jehan. Enjolras eyed the crate without a word. In silence, Grantaire walked up and lifted a bottle for inspection.

“Aged 70 years and perfectly sealed,” he said holding the glass up to the light. “Perfect coloration too. The high rollers will be pleased.” Grantaire placed the bottle back and returned to his place propped against the wall. He picked up his wine bottle and took a swig. Enjolras nodded silently and looked at the two in front of him.

“I take it there were no problems?” he asked.

Jehan felt his throat catch. Enjolras had a way with his words. Even as he spoke with the utmost calm and collection, everyone knew he was a moment away from a fury hell had never seen the like of.

“We got the goods and they got their money,” Jehan started. “Then they pulled out a gun...”

“They did?” Enjolras stopped him. “After everything was exchanged?”

“Yes,” Jehan answered.

“What happened?”

“I killed him,” Bahorel spoke up. “He pulled a gun out and pointed it at Jehan and I killed him before he could fire it.” Enjolras swore under his breath.

“When are they going to learn that if we have to keep killing each other we’re going to run out of people to do business with?” he asked as he ran his hands through his hair. He placed his hands back on the desk and took a deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did kill him and Jehan is standing here now, but next time go for wounding, why don’t you?” Bahorel nodded in response. Enjolras reached into his desk and took out two stacks of cash and handed them to Jehan and Bahorel.

“Thank you,” he told them. “I’ll let you know when I need you again. The next run is much lower scale - it’s cheap and easy to come by. I don’t think we’ll need any muscle.” The two nodded and Enjolras sent them away.

Enjolras picked up one of the bottles and looked it over. He sometimes had to wonder if it was all worth it.

“Want me to take it to the bar?” Grantaire mumbled. Enjolras shot him a look.

“Will all of the bottles make it there?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and he tossed his empty wine bottle into the trash.

“I just have to make sure you’re not going to waste my time by drinking all of our profits,” Enjolras told him as Grantaire lifted the crate off the desk.

“Not like you give me a chance to do much else,” Grantaire responded.

“Because you can’t,” Enjolras bit back. “You’re drunk all of the time. What else would I have you do? Go out and get yourself shot?” An odd silence passed between the two of them. “You know what happened the last time. I can’t risk that again.”

“You know damn well that was a one time thing. I can run a job just as well as any of these guys around here,” Grantaire told him.

“I’ve yet to see you prove it.”

“I’ve yet to see you give me a chance.” The two stared each other down.

“Let me think about it,” Enjolras finally said. “If the right job comes up, maybe I’ll let you.”

Grantaire left the office without saying a word. He made his way through what felt like a labyrinth of hallways and out to the Red Flag.

[theredflagau]

A New Story!

Hello all! My dear friend gave me an idea for a Les Mis AU so I decided to run with it. It's the story of the Barricade Boys set in the Prohibition / Depression Era in Chicago. Enjolras is the leader of the nicest speakeasy in town with the best group of runners in the business. What sorts of adventures will they have?

This story does include violence, language and awesome ships. Especially the E x R and Courfeyrac x Combeferre ships. 

[theredflagau]

Ch. 6

Eponine was no stranger to the underworld. In fact, she had been born into it. Her father pretty much ruled the entire Southside and hardly anyone dared to mess with him. It was every police officer’s dream to bring him in, but somehow he always managed to slip through their fingers.

As his daughter, Eponine had learned how to fend for herself at a young age. She was capable of pick-pocketing and conning at the age of five and was better at picking locks than half of the inmates of the Cook County Jail. By the age of thirteen, she had bested most of the men working for her father in pulling off jobs. But by the age of sixteen, her father saw her more of as a way to earn money than as a daughter. It wasn’t long after that she ran away and ran into Grantaire in the middle of a job. After proving herself more helpful than a hindrance to him, he quickly introduced her to Enjolras who secured her a place as the headline entertainer. It didn’t take long for her voice to win over the patrons, who soon thereafter demanded her voice every night.

For this new opportunity at life, she was eternally grateful to Enjolras. However she did find that she missed running odd jobs here and there. Every time she proposed an idea to Enjolras for a chance for to go on a job, he’d immediately tell her no, stating it would be too much of a risk to lose her. It would always end in a heated argument, and Enjolras would always win, one way or another.

