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Richard Rider quotes (showing 1-28 of 28)

“You were always saying you were gonna shoot him," he mutters, but it's kind of half-hearted. "Stupid fucking little tit, he needs a bullet in his head. What do you keep him round for, anyway?"
Because he makes me laugh. Because, fuck knows why, he adores me. Because he needs somebody to look after him and nobody else knows how. Because everything about us is wrong and I never ever want to be right. Because I wake up in the morning and see him sleeping next to me with his stupid dyed hair and his stupid painted nails and his stupid toy monkey and I remember I love him so much I don't know what to do, I love him I love him I LOVE HIM.
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Valentine clears his throat. "So. Why can't you just say it?"
"Say what?"
"You know what."
"It's hardly the time or place."
"It is if you're dying."
"I can't."
"You're a dick. Just fucking say it!"
"I can't! I'm... English."
"What am I, a Martian? I say it all the time. I know you love me, why can't you say it?"
"If you know, then why do I have to?"
"You're missing the point a bit."
"I took your bullet, you little twat, don't you dare question whether I love you."
"Yeah, but you could say it."
The throb of the gunshots is pounding all down his arm and body. The pain's so bad he wants to cry, like he's five and he's skinned his knee coming off his bike.
"Je t'aime," he says, through gritted teeth, to shut the kid up. "Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Tu es... complètement bête, tu t'habilles comme une pute travestie, je hais ta musique, tu es fou, tu me rends fou, mais je suis fou de toi et je pense à toi tout le temps et je t'aime, oui. Tu comprends? Je t'aime. Seulement... pas en anglais. Je ne peux pas."
Valentine's shifting about like he's uncomfortable. "I ain't got no idea what you just said but I think I need to change my pants."
"Maintenant, ta gueule.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Real-time creeps back in, and Lindsay realises the kid's on his knees beside him, saying his name over and over and over.
"Oh, thank fuck... Jesus, you're bleeding like hell."
"Thanks, Sherlock."
"Can you see a bright white light?"
"Oh fuck. Fuck! Okay, listen to me, don't go near it, okay?"
"Stay away from the light."
"What are you talking about?"
"That's death, innit? Don't go near it, promise me."
"I mean I can see the electric lights on the ceiling, you berk."
"You berk! You knob, I thought you were dying."
"You didn't specify what kind of bright light, you just said bright light,
you might've been testing my eyesight."
"I ain't fighting with you when you've been shot.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“He's beautiful because he's not and he doesn't care.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“He tries again, swallowing hard to ease away the painful lump in his throat. "It's just important. I love you. I'm yours. I need people to know."

"Alright," Lindsay says suddenly. He leans down to grab at Pip's bag, throwing stuff out onto the carpet, his iPod and phone and wallet and gloves and Attitude magazine until he finds what he's looking for, a green marker pen, and holds it between his teeth while he starts tugging at the hem of Pip's t-shirt. Pip's too surprised to do anything but submit, he lets Lindsay peel off his t-shirt and throw that on top of all the things from his bag then just watches as Lindsay pulls the pen out of the cap in his mouth and signs his name in big green letters on the side of Pip's stomach. He holds his breath, trying not to suck in the belly fat everybody else keeps telling him is imaginary. "There, you're mine, are you fucking happy now?" Lindsay snaps, and throws the recapped pen across the room to get lost in the bookcase somewhere.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“Ha ha ha. But what if, right, when you come home, what if I ain't wearing nothing but Nutella?"

"Your double negatives make me want to kill you.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Still, Lindsay stops getting dressed, even though he's only half-done, because he gets this urge to ambush the kid with a hug. Just that, nothing else. He wraps his arms around Valentine's skinny body and pulls him close and rests his cheek on the still-damp hair and inhales the cherry-almond scent of his shampoo, and Valentine says, "Oh!" in a really odd way, like he's just read a particularly interesting fact on the back of a Penguin biscuit wrapper. Lindsay's got his eyes shut but he can feel the kid's hands creeping up his bare arms, over his shoulders. One stays there and the other comes to rest on the back of his neck, fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair, and several minutes pass without sound or movement, just the gentle thud of heartbeats.

"What's that for?" Valentine asks, when Lindsay finally lets him go.

