Candy Apple #13, Mango #20 + extras galore
Story: Blaze Mafia Family
Title: Money Makes the World Go Round
Prompts: Candy Apple #13: heart/lungs, Mango #20: making ends meet + malt (Chinese New Year prompt: May you never want for money) + pocky chain + butterscotch + whipped cream
Characters: Everybody!
Summary: Oh, I love pocky chains. They're great for when awesome malts give you too many ideas to pick just one. XD There’s first generation in here, young Blaze brothers, and a couple characters that have only been introduced briefly before now. You remember Detective Newman, DeeDee, and the Doc, right?
Achille saw it all.
Like the quick-fingered little devil he was, Carmello reached into the pocket of the man standing beside them at the fruit stand and snatched his wallet then stuffed it in his coat pocket.
Without missing a beat, Rosetta reached in front of her brother to seemingly grab a pear. She plucked the wallet out of Carmello’s pocket and put it back with its rightful owner.
Achille smirked. Carmello would be furious later when he realized the pickpocket had been picked, but Achille thought it adequate punishment for forgetting who had taught him the art.
- - - - - - - - - -
“I want the heart.”
“Bullshit,” Nicky Nails snapped. “Heart, lungs, and liver are ours. Always.”
“You won’t get any money out of this heart. It’s got a rare congenital defect.”
“It’s not that useless. He lived with it,” Nicky pointed at the corpse.
“What’s it going to take for me to keep this heart?”
Nicky chewed on his cigar. “You do up the next three bodies free of charge.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Nicky snorted. “Fine. One. But if you stiff us any sort of medical prize money from cutting up this heart, you and I are going to have words.”
- - - - - - - - - -
A telephone, a mostly empty bottle of gin, and a terrifying stack of bills sat on Newman’s table. There was an order to his madness. Looking at the bills that Newman had no hope of paying on a cop’s salary had made him go for the bottle. Drinking the gin had given Newman the courage to dial the one phone number that could solve all of his family’s money problems.
“This is Detective Bernie Newman.” Newman’s chest was burning with betrayal but he said what was best for his family. “I want to talk to Luka Esposito. I want in.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Christ, boys,” Papa B said. “What are you doing with all that vig?”
Draven motioned to the desk piled high with money. “I’ve never seen this much cash at one time.”
“You’re such a newbie,” Atlas said to his teenage brother but his grin was just as giddy as Draven’s. “We’re counting out the payout from the Simmons job, Pop.”
“Ah,” Papa B smirked at his kids’ enthusiasm. “You two keep your pockets clean, got it?”
Draven giggled a little. “I don’t want to steal it. I want to throw it in the air and roll in it.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Fuck!” Tommy the Angel snapped, making a move to race after the buyer that was running down the street with the suitcase full of money he was supposed to give the Family in return for the goods they’d just given him.
“Wait,” Romeo said, stopping Tommy in his tracks. The Capo pulled his weapon out. He held the gun in two hands and took his time taking aim before shooting off a single round. Blood sprayed out of the buyer’s leg and he fell to the ground.
“Now run after him.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Loan me five bucks, Paul.”
Paul stared at Firebird with a look one normally reserved for a particularly dumb alien species. “Are you serious?”
“What?” Firebird said defensively.
“Why do you need my money?”
Firebird pointed to the hotdog stand across the street. “I left my wallet at the office.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What!?”
“You’re the richest person in this city! You don’t get to hit other people up for cash!”
“Shut up and go buy me a hotdog.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Fuck!” Felix jumped backwards as he was bombarded by a shower of duffel bags that fell off the closet shelf. “I hate these things!”
“What happen-oh.” Soul ate his toast and watched Felix kick the offending bags. Every time they acquired money from a victim, they also acquired a bag for it to go in. But unlike cash, duffel bags couldn’t be passed onto the Family’s money cleaner. “We really should start taking a bag with us to the job.”
Felix threw their most recent addition to their bag collection on top of the pile. “No kidding.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Shit,” Mac cursed under his breath when he saw the price tag for his economics textbook. It cost twice as much as the professor had said it would. Mac did a few quick calculations. Even if he stuck to Ramen for the next month he still wouldn’t have enough money to buy this book.
Of course, he could always call up his dad. Nicky would wire him the money and then a great deal more if Mac would just call him and ask.
Mac slammed the book back on the shelf. He’d drop the damn class before he did that.
- - - - - - - - - -
“How do you want your money?” Firebird asked.
“Ugh. Money,” Dean crossed his arms over his chest like a peeved child. “I hate money.”
“Then why do you insist on making me give you so much of it?”
“Convention. People think my services aren’t worth buying unless I make them pay through the nose.” He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed her hands in his. “You would still love me if I was free, wouldn’t you, Birdie?”
Firebird pulled her hands out of Dean’s grip and patted his cheek. “Oh, DeeDee. Who says I love you now?”