Tonight as she sang, her eyes drifted over the silhouettes in the crowd. Another night of singing to empty faces. Perhaps it was better this way. She never felt the pain of nerves before performing when she knew she had nothing to prove to anyone. But she still longed to have someone out there to sing to.  

[theredflagau]

Ch. 3

The alarm pierced through the dark and jolted Courfeyrac back to consciousness. He untangled one of his arms from the two that were wrapped around him and stretched to silence the racket. When all was quiet once more, he dropped his head back onto the pillow. A pair of lips gently placed a kiss on his jaw.

“Morning already?” they asked with a laugh.

“More like evening,” Courfeyrac replied with a smile. He rolled around in the arms that held him to face Combeferre. His eyes were still closed but a smile was firmly set. “We’re going to have to get ready soon.” Combeferre opened one eye and then pulled Courfeyrac closer as he planted kisses on his lips.

“I suppose we could do that,” he replied.

“Are you going to be there tonight?” Courfeyrac asked, tracing patterns with his finger on Combeferre’s back. He nodded his response.

“I’m doing my weekly assessment tonight. Enjolras would be pretty mad if I wasn’t,” Ferre told him.

“Enjolras would be pretty mad about most things,” Courfeyrac laughed. It trailed off into awkward silence as they realized what they were doing right then would be the last straw for Enjolras. Courfeyrac saw the flash of guilt appear on Combeferre’s face instantly.

“C’mon, you know we’re being safe! No one is going to find out!” Courfeyrac insisted.

“It just takes one person to notice. If Enjolras finds out…”

“He won’t!” Courfeyrac said firmly, sitting up. “As far as he knows, we hardly even see each other outside of the Red Flag.” He kissed Combeferre’s forehead. “As long as we make sure he believes that, we’ll be fine.”

Combeferre gave him a weak smile.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. Courfeyrac jumped off of the bed and began to pull his clothes on.

“Of course I am,” he said with a grin. “Now, I’m going to head on out and get there a little bit early. You probably shouldn’t wait too much longer.”

“Alright,” Combeferre mumbled as he pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. Courfeyrac leaned over and planted a firm kiss on his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight,” he smiled and disappeared out the door while tying his tie.

As Courfeyrac raced down the stairs, he didn’t see the young man locking his apartment door and ran right into him.

“Holy hell!” Courfeyrac exclaimed as he lifted himself up off of the confused man. He extended his hand and helped him up. “Sorry about that, got distracted with my tie!” he laughed. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

“Marius,” the young man said, shaking the hand that had helped him.

“Are you new here?” Courfeyrac asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You can tell?”

“You don’t look like you belong,” he chuckled. Marius let out a huff of a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m new. Trying to find work too,” he told him. Courfeyrac looked him over a bit.

“Are you a fast runner?” A confused expression crossed Marius’s face.

“I suppose so? Does it matter?”

Courfeyrac’s grin grew.

“How do you feel about prohibition?”

“I’m not exactly fond of it,” Marius told him. “I’d kill for a drink, honestly.”

“Would you now?” Courfeyrac said, moving a little closer to him and making him a little uncomfortable. Courfeyrac flung his arm around Marius’s shoulders.

“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty and like to live dangerously, I’ve got the perfect job for you,” Courfeyrac whispered in his ear. “Think it over and visit me upstairs around 11 any morning this week. My apartment is the one at the top of the stairs.” Courfeyrac patted his shoulder one last time and took off down the stairs once more. “Nice meeting you Marius!”

Marius was left dumbfounded in the hallway. It was just like his grandfather had said when he moved out. “As soon as you step foot in that city, the demons will bite at your heels!” A smile formed on his face. It would be nice to go against his grandfather, especially since he had been disowned.

[theredflagau]

Ch. 9

Grantaire flipped the chairs up on to the tables and sighed. This is what he had been reduced to. He was the cleanup crew at the end of the night. He cursed his past failings as he lifted chair after chair. It wasn’t till he saw another pair of hands lift the chair in front of him that he was brought from his thoughts.

“Need a hand?” Eponine asked, setting the chair on the table.

“Nah,” Grantaire smiled. “I’m almost done anyways. I just have to run the mop over the floor and I’ll be good to go.”

“Mind if I wait with you?” she asked, propping herself against the bar. Grantaire laughed as he pulled out the mop and bucket he had prepared.