"Don't know. Nothing. Just seemed the kind of thing you'd like. BAM, surprise ninja cuddles.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“You warped me. I was a perfectly normal-

-drug addicted bisexual hooker-fucking criminal.

-perfectly normal sensible man with normal sensible urges
before you.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“Everyone always knows what they're doing," he says abruptly, still not looking up from his hands, the little plastic pot and the old tattoo and the new white dressing on his left wrist. "You know what you're doing, you got your work and your friends and everything and miserable headfucky little teenage girly boys think you're amazing and, I don't know, you might've saved my life, who knows? I might be dead if it weren't for you and Olly but people can't keep looking after me all the time cos that ain't healthy neither, that's just as bad as people not giving a fuck at all. And, like... I'm trying to sort my head out and be a proper grown-up and get my degree and go to work and look after them kids and make sure my dad ain't kicking my sister round the house like a football but it's just so hard all the time, and I know I ain't got no right to complain cos that's just life, ain't it? Everyone's the same, least I ain't got money worries or nothing. I just don't know what I'm doing, everything's too hard. I can try and try forever but I can't be good enough for no one so what the fuck's the point?”
Richard Rider, 17 Black and 29 Red
“I like walking round London at night, I do it all the time. Not for no reason, just cos... it's home, innit? It's brilliant, you can't ever get bored of London cos even if you live here for like a hundred and fifty years you still won't ever know everything about it. There's always something new. Like, you're walking round somewhere you've known since you was born and you look up and there's an old clock on the side of a building you never seen before, or there's a little gargoyley face over a window or something. Don't you think it's cool?”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“Poor innocent me, just going about my business, then you raped me down the ear with your gun."

