#and softened the blow by telling her i'm glad she's not dead after she told me she might die without much else and ignored me for weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faebriel · 3 years

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ok ok I'm insane and couldn't pick one so have two (no need to answer both if you don't want to)

“You talk to him.” Not kindly, but he does.

“I’m used to him,” he shoots back. “I’m the only person who is.”

That makes Niki feel something, some uncomfortable tug in her chest. She mentally kicks herself. It’s not jealousy, she reminds herself, because despite the near-cliff jumping and the long nights without food and the nuclear fallout that has punctuated her last few months, being jealous of Tommy would be the least reasonable thing she’s allowed herself to be, maybe ever.

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy says flatly. “You never - eugh.” He cuts himself off with another ragged sigh, running a hand down his face. “Look, Niki, it’s - we were all together in Pogtopia, right? But I was there first. With him. And you didn’t see the start of it, it was horrible, and I’m glad no one else saw the beginning of it either but it was still just so shit and he kept saying all these terrible things about Tubbo and Fundy and you and,” he takes a shaky breath, “then, when I died, I saw him.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

Well, the voice in the back of her head whistles. If you were still wondering about all this afterlife bullshit, if you want to know where you’re going after your third life, here you go.

and

“You didn’t even - this isn’t about L’Manberg, Wilbur!” Niki shouts.

And then he stops, breathing hard, and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say.

“What else is there?” he asks.

Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, chilled down to the bone. With slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes, sitting in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. She swallows - to keep her cool, to stay calm, to keep it together -

And then, something in her chest just snaps.

“You said you’d come back for me!” she cries, and her voice hitches on the lump of tears at the back of her throat and god, she sounds absolutely pathetic. Wilbur’s face softens immediately, which somehow just makes her feel even worse. “In Manberg. When Schlatt put me in prison, and you and Tommy were in Pogtopia, you said you’d break me out when it was safe. I waited for weeks , Wilbur. It was… it was horrible.”

“Niki…” a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across his face, and he seems unsure which to settle on. “We got you out though, right? After the festival.”

“You looked for the button first,” she says quietly, and he stills.

Her sniffling sounds embarrassingly loud against the quiet background of night.

thank you sm!!! i’m gonna put these under the cut because they got a little long sorry (tw for discussion of suicidal ideation)

to preface: tommy is kind of the accidental but incredibly necessary invisible support beam for niki and wilbur’s making amends in bitter. niki cannot accept wilbur’s actions and apology without first acknowledging her own actions and making steps towards an apology, because otherwise it kind of falls flat? in that ending scene niki finally gets what wilbur is feeling and wilbur finally gets that someone else knows how he feels (it’s not perfect 100% yet, but…. that’ll get explored later)

onto the actual snippet! “tommy talks to wilbur - not kindly, but he does” was very important to me! tommy has stuck by wilbur ever since pogtopia, but the tragedy is that he is not equipped to deal with wilbur’s issues, and it shows. wilbur’s first stream after revival depicts this really clearly, where tommy tails wilbur around the whole time but insults him, is still stuck on calling him the villain, physically fights him at some point, etc. on one hand this isn’t healthy but on the other hand tommy is actually around, which is more than can be said for basically any other ally wilbur has had on the dsmp, maybe excluding his dad, who literally killed him lmfao.

this whole issue is exacerbated by the fact that tommy believes that he is the only person who properly understands wilbur, the only person who gets what happened to him, and feels like wilbur is generally his burden to bear. he failed to stop wilbur from both 1. hurting other people and 2. killing himself after the pogtopia-manberg war - and he doesn’t trust wilbur not to do either of those things again, so he’s stuck hovering around wilbur while wilbur is inadvertently setting off his own trauma and feeling responsible for any way he might fuck up and hating that but not wanting to leave. tommy’s memory isn’t perfect and he isn’t a perfect narrator, what he remembers from pogtopia the most were the scariest parts and that’s understandable but it means he’s holding wilbur to the worst expectations of behaviour (and he does so very vocally). the others showed up later, sure, but in tommy’s eyes he’s the only one who saw wilbur’s descent, and by the time they showed up wilbur had already changed irreversably. tommy tries to rationalise this by splitting the ‘different wilburs’ apart from each other in his head (he does this in canon too - there’s one quote from like late 2020 where he says he and tubbo need to keep on going for who wilbur used to be, not who he became, even though they’re,, the same person), and no one challenges that perspective, so he just keeps doing it even though it’s not healthy for him or wilbur.

and then limbo happened and, oh geez, THAT didn’t help jhfaskjjfsa

tommy is on a bit of a knife edge with niki in this fic. niki’s in this state of “ok, he’s annoying whatever, i’m moving on”, but all tommy knows is that she tried to kill him that one time, disappeared off the face of the map, joined a book club with two people who definitely do not like him, and now is just acting weirdly mellow and polite. she is not someone he wants near wilbur bc what the fuck is she gonna do? what is he gonna do? who knows. he’s frustrated that niki doesn’t seem to acknowledge how he’s feeling (especially bc once upon a time she would have been someone he trusted to acknowledge them - they were friends, they fought together) and he’s taking a big step by telling someone about his concerns here, especially bc tommy doesn’t really like talking about them at all. he wouldn’t be saying absolutely anything to niki if he didn’t truly believe she should stay away from wilbur, even if he’s wrong about him. (sometimes i think i write tommy as a little too emotionally mature here but it all goes out the window when wilbur’s brought up. idk if that balances it out)

ok onto niki: this is the first she has actually heard of limbo! she’s only just come around to the fact that resurrection is possible at all. death is kind of a touchy subject for niki both in general and re: wilbur in the fic - she’s coming off of a period in her life where suicidal ideation was, uh, a big thing (whether you want to read that into canon or not is subjective, that’s just the angle i went with in this fic). the sudden existence of a life after death, miserable as it is - and whether she really believes in such a place, when it only exists in tommy and wilbur’s words - that is a lot of information for her to absorb all at once. death is a weird connection point for tommy and niki here, coming right off of the fact that they’ve just acknowledged each other having those problems - tommy, out of, yknow, altruism, would very much like to keep niki out of that place, and niki is quietly reckoning with the fact that that is where she would have sent him. the concept of limbo from the perspective of a character with no experience of it, even secondhand, is so interesting to me like what kind of eldritch location would you feel like you’re living in asghjkl

(also - i gotta be honest the jealousy angle here but mostly when she’s talking later about dream not deserving wilbur’s companionship kinda came out after this post came across my dash while writing. whoops /j)

fun fact, this is the very first snippet of bitter that i ever wrote! all the way back in may!! this is like the moment of the fic - it's where the miscommunication that niki and wilbur have been having is shattered entirely - and so sticking the landing was uhhh kinda important to me lol.

wilbur's entire being in this fic is basically consumed by L'Manberg - he equates his self worth to it entirely. in his eyes, everyone (rightfully) hates him because of what he did to L'Manberg, because L'Manberg was corrupted and he himself with it, etc. niki tries to tell herself this, and while it definitely does form part of her issues with him, it was the betrayal that causes her this much pain - that he seemingly brushed her and their friendship off entirely when he supposedly left her for dead in manberg. because here is what we as the audience know: wilbur couldn’t leave niki in trouble when he heard her life was in danger, even when he was trying to find the button (pretty much the only thing he sees himself as having left at this point) and so he returned. here is what it looks like from niki’s perspective: wilbur told her to wait in manberg until it was safe to come to pogtopia, laid the place with TNT, went to blow up the place, and only returned when he couldn’t find the detonator (and then the first thing she saw him do in pogtopia was encourage the pit behaviour but that’s not what we’re talking about asdfgh). that is massive miscommunication and it’s been brewing between them for months - to make a quirky little reference to the title, niki has been carrying that anger with her so long it's gone bitter. it was never just about l’manberg with niki - not that anger, not her and wilbur’s friendship (hence the little flashback earlier in the fic, bc niki’s relationship to anarchism and statehood or statelessness juxtaposed with her friendships with wilbur and eret - she loves l’manberg bc she loves wilbur, but she loves eret too and those national ties don’t undermine that - is Real Interesting to me) - so when wilbur asks what else there could possibly be (because in his mind, what else could she have bothered staying around for?), she just fucking breaks.

“Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut...with slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes” - prose discussion time! heat and cold are two big throughlines in this fic - particularly for niki, cold is what she is. admittedly when i started with it i mostly wanted to subvert hot = angry and cold = dead but i kinda ended up enjoying this take on it for what it is instead of just as a subversion (also i like the idea of revived people running hot, their bodies r working hard to keep em going). she’s holding onto her feelings and refusing to deal with them, she’s frozen over. descriptions of cold are key to niki’s mental state throughout the fic - cold weight on her chest, feelings of frostbite when she and wilbur hug the first time, ice cold water during the dinner scene, waking up in the cold flat, etc. this was an attempt at describing a more visceral feeling of like, when you’re really mad and you can just feel the adrenaline running through your veins. always felt more cold than hot to me. when she starts to cry, the facade she’s been putting on is finally thawing out and cracking the ice she’s buried her feelings under. (also gives an excuse to write warm comforting hugs towards the end /hj). it’s a loss, it’s catharsis, it’s a whole mess.

and ofc this is all news to wilbur and he feels terrible, because as unintentional as it was, he really really hurt her - because the destruction of l’manberg fucking sucked but above all else wilbur hurt the people he loved because they loved him so much and not in spite of it, because they cared about him so deeply and his death was a massive blow to them. this hasn’t even dawned on him, because how could it? he respects deeply niki (lowkey respects her opinion more than his own at this point) so he has to listen, because it’s niki (“and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say” - because he does), and what she says fucking floors him. in his eyes, he failed her by putting her in danger and then by destroying her home - the idea that she valued him and their friendship so much flies entirely over his head until this moment, and he is forced to re-evaluate the mindset that has motivated him since… basically since pogtopia! the way i write wilbur is like… yes, he’s one of niki’s closest friends and he’s more aware of her insecurities and issues than most (which is why he does always take the time to listen to her, etc) but he does over-idealise her a bit. tbf, i think he does to some extent with everyone (calling tubbo strong on the anniversary stream, for example). also the fact that he really wasn’t around for niki’s lowest moments as a character! he still thinks of her the way she was in l’manberg - confident, steadfast, respected - and this moment shatters that for him as he realises exactly what effect he and his death had on her and everyone else, not just by his actions, but because they loved him and cared for him so deeply.

sorry that this got horrifically long!! and thank you so much for sending snippets in <3333

#ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK TWO WEEKS. LMFAO #asks #thespoonisvictory #dvd commentary #< i have successfully coerced a discord server into doing the dvd commentary on a regular basis and it is the BEST thing

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itoshit · 3 years

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What was what, Venus? Two could play the game. She called me Manjiro? I would call her Venus.

Crossing my arms while leaning on the wall, I kept my eyes on her, one eyebrow raised. If you're mad because I punched him, I don't really care. Honestly, Venus. Who do you think I am hm? Just because I'm yours, do you think that I will change my antics? That I will soften? You're dead wrong for that. Even if you're part of my life, nothing has changed for me. I still kill people, and I'm still Bonten's leader. I-

I'm scared and worried, Manjiro.

Hah?? Scared about what ??

Your safety!

Hearing her answer, I couldn't prevent the laugh. I couldn't stop it, and when I calmed down, I looked at her again. My safety, huh? That's cute. Look, Venus. I actually don't understand you. I'm working with the police. Some politicians eat in the palm of my hands. And you are scared for me? Snorting at her, I walked past her and reached for the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of whisky. One day you want me and tell me you're worried, and you're creaming my cock, while the other day you're rejecting me and avoiding my touch like the plague. Not very nice from you, Venus. I'm your boyfriend, really? Then come live with me. Don't use that rent bullshit as an excuse. You're my girlfriend? Then reciprocate my touch when I'm around you. Except fucking, we don't do anything else. Oh yeah, you get mad when Senju is sitting by my side but do nothing to change it. While I do. Paul is a fucking bastard. He was the one starting it. And he could go to the police for all I care, I'll just have to blow the building up.

All the things that I bottled up during these past few months were right on my tongue now, and I knew that I should have waited to say all that, but the weight was unbearable anymore.

Approaching her once again, lips almost touching, I whispered slowly.

I'm your boyfriend? Then why did you never say I love you back?

Pulling back and not waiting for her answer, i left my place, slamming the door in the process.

- Mikey

Aston came running out to me at the sound of the noise, curious and ready to bark, cocking his head to the side when he realized there was no threat. I shakily exhaled as I rubbed my temples.

There was some things he said that made sense. I was standoffish with him, letting him initiate all the contact between us without ever attempting to do the same. I told myself I had forgiven him, and yet I was still punishing him as if I hadn’t. And the I love you thing… fuck.

The entire time I was holding back on saying it was because I thought it would have been cheap to tell him right after he attempted to end his life. I didn’t want him to think that I was saying it just to say it, hoping that my actions would convey it better until he was in a good enough place for me to say it without that kind of anxiety following me. But it backfired. Twice.

The Senju thing wasn’t even my fault. She was his disrespectful ass friend or acquaintance or whatever she was. He should be glad I’ve stayed quiet in every instance we’ve been together. The silence was keeping me from catching a murder charge. I could take accountability for the other things where they were due, but not that.

Worse part is, I couldn’t even tell him that since he stormed out the minute he said his piece, leaving me to gape like a fish at the door in shock. I was tempted to storm after him, throw a shoe at his head or something, but in the end I guess I was too stunned to do any of that because I never moved.

I gathered enough of myself eventually to move to the table and though I knew it was a long shot, I still tried calling his phone. I never even got mine although that was what we went back for. Stupid Paul. Sighing when he didn’t pick up as expected, I leaned forward and put my head in my arms as I waited for him to come back.

It was like the universe had a radar detecting whenever shit was going good between Mikey and I because it almost always went left right after that.

#✦; keyholder.#✦; mikey.#✦; chronicles of vee: vol. 1 #i hate when i’m arguing with a man and he makes a valid point #me to paul: don’t worry i’m gonna get mikey together #whole time mikey was planning to get me together 🤡#the hah ?? made me LAUGH LMFAO #i just know he looked at me stupid #i’m kicking my feet mad #how you make a good argument and leave before i could offer my rebuttal #come back sir the debate is ongoing!!!

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freddieslater · 4 years

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Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Barry Allen x Iris West x Leonard Snart (The Flash)

Requested by @wonderdoves

He's not allowed to go anymore. It's all Barry hears in the lecture he gets from Joe when he brings him back from the prison again. Third time this week, he catches, refusing to look at him. Have to stop.

"No," Barry says flatly. And then he's running up the stairs and slamming the door to his bedroom shut. It's not his bedroom. It's just some guest room, currently holding the poor foster kid he had to take in.

True to his word, Barry doesn't stop. He wants to see his dad. He knows he didn't do it, no matter what anyone says. But apparently Joe swayed the prison into not letting Barry visit. Makes a point of telling him as much at breakfast, as if he can sense his plans.

Barry doesn't say a word about it, just eats his cereal in deliberating silence. And as soon as he's done and on the path to school with Iris, he takes a left turn in the wrong direction.

"Barry," Iris says, making him pause to look back at her. Her expression's confused, but her eyes are full of worry. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere," he says, shrugging. Then he takes off.

He's never exactly been the fastest runner. Still, Iris doesn't try to follow. It's good, he wouldn't want to get her in any trouble. He doesn't care the same for himself.

No one questions the little kid wandering the aisles of a store, no one paying enough attention to see him slipping candy bars and strange little juice things barely the size of his hand into his pocket as he goes. Not when he actually has money to pay for the two things he sets on the counter when he's done.

Then it's back to wandering through the streets of the city, but at least he has chocolate now. It's not what he would like to be doing, but it's better than being at school and abiding by all of the dumb rules they're trying to enforce on him because he's "out of control" according to his teachers, and Joe, even the headmaster.

But around comes lunch and he's bored, so he finds himself slipping through a gap in the fence into the playground. He spots Iris. Alone. She's just sitting on the ground, back against the wall, flipping through homework.

It brings a small smile to his face. Approaching her, he sits down beside her unnoticed until he taps her knee with one finger.

She startles and her head whips up, eyes wide. But then she sees it's him and her features relax. Not too much, he notices; she still seems tense.

"I didn't think you were coming," she says, but her voice gives away that she's glad he did.

