sniper, brother, all around free form runner

...but an occasional do-gooderred 🔥 🐐 || can't keep up with the kids anymorea los santos kids production

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

[allarounddrugpusher]

covalent-guns:

With Red’s help, Benji finishes his usual tasks a solid hour earlier than usual, and while anyone else would be thankful for the freed time, Benji dreaded the thought of returning to his dorm early. When Red offers to walk him to the common room, he shakes his head before he can think. The light blush comes back and he tries to laugh it off, but it comes out as more of a wheeze.

As they exit the dungeon classroom, Benji gestures, a bit wildly, to the castle on whole, and says, “No it’s fine. I was going to go to the library and study. Y’know, gotta keep up those grades or they’ll drop me back to fourth year classes.”

Red seems like a nice person, to Benji. Still intimidating, and he’s sure if it wasn’t for the potion he gave him, Benji would be jumbled beyond reason. Then again, that’s might just be his usual self.

“Thank you though,” He says a moment later, putting his hands in his pockets and smiling warmly. It makes him look almost impossibly younger than he already is, “For helping me today and hanging out. It was… nice.”

Red looks at Benji’s young face with what he prays is a stoic face for his innards are melting. He feels as if he’s in a sweet frothy type of agony looking into Benji’s eyes and Red tries not to feel the tears pushing against his eyes. He’s not quite sure why he feels like crying, mayhaps it’s becaues Benji reminds him of his first few years at Hogwarts: scared and possessing too much magic. Not quite the Slytherin people wanted him to be. Red wants nothing more than to reach out and pet Ben’s head once again. 

You don’t need to be their version of a Slytherin, he wants to say. You only hve to be your version of a Slytherin. You don’t need to impress anyone. It almost feels like that’d be cheating though, telling Benji all of the things he had to learn in his time. Still, Red already knows he will draw Benji into the strange inner circle friend group he has. 

“It was. I’m looking forward to spending more time with you. You know where to find me if you need anything, or simply want company,” Red says and nods to Benji before walking down the hall towards Slytherin common room. Once in the safety of his room, Red sinks into his desk chair and stares at the ceiling.

I have a younger brother now.

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

[allarounddrugpusher]

covalent-guns:

There’s a moment, where Benji looks at Red and listens to him talk and thinks, this boy seems incredibly sad and lonely. It passes in a blink though, and Benji is left with a surprising amount of praise and something that could be friendship, given enough time. And Benji wasn’t sure he’d be allowed friendship with anyone while at Hogwarts, let alone a supposedly esteemed Jo.

Still, he shakes his head and smiles, crossing his arms lightly in front of his chest, “I don’t really think I’m all that kind, but thanks. You seem really cool, compared to other slytherins.” He keeps his face carefully neutral thinking about the common room and the table in the great hall, and shrugs hard, “I’d like to get to know you better too.”

Benji moves to lock up the store room again, and pushes his dress shirt’s sleeves up, walking over to the large upstanding sink tucked into a corner of the room, talking as he goes, “Honestly, I’m a little surprised the professor mentioned me all that much, with how busy he usually is talking about you and your sister. Most of the time she doesn’t seem to realize her own popularity,” As Benji speaks, he heaves a medium cauldron into the sink, but what comes out of the faucet is a dark purple goo instead of water, that froths when it makes contact with the inside of the cauldron, “But you seem pretty self aware. Don’t you think it’s a bit of a bad idea to be talking to me? I mean, most people from our house don’t really like me, y’know?”

Red smiles at the young Slytherin before chuckling behind his hand politely, sighing fondly at the mention of their house. The seventh-year prides himself in being what his parents, his professors, his classmates, and he himself calls a “true Slytherin”. The Sorting Hat makes no mistakes and being put in the Slytherin house didn’t mean he is inherent evil.

Evil is not a trait.

Red is as ambitious as they come, starting his professional studies of magic and its arts when he was around five years old and mastering non-verbal casting in his fourth year at Hogwarts. While Red can’t teach his own classes, he can always offer self-taught tips to anyone who is struggling. Red Jo is a Slytherin from the very core of his soul, and he will strike down any opponent who wishes to test him otherwise. 

