#he finally got valentino to have weird hang-ups about him

[batsplat]

quick follow up to this bit

was also reminded of this valentino quote

He speaks about my shoulder like he was the best shoulder doctor in Melbourne Hospital.

what WERE they cooking

(I can't like. prove this because obviously we simply do not have solid 'evidence' for casey's thinking here either way, but given this is a speculative post about how I'd narrativise these rivalries.... do think the screenshot above is basically my theory for why casey had a thing about valentino's injuries. to such an extent that valentino picked up and commented on it! after laguna and throughout 2009, there were various waves of discourse about casey having been 'broken' by valentino - first due to casey's dip in form in 2008, then because he had to take some time off in 2009. the fact that it was an invisible illness that he himself could not explain in a sport that is all about the big, glaring obvious injuries - one that was treated as a sign of mental weakness, something he was ALWAYS susceptible to being accused of... very much the opposite of valentino's shoulder and leg in that sense, which was way easier to explain and was immediately taken seriously. my suspicion is that for casey, it was about not being extended the same grace as valentino was, being frustrated at how much leniency valentino was being granted when casey was always being harshly judged. of course, valentino (in classic demented rider fashion) was if anything downplaying the severity of the shoulder injury and only admitted after it was more or less healed that he'd been terrified by how long the recovery period had dragged on and had feared he would never be the same rider again. casey's lack of empathy on this count is completely justifiable and he does also obviously have a point, but it's still an interesting part of his character. it's what makes the rivalry with valentino so very interesting - there are lots and lots of ways in which valentino directly made casey's life miserable, but then there are other ways in which valentino's mere presence, his existence, someone whose treatment casey could compare his own to, that also contributed to casey's hatred towards him. firstly by getting more empathy than casey did and the general injustice in how the sport was 'always' on valentino's 'side' in a way it never was for casey, secondly by having this reputation of 'breaking' rivals that... well, y'know, valentino was presumably more than happy to be the beneficiary of the whole thing, but it's not like this was actually a line he spread himself, including with regards to casey. he didn't have to! it's kinda just... an awful coincidence that casey's 2009 absence was always going to be treated with suspicion and he HAPPENED to have a rival with valentino's very specific reputation?? the perfect storm! which gets you to this odd point where... if anything after that casey is the main instigator in terms of the sheer vitriol of the rivalry - but it's built on years of seething resentment that valentino at times almost seems taken aback by... and then reciprocates with interest because of course he does. because that's just how valentino ticks. fundamental lack of understanding for each other!! valentino kinda accidentally being casey's perfect foil!! casey having a million Legitimate Grievances against valentino but still somehow managing to project 85% of his other issues with the sport on valentino too!! they're soooooooooooooo. so!!)

if you were to direct a motogp movie (or make a one season of television) what season or rivalry would you make it about? and more interesting what artistic liberties would you take? it doesn’t have to be a straight up biopic bc imo those are often boring, instead it could be something like velvet goldmine (1998) aka fictional characters whose real life counterparts are pretty obvious, veering in like rpf territory. anyways👀

did you know. one time this guy put a curse on this other guy. and he never won a race again

anyway, look, I do feel like by this point that's the BORING answer from me, but obviously it's where my mind first went. I'm not sure I'd actually want it out there in film form because by now it's badly enough remembered that it's like, my cute little niche story, and I think there's something fun about the Wider World even within the motogp fandom not exactly getting how bonkers the whole thing was. (I know other humans have canonically watched motogp 2004 but I swear even journalists have forgotten some key key details and it's kinda annoying but also fun.) bold words from someone who's been blogging about it!! weird gatekeep-y instinct. but basically my job here is done as far as outreach is concerned - I wrote a very long post, now I get asks about it twice a week that allow me to think about it some more with the four other people who care, perfect balance. that rivalry doesn't need to go mainstream!! the whole point of it is that it's kinda cruel but narratively pleasing that it's gone under the radar, because it's another sign valentino won. but obviously, I cannot literally make a film about this, so the hypothetical repercussions I think maybe we can put aside for a moment here

okay I came back to this bit of the post after I increasingly got into of the spirit of coming up with dumb ideas, but it did make me flesh out what I'd even WANT from something like that. I'm with you anon, a lot of biopics are boring!! if you want to just know what happened, please just literally go and 'watch the races' and 'read books' like what are we actually getting here. you kinda want to give it a purpose for existing, right, a way of portraying real/mildly fictionalised events in a manner that is also taking some kind of stance on the material AND is doing stuff you can't do 'in real life'. thing is, look, you could make 2006 into a film, and I'm sure it'd be perfectly nice because it's fundamentally a solid underdog story (well, inherently winning a title with repsol honda is NOT being an underdog but you can write it that way), but also what are you doing beyond just telling people what happened? I feel like that generally about single seasons, they're not really doing anything for me. I was also turning around the biaggi/valentino rivalry in my head in part because that's the one valentino gave as his answer for 'rivalry he would turn into a film' (marc big wet eyes sitting right next to him), but like. a film about that rivalry from valentino's pov is fundamentally not something I'm interested in. you have all these isolated very memorable moments that make it work as a rivalry, like you can absolutely spin them into a dramatic yarn that goes through the genesis of their conflict to middle finger gate to punching gate to assen + donington + sachsenring + phillip island 2001 and it's basically *insert rousing music* successful coming of age. at most you can lean into the fact valentino became successful at being a dick. like idk it's fine but also what's the point? valentino is challenged in a sports context by biaggi, he's challenged because he realises his words have consequence and the press actually reports the words he says to journalists (the horror), but he is fundamentally not challenged on a personal level. that's the entire point, right? it's the ultimate comfort zone rivalry - biaggi is a dick who it is quite easy to hate and also reacts poorly to valentino's initial provocation. the animosity escalates and it is inherently fun to beat him. valentino is mean to him, but it's not like he even really crosses any lines to beat him. like you can make it into a film, and if you twisted the material a little bit you could make it satisfying, but I don't want to!

now the way the writing process of this post worked was that I was going to breeze through a bunch of non-sete/valentino rivalries and explain why I think some of them don't work for our purposes here, but then I ended up writing myself into changing my mind. so my take on the biaggi rivalry is that actually, you CAN make it work but it has to be from biaggi's perspective. basically, I think you've got to amadeus it (a web weave I have been thinking of making at some point btw). so,,, it's a meditation on talent and how unfair it all is, maybe minus the bit where salieri poisons amadeus (I know that doesn't happen in the film) or dresses up as amadeus' father to, y'know, make him write a requiem on his death bed. and it's not amadeus in that HERE, the clown prince gets a happy ending! but it's more like, in thematic terms, I think you have to zero in on this bit. biaggi didn't have parents who shoved him on a bike when he was three years old, he didn't have parents who were invested in his motorcycling career (or even necessarily particularly invested in him), he started the sport late and discovered that, yes, he did have a prodigious amount of skill in it - but one that he started honing far later than valentino did. he approached his career with a sort of grim resolve, surly and irascible and not interested in making friends with any of his competitors but very, very good. he goes away from the race track and dates all these models, he irritates fellow riders, he's not part of the gang and he's happy about it. he's very successful! four 250cc titles, wins his first ever race in 500cc at a time when doohan was very much winning everything. he's also just like,,,, an interesting and spiky enough character it's not hard to make him come alive

but then of course you have this gradual emergence of the amadeus character, the one who challenges his established position in the court of,, well... motorcycle racing, and also as the guy italians rooted for! and valentino's obviously, y'know, in so many ways the exact opposite from biaggi, and he's super young and cheerful and lively and is doing all his silly celebrations and is being a bit camp and goofy and treats motorcycle racing as a party (you really want to lean into the culture clash here, like in amadeus it's because you have stuffy austrian court vibes but here it's because everyone is having their bones broken every two minutes and just how... kinda grim a lot of motorcycle racing was). and he's also this innocent! yes, he insults biaggi, and yes, in retrospect we know valentino is kinda evil, but at the time he was a kid with a big mouth who was a little taken aback by how that biaggi feud sort of escalated beyond what he'd actually intended it to do! and biaggi just, hates him. and I think, sorry to the real man max biaggi here, but you've got to play with how once they're actually competing with each other, it's miserable how there's just this unbreachable gulf in talent. like, whatever biaggi does he cannot win! he isn't going to defeat valentino over the course of a full season! which is depressing and horrible and CRUEL, because there's this inevitability to the whole thing... and also! because valentino doesn't DESERVE it. and you don't have to go full salieri pleading with god to explain how god could give this CLOWN all this talent, but it's kinda the same vibe! how is it valentino, who is constantly just having a laff and canonically maybe wasn't the biggest gym-goer in the paddock and is just generally seen as, y'know, a bit of a dandy, this foppish clown who everyone loves and who doesn't have to work hard to be good - how is he the one who is winning so much!! it's miserable and unjust... and I think how you portray this is that you really emphasise the kinda, repetitive nature of the defeat. like, I think you probably want to make this into a non-linear narrative where all this biaggi backstory is communicated somehow but you don't just start it when he was born or whatever - you start it in 2001 when they're competing for a title and already hate each other. and then you heavy on the time loop vibes. the whole cinematic language and all that other shit should emphasise how all these weekends are structured in exactly the same way and if you're losing to this one guy, all these different weekends can start feeling the same. it bleeds into each other, it feels inescapable, you're trapped in this narrative you can't change... worst of all, you even return to the same places again and again - like play with that! biaggi keeps coming back to where they had the fist fight, to where valentino first insulted him all those years back. you play up the disorientation and the misery of it all, plus biaggi canonically gives us all this kinda messy freudian shit to play with like how he was dating 'valentina' and his relationship with her was falling apart because of how miserable valentino was making him. it's all there!!