He starts to respond, mouth opening, but he's cut off by quick and heavy footfalls rounding the corner they're tucked behind.

A couple of boys. One's who have never liked Barry, and Iris through association. He can already tell that this isn't going to end well by the looks on their faces when they come up short and realize they're there.

In all honesty, Barry doesn't catch much of what happens. He's gotten used to tuning insults out that his brain just sort of automatically does it on its own. But he hears the words "mommy", "dead", and "orphan", and none of them are used with all that much sympathy.

Next thing he knows, he's on his feet and swinging for the closest one. His fist makes contact, hard, and he just keeps going. There's blood, he thinks, but he can't figure out where it's coming from as they end up on the ground.

There are rough hands pulling at his shoulders and he thinks Iris' voice is there somewhere. But all he can focus on is the bubbling anger that's been boiling inside of him for weeks now, at the man who really killed his mom, the police, Joe, even his dad for not fighting to see him.

The other boy isn't fighting back, he registers faintly, his hands pushing at him instead to try and topple him. Then a fist makes contact with the side of his face and he falters, thrown off balance.

It's long enough for them to shove him off. His elbow scrapes off the ground and his head hits it with a thud that makes a dull pain shoot through it. But it doesn't feel so bad. It actually feels good. Even the stinging in his hand.

There are shouts now, deeper, older voices. More footsteps hurrying in their direction.

He tilts his head, catching a glimpse of the boy, being carefully hauled up by his friends. There's dark splotches on the ground, and when Barry manages to look at the boy's face, he finds it covered in red. Blood streaming from his nose, his forehead, his mouth, even the back of his head. And he's crying. Kind of screaming, actually.

Barry feels a hand taking his and he looks to his left. He finds Iris next to him. Holding his hand. His hand that's scraped at the knuckles and covered in someone else's blood.

Her eyes are wide and terrified and shining more than he wants them to ever. But she swallows and just holds his hand a little tighter with a smile. One that says I'm with you. No matter what. Even after that. It makes him feel a little less lost and alone.

Security cameras. How did he forget to avoid the cameras this time? Because he's eleven, and it just didn't really cross his mind.

But they did. Joe has to talk to other police officers because of it. And because of that kid. A broken nose, concussion, and some damage to his mouth. They said he was lucky there was no permanent damage to his eyes as well.

Barry feels a little stir of regret. He just snapped. But the kid started it, and he didn't even want to be at school in the first place. He wanted to see his dad.

Joe's talking to the principal, too. The parents aren't happy. The store owner isn't happy. Barry hears him try to come to his defence; he's eleven, he's a kid, he's traumatised and grieving, he's in pain, he just needs help and support.

Maybe he's right. But Barry doesn't want his help. He doesn't want his support, because he won't give it to him where it matters most. He still doesn't believe him.

This isn't the first time he's been in trouble.

"He's been caught stealing before," the store owner says.

"He's violent and aggressive and is in fights far too frequently," the principal says.

"He's broken school property." "He's damaged store property." "--public property." "Truancy." "Vandalism." "Theft." "Fights." "Hospital."

"Acting out." "Scared." "I can help him."

"Pressing charges." "Needs discipline." "Out of your control." "Just a foster kid."

Barry chews on the inside of his cheek, biting it until he can taste blood. Iris is silent next to him, but he can feel her fear. Not his own. He's not afraid.

"A juvenile detention facility will just teach him a lesson that he needs to learn. It'll be better for him."

The hearing goes through. A couple hours of community service. It could be worse, Joe reasons. Barry doesn’t say anything.

Cleaning graffiti from windows is his punishment. Barry doesn’t entirely think that this is an eleven year old’s job, but apparently complaining about it will only make it worse. Not that he cares either way, but it at least gets him out of that house.

It’s working in silence mostly, the other kids scattered out in the vicinity, doing other jobs. The supervisor is around somewhere, but not close by, fortunately. It’s actually kinda boring. Right up until--

“Psst. Barry.”

He glances around for the source of the familiar voice, and he finds it. Iris’s head, peeking out of an alley on his left. He relaxes, starting to smile, then hesitates.

“What are you doing here, Iris?” he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested, and with real suspicion. A touch of bitterness. “Did your dad send you here to keep an eye on me?”

She looks hurt. “No. I told him I was going to Dinah’s house to study. I just wanted to see you. You’re always in your room.”

Barry softens, and he lets himself smile this time. Iris then glances at the graffiti-ed window and her face scrunches.

“That doesn’t look fun,” she notes. “At all.”

“Wanna give it a go?” he jokes.

Iris scoffs. “And do it all for you? I don’t think so.”

Barry rolls his eyes, but he laughs. A laugh bubble up out of her chest as well, and it makes his heart skip a beat. As if it’s a few months ago, when everything was good and fine. It feels so familiar.

Then his eyes dart off to the side and he catches sight of a group of boys making straight for him, and he knows he’s in for it. Especially since the leading boy has a black eye and bruised face, and his nose looks a little wrong in some way. And he looks pretty intent on revenge.

“Go,” Barry quickly tells Iris, who’s eyes are wide now that she’s spotted them, too. But she shakes her head. “Run, Iris,” he hisses. “Run. Please.”

She listens. He watches her take off out of the alley and down the street. The boys pay her no mind; she’s not the one they want. Unfortunately for him, he can’t even run away this time unless he wants more hours of service.

Barry swallows, but stays where he is, tilting his head up. A bad move, he decides, because suddenly the kid’s on him and he’s just given him access to land a blow on his jaw.

It hurts. A lot. It throws him enough that he doesn’t have time to react before the boy’s throwing another punch, straight to his stomach this time. It winds him and he doubles over. Then it’s punch after punch, the sharp kick of a shoe. He doesn’t try and fight back.

The numb pain is actually soothing. Like all of the turmoil, the anger that’s been boiling like a brewing storm thundering inside of him, it’s all draining out of him with each blow.

His head’s starting to feel like it’s detaching from the rest of him and sitting up high on a cloud when there’s a shout. For a moment, he thinks it’s just from one of the boys, probably mistaking a laugh.

“Get out of here unless you want me to show you how this pocket knife works,” an unfamiliar voice says, strangely calm, but low in a dangerous way. “Or I can just get my buddy to light you up. How do you like the sound of feeling your skin sizzling and peeling off your bones until you’re just a puddle of flesh?”

The blows stop coming. Barry faintly catches the sound of hurried footsteps, now running in the opposite direction. Someone actually scared them off, he thinks in disbelief. That’s a first.

He cracks his eyes open, and it feels like an effort for at least one of them. A boy comes into sight above him, standing over him. His expression matches his voice. Calm, but something dangerous in the cold, glinting eyes. Like ice.

But he reaches a hand out to him. Barry gingerly takes it, and finds himself faced with Iris appearing at the mystery boy’s side. She’s crying.

“Your girl ran into me, and she was a mess, so.” The boy waves a hand like it’s a good enough explanation for a question that wasn’t asked. He eyes him, then the window. “Ah. You’re the new kid, right?”

Barry’s eyebrows furrow, his attention divided between taking Iris’ hand to reassure her he’s okay. “Uh, new to...to...?”

“The legal system. Juvie.”

The boy raises an amused eyebrow at him. Barry’s finally able to register details about him and notices that he must be a couple of years older, maybe thirteen, fourteen. Probably why the boys ran off. That, and the good few inches he has on all of them, not to mention the threat of a pocket knife that Barry can’t help but glance at his pockets for any sign of now. Just in case.

Barry just stays quiet.

“Thank you for helping...” Iris steps up, raising her chin. She trails off pointedly.

The boy stares for a moment. His eyes that Barry are realizing aren’t just cold like ice, but are the colour of it as well, flick between them. Then a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Snart,” he answers her silent prompting. “First name’s Leonard, but call me that and I will shiv you. Don’t have to be in juvie to carry one on you.”

Iris’ hand tenses in Barry’s, and admittedly he’s a little intimidated. But then Iris laughs. He glances at her like she’s out of her mind, but the pain in his head must be getting to him, because a slight chuckle escapes him as well.

“Noted,” Barry says.

“Does that mean that people call you Leo?” Iris asks, and she’s teasing. She is teasing the older boy who just threatened a group of kids with a pocket knife and clearly knows his way around the legal system better than them. “Or is it just Snart?”