“Most people of our house don’t like me either, but they’d be a fool not to befriend me. Hense, my inner circle of friends is quite small in circumference,” Red says nonchalantly. “It’s the same with Matthias. Students are either trying to shame him for being an American at the British wizarding school or trying to seduce him because he’s an American at a British wizarding school. A better looking American I should add. I’ve been to the States. The typical male there is... leaves much to be wished for.” Red grins cheekily at Benji before deciding to help out the younger one. With their efforts combined, the two Slytherin return the potions classroom to its pristine order, Red absently and mutely adjusting some things with spells.

“Good job today Benji,” Red says as they exit the classroom, reaching out and ruffling the younger boy’s hair. “If there’s anything you need, please let me know. Anything at all.” Red’s powerful brown eyes glisten with mischief and power, a hint at what “anything” covers. He gives Benji a smile with no teeth (because Red is feeling naughty now and when Red feels like doing some misdeeds, his teeth look more animal than human). “Here, are you done with today? Let’s walk back to the common room together.”

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

[allarounddrugpusher]

covalent-guns:

“Uhm,” Benji squeaks, blinking but not daring to move until Red’s hand is out of his personal space. He decides not to address it, and instead rubs over his flushed cheeks, and drinks the potion under Red’s watchful eyes, “Yeah. It’s my best subject, along with Herbology.”

Benji notes that he’s not really tripping over his words anymore, but the underlying current of nervous energy is still there, an ever pressing thing stuck in his blood. So this draught helped with anxiety, but not with pre-established mental disabilities. The flavoring that Red added helps, but makes him feel a bit like a child being fed cough medicine by their mother. He sets the cup down again and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Matthias is the real amazing one,” His voice is much less rushed now, as he leans against the table with the cauldron, “I’m just a kid who likes to study a lot. What I’ve heard from him about you and your other friends though, is pretty incredible. Is it true you and your sister took on death eaters and won a few years ago?” It had been in an old archived newspaper that he’d eventually asked Matthias about. He remembers being in awe at the thought of two children, at the time his age, that beat a bunch of death eaters by themselves.

Red feels a seed of brotherly love plant itself into his heart, watching Benji happily praise Matthias (who already sees Benji as a younger brother, almost son even) yet put himself down. The wizard looks at the young Slytherin before the mention of that incident years ago comes up. He’s careful to conceal the discomfort in his features and slowly straightens from his slouch against the table. Red licks his lips and feels his walls come back up, brick by brick. However, Red knows Benji didn’t mean ill from asking and besides, Matthias loves this boy. He can afford to open up to a potential new member of his inner circle.

“We... did. It was hard,” Red begins and looks at Benji with slightly more vulnerable eyes. “I was scared for Wren but she handled herself wonderfully, despite starting her studies years after me. Still, we were both young children. We didn’t get out unscathed.” Red absently touches his side, where he had taken a dangerous spell so Wren would have the chance to unleash something powerful enough to knock all the Death Eaters to the ground. His mother, he can still hear he wailing as he fought tooth and nail to crawl over to her. 

“... But we both have grown from the incident. We’re proud of ourselves and take no pity on Death Eater sympathizers.” Red smiles and spells the glass out of Benji’s hand, letting it float away to be cleaned. The Slytherin looks at his younger and gives a shrug. “We’ve moved on. It’s a strange memory to revisit.” He gives Benji a smile.

“I’ve heard much about you though. I know you’re amazing at Herbology, enough to garner much respect and praise from Professor Longbottom. I know you’ve impressed the potions professor multiple times, something I’ve only seen when I was in your year. And...” Red hums and breaks into a pretty smile. “You’re kind. And I enjoy that quality in people, Benji. I hope you’ll be fine if I pursue a friendship with you.”

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

[allarounddrugpusher]

covalent-guns:

After accepting the cup and resigning himself to this small break, Benji thinks hard about the question Red has presented him with. Does he like being at hogwarts? Sure, he’s happened to make a few friends this year, and Matthias has been good company during Potions, but the fact was he didn’t really belong in this place. He was still isolated for being one of the only muggleborn slytherins, he still didn’t have any friends in his year. Can he say that he enjoys Hogwarts when he was only not nervous for an hour a day?

