All the world&#x27;s a stage

#hhheaves #god i suck so much HI

Nah, mate, don't have one. I was just waiting to see whether you'd hit it or not...

connor-stage

For the first time in a long time, checking something didn’t mean checking on the dog. Skyler didn’t know it was possible at all, but somehow he’d forgotten his phone and he needed to take it with him. He didn’t mind because they’d be drinking, but because he needed to control what he’d been working on. Working… Not even working. More like making sure his ass was safe after what he’d done. Obviously… he was paranoid, but he’d been doing his best to hide his wonderful mood.

Booze would help, for sure, and maybe he’d feel better after a conversation with Connor, because there must have been a reason his job didn’t make him paranoid. And there must have been a reason Skyler felt safe with his. Asking himself more and more questions, feeling more and more confused, he finally stopped once he was back where the man should be waiting. Skyler checked his pockets again, just to be sure this time he had the phone, but he didn’t even have to use it, because a second later he noticed Connor.

"It’d be safe to stay in this neighborhood, I think? I’m not sure I’m ready for any drunk walks today…"

If there were any people Connor liked to share a drink and some time with, for whom he'd even put on a polite facade, it would be people he thought could be useful to him sometime in the future. Skyler Bane was one of those people; plus, he actually seemed like he would've been decent company even if Connor hadn't deemed him useful. Dry sense of humour and a strong stomach for liquor; and not asking too many dumb questions. A good combination to keep him from wanting to rip the man's throat out.

As it was, ever since Indigo had gone, Connor had lacked a well skilled hacker in his life. He figured, if any relationship could be mutually beneficial, it could be this one ----- and nothing like booze to loosen a man's tongue. Everything at the ready, phone, keys, knives and guns stashed on him in various places, he set out for the night, going to where they'd agreed to meet up. The other was already there when Connor arrived; another thing in his favour. "Reckon so. And if not, I can take care of it," his tone was careless; he had his own way of dealing with folk trying to steal from him. "I know a good bar not too far from here, if you're willing to trust my good taste."

#paras #skyler bane

Red, Orange, Yellow Flicker || Connor & Spencer

He wasn’t happy with the smell that hit his nose. He hated it, actually. It just made him wonder how long Jack was here suffering. That thought went far away the second he heard Connor speak again. And he was checking the floor as he walked——it was a good thing he didnt care about what he was wearing on his feet today. He was certain the floor hadn’t seen a mop in a long time.

"Back door. Well, lead the way, princess." He offered a cocky grin at the little pet name, though he did it more to tease than to keep it as an actual nickname. "The fire is already catching pretty well. It’ll get a bit hot in here, funny how we tend to do that when we enter a room, huh?"

"Does that make you the frog?" His tone stayed even, a hint of dryness to it as they made their way through to the back, where the meat would normally be made to hang and dry; Spencer was right, the fire from the upper floors was spreading quite fast and he did not want to be under it when the ceiling started getting unstable. "Freezers should be back here somewhere. Should be something to keep them cold, a fuel cell or something like it." Now that would make a decent bit of noise when blown up.

The thick smell of raw meat and blood only intensified the more to the back they came and soon enough they were in what Connor suspected to be the main butchery room. "Spread out, look for it seperately? Do you see a back door around?"

#spencer crowder #paras

Red, Orange, Yellow Flicker || Connor & Spencer

"What to you expect from someone who comes from Sweden." He snorted, hearing the lovely click of the lock. It was open, and he could only look over at Connor curiously, “Oh, its open, pretty boy. Though, on the mention of the whole dying Africans bit, I think their immune system could take it. I mean, I think Ebola came from there, yeah? I mean, if they can stick that out, then they can handle her like she’s just some meat that fell on the floor and was given the five second rule.”

Maybe it wasn’t a lack of a conscience that drove this level of morbid humor. It was just a lack of empathy towards everyone. Some people just didn’t deserve it. And Spencer didn’t see a reason to give mercy to people when his own memories proved that even the innocent were guilty. It was all a matter of perspective. “All right,” He snorted, opening the door, “Throw your bomb, pretty boy. Start the fireworks, we have to burn the place down and get it on camera, you’re the director.”

#paras #spencer crowder #otp: dalmatian lamp

A pleased smirk curled his lips, eyes flickering darkly as he stepped back. "Under one minute. Impressive, Spencer." Well, fortunately he didn't mind sucking Spencer's dick; promise was a promise in this case. "Ebola was brought there, thanks to us Westerners and is killing off almost half the populace; so there's a logical fallacy in your argument," not that he really cared about some Africans and whatever they ate or didn't get to eat; sometimes he just liked being argumentative.