ANYWAYS the way you conclude this story is!! welkom 2004!! so again we can artistic license this a little bit and, uh, ignore sete (though I do also think it's fun if you lean into biaggi being displaced as a rival and staring at them being friendly and happy with each other from the outside) - but the key bit is that valentino is finally making the big error. biaggi wasn't winning titles on a yamaha, since he left yamaha has gotten worse, now valentino is making this big mistake out of his own hubris. language of cinema that shit and make everything brighter and more hopeful.... the time loop is finally over, biaggi has escaped, this year will be different!!!! everyone in his circle agrees, valentino is fucked. step off the plane at welkom (pre season testing didn't happen in this universe) and it's literal dawn of a new day... staring out at the sun and finally, biaggi can move on, can live a new and different life. anyway. obviously we all know what's coming next - you have this big dramatic climactic race where biaggi throws himself at valentino again and again and again and he comes so close to winning it... but he doesn't. and you have valentino living his best life, being delighted, but the film is focusing on how like,,, we're bleaching the joy back out of biaggi's life, how actually he's returning to what he already knew. and it ends on the podium, with the camera focusing on biaggi on that fucking second step or zooming in or whatever (idk how cinema works) and it just finishes on this shot of biaggi dead-eyed in a bleak world, trapped again for eternity aka until the end of the 2005 season. done!! I'm not sure this is quite what valentino had in mind, but. well. that's how I'd do it

this is from the pushkin play from 1832 not the 1984 film but like. low key pushkin already kinda nailed the essence of sports rivalries in the 1830s and we just have to acknowledge that sometimes

right. so the casey rivalry is where I'm going to go completely off the wall. skip this bit to get to the slightly saner stuff. this is also one I fully admit to sometimes playing around with in my mind anyway, but. uh. I'm gonna be taking this one in just. well. places. I do have a vision here but I also don't quite know how to explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound like I've lost my mind, but well if you're still reading this then that's on you. so lemme get this out of the way: the classic sports biopic formula would work well with casey. if I had to point to a single rider I would sports biopic-ify, it's casey. so you have all this kinda,, obvious adversity that's easy to get across, and it's a narrative you can follow chronologically without too much trouble. you've got all the childhood stuff, the australian racing club not letting him join them, the move to britain, the rising through the ranks, it's also this very biopic-friendly 'nobody ever believed in him apart from like three people' stuff. and the premier class is also narratively satisfying, from the rocky rookie season to the kinda shock success to then all the lows of 2008 and 2009 and the physical ailments and the anxiety and then the switch to honda and the title and then him deciding to retire... that's all good stuff! you can absolutely biopic-ify it! gun to my head and sure, I can walk you through exactly what bits of his life I'd focus on and put in what order and so on, and I think ultimately you could make a very good sports biopic from that

[some mild gore to follow in this next section]

but also. thing is. that's fine. it's just not where I want to go here, because again I feel like at that point you can also pick up his autobiography and just read it - because what you're basically doing here is just filming that. and I get how this stuff works, you're bringing the story to a wider audience, you can show stuff in a different way in that medium etc etc, and that's all great but also I don't care about bringing stuff to a wider audience. I care about doing fun stuff in my brain. so what I'd actually do here is just, basically, go in the exact opposite direction and ditch all the realism. genuinely, ditch the live action stuff, we're going animated - what I'm interested in here is stuff where we need to be able to fully suspend our disbelief and lean into some surreal shit. I'm not going to bury the lede here: my idea is that you take that thing where casey said he hated how ducati was ruining the bike by letting valentino's yellow encroach on it and, basically,, just go all in on that bit. like come on, that is so singularly visually evocative, it truly captures a lot of what's going on thematically in that rivalry. (see also x and x for the most relevant casey posts.) casey sees valentino as the malevolent force, this infection! he associates him strongly with a specific colour, one that can be sickly or unnatural or just... evil. malignant, malicious, malevolent, all the m words. to casey, valentino is a personification of everything that is wrong with the sport. valentino is literally the walking manifestation for so many of his issues, from the dangerous riding to the lack of respect to the lying to the cult of personality to the obsession with image and the media to the backroom games to the politics to the injustice of how different riders are treated differently, like!! he's literally all of that! this is a topic for another post, but this plays out in a lot of kinda, weird and funky ways where it's a two way street and sometimes when casey talks about motogp you go 'actually I think that's just valentino?' (btw he also does this about 'europe' right I don't think those are europeans you hate casey that's literally just valentino) and sometimes when he talks about valentino it's kinda? this feels like it's about a little more than the bloke himself? and basically, right, I think you need to take this to its natural conclusion where casey used to admire him and look up to him and want to emulate him on track and then gets disillusioned when valentino's worshippers turn against casey and casey is the one to bring valentino down to earth and... listen, I think you need to play around with valentino being a literal god. and I think you need to have casey stab him to cover up the yellow on the ducati with blood

okay. look. the idea here, right, is that we're basically making the subtext text, and just digging into that process of 'bringing valentino back to earth', of taking on a god and having the audacity to succeed, and also treating valentino as this sort of. infection in his own mind. the bike is literally being infected!! casey may have left the ducati but he STILL has some fidelity and love for this project, those were his people he worked with, and now valentino is coming in and just twisting everything around himself!! but also I think how this functions is that, okay, so you have all this normal stuff that's the actual 'plot' in the 'real world', but the ISSUE with the real world is that there's a lot of stuff that just. isn't possible there. like the thing casey wants in that rivalry but is never going to have is... a captive audience. a big problem casey has in that rivalry is that he doesn't get the chance to actually say a lot of stuff to valentino. he starts using the media more and more and plays the game on valentino's level, but there's still this disconnect where mr straight talking is the valentino rival who valentino never really blanks or freezes out like... there's a disconnect! there's valentino the person, who casey never quite figures out how to just straight up hate, and then there's valentino the character, the racer, the rider, the god who casey DESPISES. but when they're doing small talk at pressers and podiums, casey doesn't get to talk to that version of valentino! he just talks to valentino the person, who obviously isn't literally a different person but is also not going to explain to casey where he's coming from, is he, and also isn't someone who casey can explain to where HE is coming from. and that gulf... it does bother casey. I don't think he can quite verbalise why either, but there's just... this creeping tension. I think it'd be easier for casey if valentino really were more of a caricature, just kinda a dick in all walks of life. and there's just these canonical hints of that... the way casey talks about how he's sure valentino as a guy is fine, but he never knew valentino like that, the whole 'I'd like to go with valentino for dinner to tell him where I was coming from in that rivalry' thing, like!! it's there

so basically EYE think what you should be doing is using the wonders of storytelling to actually. embrace that element. and just leave realism behind now and again. valentino is a god, he is literally worshipped, he's part of this pantheon that casey is trekking to reach. casey is brave enough to take him on in combat, he is the first one who is truly able to draw blood. he sees how valentino isn't just a god of joy or battles or speed or the SUN or any of that other stuff - he's a disease, an illness, a god who is also a false prophet... the worship never quite goes away, because who ever truly gets rid of their valentino rossi complex, but casey eventually is given the chance to face a chained valentino and kinda,,, ritualistically publicly humiliate him using the ducati as both this sick thing that has to be 'cured' and this symbol of valentino's failure. I'm sorry, visual language goes brr here, like chain him up, do weirdly eroticised torture idc!! (psst psst valentino's fucked up shoulder also extremely goes brr here, casey low key a teensy bit weird about valentino's injuries? his thing after the 2010 leg break where he goes 'why's everyone making such a big deal about this other people break their limbs too' and then after 2011 jerez immediately asking whether valentino's shoulder is okay in just a very obviously passive aggressive way. literally he opens with that, valentino isn't using it as an excuse or anything, for some reason it's already on casey's mind and I would politely contest it was out of genuine concern for valentino's wellbeing!! it's just kinda? I'm so compelled by it? I suppose it is kinda about how valentino's suffering gets taken more seriously than his own? how those absences are received differently by the motogp world? idk I find this fun because casey does know this is one thing valentino can't really be blamed for himself, so it just slips out a bit? but yeah, casey + valentino's injuries, nobody's talking about it but I sure will, let casey get weird and mean and a teensy bit sadistic about valentino's injuries in an artistic manner.) crucially I like animation as a medium here because I think it's easier to lean into surrealism when you don't have to hand hold the audience so much through the suspension of realism, also there's just some imagery you can do in cooler ways through animation where in live action it may just look. weird. (I think you can also do one of those things where you have a live action film with only those specific bits animated but also... why? it just feels like in live action you need more 'justifications' for things, like am I saying casey is having some weird hallucinations and is losing his mind? no I just want to have weird vision sequences ffs.) the colour stuff!! valentino/casey is big on the colour coding as a rivalry, to the extent casey is even, y'know, drawing attention to it in the literal text!! yellow and red are banger colours, valentino is big on imagery himself with all his sun + moon motifs, it's kind of all there to make the easy next step to kinda zany surreal imagery. ritualistic stabbing works better in animation, you can kinda get the blood to like. drip down and overwhelm the yellow illness that's slithered out across the bike

and. AND of course what this entire set up allows you to do is.... give them an opportunity to talk. they can't talk in real life! casey CAN'T give him his real thoughts on anything, and fundamentally valentino can't either. they're opponents. they're strangers who chat sometimes. it's not just that they aren't friends, it's that fundamentally they cannot be friends - because their ability to do their actual jobs depends on a certain level of professional distance. valentino of course does have a decent read on casey, and vice versa, because when you're figuring out how to defeat someone then (if you're valentino) you're looking to play the rider too. valentino's entire approach depends on focusing in on his rivals and attempting to throw them off, to make them unravel. he's watching casey closely!! the entire journey of casey's first three seasons in the premier class essentially becomes like, this god of their world focusing in on him. figuring him out. trying to gnaw away at him. obviously, animation also allows you to go big on the panopticon-y imagery which is kinda fundamental to their rivalry, because of their fundamentally oppositional stances to 'performing' for the ever present cameras where there IS a little bit of common ground in they have both struggled with it. but valentino isn't going to ever say that to casey! casey isn't going to open up to valentino! so if you give them,, you know, a different arena to express themselves, where casey actually has this external figure to talk to (as he's like, cutting him open I guess) whereas valentino actually is put in a position where he's allowed to respond, where he can taunt casey a little bit, where he can interrogate casey's approach and also the similarities between the two of them and how casey has been forced to become a little more like valentino to challenge him... because the thing is, right, valentino is so big on message discipline with his rivals and has completely stopped talking about that rivalry post mid 2013 that, first of all, you have this complete imbalance in who's been telling this story for the past decade, but second of all you kinda don't have a sense of what valentino would respond? idk!! I think this is mainly fun as a thought exercise for me specifically but also I do think it's kinda, digging into some of the bits that make this narratively work as a rivalry, how valentino in this rivalry is actually just kinda... removed. like he's not really emotional about it!! at most he's a bit bitchy, but even that just feels about The Game. it's the most extreme in this regard followed by jorge - but with valentino's other feuds you kinda... see a bit more an unguarded moment, see something a little more real there. the casey rivalry feels so uncomfortable precisely because valentino is a little... inhuman in this one. I mean, if you want to have valentino as some kind of cross between a deity and a monster in any of his feuds, this is the one. casey's just an obstacle to him. idk don't you think casey kinda wants to chain valentino down and stab him and make him see casey a little more... well, I think he should want it and I think it'd be fun to see and get them to talk to each other. ugh and also all the implications of making the faith vs non-believer elements more literal... casey the heretic!!!