He ends up shrugging in answer, though Red doesn’t see it with his turned back. Benji sets the still full cup on the table and moving to help put things away. He retrieves the jar of weasel nails he’d had earlier, and notes that the professor will have to order more soon.

“No,” Benji laughs a bit, pulling the storage room key from his pocket and unlocking the door for Red, “I don’t have an athletic bone in my body. It’s… it’s like, when I was a kid, my friend… he was a lot more I guess, fit? Than me? I’d never be able to… I mean, I’m no good with a broom anyway.” As he speaks he slides boxes and bottles back into place, like he’d done it a thousand times. He’s glad all the classes are done for the day, so they don’t have to rush through the inventory.

When he finally stops, Benji looks up at Red and says, “Not that quidditch is a bad thing! I know… I know Matthias plays it, and… and he seems to really enjoy it. I just don’t… just don’t think I’m really cut out for that kind of thing.” Or anything, his mind supplies against his will. He shoves that thought back into the corner it came from, “What uhm… what about you? Your uh, your sister is in quidditch too right?”

Red turns around as Benji begins to stutter, concern flashing across his eyes. Did the potion fail after all? Did Red miss a step in the recipe? The Slytherin slowly wanders over to the cauldron and notices the still full glass, fingers gently drumming on the wooden table before giving Benji a soft smile. He slowly picks up the glass and walks over to the young Slytherin and hands it to him.

“I think you should take a sip,” Red offers. “And I understand. Athletics aren’t part of my schedule at Hogwarts. Everyone is unique in some way and not all people can be amazing at sports.” Red seats himself on the lip of a table and watches Benji silently. In a way, he reminds Red of a younger version of himself, unsure of who he is and trying desperately to gain the approval of those around him. His mother had been a bit more distant back then and Wren was too young to understand the issue. Back then, Red would have given anything to have an older sibling to look after him.

Before he thinks, Red has his fingers in Benji’s hair and gently stroking it to the side. The Slytherin finally realizes what he’s doing but doesn’t stop, only hesitating for a second. He looks at Benji for a bit longer and slowly untangles his fingers from the soft brown hair. “I believe you’re amazing at something, I’m sure. I can ask Matthias, he always loves to brag about how smart you are. Do you have an interest in potions?”

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

[allarounddrugpusher]

covalent-guns:

“Not… not particularly?” It’s a lie if he’s ever told one, because Benji is constantly anxious and stressed, but he’s cautious to say anything to someone he’s never met. He tries and fails to still his fiddling hands, and settles for hiding them farther up his robes.

It’s not to say Benji is so stressed it affects his health, and he knows about the pills sitting in his trunk for his ADHD, just two months worth. He’ll need to get more when he goes home for Christmas. When he takes a few steps closer, he looks down at the cauldron and makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

Back when Benji was a first year, he’d already determined he’d never really make any close friends while in these halls. He’s been lucky, to befriend Matthias as his potions partner, but mainly Benji’s only close with teachers and his assigned owl in the owlery. The school had arranged one for him when it became evident his only form of social communication was with his grandmother, and he secretly sends letters to his muggle friend with that. Not that anyone needs to know.

“The uh… the professor lets me restock the shelves and clean the cauldrons,” Benji tilts his head at the potion with furrowed eyebrows, try to determine what’s inside by look alone, “You’re… very good at this. Is this a focusing draught?”

Red hums and steps aside to allow Benji to peer into his cauldron, looking at the young Slytherin with a fond gleam in his usually dead eyes. He lets Benji make his observations before shaking his head, stirring the potion twice more. Red brings over a small cup and spoons it with the anti-anxiety potion, taking a sip of it. The Jo’s face seems to reflexively scrunch together before Red adds another dollop of the strawberry flavoring.

“Do you want to try some? It’s not poisonous,” Red assures. “In fact, it’s a recipe from an old book I found in the library that’s supposed to reduce a wizard’s anxiety and the like.” He stirs the flavoring into the potion before sipping directly from the spoon, offering a satisfied hum. It certainly tasted much better than bitter melon flavor it’s meant to be. Red spells a fresh cup over to them and fills it, offering it to Benji.