Flicking the lighter, he ignited the cloth and then, with a swing that would've made any baseball player at least somewhat proud, he let it sail through the window, hearing the satisfying shatter of glass before the sudden whoosh of the explosion, flames bursting out the window. "Right, better get inside before we have to deal with peeping Toms." He opened the camera, taking a quick shot of those flames before they headed inside, the smell of congealed blood hitting his nostrils already. "How about through the back, hm?"

Red, Orange, Yellow Flicker || Connor & Spencer

Well, that was one way to go about it. Not only was there going to be someone politely picking the lock, but then there was bomb happy. Not that Spencer minded, the only thing missing was an orchestra playing Beethoven’s Lacrymosa while this was playing out. Him, casually picking at the lock and opening the door, and then, that very door being blasted off to the side. Hey——at least he picked the lock.

"Didn’t the lady across the street from Mrs. Lovett use the strays for their meat pies?" Oh, and now they were going to go into casual conversation about theater. “You have to hand it to Mrs. Lovett, at least all of her stuff was fresh. I also think they only fed it to other people, not themselves. This bitch eats it like it’s a fuckin’ delicacy or some shit.” Hm. Wasn’t there another place that did that? “…Ya think Tristan should drop her off to Africa? Some of them eat people, don’t they? I’m sure they could use some white meat as a treat.”

#paras #spencer crowder #otp: dalma

Dropping his pack to make all the provisions for a molotov, he barked out a laugh. "Even Lovett was better than this one, huh? Talk about setting some low bloody standards." Bottle, cloth, petrol, everything was set up, fingers working quickly and nimbly. "Not to mention, this one doesn't even boil her meat. Eats it raw. She must have the immune system of an ox. All those poor Africans would die the moment they feasted on her undoubtedly disease ridden flesh." He shook his head, giving Spencer a mock disappointed look. "Have you no conscience?"

It could be said neither of them had conscience; but Connor at least prided himself on some standards. He didn't put his cock into someone he didn't know where they'd been (no rape), as well as putting no food into his mouth without knowing it was clean (no cannibalism). "Right, I'm ready. How's that lock coming along, darling? Should I start timing it?" He winked.

Red, Orange, Yellow Flicker || Connor & Spencer

He wasn’t impressed with the Building. Then again, he felt nothing but a bit of disgust over the woman. Perhaps it was because he had a code to follow in his own mind. Yes, he killed. Yes, he did do some things (many things) that were not the most lovely. But, children were left out of it. Rape was never to happen. And eating a person just seemed fucking unhygienic. Spencer carried respect towards those that earned it. And if someone touched a person he liked, which was already a low number, he would tear them apart. In this case: he was doing it for one of those people.

"Tristan wants her for himself." Thus, it was just the Butcher Shop that was getting the damage done. "As much as it’d be fun to do our own little damage to her, it’s his place to do it, not ours. Besides, this is date night, pretty boy. I ain’t havin’ a third party go and mess it up." He offered a playful wink towards the other, and his eyes scanned over the windows with care as he nodded his head. "First floor windows or…pick the lock and go in through the front doors like gentlemen." He snorted at the idea, "Not for nothin’ but, is it fucked to do groceries before lighting the place up."

#paras #spencer crowder #otp: dalmatian lamp

A soft pout appeared on his face as Spencer once again reiterated they were not to hurt the bitch, only hurt her shop. ------ but hey, if something were to happen accidentally; well, Tristan could still have her with a few minor burn marks, couldn't he? A small grin tucked into the corners of his lips as the words 'date night' passed his husband's lips. Leave it to them to consider arson as an acceptable date. Kept things heated, didn't it? Full of fire and passion and whatnot. Snorting at his own dumb humour. "We could do both at the same time. You pick the lock and I'll throw the window." He tapped a gloved finger to his lips, wrinkling his nose as Spencer mentioned taking some meat before they burned it all down.

"Darling, we hardly know what she puts into it. She eats people, for fuck's sake. Takes their blood. Who knows what she puts in her sausages? Excuse me for not immediately hungering for bloody Miss Lovett's meat pies." He rolled his eyes at the other, though he was still smiling, playfully throwing in a reference to fleet street. "C'mon, instead of thinking of food, go pick that darn lock, why don't you. If you do it in under two minutes, I'll suck you off once we're home."

Why can’t my friends be fuckin’ boring…

Hah, yes. It’s not like I’m a saint, I’m just kiddin’. It’s always much more interesting this way.