there's some obvious stuff here you'd have to figure out, like 'how do you make this work as a narrative even to people who aren't familiar with casey stoner at all' and 'who the fuck do you think the target audience is here' and 'you do know this is not the kind of thing that would ever be made, right, go back to the casey stoner sports biopic like a sane person' but!! I do think it's material you can make work if you're just,,, efficient and smart in how you're actually telling the 'real life' version of the rivalry. also in my head this is. idk. an animated limited series not a film, which then brings in other stuff like 'episodic structure' because I'm fundamentally opposed to tv shows that think they're films. and look, I'm not going to write an entire film script treatment here, I just think a good writer can figure this stuff out. blood on the ducati is the framing device for everything else, simple. lots of animated floating eyes I reckon, first casey is watching valentino and then valentino is watching casey and the whole world is watching them... and it does bleed into real life just a little, where you're wondering whether casey is actually imagining/dreaming this stuff or valentino is or if they both know it somehow... you can get away with more ambiguity in animation. anyway, if you do want more thoughts on this one specifically for whatever reason, let me know because this one I do actually have more on

also laguna 2008 is a bit tortoise and the hare coded if you really think about it

[end of gore]

so. on to jorge. hm. the thing about jorge is that he was kinda writing a coming of age film in his own head, so like - yes, that's what you do go for? you can play it straight and follow how jorge has cast his rivals, or you can pin the whole narrative on the fact that jorge has cast them - the kinda artificiality of the narrative, the way jorge is this storyteller who isn't being recognised as much as he thinks he should be, isnt adequately appreciated. the way there's this three way discourse between what jorge thinks the story is and what the public thinks the story is and actual. you know. reality. I think this is a bit more light-hearted, like you know how the best stories about teenagers take their emotions seriously but also let them be kinda silly? because young people are silly! jorge was silly! he's got a lot of CHARM because he's so cocky and naive and full on and intense and awkward and kinda off-putting and tactless and a bit all over the place and so painfully, painfully young, like he's a good protagonist because that's a KID. but also, obviously there's also a lot of extremely not light-hearted bits of his story - everything about his father, his manager... idk this one's another one where, I don't just want to make it a generic sports biopic, and I'm trying to figure out the clear narrative arc here? I mean, you can point to the end of 2010 and really lean into him choosing victory on-track over popularity off it. the problem with 2010 is that it does not work as a dramatic season, yeah sure with the magic of biopics you can hack at it to shit but also. idk. what are we getting out of it. I think for narrative purposes you want to maybe narrow in, and end it at the end of 2008, with the switching of the numbers this kind of moment of emancipation? but also! this feels like we're straying a bit too far away from the fun sports elements and I don't want to REALLY suggest all the ways in which you could mine jorge's personal trauma in a jokey tumblr post, so I'm gonna move on from this one

the problem is 2015 just straight up doesn't work as a jorge-centric narrative, except in a very kinda comic way that leans into how absurd his role in that season was. 2012 as a season is a bit... y'know, it's fine. okay it's mostly terrible, but that's fine too. but it doesn't have a great narrative hook. which kinda leads you to the problem that I do think the valentino rivalry is more... juicy from jorge's pov, because for valentino, jorge is just kinda? an obstacle? idk he's more normal about it, it's just his job to destroy the guy, you know how it is. but also 2009 does work better narratively from valentino's pov, like it's the build up to catalunya specifically you can dramaticise... idk though, I do love catalunya but my heart isn't really in this exercise because I think valentino isn't really being... challenged here? it's a title fight where he's fundamentally using a set of tools he's already perfected, to beat a guy he doesn't really give a shit about. when the italian press is down on him pre catalunya, it doesn't spark any genuine self-doubt - it's just a handy source of extra motivation. there's no epic highs or lows that season, not real ones. and yes I know I was talking about making valentino who gets stabbed repeatedly to cover up an infection a moment ago, but that reflected real EMOTIONAL truths!! I'm committed to thematic fidelity more than I am to literal fidelity

genuinely I think the best way to tackle jorge is with the jorge/dani parallel journeys... what, film? tv show? maybe show actually - you don't have one coherent narrative Statement per se but you're constantly charting those journeys in reference to each other, really rooting it in their respective points of views, no neutral detached cinematic language like I want everything to be very much written to be from their eyes!! going from one to the other and back again. and you're charting these different journeys, right, and how they both captured different flavours of like... emotional successes and failures. I think it's actually about failure, yeah, about having to accept there's something you can't have and might never be able to get - whether that's universal love or a premier class title or whatever - but Actually, that might not be the end of the world. and during this process, they go from being enemies to tentative friends!! guys who realise they can maybe actually understand each other better than they thought!! this real moment of interpersonal connection. you have all these media narratives and the managers and so on and the fact they're competitors as these built in reasons why they've just been pitted against each other from the start... but y'know, again, it is also just a bit about maturing, about being able to set that aside, about making your peace with defeat and failure as an element of growing up. you can't win everything, maybe there's something you really really really want and you're just not going to get it, but at the end of the day it's kinda... yeah. self-acceptance. idk this is the nice one

so with marc you can go several different ways here I guess, and again he's also perfectly decent sports biopic material, probably second to casey in that category like yeah sure do the comeback story. but also, we do already have a very good self-produced documentary about what he thinks the narratives of his career are? idk this is also just a personal taste thing, I'll leave him to doing all the injury stuff himself, I don't have much to add there. we'll get to the obvious one in a second, but I was trying to figure out if there were other places I massively felt like you need the cinematic touch. and, again, the 2013 season is obviously very exciting!! but also, you have it covered in.,,,, multiple documentaries, I don't feel I have a take their either? his rivalries with dani and jorge aren't really substantive enough to sustain a bit of cinema. dovi... I mean, what are you saying there? what's the arc? I feel like if I tackled dovi, I'd go somewhere else and really go all in with the ducati stuff, and make it a bit more... you know, stark, stripped back, basically just the emotional component of how much he gave to that project and how he managed to beat away one rival after the next and how it all ended up falling apart in a kind of anti-climactic way? he's also good sports biopic material, but in a way I think the marc rivalry is the bit of his story I have the least to say on. so eg, 2017 is a dramatic season, but he's also kinda fine after it? he always knew it was a long shot, he tried his best and he got really close and then he lost. you can't amadeus it because dovi isn't (fictional) salieri. basically, I think what I'm saying here is that dovi is too well-adjusted to feature in this post. though I'd totally watch a film about his 250cc seasons, like it's a bit annoying because HE is the underdog who loses both title fights to jorge, but it'd still be kinda fun idk. I wouldn't really know what to do with the material but if someone made the film I'd absolutely watch it

right then. the thing about sepang 2015 is... yeah, sure, of course you can do it, it already exists as a narrative but... yeah, what are you adding!! idk I always think when you're adapting something, you kinda need to have a reason for it? I mean, what are you doing that's not already there in the footage? idk maybe this is just a sign of having been a fan of this sport for one too many years but to me the idea of sepang 2015 can get a bit boring (or maybe just repetitive) where I need a new TAKE on it to really get into the idea of fictionalising it. like where's the auteur's touch y'know, what can I still add to this!! but it also needs to WORK for someone who is new to the story, which kinda just makes you want to tell the story straight.... y'know the story is strong enough and COMPLICATED enough to stand on its own and it IS good but I don't really have anything interesting to say beyond 'yeah sure that'e be neat'. I can't tell you why, but I also don't think the casey approach quite works here? the idea of providing a framing device with which valentino and marc can actually talk to each other... eh. don't like that. hm. okay wait actually I just turned it around in my head for... a while and I think I've got an idea to make the worst motorcycle racing film of all time. so, my central stupid film-making gimmick here is just. centring the fact we're completely reliant on a few guys and what they're telling us in making up our minds, and our removal from that story and the imperfection of their perceptions and so on. so I think you kinda make a point of... not actually showing the motorcycle racing? like, you always show it by showing other people watching it, you're showing the tv screen rather than the actual racing. even in the cinematic medium, you're centring the theatrical aspects, where you drill it down to just a few characters. valentino. marc. uccio. marc's fuck ass manager. maybe a crew chief or two. keep it limited though, all the others are kept at a distance - you're constantly focusing in on the same few characters. and very early on you basically just like... get them to fourth wall break by telling you, the viewer, with their actual words how racing works for them, what meaning they take out of it - and again it's this remove because we're never allowed to actually feel the racing for ourselves (no helmet cams), and it sets up that as the tragedy unfolds, again and again we're just hearing from them what happened. it's all zoomed in on how claustrophobic the entire situation is, like doing the race direction room after the sepang 2015 is perfect for that kind of thing, and crucially they're only ever addressing the audience because they can't address each other. but fourth wall breaks also obviously draw attention to artificiality! I realise they are very much like, lame gimmick central, but also are these men not inherently about lame gimmicks... idk it's basically the same story but at least it feels like a kinda interesting way of telling it. kinda trite, but cinema allows you to get to the point and let valentino actually play with the camera... so literally take it into his own hands and lead it around and tell the story from his point of view. and you can play with how they do both change in what stories they think they're telling, how they're constantly revising their own stories, how their stories completely clash with each other... like. make them literal narrators. that's my pitch