“So tell me, Benji, how do you like Hogwarts so far? You seem to like Matthias’s company,” Red asks, starting to clean up after himself. Benji doesn’t seem to be a bad student, not that there was such a thing as a “bad” student. Only those with different styles of learning. There are, however, bad people. Bad people who got punished by Jo’s for bullying Matthias simply because he’s an American student going to a British magic academy. What kind of stuck up pricks imagined Brits to be better than the rest of the world? Don’t they know they British Empire had fallen ages ago? Red hates the holier-than-thou attitude of some going to Hogwarts and he’s glad his surname seems to bring a bubble of intimidation with it. Only a select few can enter his inner circle and Red is quite content with the number inside. Wren (of course), Matthias, Elias, and now Benji he supposes. 

“Any plans to join the Slytherin quidditch team?” Red asks, looking over his shoulder with the barest hint of a smile. He isn’t a part of the sports team but he does participate in a summertime Muggle track and field program. Red is proud to be the fastest on that team and doesn’t give much of a hint that he’s an athlete while at Hogwarts. 

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

[allarounddrugpusher]

covalent-guns:

Putting it frankly, Benji doesn’t have any friends. Somewhere between being practically the only muggle born in Slytherin, and taking 80% of his classes with people three years older than him, Benji doesn’t have a lot of people who… relate to him. More often than not, he’s by himself, which draws the attention of the professors. Especially the Potions professor, where Benji does his best work. He’d quickly become something of a teacher’s assistant, being both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because now he can spend his overflowing free time doing things he enjoys: organizing ingredients, filing plants and labeling potions. Reading through the numerous recipe books in the storage room. Generally being around his favorite subject without being gawked at for his age.

And a curse, because now there’s more people watching him during class, waiting for him to fuck up so they can pester him, or call him out. It’s one more thing he doesn’t belong in where he should.

-

Red Jo is a hard person to ignore, even if you try to keep your head down as much as Benji. The man seems focused though, when Benji enters the room, so he fights off the tiny pricks of anxiety the make his throat close up and ducks into the back of the class.The Potions professor lets him come in after classes, a deal they’ve worked out with the herbology professor, and Benji basically takes stock of the storage room.

He’s about half finished now, juggling a bottle of weasel nails and a pocketbook where he keeps his list when the jar slips from his fingers. In his mildly distracted state, Benji thinks he’s dropping the bottle and scrambles to catch it before the glass shatters, and in return lets his book fall. When he turns sideways he catches a glimpse of Red with his wand raised, and lets the bottle go instantly, half of some kind of noise escaping before he chokes it down.

“Uh… I uh. I’m… yes,” Benji flounders bending to retrieve his book and stuff it back in his robe pocket, “Yeah. You can… I mean, Benji is easier.” His words are rushed as he stumbles to get them out, “I’mfine. Are you… that is, I mean… how are you?”

Red is amused by Benji’s flustering but his face remains a smooth neutral. His only indication he heard Benji is the slight raise in his eyebrows and the plain hum Red offers. He uncaps the weasel nails and sprinkles some into the boiling potion, careful to stir counterclockwise as he does so. 

“Fine, concentrating just a bit. Why are you here after class hours?” Red asks absently, spelling the book to raise to eye level so he can stir as he reads. This potion isn’t too hard, not compared to some of the ones Red has tackled before. It’s meant to help with stress and anxiety, to clear one's mind except for one goal that they have to picture before drinking the potion. Red glances at Benji over the top of the book, raising a brow as he silently observes the Slytherin dutifully assist around the room. Hm, Matthias was right about the morals of this fourth year.

“Tell me Benji, do you have troubles dealing with stress or anxiety?” Red asks nonchalantly, sprinkling a tad of herb and a drop of strawberry flavoring. The cauldron burps a pink cloud of smoke and Red wafts it elegantly away with his hand. 

[allarounddrugpusher]

after school special

@covalent-guns

Red is borrowing an emptying potions class as younger years flood out of the classroom doors, some eager to be out of studies and others intimidated by the tall seventh year mixing what seems to be a complicated potion in a corner of the class. More importantly, the seventh year is Hei-suk Jo, elder of the Jo heirs and rumored to have a Chinese long for a patronus. Red can hear a squabble of Hufflepuffs whisper about gossip as they leave and Red fights the urge to smirk. A Chinese dragon? Really? When he’s Korean?