“Don’t you want to get home? It’s pretty late” he said, continuing his work.

“Well, yeah,” she said, “but I’d rather not walk by myself.” Grantaire looked up at her and smirked.

“That’s not the Eponine I know...What’s going on?” He saw a grin pull at the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll tell you when you’re done,” she said. Grantaire nodded in understanding and hurried to finish his job. After making sure everything was clean and ready for the next night, Grantaire locked up and escorted Eponine out of the bar. Once they were a good distance away, Eponine placed a soft hand on his arm.

“Taire, I know you’ve got to be bored,” she said quietly. Grantaire grunted an agreement. “Well I am too,” she told him firmly. “I’m tired of just being on stage and doing nothing else.”

“‘Ponine, you know Enjolras is just looking out for you,” he told her.

“I know, and I don’t need him to. I wanted to join you in the first place because I could do jobs and help with the runs and such, not to be paraded in front of a bunch of people every night,” Eponine explained. Grantaire sighed.

“You know he’ll never agree to let you go on a job,” he said.

“I know. That’s why we’re not going to tell him,” Eponine stated, a twinkle in her eye. Grantaire froze.

“No. There’s no way. Enjolras will kill us. If we don’t die on the run, he will absolutely murder us,” Grantaire said, shaking his head.

“Taire, you know we both just need a chance to prove ourselves!” she whined as she grabbed his hands and pulled him forward. “Think about it! We take that easy mission he told Jehan about and we kick its ass!” Grantaire was still shaking his head. “Then, when he sees we did a good job, he’ll have no choice but to let us do other jobs!”

“Enjolras already has more trust issues than any other man I’ve ever met,” Grantaire told her. “If we do this, he’ll hate us more than anything.”

“Please Taire,” Eponine begged. He hated seeing her like this. He knew she felt the exact same way that he did.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll think it over,” he said quietly. “Anyways, what’s Enj going to do if something happens to you and you can’t sing that night?” Eponine shrugged.

“Maybe he should consider having more than one person who could take the stage,” she laughed. She looped her arm around Grantaire’s and walked on towards her apartment.

[theredflagau]

Ch. 8

When Courfeyrac got home he found Combeferre sitting on the bed, flipping through one of his books. Courfeyrac murmured a greeting as he pulled off his tie and began taking his shirt off.

“Are you going to give your girlfriend a call?” Combeferre asked without looking up from his book.

“It’s nothing like that. She was drunk and just having fun,” Courfeyrac told him as he slid his pants off.

“She was having a lot of fun when she grabbed your ass as you walked by.”

“It was nothing,” Courfeyrac insisted, crawling over on the bed to look at him over his book.  

“Nothing like the kiss she planted on your face before her friends pulled her out of the bar?” Combeferre’s eyes finally rose above the page to meet Courfeyrac’s and let out a strong sense of hurt.

“Ferre, I promise...”

Combeferre lifted the book up to block his face. Courfeyrac sighed, grabbed the book and threw it across the room.

“I’m telling you it was nothing!”

“Women don’t just kiss people! There has to be some sort of signal they pick up on that it’s welcome!” Combeferre suddenly exploded.

“First off, women do randomly kiss me. I don’t get it, but they do.” Courfeyrac immediately figured out from Combeferre’s expression that that was the wrong thing to say. “Look, what I mean is, I have to flirt with these women, Ferre.”

“You don’t have to,” Ferre mimicked, turning away from him. Courfeyrac turned his face back around.

“I do. When I first started working for the Red Flag, I was the biggest flirt Chicago had ever seen. If I don’t keep it up, people are going to suspect that I’m seeing someone.” Courfeyrac paused to let it sink in. “I don’t want them to find out it’s you and we get in trouble.” Combeferre let out a deep breath, trying to think of any way he could argue with Courfeyrac.

“Of course you’re right again,” Ferre admitted. Courfeyrac kissed him on the cheek.

“I know I am,” he said with a grin. “Now. Let’s not worry about that and have the rest of the night just to ourselves.”

“Alright,” Combeferre said with a smile, kissing Courfeyrac on the lips. As Courfeyrac climbed on top of him, Combeferre pulled his lips away.

“Are you still going to be running jobs for Enjorlas?” he asked softly.

“Probably,” Courf replied. “He said he’s got a new job for us. Something a bit dangerous.” Combeferre’s face paled a bit.