so. one interesting pattern that has come up with my approaches to these rivalries is that with the exception maybe of the 2015 stuff, I feel like I'm more naturally inclined to treat valentino as a narrative device and centre his rivals. a big part of this is that valentino is a fantastic narrative device. he's kinda. this looming presence in every narrative in this sport where you can just sort of use him as a sort of way to poke away at all these other riders. the monster everyone loves who you are trapped with. BOO!! he's gonna eat you! which is fun! but ALSO, crucially, several of these rivalries aren't that emotionally challenging for him!! again, with casey right, he wants to beat him, but he's not having a crisis of faith over losing to casey. he thinks casey is annoying, he wants to beat him because he wants to win. valentino is casey's foil, but casey is not valentino's. valentino makes for an excellent personal antagonist to casey, but the reverse just isn't true. casey isn't forcing valentino to reexamine his approach except 'ramping up the levels of being a dick on-track' - like, yes, that's a serious competitive challenge, but also valentino is very comfortable in his own skin in that rivalry. sure, you could have valentino have some kind of massive revelation about the casey rivalry, but like. he doesn't in canon. he changes his behaviour towards casey in pretty predictable ways depending on what the relationship demands from his perspective at any given time. there's nothing more there

now, obviously you know where I'm going here. there IS a rivalry where you can make the argument he changes as a result of it, there IS a rivalry that tips him over the line and makes him to do stuff he hadn't done before that, there IS a rivalry that happens to coincide with a period of his competitive life that challenges him both personally and professionally. now, look, I have already talked about the sete rivalry. you know what I think about this rivalry - and if you don't, I really already have told the story here and here and here and here and also here. I think this works perfectly well as a narrative in its own right, and it's one you can tell from either perspective... but you kinda need both. I think again you probably naturally lean towards starting it from sete's perspective and that first proper meeting (I mean, idk if it is their first actual meeting, but it's the logical obvious place you start this story) with sete giving valentino advice during his first 500cc test and valentino just, y'know, ignoring him and being a cocky shit and then crashing. so you get to see sete being kinda exasperated by the whole thing. also, obviously ibiza is like, a key framing device here, like it's the most obvious in-your-face way of tracking their relationship with each other. I don't actually know how often they partied there together, but it must have been at least twice and if the commentators are to be believed it must have included 2003. artistic license and you can add one or two more times, but mainly you want to focus in on 2003 onwards right. so you've got this 2002 one where it's, y'know, high point of their friendship and in the name of narrative efficiency, you establish here that sete is looking to make the honda switch. the emphasis is on how valentino has been winning everything but on the flip side you're getting the first insight into his discontent. and there's a bit of a vibe of, what could you possibly have to complain about? like you are winning so much? so it's late one night where they've had this slightly unguarded alcohol-fuelled moment of genuine vulnerability but in the end it's actually characterised by how... unsubstantial the link between them is, because they wouldn't talk about this kind of thing with each other and they might both be similar in some ways but also don't gettttttt each other. it means you can return there as a location in 2003, where you've just had sachsenring and valentino's dramatic loss but they're still partying together and it's like. obviously In The Air that not everything is quite right... their relationship is already gradually altered and twisted because you're introducing this element of actual stakes and competition (obviously in 2004 they do NOT spend that time together, as far as we know anyway, and you can show them being very much not together at ibiza as a very obvious Oooh Things Will Fall Apart and maybe already haveeee)

and I do think basically I've already said what I think the themes here are,,,, several times by this point, so I'm not going to belabour the point. I think all of this fundamentally works as a narrative with like, minimal massaging and rearranging of the elements for dramatic effect. it's all there already, everything from sete's arc with the [insert non-tasteless way of covering a real life tragedy that fundamentally alters the course of sete's career] and how that leads to sete becoming the challenger and how he does want to win and his eventual downfall. with valentino, you have the element of liberation and self-discovery and... well, growing into your own but also kinda having the narrative drawing attention to how 'growing into your own' can involve becoming a fully realised character who is essentially quite cruel? you have this kind of... build up, right, towards this moment of revelation, where you lay bare who these two people actually ARE at sepang 2004, and then again at jerez 2005. valentino has gone his own way, he has freed himself from the chains of honda, he has embraced individualism and the chance to define himself and his own legacy and stand on his own two feet and not rely on the strongest bike or all this stuff within honda where they chose him as their flag bearer, for better or for worse... like he comes to his own here! he takes the step from 'great rider' to 'legend' because he gets to this dramatic moment of stepping into the unknown, he takes this massive risk that could have cost him so much, and it ends up elevating him. but it also puts him under duress, and in that moment he reveals himself - whatever sete did or did not do at qatar 2004, EVEN IF sete did all that shit, what you are left with is valentino vowing to ruin this man. valentino uses sete to make himself 'better', to fuel himself as a competitor. valentino turns sete into a tool in his own story. and again, thematically you've got all this stuff about how sete was managing the image of the rivalry and how valentino took advantage of that - how sete needed it to remain respectful and valentino was completely willing to abandon that. like, you have two protagonists who really are similar in quite a few ways, who think they have this shared understanding with each other, but when it comes down to it? they end up being super painfully different

now I can go on about this and how to play it straight, basically, you can just do that rivalry and I think it'd be cool and fun and very easy to arrange in a good narrative way. BUT I've kind of already. done that. like I don't want to suggest a film that is basically a nicer version of my tumblr posts. so I want to take this in a slightly different direction, and I think what we need to consider with this rivalry is this: what if you made the curse literal? basically, what's always kinda charmed me about this rivalry is that the curse should not work and all the misfortune that befalls sete after that is so comical that it's kinda... what do you do with that? and the answer is you just lean all the way in. my pitch is this: what if valentino sells his soul to the devil?

so, you know faust, right, and you know the bit at the start of goethe's faust where god and mephistopheles are basically making a wager over how corruptible this one human is. and faust is like... he's kinda disillusioned, he feels that everything he's dedicated his life to in academia is fundamentally hollow, gets very close to committing suicide. and faust has gone a bit new age-y, gotten into all this mystical shit and he's got this pentagram that ends up preventing mephistopheles from leaving his presence in their first meeting... and basically what the devil can give him is like, the chance to attain some true pleasure, and for that faust is willing to bet everything - so if faust can just have that, then maybe eternal damnation is worth it. and look, I'm not going to summarise the entire plot of faust here and it does go off the wall a bit with all the gretchen stuff, but the point is you have this version of the devil who is fundamentally a cynic and is attempting to win an argument with god by making this human succumb to his own nihilism. and what faust basically does is like, abandon his normal life where he's trying to live by normal virtues and goes off on this journey with the devil. and there's this little moment where mephistopheles,,, pretends to be faust and takes on the role of an academic adviser (you know how it is) and seduces this random student away from the word of god and sends him down a wretched path, which ends with this bit:

like, a big part of faust's tragedy is supposed to be about... well, hubris, of the relationship of god to man, of no longer being afraid of the devil... and obviously, this is all framed very much in terms of religion, but at the end of the day it's also about, you know, having purpose - faust is living a life that no longer has any meaning to him, all of his knowledge and studies now no longer fill the void inside himself. his nihilism opens the door for mephistopheles, and is what makes him willing to accept the devil's terms. now, and I am so very sorry to goethe here, I think we have some material we can use here to explore the valentino/sete rivalry. obviously, you can't do a one-to-one, you need to get rid of some of like, the depression and all that - there were times when valentino was feeling 'a bit low' in 2003, but not 'faust thinking everything he'd done in his entire life was pointless' low, yeah? also, unless you want to do a real long view here and even then it can't really be justified, there obviously isn't really a 'tragedy' here from valentino's perspective. like, he wins! this isn't valentino's tragedy, it's sete's! I was being a bit facetious when I said he was 'selling his soul to the devil', and you can kinda parse mephistopheles' motivations in different ways depending on what flavour and what interpretation of him you're dealing with here. you don't 'damn' valentino, you essentially just turn him into a tool of the devil!

so, this is how this works out in my head: the devil works more broadly as the manifestation of competitive impulses, the kind of 'how far would you go to win' question as a bloke who shows up and literally talks to the characters about it (magic of cinema). he's also engaging with valentino feeling like his victories no longer having meaning, with being disconnected from honda and from the entire culture there and just feeling like he's going through the motions. there's this element of like... opening the door to what is essentially a journey of self-actualisation, bringing him closer to being a 'god' but also allowing him to fully come into his own and become himself. to win on his own terms. I reckon ibiza is my preferred narrative device where the devil talks both to sete and valentino there (separately), first literally as a mysterious stranger and then... maybe not? he's talking to them at times of their lives when they're not at ibiza and it's not happening there in the physical world and they both end up kinda having to confront they're dealing with some potentially malevolent supernatural entity. but the important elements of the devil is that a) he's not going to do anything the humans don't actually ask for themselves, and b) everyone knows he's following his own agenda and you should be careful of the requests you make of him. so it's kinda like... essentially, the backdrop of this rivalry unfolding is they're constantly being challenged to decide what lines they're willing to cross. which culminates at qatar... and maybe you do have sete making like. a teensy mistake. a teensy error in judgement, one that is both real and deliberate but he could not have known would get that reaction and instantly regrets. and valentino, who is I think inherently sceptical of the devil coming to offer to help him and maybe does crank out the pentagrams (remember, the whole point of faust is that he was too arrogant to be scared of the devil, or one of the points anyway), in a moment of fury does decide - no, actually. I will take that step. I will curse sete. now the thing is, dramatically this is a teensy bit tricky because when you're talking about being damned by the devil, usually the consequences are a bit more severe than 'not winning a motorcycle race again' (yes, you can get into how sete did also seem genuinely cursed after that, cf his ambulance/bus crash situation, but again we are flirting with being in poor taste in this tumblr post). but the thing is, right, you have to lean into the silliness here! qatar 2004 is inherently silly, a CURSE is inherently silly, like real life is already silly here! you have to engage with the people where they are, and for these athletes all this shit is so heightened that the emotions are full on. like, valentino would've sold that guy to the devil! and to him not winning another race is basically the worst thing that can happen