The Slytherin barely pays any attention to the fourth year Slytherin wandering into the classroom and picking up from the previous class. In fact, Red is deeply focused on the brewing potion before him, doing each step meticulously and flipping through the caramelized pages of an ancient brewing book. It isn’t until Red needs a pinch of weasel nails does he even realize his younger peer is still there, the vial of nails in his hand. Red doesn’t realize he has a wand pointed directly at his younger, wordlessly accio-ing the ingredient into his hand. He catches it effortlessly and looks curiously at the fellow Slytherin.

“... Aren’t you the fourth year Matthias has been getting into hijinks with?” Red asks, tone intrigued and bemused. “Benjamin isn’t it? Hello, I’m Hei-suk but people call me Red. How’re you?”

[wren-pop]

A Cup of Jo || Closed

[allarounddrugpusher]

wren-pop:

Wren side eyes her brother as she dips into her breakfast, getting a few bites in before speaking again. The hall is filling up fast, and even the hushed corner Red makes for himself is becoming lively. She can see Elias running in with a few of his friends, because he has too much energy in the mornings and always likes to start goofing off as soon as possible. It’s appreciated, with all the seriousness that follows them in their everyday. “I wonder about that,” She replies, zoning back into Red and pointedly eating a raspberry, “How’d they even wire it to the whole castle? Much less the dungeons where your common room is. There has to be absolutely no reception down there…” Wren smirks teasingly, “Though I suppose it’d fuel all of your usual avid porn watching.” She continues on in a grumble, “It’s not like I’d have any time to use it anyway, with how stupid my schedule is this year. I think I should drop Divination. I’m not even good at it.”

“Ah yes, all my kinky hentai will finally be just within my grasp,” Red says nonchalantly, smiling at his younger sister and ignoring the strange looks she gathers from the statement. Ah, Wren just loves to jest... Red will find a way back at her. For now, he just sips his tea and flicks his wand to summon another flaky biscuit.

Red hums along at her suggestion of dropping Divination. “You never were too good at the... more interpretive side of magic,” he says. Even Red could barely stay away in Divination, although he excelled in it. Honestly, Professor McLaughlin would take anything coming out of his mouth since it sounded so whimsical and real. Red doesn’t have the heart to tell his classmates it’s because he takes Muggle studies in the summer and therefore learned how to bullshit well.

“I would offer you advice but Divination isn’t a class I’m too confident in myself. Either way, it seems that my classes are about to begin.” Red looks at the multiple seventh year Slytherins standing and taking their leave. He looks at Wren with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “Be good today. Help our peers understand what the Jo name really means.” Red grins and waves his wand at her, causing her hair to become sopping wet. He quickly gathers his book and makes a hurried exit, biting his tongue between his teeth to keep from bursting into laughter.

[wren-pop]

A Cup of Jo || Closed

[allarounddrugpusher]

wren-pop:

“It’s cause you’re always so serious looking,” Wren smooths her hair down one last time and goes about sweetening a cup of tea. She wraps her cold fingers around the mug to warm them and adds, “And your smile is so pretty too.”

Let it never be said out loud, but Wren always likes the Slytherin table better than the Gryffindor one. It’s calmer, and while she’s never regretted her house placement, there’s really no place in Wren’s early morning for such enthusiastic energy. So she relishes her time with her brother by sipping at her tea and smiling when a bowl of her favorite oatmeal floats its way to her.

She glances up at Red and smirks, “Oh yeah, it’s really dangerous, but very secret. You’ll more than likely see it at the first game, but we’ve been strategizing since last year. Being vice captain is… a handful. If he wasn’t the captain, Matthias would be our most troublesome player.” Wren finishes with a sigh, seemingly reminiscing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a group of younger students eyeing them both seriously, and turns to wave and smile. A few of the girls flush and wave back shyly, before scurrying off in a fit of giggles.

“Then it’s good he’s captain. It’s been his dream since he was sorted into Gryffindor,” Red says coolly, hiding how bristled he is at the idea of his younger sister doing something dangerous hundreds of feet in the air. The only things stopping from outright rejecting the idea are his respect for her and the fact that Wren would still do the “move” no matter what Red thinks. He finishes off the flaky biscuit and is in the process of pouring himself some tea when he sees Wren wiggle her fingers at a gaggle of younger years. He looks at them coolly and returns to his tea.