“No one calls me Leo,” he answers coolly, but there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I highly doubt I’ll be seeing either of you again. No need to be on an any name basis.”

He turns his stare back to Barry, and something about his expression tells him that his own face isn’t looking so good right now. He winces for him, actually looking almost sympathetic.

“Piece of advice for you, kid,” he says, “run away next time. Or find yourself someone to look out for you. That’s what I did, and I’m still alive.”

He then turns and walks away. Finally, he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, flipping a knife between his fingers like it’s a game.

Iris tugs on his hand, bringing his attention back to her concerned gaze, her hand gently reaching up to his face but not quite touching.

“Come on, we need to do something about this,” she says, and she makes him abandon his window in favour of finding the supervisor.

Barry’s community service is due to end, but apparently skipping out on doing it only lengthens the punishment. He’s sure that stealing a couple more things from a store probably didn’t help.

Breaking the rules of his community service, they say to Joe. Needs more extreme measures. Isn’t learning anything. Not enough discipline. Barry could already feel what was coming.

His community service doesn’t extend, but becomes a two-week sentence to a juvenile detention facility. Joe tried to fight that, too, but he seems wearier. More hopeless. Like he’s slowly realizing that nothing he’s doing is working on him.

And he hasn’t exactly been too happy about Iris hanging out with him when he’s skipping his hours. Or accepting half a stolen chocolate bar from him, waiting around the corner. Barry doesn’t see the problem. That doesn’t seem to help.

So, when the sentence is given, there isn’t as much of a fight. From Iris, there is, but Barry shrugs it off and says it’s fine. He’s only been at the facility a couple of hours, but it doesn’t feel so bad. There’s a room, and food.

And it’s boring.

Then, at last, he gets a sliver of hope that these two weeks aren’t going to be as dull and torturous as they seem. He spots Snart across the room, sat on a table, in conversation with a slightly taller, slightly older, even more intimidating boy.

It’s probably a huge risk to just approach someone in juvie, Barry thinks. So, he does exactly that. Walks right over to them, practically unnoticed by mostly everyone else as one of the smallest people in the facility.

“Hey,” Barry says when he reaches them.

Snart keeps talking, as if he hadn’t heard him. The older boy doesn’t show much acknowledgement either.

Barry considers tapping Snart to get his attention, then remembers the pocket knife, the threat, and just the overall general unspoken rule of not touching anyone in juvie if you want to keep your hands.

He tries again, addressing Snart this time. It works. Snart stops talking, his eyes sliding to him, sharp and like a cat’s narrowing. Recognition flickers in them.

“Beat it, pipsqueak,” the older boy next to him grunts out, menace flashing in his eyes. He doesn’t have the same cold glint, but it’s still harsh, but more blazing, like burning flames rather than ice.

“Well, well,” Snart says, ignoring his friend’s comment. That same slow smile is curving his mouth as he seizes Barry up with subtle disbelief. “Proved me wrong. Tell me you and that girl didn’t get yourself thrown in here for fun.”

Barry chuckles, but shakes his head. “No."

“You know this kid?” his friend asks in confusion.

Snart shrugs, a tilt of his head. “Stopped a couple of kids from killing him during community service a few weeks ago.” He turns his head, smirking at his friend. “Sound familiar, Mickey?”

His friend grunts again, clearly displeased. “It’s Mick. I’ve told you to cut that out or I’ll shiv you myself, Lenny,” he shoots back, and Snart glares.

Mick then looks back at Barry. He doesn’t seem any more eager to have him standing there, but he doesn’t protest as much anymore.

“What’d you do, kid?” he asks. “Set something on fire? Rob a bank?”

“I’m eleven,” Barry says in confusion. “How would I rob a bank?”

Mick shrugs. “Easy. Just--”

“Just, answer the question,” Snart cuts him off, tone somewhat gentle, but sending an exasperated look Mick’s way. He turns back to Barry. “What’d you do?”

“Just stole some stuff,” Barry says flippantly, brushing it off. He pauses. “And... I sort of vandalised a cop car.”

Both of them light up, interested. Mick laughs, and Snart looks fairly impressed.

“All right,” he says, nodding, then throws a glance around, “and, uh, your girl?”

“Iris isn’t here. Just me.”

Barry can’t help but notice the flicker in Snart’s expression when he mentions Iris’ absence, almost as if he’s disappointed.

“Does just me have a name or am I gonna have to keep calling you pipsqueak?” Mick asks.

“Oh, it’s Barry,” he answers.

Mick’s eyebrows draw together. “That short for something?”

He’s clearly asking for a reason. One that Barry is not going to give him to him considering the nicknames he’s sure he probably already uses on Snart.

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “Just Barry.”

The answer’s accepted without question.

“Alright then,” Mick says. “I’m Mick, and that’s Len. Though, personally, I recommend you call him Leonard. He loves it.”

“You do remember that you have to share a room with me, right?” Snart asks him, the implications clearly there. “You really want to be pushing that one knowing that?”

Mick glares, looking like he very much wants to. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips together and breathes a sigh out through his nose, but says nothing else on the matter. A wise decision by the sounds of it.

“Okay,” Barry says, grinning. “Got it. Guess we’re on an any-name basis, then.”

Snart--or Len, Barry decides--catches his eyes with a knowing look. He’s smiling, almost secretive about it. Then he’s rolling his eyes but motioning for Barry to join him on the otherwise empty table. He does, and Mick starts talking again about something or other. Juvie could be worse, Barry decides.

Visitation isn’t like it is in the proper prison. Instead of being separated by panels of glass and having to talk through a phone, there’s a room filled with soft chairs and two-seated couches in four rows with a table in between each seat.

Barry sits across from Joe and Iris. Joe keeps looking around like he’s unsure about something, questioning, searching. Barry just focuses on Iris the entire time. They talk, they laugh, it’s surprisingly nice. Then again, every moment with Iris is usually.

When Joe excuses himself for just a second to go and talk to one of the guards, or whatever reason he gives that Barry doesn’t listen to, he feels someone drop down beside him on the couch. Iris’ eyes widen.

“Was wondering when we’d finally meet again,” Len says.

Barry rolls his eyes, but turns to him, shoving his arm. “You’re not allowed to be here. Isn’t Lisa missing you over there?”

“She’s talking to Mick,” Len says, as if that’s practically the same thing.

“Wait, you’re in here, too?” Iris blurts out, over her inital shock already. She then aims a light kick at Barry’s foot beneath the table. “You didn’t mention him!”

Barry starts to open his mouth, but Len’s beating him to it, feigning a gasp.

“You didn’t mention me yet?” he asks. “I’m hurt, Barry, truly.”

“I haven’t had a chance!” Barry says in his defence, and quickly waves a hand between the two of them. “Iris, this is Len, Len, this is Iris. There. Happy?”

Iris quirks an eyebrow as Len suppresses an amused smirk.

“So dramatic,” Len jokes, addressing Iris with a shake of his head.

She nods back, her laughter kept in her mouth, even as she says, “He always has been. I don’t think he can help it, but I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s now one of the reasons I love him.”

Barry’s heart jumps. Love. It means a lot of different things, he reasons, but his heart still grows and beats a little stronger when he catches her eyes and she smiles that cute, happy little smile at him.

“Yeah, I can see why,” Len agrees softly. Then, when Barry looks at him in surprise, he rolls his eyes and gives his knee a nudge with his foot. “Though you’ve been a real pain since you got here. Honestly, can you go one day without getting in trouble?”

Barry grins. “But where would the fun in that be?”

“All right, I’ve been leaving you with Mick for too long, you’re gonna start setting fire to things soon.” Len turns to Iris. “Would you be willing to commit a minor offense to get thrown in here and take him off my hands? I’m going to go crazy.”

Iris laughs now and she shakes her head. “Sorry, boys, but I plan on staying out of here if possible. I’m not so easy to corrupt.”

Len’s eyes narrow, but the smile stays on his face. Sly, secretive, curious.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Or maybe you just need to see that there’s fun to be had in a little corruption. It’s not all bad.”

“You’re in juvie,” Iris says blankly, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms around them, one on the back of the couch, Len replies, “And it’s not so bad. We’re having fun, aren’t we? I’m just saying.”