so, obviously, you get to do the actual curse stuff. curses are inherently campy fun, the devil doing curses is campy fun, getting valentino rossi to crank out the pentagrams is inherently campy fun. you get to play around with this, right, like you know that bit in the brno 2005 race commentary where the commentators are talking about how valentino might as well have a little radio to talk into sete's helmet to remind him of how sete had fucked up at the sachsenring. OBVIOUSLY obviously obviously it is just so... idk scrunchy and fun to have this idea of valentino becoming a malevolent enough force to literally do that.... like damn the commentators did kinda eat with that?? ughhhhhh do you ever think about sete leading the qatar 2005 race for most of the way???? like that's SO fucked up because you literally have articles from about the race going 'hey maybe sete can break his curse' and then the commentators are talking about curses having one year expiration dates but obviously they!! do not!!!!! there's one race where sete goes off track and the commentators are talking about how valentino will surely have smiled into his helmet like that's so fucked!! it's so fucked!! but idk I think basically you have all this creeping curse-y stuff and devil stuff and then you get this twist and then it just becomes misery zone for sete until you sort of. compress the timeline and have him retire without getting into what happened at the end of 2006. and valentino just relishing in all his very worst emotions. and you've got sete who was the better man after jerez 2005, who took the high ground again and again and again and it did NOTHING for him.... and then he's cursed and his career is finished and the devil has had his fun getting mixed in with mid noughties motogp. and now obviously this is inherently kinda dumb and corny and silly but it's the devil!! mephistopheles to me is allowed to get up to dumb shit sometimes, let him have some fun!! idk I like curses being literal idc

I think the obvious critique here is 'this doesn't really feel like it gets the message of faust'. which, yes, is true - and obviously the way narratives are structured, a satisfying resolution isn't 'well selling your soul kinda slaps, actually'. and my statement to respond to this argument is as follows:

this is essentially canonically what happened. valentino DID do something kinda evil and it DID work out 100% for him and it DID kinda slap. at least when you add in the devil, you're making explicit the bit where it is a little bit bad. also, is sports not inherently about selling your soul for success... the story of valentino and sete is essentially about how we are twisted by competition, how pretending that we don't wish ill to our opponents is inherently dishonest. it is about lifting a facade for something that is already inherently there in the souls of men. this is obviously inherently a deeply cynical stance, but this is also a deeply cynical story beyond all the fun battles and camp dramatics. the devil is a cynic and he is basically the point of view character of goethe's faust - he's the one who is positioned closest to the audience. sports is all about living out some of humanity's worst instincts in a relatively low stakes setting, which means we get a free pass to have fun with a deeply cynical story that goes 'maybe selling your soul to the devil is fine, actually'

do I stand by this stance? not really, but the whole fun of storytelling is that sometimes you can just be kinda mean. I think goethe would get it... you can tell which character he enjoyed writing the most

the OTHER way you can do this is centre everything around qatar 2004 as like,,, the mystery box element...... okay look I have now made two posts that go WAY too deep on the 'what really happened' element but I do loveeeeee the whole thing like I would just make a film about that very end of the season and we show it from all these different angles as different characters narrate what happened... like fuck all the riders I want to hear from whichever mechanic used the scooter... the gresini mechanic who gave evidence to race direction.... various honda higher ups the crew chiefs like this is jb vs juan martinez it's war!!! obviously you still have the same emotional/thematic hooks as the general rivalry does but idk I would have a LOT of fun figuring out how to structure that, I loveeee mysteries... maybe I'd write it as a mockumentary yeah..... this one's just fun

anyway. a lot of stuff going on in this post, huh! you can probably tell I didn't edit this much. my classic tell when I edit my tumblr posts is I remember how 'paragraphs' work. unfortunately all I have energy for are like. a bunch of rants about things in my brain. I think when tumblr tells you that you've reached the maximum number of characters per paragraph and you need to figure out where to put a break, it's probably a bad thing? on the whole, my stance is I don't have anything AGAINST mildly fictionalised versions, but for me I'm always more of a.... well I want to take advantage of the full specificity of the events as they happened or just come up with a completely original story. kind of person. I know this ask probably wasn't looking for my 'what if you bled out valentino as he's strung up above a red motorcycle' vision but yeah. with a lot of biopics I'm always a bit 'well you could just read about this couldn't you' like I need stuff to take some kind of a stance on the material it's using... all my stuff takes a stance. that's all I've got. obviously all these stances mean that basically none of these things could ever be made. and I know what I said above but if they called me up to write the casey stoner biopic script treatment, I would also do that. if you've actually read to this point, give me a shout - you're a real one and I love you

[scoutswritingcorner]

More Papa Headcanons!

PLATONIC Papa!Alastor & GN!Child!Reader

Angst Flavored~

First Part

TW: ANGST- Just a teeny tiny bit. For the soul. Oh and Susan is mentioned.

A/N: Enjoy~

I usually leave this part up to you guys, the readers of my ramblings, but what if you were born out of wedlock? You are technically Alastor’s bastard child. Especially during that time period? That was greatly frowned upon and you never knew who your mother was! But despite all of that, Alastor and his Mom adored you. (Don’t get me wrong she probably chewed his ass out for it but she adored you.) 

Now, as you grew older people started saying it to your face, even kids at your school. But everytime you brought it up to Alastor he got angry, not at you, so he teaches you how to defend yourself and makes sure that you know to never start a fight. 

But once in hell, the name still sticks. Susan once overheard Alastor and Rosie’s conversation about it and called you that to your face. (Mean ass old woman right there.) And to say you were upset was an understatement, you knew better than to get into adult’s business but you just ran to your Papa sobbing cause you had thought you escaped that treatment. Despite being in Hell. You’re just clinging to his pants as you try your darndest not to cry but gosh the words keep echoing, both Rosie and Alastor are immediately worried about you. Cause you never cry or cause too much trouble!

Once they hear what Susan said? Rosie has to keep Alastor from flipping his lid. You stay by his side the rest of the day too scared to go play with the other kids in Cannibal Town. It shouldn’t bother you too much but you’ve been called that your entire few years of living and now it’s followed you down to Hell? What if the others start doing such a thing? 

Not to worry, Auntie Rosie shuts the whole thing down if she even catches a whiff of it. 

NOW ONTO NICER THINGS-

Full credit to @aceblaze01 for the idea of Vox being in Child!Reader’s afterlife! Especially when he and Alastor were hanging out(idk if I should call them partners). He was like an odd Uncle to you! Also 100% would let you watch kids cartoons on his screen, but you were so confused by it that you stood there staring at him before finally getting comfortable to sit down and watch those weird picture shows your papa talked about. He would totally put on Disney films for you. 

You watched Bambi once and ended up crying. He had to hold you and calm you down before Alastor was alerted. After that he stuck with everything else but Bambi. 

You sometimes go with Alastor to Overlord meetings and sit next to him drawing, not paying any mind to what’s going on either. You mostly draw your Papa and Auntie Rosie but you’ve started to draw Vox and that man cries when you hand him the drawings of him with very shaky handwriting and misspelled words. He loves it and keeps it hung up on his wall framed and everything. You gave a drawing to a lot of the nicer Overlords as a thank you for letting you join with your Papa. You gave one to Zestial, Carmilla and many of the unnamed ones that didn’t look too scary..you gave those to your Papa so he can give it to them. 

Even after all those years and Alastor’s falling out with Vox as a whole, he kept your drawings still safely framed. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of them. Valentino said one bad thing about them and got the shock of his afterlife. That’s the last time he brought it up. He still checks up on you, makes sure you're alright. Even though he can’t physically be next to you cause Alastor would lose his fucking shit, he makes sure he has people check up on you. 

Vox has killed people who even thought of putting a hit out on you before Alastor ever caught wind about it. He’s not a man to play around with when it comes to you- his little niece/nephew/nibling (gender neutral term for niece/nephew).

During exterminations? Alastor stays with you the whole time. He doesn’t need anything hurting you. He keeps you in his room with books and anything else you want to bring. When you're in the hotel and extermination is around the corner, while the hotel is relatively safe. He still makes sure you stay far away from any doors leading to the outside. 

Oh boy, you are the only one able to sit in his tower with him while he works! He has a chair designated for you and will answer any and all questions about his work (even if they do get silly and repetitive). You’ll fall asleep sometimes when he’s on air and he doesn’t miss a beat wrapping his jacket around you as he continues to talk.

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord

[weebsinstash]

So like, in the finale there's that shot where the Vees are in Val's section in the Vee Tower, and there's VERY OBVIOUSLY AN OLD PHOTO OF VOX AND ALASTOR

and obviously i have some thoughts and ideas about that BUT I was listening to the song again and I couldn't help but have my eyes drawn to the top left corner... zooom... enhance.... rotate...

VALENTINO SELF PORTRAIT SPOTTED? Because even though I think that's Vox's handwriting, I definitely don't think it's his art, because we've already seen his art and uh, yeah it's definitely not on this level of detail

kinda just sitting here now thinking about... you go up to Val's office at the studio to drop off something someone else asked you to deliver, but he's not there, so you set it down on his desk and can't help but find your eyes drawn to a notebook sitting on a side table with a bunch of pencils next to it and... you can't help but take a peek... and it's surprising how many different drawings are in there and you find it actually pretty impressive, but as you keep flipping the pages, it's like "OH, a drawing of me! That's... kinda weird but it looks so nice! And another of me! And... another... and another... and another... and why do these all have so much detail..."