Lindsay nicks the bottle, smirking just slightly, and say's " You loved it, you tart.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Pip winds his arms up around Lindsay's neck and kisses him back, and this time
he's the one to close his eyes and escape into darkness so there's nothing in the world except the soft curls under his
fingers and the touch of Lindsay's breath on his mouth and the slow, sliding friction.
"Lindsay, do you still hate me?"
"I do when I remember to," Lindsay says quietly, but he doesn't stop moving and he doesn't stop kissing him for a long time, on his trembling mouth and his sweaty forehead and his wet, closed eyes.”
Richard Rider, 17 Black and 29 Red
“You can buy me a drink if you want," the kid says, suddenly appearing at Pip's shoulder. He turns round a bit to look at him, trying not to smile.
"That's generous of you."
"Ain't it?"
"What makes you think I'd wanna buy another man a drink?"
"Cos your t-shirt's got a unicorn on it.”
Richard Rider, 17 Black and 29 Red
“You are not deep and complex. You're the most 2-D person I've ever met in my life. Miyazaki drew you and threw you straight on the scrap pile because you look too anime”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“It ain't embarrassing just thinking something's hot. You can be as sensible and respectable as you like through all the day and night but all that goes out the window when it's about sex. Just go with it. If it makes you hard and it ain't hurting no one who don't wanna get hurt, then it's a good thing. No drama. You need to just let go sometimes.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
tags: kinks, pip
“He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to steady his breathing, then he decides that's stupid. He's come this far, he's handcuffed to the bed, he's about to let a tattooed part-time drag queen in thigh-high leather boots fuck him. What's the point of trying for self-control?”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“If I just open this window a bit, that man might put his finger
up your bum. Wouldn't that be nice for you?”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“You are gonna shoot me," he says. "One day." He's still holding Lindsay's hand, he's looking down at where their fingers are wound together and not at Lindsay's face, but his voice is clear. "I ain't thick. I know you'll get sick of me. You can't just let me go, I know too much, you'd be freaked out forever in case I snitched. You'll get proper sick of me one day, not just annoyed, and then you'll shoot me. It's okay."
"I won't get sick of you," Lindsay says. He feels numb and far away, as if its somebody else talking, and almost like he's going to throw up, a sort of lurch in his stomach like when you're at the top of the the Angel tube station escalator and somebody a bit too eager to get on the train shoves you from behind.
"Yeah you will. I'm gonna be with you til I die, though. Least I can say that and know its true, how many people can do that? Bit romantic, really. If you squint, and look at it sideways.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Too fucking late for sorry, innit? I hope he catches bubonic plague and dies in slow fucking agony the day before they legalise euthanasia and then I'm gonna go and learn Riverdance and I don't care how fucking long it takes cos I wanna do it on his grave.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Naughty little boys who don't eat their vegetables get their bottoms
smacked and go to bed without pudding,”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“There's this thing. I can, like, do a cast of your cock and make a vibrator out of it. How cool's that? Cos then, right, then I can suck you off and have you fucking me at the same time, like there's two of you. I've gone all tingly."
Lindsay doesn't know what to say for a second so he just stares at Valentine with something he imagines must look like horror. "What the hell am I doing with you?"
"Broadening your horizons. Or something."
"I must be crazy."
"That's okay, that's why it works. We're both a bit warped. Together we make sort of one whole person.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“There are
people everywhere. Lindsay wants to be sick, it's like he can
all their
eyes on him, but he does it anyway and when he finally moves away a
good minute later Valentine seems to have turned from himself into a silly
bashful schoolgirl, blushing and smiling and not quite looking up.
"Oh," he says, like that explains everything.
"Thank you."
"That's a shit thing to say when somebody's just ripped all his
principles in half to make you feel better."
"Thank you very much?"
"You're welcome.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“Suddenly, he's aware of something pushing onto his lap. The stupid monkey.
"Give him a cuddle," Valentine says. He's slid his thumb to the corner of his mouth so he can talk, but it still sounds slurry from the way he's holding it, so it won't fall out. "He'll stop you being all grumpy and stressed. He smells nice."
"It smells like its rotting," Lindsay says. He picks the thing up and sits it on the steering wheel so he can get a better look at it, trying not to touch its saliva-drenched foot.
"No he don't. He smells like being sleepy, and hiding under your covers when everybody's pissed off and shouting. He smells like what it feels like being all warm and safe under your covers."
Lindsay brings the thing to his face to give it an experimental sort of sniff. "Wrong. It smells like your spit." And his shampoo, and sort of musty, and something indefinable but unmistakable that makes him think of the way Valentine looks first think in the morning, when his hair's sticking up every which way and he's frowning slightly on opening his eyes like he can't remember where he is. He reaches over to tuck the monkey back between the kid's knees.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Can I have a tattoo?"
"Ask Dad."
"He says over my dead body."
"Well, then."
"Can I get one if I'm older?"
"Yeah. If you still want one when you grow a brain."
"When I'm seven? Cos that's well old."
"Aahh... bit older than that, maybe."
She goes tearing out of the room yelling, "PIP SAYS I CAN GET A TATTOO WHEN I'M EIGHT!”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“Ha ha ha. But what if, right, when you come home, what if I ain't wearing nothing but Nutella?"
"Your double negatives make me want to kill you."
"But what if?"
"I'll throw you in the shower and make you wash it off, then I'll fuck you, then I'll kick you out."
"Don't you like Nutella?"
"I hate Nutella."
"You're weird. Peanut butter, then. Honey. Marshmallow fluff. Jam. Lamb vindaloo?"
"I can work with that one."
"Might sting a bit."
"That's your problem, if you're gonna stick it all up yourself and hope if gets me going.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“Please, please, you have to, I never ask you for anything, please just do it."
"What are you talking about? You always ask me for everything."
"Okay, then, but you always do it, so don't change the rules now."
He knows its true. That's just the way they work. As much as he grouses and sneers and makes a big show of authority, he can't deny the kid a thing. If he wants a vintage Aston Martin so he can play at being James Bond, he gets one. If he wants to go one top, he can. He says he's never been to Africa and Lindsay goes online and books flights that same day to Morocco because he wants to see the smile when he presents Valentine with tickets. When the kid suggests setting a camcorder up in the bedroom so they can watch the tape back later and laugh at their stupid sex-faces, Lindsay goes along with it, wincing all the way, because he always says no and he never really means it in the end.
This is love, he supposes, and it's mental.”
Richard Rider, Stockholm Syndrome
“He's got one leg hooked up over Lindsay's shoulder, one braced against the dashboard. He's still got his socks on, red with a little Christmas tree on each ankle. Well sexy.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End
“...but if they go on strike you'll have to walk back. You'll have to swim back, you'll have to see Dad in his Speedos and you'll die.”
Richard Rider, No Beginning, No End

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