“Do not get yourself thrown in here,” Barry says to her, laughing. “This is enough. Seriously. I’ll be out before you know it.”

Joe starts to come back over, and Len makes his exit. He only lingers long enough to wave a goodbye to Iris with a wink and promise Barry he’ll see him later before he hops back over the couches, settling back down beside Mick across from a girl about the same age as Barry and Iris, and an old man.

So, Barry was a little bit off when he said he would be out in no time. He accidentally gets into a fight, and his sentence is lengthened by a couple more weeks. And it kind of just keeps happening. It’s not intentional, obviously. But he will admit that juvie isn’t all that bad. He has Len, and even Mick.

Time just passes. It doesn’t even really feel like it’s been a year and a half. But it has. And as the months have gone on, Joe’s grown more reluctant to let Iris visit. He says it’s affecting her. Making her distant and constantly worried about him, finding it hard to concentrate in school. Acting out.

Of course, he says none of it to Barry’s face, but he overhears him saying it to his probation officer. When asked why he thought it was better if she visited less when it clearly makes both of them happy. But Joe’s firm. He stops Iris from coming. So, Barry eventually refuses to see him, too.

He’s a little more miserable, to be honest. But Len’s there, cheering him up, at least. Mick’s... well, Mick.

But Barry’s probation officer talked to him a couple of weeks ago, bringing a little bit of news. Bad in their eyes, of course, but very good in his.

He’s not allowed to see Iris the day she’s brought in, letting her get settled into her room first. Just down the hall from him. Apparently juvie in Central City doesn’t care about separation.

But the next day, when they’re forced to go to class, he finally sees her and takes the seat right next to her. She lights up right away.

“Really, Iris?” he asks jokingly. “I know you missed me, but Len was kidding when he said you should join us.”

“No I wasn’t,” Len says from the seat behind him with a grin, shaking his head.

Iris smiles. Something that people wouldn’t expect from someone on their first day in a juvenile detention facility.

She shrugs. “What can I say? You made it sound fun.”

“What did you even do?” Barry asks, leaning across in his seat. He catches Len doing the same, shifting just a little, his curiosity obviously piqued as well.

“I was just skipping too many days of school...” she says, fiddling idly with a pen, “...stealing too much from the same store...but in my defence...I missed the chocolate you kept stealing for me, and it’s really not as much fun without you.”

Barry grins. “So, what you’re saying is, you missed me.”

“Maybe,” she says, rolling her eyes. She then points a thumb back at Len, adding, “But it’s his fault, too. If he hadn’t interrupted every one of our visits just to tell me what you guys have been up to, I wouldn’t have felt like I missing out. Or like I should be rescuing one of your from the other. Still haven’t decided which one needs it more.”

Barry scoffs, but Len’s smirking, a happy glint in his eyes. It’s a rare sight, one that Barry sees now and again. It’s how imagines he must look when he gets that heart-skipping feeling around Iris.

“Definitely me,” Len drawls. “I’m going out of my mind, Iris. Mick’ll agree with me, won’t you, Mickey?”

Mick groans from two seats in front of Iris, turning to look back at them over the empty one between them. “Stop dragging me into this. I’m tired. And I don’t care. Kill each other, please.”

Iris raises her eyebrows and looks at the two of them. But they both laugh and just wave it off as Mick slumps in his seat, his arms crossing.

“You’ll get used to him, if you stay long enough,” Len says. “He grows on you. Eventually. As do I.”

“Eh, he’s alright,” Barry says when Iris looks just at him.

“Rude.”

Barry leans back in his seat, grinning at him upside down.

“Kidding.”

Len’s eyes narrow. Barry had once thought they looked like cold, harsh ice. Dangerous and terrifying. They still kind of do, as does Len in general. But it’s like a softer ice now, in the middle of melting but not quite there. But slowly getting there.

“So, Iris,” Len turns back to her, a mischievous look replacing the feigned glare, “tell me, do you like heists? Because, you definitely need to for this to work. Barry, Mick, and I are already planning our future for once we get out of here, and there are many heists involved. Are you in?”

“So much for subtle,” Mick mutters. Len ignores.

Barry shrugs helplessly when Iris shoots him a questioning, almost disbelievingly amused look. They’ve talked about a couple of heists. Jokes. Maybe. The ideas aren’t so bad, and at this point, Barry isn’t sure what his future’s looking like. Maybe bank robber is his destiny. Hell, maybe they could break into Iron Heights and get his dad out.

A genuinely thoughtful look crosses Iris’ face as she hums in consideration.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admits. “How high are our chances of being caught? Because, my dad’s a cop, and I really don’t think it would be good if he caught us.”

“Not to worry about that,” Len says. “I always have a plan.”

Iris takes another moment, pausing. “All right. If it’s a good enough plan, and if Barry’s in, then sure.”

“I’m in,” Barry says, grinning. “Let’s rob a bank.”

“Why does stealing from the CCPD seem like our dumbest idea yet?” Barry whispers, but he keeps walking, careful not to make a noise in the deserted hallway.

He glances at his watch. Seven minutes left. He can make it in and out in seven minutes. As long as he’s fast. He can do fast.

“It’ll be fine,” Len assures him through the comms, his voice that soothing calm. “Just get to the lab. You remember where it is, right?”

“Yeah.” Barry turns the corner and spots the big sliding doors. “Right here. Okay, so, I go in and--”

“And you find the evidence,” Iris finishes for him, confirming. “They can’t afford to pull any of our fingerprints, or hair, or just any DNA off of it. Grab whatever they have on us, then get the hell out. My dad’s going to be there in six minutes, forty-three seconds.”

“Okay. Got it.”

Barry reaches up, flipping the little switch on the side of his goggles. Everything quickly turns shades of blue and orange and yellow. No red. No human heat signatures nearby, and none in the lab.

He slides the door open and walks in, flipping the switch back. Setting the gun in his hand down on the nearest surface, he quickly looks around the lab. It’s immaculate, not a thing out of place.

“Thank you, Mr. Albert,” he mutters under his breath. Makes his life a hell of a lot easier if he’s not having to rifle through a mess of papers and other pieces of evidence.

Instead, it only takes him thirteen seconds to locate exactly what he’s looking for, and another sixteen to carefully pull the evidence from the machine mid-test. Thirty-two to find the file, swipe it, and stuff it in his bag, which he keeps away from all surfaces. Eleven to grab the two other items of evidence they have against them, and then twenty-four to delete the digital file and the half-run tests. Not a single thing left to indicate there was even a case in the first place.

Stepping back, he closes up his bag, grabs his gun, then makes back for the door. “Okay, we’re all good here.”

“Wait, Barry, see if you can find the evidence from the Laurdon case as well,” Iris says.

“Good idea,” he says, quickly recalling their uncertainty over whether or not they had accidentally dropped something at the scene.

He backtracks, heading back over to the case files. There’s a flash of light from the corner of his eye and he glances over at the windows. Probably just lightning, he reasons, or some part of the launch tonight. The particle accelerator finally being turned on gave them the perfect opportunity to clear their tracks since nearly everyone is over at S.T.A.R. Labs to watch it.

Finding the file, he flips through it. One bit of evidence, still being processed.

Barry sets the file back and quickly moves over to the shelves. It said something about a chemical test that he remembers trying out a good few years ago. It’s just a matter of finding the right one.

Fortunately, it’s not so hard. He grins, triumphant as he spots the beaker up on the second highest shelf, filled with a red liquid and a tiny strip of fabric.

He reaches for it when there’s another flash outside, brighter this time. For a brief moment when he looks back at the windows, he thinks he was right in it being a storm. But then he takes in what he’s seeing. The lightning isn’t coming from the sky. It is, but it’s like it’s being controlled by some beam shooting up into the sky right from S.T.A.R. Labs.

Confused, he takes a step towards the window, then falters, glancing back at the shelf. The air feels like it’s filled with static. That’s not a good sign.

“Barry?” Iris’ voice asks.

He’s going to respond. But his eyes fix back on S.T.A.R. Labs just as something happens. He can’t even explain what; a surge of powers, but accompanied by a bright light, shooting out from the building and sweeping all over the city. Coming straight towards him.

His eyes widen, but when it hits, he just feels the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. The lights go out. Every light, not a single dot within the whole expanse of Central City.