You basically catch him with the equivalent of Miles Morales' sketchbook full of Gwen and OF COURSE when you close it to turn around and leave, OF COURSE he's behind you and he's SO EMBARRASSED because oh my GOD, you can't just look in an artist's sketchbook without asking?! That's private! He's just, red in the face, flustered, frazzled, squeaking, shouting at you asking what you think you're doing. I just picture you try to calm him down, "I didn't mean to look but your sketches are really good! I'm sorry, I got curious 🥺 I promise it won't happen again" and he's crossing his arms and his antenna are twitching and he's just pouting and grumbling, "just don't fucking do it again" and you avoid being maimed because, aw you complimented him he loves that ❤️

that awkward moment when you open a random sketchbook full of drawings and it turns out to be full of like straight up fucking FILTH, of YOU. Like maybe you're doing PA stuff in Vee Tower and Vox lost a journal full of contact info for something and you're poking around in Val's tower helping look for it because, well, Vox asked you for help! It's kind of an honor! This guy's an Overlord and you got the go ahead to poke around his house to help him look for something! So you're glancing at papers and finally picking up The Sketchbook, and... it's everything from just doodles of you chilling just sitting doing normal shit like being on your phone or asleep in the limo, to potential outfit ideas like DETAILED CUSTOM outfit ideas with TWO different sets of handwriting in the margins, to just straight up PORN. Sketches of you in bondage, tied up, gagged, in spreader bars, on your knees with your mouth gaping open with painfully familiar pink cursive handwriting in a speech bubble where 'you' are begging to taste the viewer, mouth open, tongue hanging out with a trail of spit connecting both of your lips--

AND THE BOOK IS SNATCHED OUT OF YOUR HANDS AS YOU SPIN AROUND TO SEE VALENTINO and he's all but like INFLATED with embarrassment, fur bunching up, antenna flailing, at a loss for words as he looks between you and his sketchbook like he is CAUGHT IN 4K. He would probably completelt deflect and try to act like you snooping is the bigger deal meanwhile you're like "hey dude was that like a full color fully shaded drawing of me in a custom coat that matches your wings and we're making out--" and you wind up having to just scurry away as he becomes incoherently angry and flustered and maybe even threatening you if you don't get out of his room RIGHT FUCKING NOW--

The next time you go to work your shift serving him drinks, he's shoving an outfit at you that you recognize from the sketchbook, a new uniform, and you can't help but notice Velvette looking you over as you serve the Vees drinks, almost as if she's admiring her handiwork...

[void-occupation]

QPR Applemedia Headcanons

I got bit with the bug for this ship a couple weeks ago, and while I'm writing a little fic for them, you guys can have these headcanons

Lucifer and Vox are romantically and sexually involved while Alastor is their queerplatonic partner

Lucifer and Alastor were actually the first to become involved with each other, then (somehow) Alastor and Vox worked through their differences and became qpps as well

Lucifer DID NOT like Vox at first - he'd heard what happened between him and Alastor and was sure he was trying to hurt Alastor again. It wasn't until Alastor got sick of the protectiveness and forced them to hang out that the pair actually realized their chemistry

Lucifer and Vox are both rich and treat customer service employees like shit

Alastor - who grew up poor and is still not exactly strapped for cash (I'm a broke Alastor truther, sue me) hates this. Both he and his mother worked in customer service when money was tight while he was alive, so he always tries to treat them with respect. He'll take money from whoever was the biggest asshole on their nights out and use it to give the waitstaff large tips. Nights out almost always end in the silent treatment, but our boys are dumb so they don't know what they did wrong or understand why it was wrong when Alastor tells them

Don't worry, they get it eventually and start working on themselves

Vox and Alastor both prefer coffee while Lucifer likes tea more

Vox has the best sleep schedule, Lucifer alternates between not sleeping at all and sleeping for 19 hours, and Alastor sleeps at most 3 hours per night due to crippling insomnia - though he like to tell everyone that not sleeping is a choice in order to seem more mysterious and intimidating

Vox and Lucifer had a field day when they found out Alastor was ticklish. Alastor pretends to be annoyed every time they gang up on him, but it actually reminds him of the rare happy memories of his childhood, so he lets them keep doing it

Vox and Lucifer will binge their favorite shows together and come up with the wildest conspiracies about them

When they sleep in the same bed, Alastor and Lucifer use Vox as a makeshift heater

Alastor is fine with being kissed - making out is a definite no - but he doesn't kiss. He bites with affection. He never draws blood when he's being affectionate, but he's not always gentle either. It isn't uncommon for the trio to be laying in bed and Alastor just starts biting whoever is closest

For someone who is supposedly with the times, Alastor and Lucifer had to explain asexuality an ungodly number of times for Vox to finally understand it - a byproduct of being with Valentino for so long

Alastor still refuses to allow cameras to see him clearly, just to tease Vox when they aren't around each other

Despite his claims, there is actually a wide array of modern music that Alastor enjoys, but despite his southern roots, Vox found out the hard way that Alastor will throw hands if you play country around him

Alastor and Vox love making fun of Lucifer for his height - until he shifted into a form that was a good 5 inches taller than both of them just to shut them up. Lucifer wishes he'd had a camera because he'd never seen them both so flustered at the same time

They have competitions about who can come up with the best dad joke/corny pickup line, and they usually end up laughing so hard they can't breathe by the end of it

They also love trying to make each other blush. Lucifer turns bright gold when he receives genuine affection. Vox overheats when either Alastor genuinely laughs, or Lucifer turns on the charm. Alastor hates that he turns bright red with either genuine praise or when his partners surprise him with something he enjoys (knowledge of jazz/radio, cooking authentic Creole meals for him, expressing real interest when he actually gets invested in something, etc.)

All three of them have weird little hyperfixations - Lucifer with his ducks, Alastor and furbys, and Vox is absolutely fascinated by the existance of Pastafarianism (the worship of the Giant Flying Spaghetti Monster). They all tease each other over their hyperfixations but will listen with the same fond looks when one of them starts rambling about it

Speaking of furbies, when Alastor unleashed the fabled Furby Organ, he played "Symphony No. 5" on it perfectly, and Lucifer and Vox were both awed and horrified

Lucifer always worries they will leave him just like Lilith did, and they both do their best to comfort and assure him otherwise

Vox is afraid that Alastor and Lucifer secretly think he barged in on their relationship, and they will playfully talk shit about each other until Vox is convinced he's both wanted and plays a vital part of their relationship

Alastor fears that they'll either decide he's not good enough because he doesn't like sex, or they'll find out he doesn't own his soul and cast him aside. They don't do anything about this because Alastor never tells them about his fears, instead letting them fester until they manifest as constant nightmares that he also doesn't tell them about

They have each others favorite food and drinks memorized down to the seasoning and temperature

Vox's love language is gift giving, Lucifer's is quality time, and Alastor's is - ironically enough - physical contact. Of course, this makes his touch aversion even more difficult to navigate

All three of them are incredibly touch-starved

Alastor learned how to rewire and fix televisions purely for Vox's benefit - he read three different owner's manuals and practiced on the tv in the lobby in secret

On Lucifer's bad days, Alastor and Vox will regularly check on him and slowly coax him out of bed

Vox is prone to viruses despite his firewalls, and Alastor and Lucifer take turns playing nursemaid when they get bad

When they learned Alastor suffered from panic attacks, Lucifer and Vox spent hours researching ways to help during, before, and after an attack, and learned the signs Alastor had that he was becoming distressed so they could make them less frequent

On that note, when they discovered that he had trichotillomania (hair pulling disorder), they got him different fidget/picking toys to negate the urge to pull his hair

That's all I have for now, feel free to add onto this if you want, I'd love to hear your opinions

[michaelasworlds-blog]

Sugar, Spice and Nothing Nice

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Bean & Sugar

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: SA 🚨

Bean and Sugar are two different people, however they are stuck in the same body. For example, Sugar has been in control for the past few months; this is because Bean can’t control herself in certain situations. She can’t be trusted, she’s too afraid, too clumsy and ever since Bean freaked out in the bathroom Sugar had to take control. Unlike Bean, Sugar was outgoing, knew what to say and knew how to get the things she wanted. She took the interviews, did the films, posted online and was there to pleasure Valentino; while Bean went off with Angel Dust to play in a dusty hotel. Before dying Sugar didn’t even have a name, she was just Bean’s shadow. They could’ve had it all; but Bean got scared and ruined everything for them. Sugar will not let that happen again.

She refused to let that happen again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you were able to get away from the studio,” Angel said to Sugar. “How’d you do it?”

“I have my ways,” Sugar shrugged.

“You’ve been here three times just this week, is there something you want us to know?” Husk smirked, handing her a beer.

“Somewhere you might wanna oh I don’t know, check in?” Angel leaned into her, also smirking.

“You guys are so weird, leave me alone,” she got up from the bar stool. “Nobody wants me here, I’m a lost cause.”

“What?! You’re like a celebrity here, Eric can’t stop talking about you,” Angel said.

“Who?” Sugar was confused.

Husk and Angel point to the red demon across the room, “He watches your porns every night,” Angel laughed.

“Seriously, the guy watches without headphones,” Husk looks disgusted.

“At least with you here he’d be getting the real thing,” Angel smiles.

“No, I think that would be worse,” Husk replies.

Sugar scrunched up her face, he was cute but he tried too hard which resulted in him becoming a nuisance. “I don’t think so,” she laughed. Her phone buzzed, it was Valentino.

Val - Hey where r u??

Val - I need you here baby.

Val - okay what the fuck! Why are you not answering???

Val - You and Angel are pissing me off!

She put her phone away.

“You know, you don’t have to be at his beck and call,” Angel walked up to her.

“Right..because you’re the only one allowed to make money right?” Sugar put her hands on her hips.

“That’s not-”

“Sugar!” Charlie walked up to them with someone following behind, “I know you’re technically not a guest yet but I’d love to introduce you to our new guest; her name is Voe and she just got here, well not the hotel here but here in hell for the last two months,” Voe had red curly hair, and kind of had the appearance of a deer.

“Um hi,” Sugar said with a half smile.

“Your skin is blue!” Voe looked her up and down.

“Yes..?” Sugar responded.

Voe looks at her.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” Sugar begins to leave.