“Please be careful,” he whispered. “A bank robbery is going to be so much harder now. I don’t know why Grantaire...”

“A bank robbery?” Courfeyrac asked, leaning back. “Enj said it was a really expensive bottle of Scotch.” The two stared at each other in silence. What all did Enjolras have planned for them?

“Dear God, be safe!” Combeferre warned, pulling Courfeyrac down on top of him and holding him close.

“Of course I will. It’s not easy to take me down,” Courfeyrac laughed, barely able to breathe in Combeferre’s grasp.

[theredflagau]

Ch. 7

As the lights came up, Courfeyrac began his rounds once more through the tables. At every table with men, he was one of the guys. At every table with women, he flirted, and occasionally left a house phone number. For every table with couples, he was the proper gentlemen. And his tips reflected it.

One rather enthusiastic table of ladies had insisted that he sit with them for a moment. While he swore that he’d love to but his boss was sitting just a few tables over, one particularly strong-willed lady had pulled him down into the seat next to her. As she flirted with him and he gave a few flirtatious comments back, he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Combeferre at the bar, who was trying discreetly to watch him without straight-up staring at him. Courfeyrac felt a twinge of guilt as the lady wrote her number on a napkin and slid it into the waistband of his pants as she sent him on his way. He quickly made his way around the tables and then up to the bar.

“Boss! I need another rum on the rocks and a whiskey on the rocks,” Courfeyrac called out. He had purposely stood next to Combeferre with hopes of speaking to him. Instead, Combeferre gently pulled the napkin from Courfeyrac’s pants, sending a bit of a shiver through his body, and then handed it to him.

“I think you forgot about this,” Ferre told him. “You don’t want your tables thinking you were a call boy or something, would you?” Courfeyrac let out a laugh. He wanted to snark back at him something fierce, but he knew others would instantly pick up on their familiarity.

“Thanks. I had forgotten,” he said quietly. When Bossuet returned with the drinks, Courfeyrac disappeared as quickly as he could back into the sea of patrons, silently cursing himself.

The night never seemed to end. It was almost three in the morning before the last patrons left. Courfeyrac plopped himself in a chair and looked around the bar. Combeferre had left hours before. He finally pulled out his tips and began counting them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Joly said as he sat down next to him. “Show off just how much money you earned tonight.”

“I told you, you should work tables!” Courfeyrac told him with a wink. “Anyways I bet I’d still get better tips than you.” Joly rolled his eyes as the others pulled up chairs and joined them. It wasn’t long before Enjolras stood before them.

“I’ve got some exciting news,” he said, a light in his eyes they hadn’t seen in awhile. “We’ve got a new job.”

“I thought we had an upcoming job?” Jehan asked.

“This is another one,” Enjolras stated quietly. “And it’s going to be a tad more dangerous.”

“What are we after?” Grantaire asked. “Is it a large order?”

“No,” Enjolras started. “It’s a single bottle.” The group looked at each other in uncertainty. “It’s a bottle of Macallan Scotch that was secretly imported.” Grantaire whistled in awe.

“How are we going to afford that exactly?” he asked.

“There is a buyer; we’re only the middlemen,” Enjolras told them.

“Seems like a lot of trouble,” Bahorel mused.

“Which is why he’s going to pay us so much to get it,” Enjolras replied. “Don’t worry too much about it now. I’ll give you all your assignments in the next few days. For tonight, be safe and rest easy.”

[theredflagau]

Ch. 5

It takes more than money to be a successful man. It takes restraint for not spending the money he has on foolish things. It takes courage to risk what he has to gain more. It takes patience to know when the right time to use his courage is. And it also takes charisma to convince others that he needs their money - and to get them to give it to him.

Enjolras had more than any man’s fair share of charisma.

As he sat next to one of Chicago’s wealthiest men, one would never imagine that he felt the slightest bit out of place or even just a bit awestruck with how easily that man would throw away money, even during such economic hardships. No one would ever guess that he was the same person who would much rather quietly sit back in his office, planning his next big move, while he spoke with such animation that you’d think his conversation partner had been his friend for years. No one but his closest of friends could have seen the spark of excitement and fear that shone in his eyes as his guest proposed one of the toughest jobs he had ever heard.

“You can seriously arrange this?” Enjolras asked, his eyebrows raised. The man laughed.