“Barry? What the hell was that?” Iris asks, alarm in her voice now. They felt it, too.

“Barry,” Len says sharply. “Answer.”

“I--I don’t know,” Barry says. “Something must have gone wrong with the particle accelerator, I think. There was like this power surge, and lightning, and--”

Thunder rumbles overhead. Right above him, actually. Far too close to be safe, especially when he still feels like he’s just stuck a knife in a toaster.

“I’m leaving,” he says.

He moves to make good on that, but stops short at rain pouring into the room. His eyes flick up and find a hatch in the roof. Open, of course. CCPD really has some geniuses on its payroll.

Ignoring it, he moves to head for the doors. But as soon as he steps beneath the hatch, he can feel the shift in the air. The dread and panic already creeping up his spine, latching its claws into his shoulder. The taste of something metallic fills his mouth.

He barely has time to lift his eyes back to the sky to see the bolt of lightning come straight down. It strikes him, and he’s aware, somewhere, of his body being thrown across the room by it. Of his back hitting something hard and metal, of things crashing down around him, and a burning beneath his skin and on it, like acid seeping through into his veins while he’s set alight.

Speeding straight through the doors, Barry then skids to a halt and quickly slides it shut. When he turns around, he’s met with raised eyebrows and pointed looks that he’s all too familiar with.

“Damn it,” he groans, feeling the burn in his shoulder now.

He whips his shirt off, throwing it to the stone floor to stamp the flames out.

“He’ll learn eventually,” Len says wryly, voice coated in sarcasm.

Iris grins from her comfortable position in his lap, legs stretched out across the couch. “It’s been a year.”

Barry groans again, saying, “It’s hard, all right? You don’t know, it’s easy to forget that I can just--accidentally set myself on fire because I ran too fast!”

“I’ve accidentally set myself on fire,” Mick says, and Barry nearly startles, finding him sitting at a table in the corner of the room, drinking a beer. “Wasn’t pretty.”

The room falls silent at that. Barry just looks over at Len and Iris, and they all have a similar thought process of just let it be. It’s Mick. They’ve been used to it since juvie.

“Alright then,” Barry mutters. Then, clearing his throat and in a more audible voice, says, “But anyway. Thought you’d like to know that I got it.”

Iris’ eyes widen, and she perks up, head lifting. Len’s expression isn’t quite as expressive; it never is, but Barry can see the glimmer in his eyes, the spark that comes alive.

“You got it?” Iris asks. “As in, it?”

Barry grins and produces the little leather pouch from his pocket. He holds it up and now they’re definitely both brimming with excitement and amazement, all knowing what’s inside. Even Mick is eyeing it with interest.

“I got it,” Barry says again. He shrugs. “Perks of being a speedster, I guess. Some geniuses they are. S.T.A.R. Labs didn’t even have any alarms in place. I went straight in by them and straight back out with it.”

He crosses over to them and tosses the pouch for Iris to catch, which she does with both hands perfectly. In return, she briefly moves her legs to let him drop onto the couch before she throws them back over his lap.

“Does it work?” Len asks, glancing at him.

Iris is already pulling the strings to open it and tipping it upside down. A triangular device tumbles onto into her lap.

“Don’t know.” Barry shrugs, spreading his arm over the top of the couch. “I haven’t tried it out. I was obviously waiting to get back here to you guys for that.”

Len smiles a little. Then all eyes are back on the device, now between Iris’ fingers as she turns it over slowly, careful. It’s grey and blue and definitely looks like what he was expecting. If he was to build one, it would pretty much be the same.

“If this works, you realize we can go anywhere we want now, right?” Iris says, voice as full of excitement as she seems, looking at the two of them. “Any planet. A different universe, even.”

“So many banks to rob, so many heists,” Len says dreamily, almost mocking.

She shoots him a look and presses her lips together in a smile. “Seriously, though. If this extrapolator is the real deal...”

“Would be pretty cool,” Barry agrees. “So. Let’s test it out.”

Iris holds it out, aiming at the empty space in front of the couch. She hits the centre with her thumb, and it shoots out a small beam of light that quickly expands, becoming a huge glowing blue circle in the middle of the room.

They all stare in awe, even Mick, his mouth hanging open with his beer halfway to it. Barry breathes out in disbelief, then shakes his head and turns to Iris and Len.

“The universe awaits then, I suppose.”

#the flash #barry allen #iris west #leonard snart #coldwestallen #barry x iris x snart #theflashedit #moodboard #aesthetic #fanfiction #the flash au #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedit*#OKAY SO UM #I GOT A BIT OUT OF HAND #SOMEONE SHOULD DEFINTIELY HAVE STOPPED ME #wonderdoves