Damn, we can’t be dull, man. We have fans who count on us. And besides, I never say no to drinks, so let’s go. I’ll just check somethin’ and we’ll meet here… Hm, give me half an hour, alright?

#brotp: it's so eighties #if you wanna switch this to para #feel free! 8D

Mate, if you'd called yourself a saint, I would've been disappointed. No fun about goody two shoes anyway, hm? Half an hour's fine by me

Red, Orange, Yellow Flicker || Connor & Spencer

"I think everyone here in London owes you a favor, pretty boy." Spencer snorted, and he was glad that there was a way to push the negative thoughts in his mind to the side for this. Maybe all it would take was a burning building to make things somewhat okay. Odd. He never thought he’d be one of those people that wanted things to be fine in the end. Or was that just his concern for Tristan?

"Who gives a shit if there’s a security system in her shop." He shrugged, "Molotovs will make that problem go away. Besides, why would she have a security system in her butcher shop if she’s a fuckin’ psycho? Or is that one of her methods to look normal?"

#spencer crowder #paras #otp: dalmatian lamp

A couple of hours, and meticulous planning later and Spencer and him were ready to get to the action part of the night. The streets of London were dark, the only presence they saw here and there that of the homeless and the party-goers coming home. The shop in and of itself looked inconspicuous; a non-descript facade flanked by two other non-descript buildings. Connor must've passed it quite a few times; yet his eyes had never been drawn to it (besides, he already had his regular butcher to buy meat from).

Just like with the blackout, they had their equipment with them in various packs. Standing a little way off, Connor stopped Spencer from going further with his arm, sidling in closer. "Window on the first floor seems like a good entry point for the first two. If she lives up there, we might catch her asleep too; two birds, one stone, hm?"

I swear, the fact that I know what your job is doesn’t fuckin’ help right now. Boring, standard, yuck, want my money. Incredible, man. Incredible.

No, usually I don’t text strangers, you’re a very special guest in my show. Uhm… I think I can use boring too; work and no fun.

I aim to inspire both fear and awe, mate. But it was a simple breaking and entering this time. Blackmail, you know the drill ------- I mean, you are a hacker, no?

Shite, look at us; all work and no play seems to be making us dull. So how about we go for a few drinks and see if we can get us some entertainment?

#brotp: it's so eighties

averydavenport

Why don’t you prank your neighbors? Leave a bag of shit outside their place and set it on fire.

I could do that... if I were twelve.

A her….that name sounds…very affected brunette with a big mouth? I think I’ve exchanged words with her…I take it she got out alive? How disappointing. But of course I’d invite you and Spencer along. We need another excuse for me to utilize my Russian accent and reunite with my box babu.

Tristan wants her alive, love. He's quite mad, from what I heard; not up to us to take away his fun, hm? Why yes, I do believe you're right --- been too long since we caused some mayhem.

Well shit…Spencer’s friend…the big southern guy, yeah? In that case I hope you made him squeal like the pig that he was. Ah yes a bonfire does sound delightful, might have to stir one up myself.

Ah yes, did need to stave off the cold. But I also made some use out of his rather vast network of informants, for personal use.

Her. It was a her. Calls herself 'the butcher of Stockholm' can you believe it? Hmm, if you do, be sure to invite me along, love. Did you now? Sharing is caring, you know that.

I’d like to think I’m your only blonde, darling. But I’ll settle for favorite. Ah yes…generate seem heat…by burning down butcher shops I hear. Russia was…fun…my target offered me more money than my employer did…though it was the liquor he shared that won me over, and I shook things up a little bit…or a lot.

That we did. Seems like owner of said butcher shop apparently tortured and raped Tristan's adopted kid, so you know Spencer. All about raining justice down on those who deserve retaliation. I was just glad I got to burn down shite again.

Glad to hear that. Need to have something to stave off the cold, hm?

It amuses me to see everyone skirting about the streets complaining about the cold. You’d all be whining tenfold if you were in Russia right now. Just zipper up your oversized coats and put your gloves on, it’ll be summer soon enough and then you lot will be complaining about the heat instead.

Why if it isn't my favourite blonde. People don't seem to realise that in order to fight the cold, all they really need to do is generate some heat. How's Russia been, love, beside cold?

Isn’t it? Hah, sorry, it still amuses me. With Germans? Nah, never. Neither with nor for. That awful an experience it was?

"Boring. Which equals awful; it was a pretty standard job as well and the pay wasn't as good as I'd hoped. Enough about me, though; how's things with you---- texted any random strangers lately?"

#brotp: it's so eighties

averydavenport

"Then why don’t you do something to un-bore yourself?"