“Did you hear the rumor that the headmaster might be allowing wi-fi into the castle?” he asks, sipping his tea and flipping another page. Red grins at Wren around the lip of the delicate china, obviously happy himself that the Internet might come to Hogwarts. “Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

[wren-pop]

A Cup of Jo || Closed

@allarounddrugpusher The ground outside the quidditch pitch is still covered in morning fog when Wren and the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team return from morning practice, the early fall sun warming their chilly shoulders. Spending over an hour flying around a hundred feet in the air makes for frosty players, especially now that the trees are losing their leaves and Wren’s breath is starting to become visible in the air. Wren declines the offers for breakfast or a shower before classes, turning instead toward the Great Hall with a few of the more awake members of the team. 

 Despite how old they both are, Wren still likes meeting Red for breakfast. It’s less of a crutch now than it was her first and second years, when she had only him and Arianne for company and the school was still too big for her small hands to grasp. Now, Wren enjoys spending her mornings with him because despite the rumors of their conflicting houses, Wren and her brother are friends. 

 She finds him at the Slytherin table, in the relatively quiet pocket that seems to surround him even when the rest of the hall is booming with the noise of other students, and takes the spot directly across from him. After setting her bag down and grabbing the nearest slice of toast, she reaches up to untie her hair, still damp with cold sweat and cloud mist. 

 “Morning oppa,” Wren sighs, rubbing out the wet spots of her hair that try to clump together, “How was your night yesterday?”

[allarounddrugpusher]

Hei-suk rarely finds himself in company when a new day dawns at Hogwarts. His younger sister always wakes up early to practice with her team and with her usually went his best friend. So, Hei-suk often will wake up, dress, and descend to the Great Hall with a book to pass the time until he can eat with his sister. He still finds it amusing that some of their peers take surprise a Gryffindor and a Slytherin break bread together but Red sees Wren as his sister before anything else. 

“Morning. Uneventful, but I saw some younger years trying to spy on me in the library. I think they’re scared,” Red admits and wordlessly spells away the morning dew from Wren’s hair, leaving it to her to comb out any knots. He flips the page of an ancient rune book and picks up a warm bread biscuit, peeling it in two. The Slytherin lathers a thin layer of butter onto it and takes a bite, humming at the combination of sweet and salty. 

There’s a moment of silence with Red keeping his face cool and neutral, his normal face when talking to anyone besides his inner circle. He glances at Wren and raises a brow before closing the book, sparing her a quirk from the corner of his lips.

“And how was quidditch practice? Matthias was telling me all about this new and interesting and dangerous move you two are trying to perfect.”

[bakuhatsu-kenta]

The long journey||Closed

[allarounddrugpusher]

bakuhatsu-kenta:

Kenta looked at his phone with a questioning look on his face “red? is that really you? you sound….horrible. I was calling to see if you wanted to meet up, and catch up.” the man closed his eyes once more to try and stop the burning sensation “I miss sane people…or at least people who are still willing to talk. If you dont want to go out for some ice scream I understand.” He sits up “completly up to you bro, if you want to just talk on the phone I’m perfectly fine with that too”

Red briefly struggled with the seed of irritation at Kenta’s question. The first time Red so much as pops onto the underworld radar after months of disappearing and the very first thing he heard is “you sound horrible”. He pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly dragged himself off the couch, tossing the light blanket aside. Red made his way to the fridge and sipped from an already prepared glass of water.

“I doubt you’ll find any sane people in our general area of profession,” he responded. The runner opened the door to his fridge and found nothing inside, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose. Now that his stomach had a chance to be acknowledged, it moaned and gurgled in protest of the lack of food. Red straightened out and closed the door.

“If you want to talk, I haven’t had food today. Let’s meet up for something,” Red suggested. “You choose.”

[bakuhatsu-kenta]

The long journey||Closed

Kenta rolled to his side back, and shoulder hurting with intense pain. Unfortunately Mamoru left before Kenta had completely awoken from the anesthetic induced slumber. H groaned sitting up just enough to slide his feet off of his bed and lug himself towards his laptop where his phone was being charged. He picked it up laying his head on the desk glancing at his phone opting to give a friend a call instead of looking at the bright screen for a while to send a text silently waiting for him to pick up.