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Joe & Ronnie

Joe: Hi Joe: There's no gentle way of doing this, so I'll just get to it, I'm sorry if you don't want to talk about it but you're free to ignore this if that's the case Joe: but I've been looking for my half-sister, and I think its you Ronnie: if youre basing that on a family resemblance youve shot yourself in the face like Ronnie: reload & keep looking Joe: Yeah, I know Joe: but I ain't Joe: Aside from coming at you with what's on any facebook profile anyway Joe: do you know your biological mum's name or? Ronnie: whos used facebook in a decade thats your 1st fuck up Ronnie: 2nd to reckoning my dna is any of your business Joe: who's putting their date of birth and hometown anywhere else? Joe: you were born in [hospital] right? Ronnie: phone numbers on toilet walls getting played out Ronnie: yeah & Joe: then it is you Joe: everything adds up, you have the right birthday, right place, right last name, and first, still Ronnie: right colour Ronnie: miss me with your schoolboy maths Joe: its your bio dad that's black Ronnie: fuck you i know that Ronnie: read my file well before you stalked me Joe: so do you know her name or nah Ronnie: it was in there Joe: Tess Vickers Joe: she is your mum Ronnie: i came out of her Ronnie: shes not my fucking mum Ronnie: id know you if she was Joe: 'course Joe: that's what I meant Ronnie: pick your words more careful soft lad Joe: she don't have any more Joe: I ain't had to do this before, like Ronnie: made up for her Ronnie: & you Ronnie: only took her how many years to claim her bastards Joe: I don't know why she didn't, only what she's said Joe: but if you wanted to ask her, I could set that up Ronnie: if it took her a bit to recover from goin black i don't need to ask her about that Ronnie: got my own experiences cheers Joe: is there anything you do Ronnie: if i had any questions id have chucked 'em at her when i aged out Joe: fair enough Joe: you wanna ask me anything then Ronnie: you old enough to be cleaning out your mas skeletons & seein if theyll dance for you Joe: not what I'm doing Joe: but I'm 19 Ronnie: course she never kept herself stitched up for long Ronnie: got a taste for it like Joe: by all accounts she met my dad the same year she had to give you up so Ronnie: bet he was proper comforting Ronnie: fucking hell Joe: Must've been Ronnie: if she kept you longer than the hour yeah Joe: I've got 3 brothers and a sister too Ronnie: when did she meet their dads Joe: we've got the same, like Joe: youngest is nearly 5 Ronnie: shes still alive then Ronnie: impressive Joe: is it? Joe: suppose so Ronnie: he got cash your sperm donor Ronnie: less dangerous game that one Joe: they both do alright now but you'd probably aim higher if that was the game you were playing Ronnie: shifting gear aint no game now or back then Ronnie: but she was small time Ronnie: that hand to mouth shit Joe: yeah, for years Joe: her dad's debts not helping none Ronnie: hes gotta be dead Joe: yeah Joe: year I was born Joe: so new mouth to feed and inheriting the neverending debts of John Joe: must've seemed like a great time to have more 'cos my brother is only a year younger than me 👍 Ronnie: least you aint inherited his name Ronnie: like i said insatiable Joe: thank fuck Ronnie: piss poor addiction but fuck it Ronnie: shes keeping 'em fed & clothed this time 👏 Joe: gutted social don't hand out round of applauses no doubt Joe: know she is for a fact 'cos she ended up working for 'em, and fostering two poor kiddies in need Joe: what do you reckon to her addiction now? Ronnie: sounds about right theyd left her Ronnie: state of the cunts running that show Joe: mhmm Ronnie: white kids are easier to love Ronnie: its on the posters like Joe: in theory Joe: but this way she gets to be obsessed with you from afar Ronnie: pay me enough & ill come press my face longingly against her windows Joe: I'll keep it in mind for her birthday or something Ronnie: fuck all else you wanna rock my world with or what Joe: Hmm Joe: hold up whilst I trawl a lifetime of overshare for any more tidbits Ronnie: she aint rotting by the roadside or ashes i can snort means my hearts already broken Ronnie: take your time Joe: sorry to disappoint Joe: suppose by the time you got to your file, it told you she'd run away from Liverpool, yeah? Ronnie: bullshit are you Ronnie: youre loving having another cunt to share it with Ronnie: whats the matter dont your brothers & sister wanna play Joe: I'm the favourite Joe: favourite that's about Joe: they got the gist but no file for them Ronnie: 💔 Joe: you said Joe: so, what you saying, you care if I tell her I found you or what? Ronnie: if it feels good do it baby Ronnie: why would i care Ronnie: shes not gonna show up Joe: what if she did? Ronnie: no fixed address Joe: I've told you she loves a cause Joe: say you don't wanna see her Ronnie: shooting the messenger aint no kill shot Ronnie: youre not invested in me Joe: I'm not not, clearly Joe: I'm the one looking, ain't I Ronnie: let her look under every rock with you Ronnie: i hope one bashes her skull in Joe: alright Joe: I'll pass it on Ronnie: good boy Ronnie: get that sticker on your reward chart Joe: god I hope so Ronnie: 🙏 Joe: Your profile says you're in London, still true? Ronnie: i don't need you at my door either Joe: 🙄 Ronnie: roll your eyes at me again Joe: 🙄🙄 Ronnie: 🖕🖕 Joe: 😏 Ronnie: what the fuck do you want Joe: I've told you Ronnie: nah Ronnie: spit it out Ronnie: youre circling around it stop being a pussy Joe: how am I? Ronnie: what do you want for fucks sake Joe: meet you Ronnie: its not happening Joe: why not Ronnie: i hate that you exist Ronnie: that she got a 2nd chance & i didnt get 1 Joe: that's fair Joe: you can hate me in person Ronnie: i aint goin to prison for killing you Ronnie: you wish Joe: yeah Joe: oh well Ronnie: take your death wish home Ronnie: or on a different part of the internet Joe: awh, cheers for the sisterly advice Ronnie: shut your mouth Ronnie: i ain't your sister Joe: kk Ronnie: dumping all your bullshit on me dont make us related Joe: we are Joe: you not wanting it don't fight biology Ronnie: her not wanting me cancels it all out Joe: not to me Ronnie: i give a shit how you feel Ronnie: youre a stranger with fuck all i want Joe: you ain't checked what I've got Ronnie: until facebook adds income i dont care Joe: 💔 Ronnie: you must look like your da Ronnie: dont be Joe: well you look like her Joe: not that I've seen yours Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: i dont Joe: yeah you do Joe: [sends pics] Ronnie: shut up Joe: alright Joe: catch you around then Ronnie: get it through your head Ronnie: you wont Joe: what you scared for Ronnie: youre having fun trying to mess me up Ronnie: that aint how i get mine Joe: I'm seriously not Joe: I've got the message though, alright Ronnie: youre seriously throwing all this shit at me like im gonna smile as i eat it Ronnie: what the fuck Joe: I don't expect fuck all Joe: I just wanna know you but if you don't then that's alright Joe: I won't message again Ronnie: bullshit Ronnie: you aint asked about me Ronnie: you wanna bitch about 'em Joe: that's why I wanna meet you Joe: I've thrown enough questions at you for one convo Ronnie: nah you wanna meet me to see if i proper look like her Joe: I've got eyes Ronnie: if thats what you reckon you see they dont fucking work Ronnie: get down the social & claim Joe: you're fine, its not dead ringer levels Ronnie: im fucking fine cause theres none of her in me Joe: I'm glad for you Ronnie: were not family save your lies Ronnie: i dont need any blows softened Joe: its only me bitching Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: & you can save your tears Ronnie: you already cant see fuck all like Joe: what do you want? Ronnie: too late to give a fuck Ronnie: youve shit over me with this Joe: I'm sorry Ronnie: nah Ronnie: sorry for yourself aint the same Joe: Why would I be sorry for me? Joe: I got everything Ronnie: not how youre framing it Joe: why would you believe me Ronnie: not hard to believe mummy dearest loves me best Ronnie: not like she dumped me fast as she could & legged it Joe: she weren't allowed to keep you, she was 14 with a junkie non-dad to look after you both Ronnie: & what she didnt get any older or get her shit together Ronnie: fuck that Joe: did you want her to come 'round and pick you up 4 years later? Ronnie: she had you cunts instead Joe: so she comes and gets you and the social come with and see the fake bailiffs and the bashed in door and we all go back with you Joe: I see the appeal Ronnie: you reckon i had it better Ronnie: thats what this nancy drew bullshit is about Joe: nice one, genius Joe: in what world is that adding up Ronnie: yours Ronnie: in what world would i have not gone with any cunt to get me out of that place then Joe: I'm telling you why she didn't get you, not telling you why you wouldn't wanna be there Ronnie: youre giving me both Ronnie: cant help yourself Joe: they're the same reason Joe: if she tried to get you, they'd say nah 'cos her life was a mess, simple as Ronnie: & yet here you are Ronnie: not a care kid a single day in your fucking life Ronnie: so like i said she got her shit together in the end Joe: she was 18 when I came around and we got taught how to say the right thing to socials and how to shut our mouths the rest Joe: but that's just what she told me Joe: she probably didn't want you, looking back Ronnie: why would she Ronnie: had a new set up with a cunt that stayed Ronnie: cuter kids Joe: 'cos she loved your da the way only a 14 year old girl can Joe: pro and a con in your favour Joe: does she want the reminders or does she not Ronnie: not Ronnie: youre the only pussy walking memory lane Ronnie: aint her looking Joe: yeah, s'me, so why you chatting at me like I'm the one that fucked you off Joe: not productive Ronnie: cause you are Joe: I've gone to leave loads now Joe: you've clearly got shit to say Joe: so just say it at me, I've already offered that n'all Ronnie: fuck you Ronnie: i didnt ask for this Ronnie: she was in the ground for all i knew Joe: she still can be Joe: I ain't telling Ronnie: nah you opened your gob & let all that shite