Title: Money Makes the World Go Round
Prompts: Candy Apple #13: heart/lungs, Mango #20: making ends meet + malt (Chinese New Year prompt: May you never want for money) + pocky chain + butterscotch + whipped cream
Characters: Everybody!
Summary: Oh, I love pocky chains. They're great for when awesome malts give you too many ideas to pick just one. XD There’s first generation in here, young Blaze brothers, and a couple characters that have only been introduced briefly before now. You remember Detective Newman, DeeDee, and the Doc, right?
Achille saw it all.
Like the quick-fingered little devil he was, Carmello reached into the pocket of the man standing beside them at the fruit stand and snatched his wallet then stuffed it in his coat pocket.
Without missing a beat, Rosetta reached in front of her brother to seemingly grab a pear. She plucked the wallet out of Carmello’s pocket and put it back with its rightful owner.
Achille smirked. Carmello would be furious later when he realized the pickpocket had been picked, but Achille thought it adequate punishment for forgetting who had taught him the art.
- - - - - - - - - -
“I want the heart.”
“Bullshit,” Nicky Nails snapped. “Heart, lungs, and liver are ours. Always.”
“You won’t get any money out of this heart. It’s got a rare congenital defect.”
“It’s not that useless. He lived with it,” Nicky pointed at the corpse.
“What’s it going to take for me to keep this heart?”
Nicky chewed on his cigar. “You do up the next three bodies free of charge.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Nicky snorted. “Fine. One. But if you stiff us any sort of medical prize money from cutting up this heart, you and I are going to have words.”
- - - - - - - - - -
A telephone, a mostly empty bottle of gin, and a terrifying stack of bills sat on Newman’s table. There was an order to his madness. Looking at the bills that Newman had no hope of paying on a cop’s salary had made him go for the bottle. Drinking the gin had given Newman the courage to dial the one phone number that could solve all of his family’s money problems.
“This is Detective Bernie Newman.” Newman’s chest was burning with betrayal but he said what was best for his family. “I want to talk to Luka Esposito. I want in.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Christ, boys,” Papa B said. “What are you doing with all that vig?”
Draven motioned to the desk piled high with money. “I’ve never seen this much cash at one time.”
“You’re such a newbie,” Atlas said to his teenage brother but his grin was just as giddy as Draven’s. “We’re counting out the payout from the Simmons job, Pop.”
“Ah,” Papa B smirked at his kids’ enthusiasm. “You two keep your pockets clean, got it?”
Draven giggled a little. “I don’t want to steal it. I want to throw it in the air and roll in it.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Fuck!” Tommy the Angel snapped, making a move to race after the buyer that was running down the street with the suitcase full of money he was supposed to give the Family in return for the goods they’d just given him.
“Wait,” Romeo said, stopping Tommy in his tracks. The Capo pulled his weapon out. He held the gun in two hands and took his time taking aim before shooting off a single round. Blood sprayed out of the buyer’s leg and he fell to the ground.
“Now run after him.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Loan me five bucks, Paul.”
Paul stared at Firebird with a look one normally reserved for a particularly dumb alien species. “Are you serious?”
“What?” Firebird said defensively.
“Why do you need my money?”
Firebird pointed to the hotdog stand across the street. “I left my wallet at the office.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What!?”
“You’re the richest person in this city! You don’t get to hit other people up for cash!”
“Shut up and go buy me a hotdog.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Fuck!” Felix jumped backwards as he was bombarded by a shower of duffel bags that fell off the closet shelf. “I hate these things!”
“What happen-oh.” Soul ate his toast and watched Felix kick the offending bags. Every time they acquired money from a victim, they also acquired a bag for it to go in. But unlike cash, duffel bags couldn’t be passed onto the Family’s money cleaner. “We really should start taking a bag with us to the job.”
Felix threw their most recent addition to their bag collection on top of the pile. “No kidding.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Shit,” Mac cursed under his breath when he saw the price tag for his economics textbook. It cost twice as much as the professor had said it would. Mac did a few quick calculations. Even if he stuck to Ramen for the next month he still wouldn’t have enough money to buy this book.
Of course, he could always call up his dad. Nicky would wire him the money and then a great deal more if Mac would just call him and ask.
Mac slammed the book back on the shelf. He’d drop the damn class before he did that.
- - - - - - - - - -
“How do you want your money?” Firebird asked.
“Ugh. Money,” Dean crossed his arms over his chest like a peeved child. “I hate money.”
“Then why do you insist on making me give you so much of it?”
“Convention. People think my services aren’t worth buying unless I make them pay through the nose.” He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed her hands in his. “You would still love me if I was free, wouldn’t you, Birdie?”
Firebird pulled her hands out of Dean’s grip and patted his cheek. “Oh, DeeDee. Who says I love you now?”