“Wait, Sugar!” Angel followed her outside. “You said you liked it here, why not stay?”

Sugar faced him, “Because, I just don’t belong here okay.”

“Is it Val?” Angel said in a stern voice, “Did he do something to you?”

“For fucks sake Angel-”

“Are you afraid of him?” He cuts her off.

“Angel! Stop!” She snapped, “Please just leave me alone!” Sugar took off away from the hotel.

Angel sighed frustrated, “Shit!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck yeah!” Cherri bomb screams, “Five more rounds!” The bartender brought her and Angel five shots each.

“Let’s fuck shit up!” Angel pulled Cherri bomb onto the crowded dance floor. He was finally able to hang out with his bitchin’ bestie and he wasn’t gonna miss a chance to get wasted.

“I can’t believe you got away from that dickwad you call a boss!” She danced around him.

“Believe it baby! This might be my only time I can even catch a break!” Angel yelled over the blaring music.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember!” Cherri cheered.

Angel and Cherri stumbled out of the club laughing and singing off key, they sat on the curb together leaning on each other, “Where do you think he is right now?” Cherri broke the silence.

“Who?” Angel looked down at her.

“Sir Pentious,” she answered.

He thought about it, and thought but had nothing to say, “I don’t know, maybe another hell; or maybe, I don’t know, maybe he went to heaven.” Angel shrugged looking at the deep red sky.

“You’re a great person Angel, I know you’ll be redeemed one day, When you do and you see my dad; punch him in the throat for me,” Cherri smiled.

Angel laughed, “You can do that yourself once you’re up there.”

“Oh please I’m gonna be down here awhile, didn’t believe all this junk when I was alive; big man is probably gonna need some convincin’ on whether Cheryl King can her a pair of wings,” she smiled.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl?” Angel burst out laughing.

Cherri sat up punching his arm, “Shut up! See this is why I can’t tell you nothin’!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He wiped a tear from his eye. “But seriously, you’re getting up there, even if I have to talk to the guy himself.”

“Sure, whatever you say mate,” She leaned on him again.

“It’s you and me huh Cher?” Angel remained looking at the sky. There was no answer, “Cherri?” Angel looked down to see her fast asleep, he smiled putting his head on her head.

Angel stood up putting Cherri on his back. He began walking down the semi empty street, there were some demons walking up and down the sidewalk.

“Do you have the time?” A voice said. Angel turned, seeing Sugar sitting on a bench.

“What are you doing here?” Angel looked her up and down. “And are you drunk?”

“Maybe a teensy bit,” she slurred.

“Crap, are you serious?” He rolled his eyes. He could not carry two broads.

“What’s the time?!” She yelled.

“Shit! It’s a little past midnight,” Angel replied. He was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. “Come, I’ll walk you back to V tower.” Sugar got up holding onto his lower hand.

They walked together in silence for a bit, “Today was the day I died,” She broke the silence.

“Wow okay, that was random,” Angel said.

“I fell right..there,” she pointed to a spot on the street.

“What were you doing outside?” He asked.

“I was gonna go to the club, but I didn’t want to go; so I sat out here,” Sugar stumbled a bit while walking. “Val is probably mad at me.”

“Why don’t you stay at the hotel tonight?” He offered.

“I can’t,” she looked down.

“Why? Why can’t you?” Angel stopped walking looking at her.

“Because.. because I feel like you and Charlie would be wasting your time,” her eyes were watering. “I’m not a good person.”

Angel sighed, “I wasn’t the best person either; I did a lot of terrible shit.”

“What’d you do?” She asked.

“What’d you do?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Touché,” She finger gunned at him.

“Maybe let’s start with something a little easier, like our names,” Angel suggested. “I used to go by Anthony.”

“I’m Bean,” Sugar smiled.

“Bean?” He tried not to laugh. “What are these names?”

“My mom was a big coffee fan!” She laughed.

“Why didn’t she name you latte or espresso?” Angel laughed.

The demons continued walking until they got to the Vee’s tower.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow Latte,” Angel opened the door for her. Sugar flipped him off before going inside.

Angel made his way back to the hotel, it wasn’t a long walk but it was long enough. Once he got to his room he put Cherri on the bed and cracked his back, “Ow, shit.” He laid next to her, Angel grabbed Fat Nuggets from his chair and hugged him, he closed his eyes trying to sleep; but then felt Cherri sit up in the bed. He turned to her, “Hey you doin okay?” He asked. Before he could sit up, she threw up.

Right on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Sugar came into Valentino’s room. She had a very important question for him, “Can I have a dog?”

“You’re fucking with me right?” Valentino scoffed. “You didn’t do what I said, but you want me to do something for you.”

“Angel gets whatever he wants, he literally has a pig!” She raised her voice. “I just want a dog!-”

“Angel gets what he wants because he listens to me! You are nothing but an ungrateful brat!” Valentino yanks her by her arm.

Sugar looks up at him in fear, “I’m sorry..” She looks at the ground but he lifts face back up.

“Get back to your room and get ready for today’s shoot,” he glared.

She nodded before leaving to her room, slamming the door Sugar looks in the mirror at herself. She glares at her reflection, toxic waste dripping from her mouth. Sugar punches the mirror, glass falling on the floor and getting stuck in her knuckles.

Sugar was losing it.

Sugar walked onto set, Angel was there getting his makeup done. She was confused.

“There she is,” Valentino grinned. “What happened to your hand?” He looked at her bandaged hand.

“Um-” She looked at the hand.

“No matter, Angie baby, are you ready?” He looked over at Angel.

“I’m sorry, what's she doing here?” Angel walked up to them.

“Yeah I’m so confused,” Sugar chimed in.

Valentino put his arms around both of them, “Well I was thinking since you two just LOVE hanging out together, I was thinking why not have some quality time on set?” He was smug.

Angel looked horrified, “But Val..I don’t-”

“You do what I tell you,” he angrily said. “Are we gonna have an issue Angel Dust?”

Angel shook his head, Sugar gulped.

“Good, now..get your asses on my set.” Valentino glared at them before sitting next to the director.

Sugar was shaking, “Angel, I can’t do this.”

“You kind of have to Latte,” he said as they walked onto the bed.

“Do not start calling me that,” she sat on the bed.

“Okay get into position, Angel cakes you’re the top,” Valentino smirked.

Angel got on top of Sugar as she laid down, her lip trembling, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“And..Action.”

Angel sat in his dressing room, he was in shock; he was trying to think of this as just doing his job. Because it was right? Just a job? It was like all the other times, right? The door opened, snapping him out of his thoughts. Valentino came inside walking up behind him.

“Hey amorcito, you did so good,” he put his hands on Angel’s shoulders. Angel stayed silent not looking in the mirror, “Baby are you upset with me? You needed to be taught a lesson, you know I don’t like it when you disobey me,” Valentino gently lifted his face and kissed his forehead.

“But I didn’t even do anything, I was just trying to get to know her-,” Angel was interrupted by Valentino yanking him up by his robe.

“No! What you were trying to do was take MY souls and give them to that little bitch,” he slammed Angel against the wall.

“That’s not-”

“Listen to me Angel Dust! You are not to talk to ANY of the actors! You are not to talk or even look at Sugar! If you do, I’m gonna add one of your little friends to my collection; and trust me there are ways to go around getting their permission,” Valentino grinned. “Are we at an understanding?” Angel nodded. “I SAID are we at an understanding?!”

“Yes Valentino.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel walked into the hotel, trying not to get anyone’s attention.

“You look like shit,” Husk looked at him from the couch. Angel lays on the couch with him, burying his face in Husk’s fur.

“I fucked up,” Angel groaned.

Husk put his hand on Angel’s head, “It’ll work out; I promise.”

Angel looks up at him, “Oh yeah, and how is me not able to go to her gonna work out?” Husk just shrugged. “Yeah I didn’t think so.”

An hour or so later there was a knock at the door, well a few knocks, Angel was too comfortable and Husk didn’t want to.

“Don’t worry we’ll get it,” Vaggie said sarcastically.

“Great idea,” Angel gave her a thumbs up.

Charlie went to open the door with Vaggie being her, she opened it with a large smile growing across her face. Angel and Husk sat up, looking shocked. In the doorway stood Sugar with two suitcases and a bookbag.

“Room for one please.”

(PS: Voe is not my OC, she is @nkirukaj she’s from the story “The Radio Demon and The Billboard Doe” check it out when you get the chance)

[home-for-wayward-fawns]

༺♥📺 𝒜 𝑀𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇'𝓈 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 🦌♥༻

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 4: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒱𝑒��� 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒞

‎‎‧₊˚✧[Thank you to my wonderful editor @safety-pin-angel-wings, @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]✧˚₊‧

Vox makes a realisation and comes to the hotel, Carla does not respond how he thought she would.

Vox leaned back in his chair, feeling quite pleased with himself as he watched his graphs skyrocket; his profit margins were up and his viewership was through the roof. 

All was as it should be, until Velvette called of course. 

She called him bitching and moaning, something about Valentino ruining her latest little fashion show and ripping apart one of her favourite models as if this wasn’t just another fuckin’ day with Val. 

He couldn’t help the irritated way he strummed claws on the arm of his chair once he finally got her off the phone. There were not actually many things he missed about his mortal life. 

Everything was so damned slow on Earth, but sometimes, when the stars aligned and Valentino was being particularly bitchy, he missed her. 

He missed the way she never questioned a damned thing he said or did; he missed the way she didn't question his business decisions or argue every minute detail about his life. He missed that she was happy and that she never frowned. Maybe that was why Alastor had got him so out of sorts, managed to burrow himself deep within Vox’s skin, that stupid smile that never fell off his face just like hers. He fucking missed his wife. 

The universe enjoyed mocking Vox, is what he decided. 

It had not taken long for Vox to get to the bottom of Valentino’s issues; at this point, he should always just assume it had something to do with Angel Dust. The guy could act, sure, but he really wasn’t worth this much trouble. Vox was almost done; he could see the finish line of the conversation: Valentino coming to ‘his own’ conclusion that it was not in their best interest to head to the hotel, guns blazing, chasing after some random worker. It was as Vox was about to run over the finish line, that Valentino managed to push him off the cliff into his own river of rage. The Radio Demon was back in town, and it just so happened to be on a Carla kind of day. Fuck his life. 