out Ronnie: i couldve been about to slit my throat or pull a shift Joe: you could've easily found out she weren't dead yourself too Ronnie: what should it tell you that i didnt Joe: ignorance ain't such bliss I've tipped you over the edge Ronnie: you dont know shit Ronnie: how does yours feel Joe: how do you think Ronnie: i think you should ask if people have got time & space to spin out before you fuck with their heads Ronnie: i think you should go suck a dick mckenna Joe: why should I? Joe: no one asked me and I owe you shit Ronnie: she owes me Ronnie: youre nothing Ronnie: you dont see me knocking cause im not looking for answers & theres fuck all else to collect by the sounds of it Joe: then fucking collect Ronnie: talk to your ma like that Joe: hit me up when you stop being scared Ronnie: keep it up and ill smash in your face Joe: how Joe: you don't wanna meet Ronnie: dont flatter yourself nancy drew Ronnie: i can still kick your door in Ronnie: be like the baliffs are back Ronnie: you can revisit your childhood Joe: now who wants to go for a jaunt down memory lane Ronnie: you wish Joe: 🙏 Ronnie: i reckon your imaginary friends gotta be sick of your bullshit by now Joe: no doubt, nancy drew Ronnie: we cant both be nancy Joe: alright you be sid then Ronnie: still not gonna kill you baby Ronnie: but youre getting warmer Joe: I know, stalked you, remember Ronnie: get a hobby or habit mckenna Ronnie: your little misery boners aint cute Joe: oh I got plenty of thoses Joe: your concern is, kinda Ronnie: youve thrown me into the big sister deep end Ronnie: sounds like how you want it Joe: very obliging Ronnie: unloved kids get it where they can Ronnie: thats on the back of the poster Joe: trust, I know Ronnie: 💔 Joe: not me Joe: never mind, not my sob story to hit you with Ronnie: you only wanna share yours Joe: maybe when we get cosy I'll divulge all the family secrets, sis Ronnie: maybe if you chat shit like that to me again ill choke on my puke Joe: n'awh Ronnie: kill yourself Joe: sure thing Ronnie: very obliging Joe: it was already in the diary tbh Joe: but I'll pop you in the note if that makes you feel 💘 Ronnie: show me yours & ill show you mine Joe: deal Ronnie: 💘 Ronnie: [skippity skip] Ronnie: pick me up Joe: where from Ronnie: [location that's sketchy as all hell] Joe: alright Joe: that should take me 'bout half an hour this time of day Ronnie: im not goin anywhere mckenna Joe: you alright Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: got it Joe: 🚖 📵 Ronnie: important for you to know your place Joe: must be popular with the cabbies 👑 Ronnie: yeah im on a ban Ronnie: look out for my picture hanging Joe: what did you do Joe: vom and not pay the fine one too many times? Ronnie: we taking another trip down memory lane Ronnie: i aint 12 Joe: go on then, what was it Ronnie: the cunt crashed its fuck all to get excited about Joe: did you get hurt? Ronnie: didnt feel it Joe: what about the driver Ronnie: i reckon he felt it Joe: fucked you're stuck with the tube then Joe: 💔 Ronnie: cheers motherfucker Ronnie: cant you drive Joe: 'course I can Joe: where'd your license go, got a story for that and all or? Ronnie: car theft would be a dead good sibling bonding activity Ronnie: but i dont need your help to break a window Joe: another time Ronnie: nah Ronnie: next time some other cunt will pick me up Joe: good thing I didn't specify Joe: tah for keeping me well in the loop of your schedule though Ronnie: other shit in the diary besides blowing my brains out Ronnie: can move it up if you aint gonna shut up Joe: 🤐 Joe: you can keep all your dates Ronnie: made up i am Joe: no need to say thanks, I feel it Ronnie: you wanted to meet up Ronnie: wish granted Joe: I know Joe: reckon blue would suit Ronnie: what Joe: genie Joe: you owe me 2 more, yeah? Ronnie: rubbing me up the wrong way dont count Joe: damn Ronnie: i can do black & blue Joe: changed your mind then Joe: my 🍀 day Ronnie: you got the accent Ronnie: my head cant do subtitles Joe: not really Joe: not proper Joe: some of my younger ones do but they can barely remember Liverpool Ronnie: nothing to be 💔 about Ronnie: its a shithole Joe: least its a shithole with some history Joe: we moved to a newbuild shithole so Joe: win some lose some Ronnie: your boner for history aint that big Joe: you checked what I'm studying? 😏 Ronnie: you dont post about fuck all else Joe: I'm barely outta freshers let me have it Ronnie: dont give me the flu Joe: thought that was just a euphemism Joe: either way, on my life Ronnie: fuck knows Joe: not as much fun as people chat, shockingly Ronnie: what is Ronnie: the shit that feels good is the shit youre meant to keep your mouth shut about Joe: hear hear Ronnie: 💘 Joe: 💘 Joe: you live there or am I picking you up from a mates Ronnie: neither Joe: alright Ronnie: drop me on the other side Joe: no problem Ronnie: then you can go back to wanking over symphonies Joe: you wanna help me with my homework Joe: so nice Ronnie: what are big sisters for Joe: yeah Ronnie: shits fucked up Joe: right Joe: but you can be more specific Ronnie: nah i cant Joe: don't know where to start? Ronnie: it starts with being born Joe: okay, so the starts the easy bit Joe: the middle Joe: we don't have time Ronnie: we aint gonna trauma bond mckenna youve been beaten to it Joe: ah you got a troubled boyfriend Joe: that's cool Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: you heard me say i aint 12 Joe: you know what I mean Ronnie: not very nancy drew if you reckon im that bitch Joe: we can't both be sid Ronnie: touche baby Joe: 💘 Ronnie: im gonna carve up this cunt if you dont pull me out Ronnie: & thatll make him feel too special Joe: who? Joe: I'm nearly there Ronnie: my not boyfriend Ronnie: dont waste romance like that on strangers Joe: sensible Joe: just carve anything but 💘 and he shouldn't get too clingy Ronnie: whats the symphony that gets you off fastest Ronnie: ill do that Joe: Khachaturian's Sabre Dance works as a play on words and should get him to crescendo 👌 Ronnie: hot Joe: orchestra nerds get all the bitches Ronnie: yeah Joe: you aren't a catfish, are you Joe: I mean, I'll recognize you Ronnie: look for your mas face Joe: fuck it, therapy overdue anyway Ronnie: fuck you for saying that Ronnie: making it go round my head Joe: I shouldn't have said that Ronnie: i should stab you Ronnie: all these pieces of mirror Ronnie: fuck him Joe: you can, long as you keep it shallow, or don't mind swinging by the hospital Ronnie: i dont get my kicks at a&e Joe: you'll have to play nice then Ronnie: youll get too clingy Joe: avoid the 💘 Ronnie: some other bitch can have the honours Joe: or has Joe: don't I seem 💔 Ronnie: dont need to hear how you lost your virginity mckenna Joe: noted Joe: save that trip down memory lane for private time Joe: me and mozart Ronnie: explains a shit ton if the conductor is molesting you Ronnie: but not gonna be the sister who tells him where to put that stick he waves about Joe: Mozart was pretty fucked up but I don't reckon it went that far Ronnie: i dont know him 💔 Ronnie: there was a Moz here earlier fuck knows if theyre any relation Joe: You're more a Liszt type, called it Ronnie: what the fuck kind of fuck you is that Joe: 😂 Joe: actually he's considered the world's first rock star, I was being nice Ronnie: shut up Joe: what, you ain't seen the ken russell film with daltrey in? Joe: have a word Ronnie: get a life Joe: tomorrow Joe: maybe Ronnie: i cant fucking believe it had to be you Ronnie: thank fuck i already aint showing my face here again Joe: thought you said you weren't 12 Joe: but I don't need to come in if you don't wanna be embarrassed in front of your mates Ronnie: i said my mates aint here Joe: no need to tell me why you're there Ronnie: where the fuck are you Joe: just got out, 5 minutes Ronnie: i need to get out Ronnie: move it like Joe: alright Joe: come find me then, make it go faster Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: what's wrong Ronnie: if my body would do what it was told i wouldnt need you Ronnie: cant even paint you a fucking picture Joe: right Ronnie: theres a shit load of stairs yeah Ronnie: i cant do 'em Joe: if you're fat I swear to god Ronnie: calm your tits nancy drew Ronnie: you know thats bullshit Joe: I'll trust you ain't catfishing then Ronnie: thats my next tat Ronnie: all for you baby Joe: sweet Ronnie: hurry up Joe: I am Joe: [show up boy] Ronnie: [when you're just there like damsel in distress which ain't you so it makes it more awks] Joe: [what a first meeting just having to carry her away from god knows where like] Ronnie: [just like we don't know each other but just carry me to your vehicle thanks] Joe: [just doing it silently like this is normal] Ronnie: [since I cant find a pic she should go get that tattoo now just casually drag him along] Joe: [once you get the use of your limbs back lol] Ronnie: [lbr its blatantly someone sketchy she knows the state of them all] Joe: [god bless] Ronnie: [when I know its gotta go on her face somewhere cos #triggered by looking like Tess and I'm just screaming like NOOO] Joe: [my boo is horrified and Joe too] Ronnie: [soz you're so cute bitch and you wanna look so ugly] Joe: [lowkey dread to think how annoying the heal time is on a face tat] Ronnie: [blasting that orchestra bop he mentioned earlier as loud as poss cos yeah you searched for it and yeah you don't wanna hear your thoughts or have a convo] Joe: [when you don't run like you should 'cos you too are a crazy person] Ronnie: [match made in heaven lol] Joe: [🔥😈] Ronnie: [does he have any tattoos I have forgotten] Joe: [Oh, I don't think so??? but he probably would in a self-destructive manner too, as long as they could be hidden like his self-harm like go ahead] Ronnie: [just thinking get one now if you want boy #bonding] Joe: [yolo] Ronnie: [ooh what should it be] Joe: [the real question, hmm] Ronnie: [perfect excuse to be staring at each other while that's happening though cos you can't be moving all about] Joe: [but of course] Ronnie: [Joe can move around more cos not on his fucking head but] Joe: [probably get a cherry or something for the lols] Ronnie: [love that for you Joseph]

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