@allarounddrugpusher

[allarounddrugpusher]

Red startled awake from his now typical mid-afternoon nap, eyes wild as he scanned the living room of his apartment for the source of the noise. The runner curled into himself for a second, feeling a familiar sensation push against his eyes. He sniffled once before picking up his cell phone, glancing at the number. It was too tempting to ignore the call and go back to the pool of wallowing Red was wading in. Days turned to weeks since he’d last talked to anyone, the sniper having removed himself almost completely from the underground. Still, during his sentence in prison, Red had enough time to read a few books, one of them being The Alchemist.

And the book always emphasized on taking signs to continue with one’s life journey. Red sighed and slid the answering icon over, silent for a second. 

“This is Red,” he answered, voice raspy and scratchy from disuse. 

[softcoreish-deactivated20240717]

Obsessed with this way of drawing roses.

[allarounddrugpusher]

wipe the red from my ledger

[allarounddrugpusher]

tegan-and-cats:

“Hopefully I can!” She smiled and eagerly shook his hand.

“Come on in and we’ll see what I can do. And I’ll cut you a good deal since you found Dorito! He can be a slippery son of a Frito when he wants to be.” She opened the door wide to welcome in her guest.

“Oh yeah, what’s your name?”

Red prayed he was hiding his nerves well and looked into Tegan’s home, taking a step forward and another until he was officially inside. He looked around the home, seeing many cats that didn’t look particularly pleased. Being inside someone else’s den made Red nervous again but he tried to concentrate on breathing. In for four.... hold for four... Out for four. The sniper tried to give Tegan a grin.

“I go by Red in Los Santos,” he answered, carefully manipulating himself around the cats. Some purred and tried to rub against his long legs, Red trying his damndest not to trip over them. “I have a few aliases that need their records purged. Is that something you can do for me?” 

[allarounddrugpusher]

wipe the red from my ledger

[allarounddrugpusher]

tegan-and-cats:

It was vaccination day, and Tegan will be the first to tell you that vaccinating 20 cats is not an easy task. In fact, it took up most of the day.

“Ruffles, where’s your brother?” She asked the fluffy orange Tabby. He glared at her and ran to the living room. Of course he was going to be a drama queen.

Then there was a knock at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone today, but maybe a neighbor had found her other fluffy orange cat.

She opened the door and saw a stranger with a mask around his neck, but there was Dorito at his feet!

“There he is! Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, I’ve been looking for you, Dorito!”

Red gazes from the lady standing at the door to the fluffy cat that seems hesitant to trot inside the house. The runner looks between the two of them before breaking into a small smile, allowing Dorito (aptly named) to hide behind his legs. Red looks back to Tegan and slowly stretches out a hand to her, doing his best to ignore the tiny little scars littering his fingers and palm. 

“Hello, you must be Tegan. My friend sent me here to see if I can get some help with some things,” Red says smoothly, a line he had rehearsed on his light jog over here.

[allarounddrugpusher]

wipe the red from my ledger

@tegan-and-cats

Red hesitates to knock on the door of a house at an address Matthias had referred to him. He looks around a bit, the face mask concealing his identity from any prying eyes. Ever since his um... time in the rain, Red has been feeling much more paranoid than he need be, feeling eyes on the back of his neck. He’s trying to keep away from the public eye for a bit of time but to do so, Red needed to do a brief check on some of his aliases. Any that had red flags would need to be cleaned. 

The runner sucks in a breath, pulling the mask down and knocking on the door, gasping when a strange meow seems to answer. He looks around before spotting a content looking cat sitting next to his feet, blinking at the door like it’s a guest awaiting entry as well. Red looks down at it, confused as to where this feline sprouted from but also how it seems to have caught him off guard. 

“...Hello little friend,” Red says, smiling nervously at the cat before turning back to the door.