“Of course I can,” he said. “The only thing I can’t do is get it myself.” Enjolras thought it over in silence.

“These are some very high risks you’re having me send my men into,” Enjolras told him finally.

“You will be well compensated for it,” the man said, “if you can deliver.”

Combeferre’s words from before echoed through his mind. This would certainly give them a cushion if they pulled it off, especially if they could pull off a bank robbery too.

“We’ll do it,” Enjolras said with a smile. The man extended his hand and shook on the deal.

“You won’t regret it,” he replied. Enjolras motioned for Courfeyrac to bring the man another drink as the lights dimmed and a spotlight appeared on stage. Jehan took his place at the piano and the audience began to applaud as Eponine approached the mic stand.

[theredflagau]

Ch. 4

“You’re late.”

“No I’m not,” Courfeyrac insisted.

“You are,” Joly said, shoving his watch in Courfeyrac’s face.

“Your watch is fast!”

“It’s not!”

“Does it even matter?” Courfeyrac demanded.

“Someone has to wait the tables!” Joly told him.

“Then why don’t you? All you do is sit around and twiddle your thumbs until one of us gets hurt!” Courf said as he pulled his waiter’s vest on over his shirt. Joly rolled his eyes.

“I help out when I’m needed!” he pouted. Courfeyrac had already disappeared into the bar to help Bossuet set up. Joly turned and went to the kitchen to see if Feuilly needed any help cooking.

Courfeyrac took a look around the place as patrons slowly began to trickle through. Bahorel was stationed out front, letting only a few people in at a time so as not to draw attention. Bossuet had the bar prepped and ready to go. Feuilly and Joly were in the kitchen awaiting orders while Jehan was backstage with Eponine, ready to perform. This was Enjolras’s well-oiled machine. Courfeyrac took a deep breath, feeling it was going to be a good night.

Back in his office, Enjolras waited as Combeferre flipped through the ledger and calculated everything that had been recorded over the last week. As cool and collected as he was, Enjolras couldn't help but feel a little nervous every time he saw Combeferre frown as he was working. Finally, he shut the books.

“Well?” Enjolras asked. Combeferre sighed.

“Not bad, but not good either,” he replied.

“Explain.”

“We’re pulling in a fantastic profit,” Combeferre said. “Sales are going up and we’re getting more patrons.”

“Which is good,” Enjolras stated, not seeing the problem.

“Yes, it is,” Combeferre started, “but it’s upping our maintenance costs and our food costs. We already charge the patrons an arm and a leg for their drinks, so we can’t increase the prices any more. We need a cushion. We need money from another source.”

Enjolras sat down as he thought things over. A slight smile crossed his face.

“I might be able to get a little extra tonight. A big spender is coming in to get some of the shipment we got in today. Maybe he’ll be willing to invest,” Enjolras said. Combeferre shook his head.

“He’ll expect a return for his money eventually. We need the money out right. Something that people won’t expect anything back if they give it to us,” Combeferre mused.

“We could just take it,” Grantaire mumbled. Enjolras looked over his shoulder forgetting the man was there.     

“Take it?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. A good ol’ bank robbery like we used to do,” Grantaire told him.

“It’s risky,” Enjolras thought aloud.

“Everything is going to be,” Combeferre told him. “We’re in a risky business.” Enjolras nodded in agreement.

“Will we be ok for a week or two?” Enjolras asked. Combeferre shrugged.

“As long as upcoming jobs go off without a hitch and nothing flat out breaks, we should do ok.” He tapped his chin in thought. “If we can promote that new stuff you got, it might turn a good profit.”

“Ok,” Enjolras said. “We’ll carry on for now and I’ll plan out a heist for the upcoming week or so. If all goes well, it’ll give us some leeway.” Combeferre nodded and put the books back in the safe.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to go meet with that patron I was telling you about. He was the one who insisted I get this alcohol after all,” Enjolras told them as he led the two of them out of the office and locked it behind him. He disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two alone.

“Are you sticking around tonight?” Grantaire asked as they slowly walked down the hallways.

“Maybe for a bit. I could use a drink,” Combeferre told him.

“Something bothering you?”

“Nah,” Combeferre told him. “Just tired I suppose,” he laughed. They walked into the Red Flag and took a seat at the bar. Bossuet greeted them and handed them each a glass of their usuals.