[wren-pop]

All Else Fails || Closed

[wren-pop]

allarounddrugpusher:

Red listens and he tries to keep his focus on her but the mere callback to the time he spent in a cold dirty cell, numbly and limply hanging off a chair as his sadist tormentor prattled on… He feels his eyes unfocus and his mind blur around the edges. Red tries to slap himself back to the present, to force himself to pay attention to Wren. However, as she explains the psychological torture she had been succumbed to, Red can barely stomach the little he’s eaten today. The runner has to lean against the opposite wall of Wren and try not to vomit then and there. 

Once Wren closes herself off, Red wants to speak but he can’t think of anything to say. It feels more like his lips are sutured closed and he can’t peel his eyes from the floor. Say something he urges himself but his throat closes and the arms around his stomach tighten as if to dam the idea of vomiting. He wants to do what he does best: run as far away and as fast as he can. He’s done it before, with the bastard who landed him in prison in the first place. Red had tried to run and leave him in the dust but the police had already blockaded them… Oh God.

Red runs to the open dumpster and upchucks the single granola bar and spot of water he’s had. After a second he pauses and then his stomach revolts again and pushes its own acids out. Red wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and doesn’t turn to look at Wren. He inhales shakily and tries to remember the relaxation training one of his mentors taught him.

“… We can’t do anything,” Red whispers, tone drowning in the rain. “It happened and we can’t do anything about it now.” He finally wills himself to turn around and peek at Wren. “What do you want now?”

Wren watches Red hurl with a painfully straight face, rubbing away the last of her stray tears and sighing softly. Even when he’s like this, Red is more understanding and accepting of her feelings than anyone else in this city. It hurts her to watch him fall apart, where she can’t reach him or help. Neither of them can help the other though, not really.

Still, she approaches because she can’t stop caring, even after the sharp pull in her chest, “Nothing,” Wren replies honestly. She gestures down the road where her apartment building sticks out, “Come on. You look like you need to rest.”

She starts down the road slowly, giving him the option whether or not to follow, thoughts churning in her head until it starts to ache dully. Things are so messed up with Red. Everything hurts around him, the bitter reminder that she had actually hoped at one point that they could’ve been related. Her desire for family, a place to belong, had almost been sated when Maverick hissed those words to her over two months ago.

It’s unfair to blame Red for what happened, the way a piece of her being broke off and died, and she reprimands herself, but she can’t help but be bitter. But Red had been through so much more. So, so much more, and Wren is a selfish girl for putting anything but empathy on him. Wren feels the rain come down harder, a real downpour now, and resists the urge to flinch when the icy water hits her neck.

[allarounddrugpusher]

Red takes Wren’s offer carefully, debating the options in his head to extremities as his feet carry him after her. A little ways down the wet street, after both of them are soaked to the bone, he stops. The constant pattering of the rain masks any noises he makes and Red watches Wren’s small back go further and further away from him. He almost reaches out to her but the sniper looks around where he is, his gaze ending up right at the sky. Thick drops of rain hit Red’s face and he’s suddenly struck with how lonely he is. 

The one bastard who seemed to love him is behind bars, the second bastard who said he loved Red disappeared from his life, someone he briefly considered as a sister is now... not. His best friend hasn’t spoken to him for days, weeks, and it’s more Red’s fault than anyone else’s. Red is sick with something. Maybe it’s this god forsaken life, from running from the police and flying where absolutely no one knows his real name or face. No one here is missing him, no one there is missing him. His parents had disowned him once he had landed in prison and there is nothing for him. 

Red turns tail and bolts like a bat out of hell, water splashing underneath his sneakers. He wants to feel free again, wants to feel so fast that nothing can actually touch him anymore. The runner is a streak of wet red as his legs pump faster than he’s ever thought possible (though it’s most certainly not the fastest speed), jumping over cars and scaling fences. Faster he begs and Red goes just a bit faster. Nothing is working though, his feelings haunting him at every corner he turns. 

Red stops in front of a luxury apartment, tears streaking down his face as he trudges up to the elevator and hits a floor. He’s leaning heavily on the golden walls, a pool forming underneath him. He feels... horrible. Red limps his way out of the elevator and manages his way down the hall until he’s in front of a familiar door. The runner knocks on it heavily before collapsing against it, breaking down into hard, rib cage rattling sobs. The door opens and Red falls into the arms his best friend, unable to speak much more than a weak apology.