Alastor was back. 

Alastor was at that stupid fucking hotel, and he was back. 

Alastor was at that stupid fucking hotel, with Lucifer’s precious little fucking daughter, and he was back. 

“See?! Look how he flirts with that guy, and he’s not even paying! Who is that? I’m gonna fucking kill his whole fucking family!” Valentino snarled, “And who's that fucking puta venado? Look at her, hanging off of that radio fucks every word!”

Vox turned around to look at the screen, Angel was hanging off some weird shadow demon that Alastor had conjured up, but that wasn’t important. No, what was important was the tiny blonde thing that had suddenly jumped into Alastor’s arms. 

Alastor caught her, holding her for a moment, before placing her back on the ground, patting her head condescendingly, but that signature grin looked pretty smug at having all her attention on him. 

Vox knew that woman, he knew that woman in such a way that only husband and wife could; the doe ears poking out of her head were no matter, he’d know Carla fucking anywhere. 

She was beautiful; his small pale Doll Face with her gentle smile that never fell. 

“That isn’t a fucking whore; that’s my fucking wife,” He snarled, rage pumping through his veins. 

“Damn, Papi, that cara de muñeca? I knew you had taste; you chose me after all. If you’re interested, she’d be great on camera~” Valentino sang, and the familiarity of his antics calmed Vox, if only slightly. 

How the fuck had Alastor managed to drag her down from the Heavens, and why was she looking at him like he hung the fucking moon? As if Alastor had ever done a single thing of fucking note in his entire life; the fucking piece of shit was playing some sort of game with Vox, he thought he was going to win using his fucking wife?

No. 

No fucking way. 

No fucking way was Vox letting Alastor hurt his wife. 

He’d go get her, and he’d show her how much of a better man he was now, all the things he could do for her now as Vox. 

He’d keep her safe from that radio fuck. He’d get his fucking wife back. 

“No, she’s mine and the only hands on her, the only eyes who will see her, will be mine,” Vox growled.

Carla sat on the sofa, embroidery loop in her lap, as she began to sew a butterfly design. 

It had been a hobby she’d had since she was a girl, a hobby she had enjoyed with her own Mama and Nana. She hadn’t truly begun to enjoy the hobby until her Nana taught her all the ways you use it to make a house a home, rather than a necessity in repairing your husband's clothes. Her house on Earth had been covered in these little designs, woodland creatures of all shapes and sizes; pretty insects intended to show that the woman of the house cared, this house was a home; this house was filled with so much love. 

Niffty lay down at her feet, kicking her little legs and giggling maniacly as she pinned the wings of cockroaches to a thin canvas. It was an odd hobby for a young girl to have, in Carla’s experience as a mother it was always the boys who had the obsession with pinning butterfly wings and setting fire to ant hills, but Niffty seemed happy, and Carla didn’t feel the need to upset the girl over her obsession.

She had a radio set on the small table beside her, soft jazz playing until it suddenly shifted. Alastor had begun his show, and as was usual for when the Radio Demon began to perform, all would be listening, whether they wanted to or not. She enjoyed his little performances, the way he seemed to be able to talk for hours on end; she allowed herself to zone out as she continued to sew. She wondered if he’d like it, her little design, or if perhaps he wouldn’t like the fact it was so delicate and so homey. Then she wondered why she cared if he much liked her designs since they were for her own enjoyment, but found that she did want him to like her designs. She wanted him to be impressed by her, to praise her for her womanly vices, for the way she cared for the home they ran together. 

Perhaps it would be time to head out soon, to see a friend; perhaps she was spending too much time cooped up with one man with such a dominant personality. 

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air. Yes, I know it’s been a while since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast. Sinner’s rejoice!” He sang through the radio, and she couldn’t help the way her gentle smile grew a little bit wider. 

Niffty let out a cheer as he told the sinners to rejoice, and she chuckled. 

It was sweet, how much Niffty looked up to Alastor, and how good Alastor was with Niffty in return. It was a relationship Carla could relate to, much like how clear it was Niffty hung on Alastor’s every word, Carla had been much the same with her own father. Alastor reminded her of him in subtle ways; his never-ending smile, his performative attitude, and his need to always be in control. Much like her father, Alastor fulfilled his role as man of the house well, and Carla was glad Niffty got to experience that. Every young girl deserved to. 

“Instead of a clout-chasing mediocre video podcast. Is Vox—”

She laughed as he insulted Vox, the only demon in all of Hell that Carla truly feared. 

He was her worst nightmare personified, the idea of a TV that could walk and talk, that could chase her. It was as the word Vox fell from her lips, that she heard a loud knock on the door. She placed the embroidery circle that had been on her lap onto the arm of the sofa, brushing off stray threads from her skirt before she walked over to open the door. She was barely halfway across the room before they were knocking again, more desperate now, a heavy fist slammed against the door and it made her pause in her steps as she waited in front of the door. 

She saw the silhouette and felt dread fill her heart. 

There was only one demon that fit a silhouette like that. A large square head with broad shoulders; the creature on the other side was a creature Carla had become very good at avoiding and there was no reason for it to be here. 

“Niffty, sweetheart, go get Alastor,” Carla called out, forcing a gentle tone to her voice. 

This was her home. This was her home and she would not allow someone to threaten it; she would not be scared in her own home. This was her home. It was hers. 

“Ooh, is the bad boy back?” Niffty called out excitedly. 

“Niffty, now please,” Carla sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

“Sir loves playing with the bad boys,” she cackled, before scurrying away on her little legs. 

The fist slammed on the door again, and Carla took a deep breath. 

This was her home, and she would not be disrespected in her own home. 

She opened the door, her mask of gentility in place, as she looked up at the taller man. 

His eyes went wide as he saw her, and she felt her ears press against her head. She didn’t like the way he eyed her up and down like he was squaring her up; there was a distant look in his eyes, something she couldn’t decipher and she didn’t like that either. 

“Doll Face,” he sighed in relief and she felt her stomach drop. 

She wanted to be sick. 

She knew that voice. She’d know that voice anywhere. She’d dreamed about that voice for decades, it chased her on her darkest days down the alleyway of mourning; it haunted her entire life. The voice that promised her eternity but had barely given her twenty years. The voice of the man who broke her heart.

She staggered back, fear piercing through that very heart, the heart she’d glued and stapled back together, but never truly fixed. 

He couldn’t be Vox, he could be anything but Vox. 

She slammed the door in his face, pressing her back against it. 

He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t take this from her. This was the closest she’d felt to being alive in years; he couldn’t show up now. He couldn’t just show up and take it all away again. 

“Doll Face, just open the door! I just want to talk! It’s me! Please,” He begged, slamming his fist harder on the door like he might knock it down if she didn’t open it. 

She couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe. 

She hugged her knees to her chest as she felt tears fall down her cheek even as her smile persisted. She had spent years being perfect, being pretty; Carla Gill did not cry. She hadn’t cried since the funeral, not even when little Peter had run away did she cry but this was Clarence. He’d always been able to knock away at all her defences, the way he had when he had seduced her away from God’s grace. The way he had spoken to her, spoiled her, taken her dancing and made her want for the first time. She had wanted Clarence in a perverse way, a need to have all of him and he had given, and given, and given, until he decided to take it all away. 

There was a reason Carla had never gone looking for her husband, had never gone searching for the man who broke her heart, and how easy it would’ve been to find him it seemed, because he couldn’t have this power over her. If she opened the door, he’d worm his way back into her heart, and she would not allow it. 

She would not survive it, not a second time. 

She would never fall the way she had that day, never crash to her knees as the world shattered around her. She squinted her eyes shut, pressing the bottoms of her palms against her eyes as she tried to remember how to breathe, how to exist enough to tell him to leave her alone, to leave her alone as he’d always intended. Whatever he wanted in this hotel was hers now, and he could not have it. 

“Pretty doe, why are you spoiling your pretty face with so many tears?” 

She felt a strong grip pulling at her hands and saw Alastor crouching in front of her, tilting his head with the very same mask she always wore. 

Smile, just smile, and it’ll all get better. 

“You don’t— he’s— I can’t— Clarence,” She panted, trying to force the words out through short breaths. 

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. Vox was her husband. She couldn’t do this. How could Vox be Clarence?

He held her hands in his own, waiting for her to breathe, and eventually, she did. 

Slowly, breathe returned to her as she lost herself in the twitching dials in his eyes, moving back and forth like a metronome. It was almost hypnotic, but it was calming all the same.

“Vox is Clarence,” He stated, he wasn’t asking; he was confirming her worst nightmare become reality.

Not even her nightmares could’ve come up with this, not even the worst ones. 

She nodded her head shakily, and she tried to smile at him, tried to remain perfect and proper but it was impossible to hold in place. It was easy to be perfect when Clarence was gone. It was impossible to be perfect when the cause of all her imperfections was slamming his fist on the door, calling out to her not by name, but by title. 

“Doll Face, open the door! I just want to talk,” 

Alastor grabbed her chin in between his two fingers, sharp claws digging into pale skin just enough for a pinching pain to hiss at her nerves, snapping her attention to him alone. 

“Might I convince you to move, darling? I can hardly remove the threat if I have no access to it,” he spoke slowly, calmly. 

He was calm. He was safe. He was here. 

He had defended her home. He had defended her. He had come when she called. 

He was here. 

He released his grip on her chin, outstretching his hand to help her stand. He turned from her then, crouching to pick up Niffty and pass her into Carla’s arms. Carla looked at the little darling, one large cyclops eye blinking at her in confusion; Alastor knew what Carla needed before she knew it herself. 

“It’s okay; Sir is the baddest boy of all; no one can scare him,” Niffty told her with a big grin, and Carla nodded slowly. 

She wasn’t scared for Alastor; she was terrified for herself. 

She was terrified of the things Clarence could do to her, and he wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

Carla held Niffty to her hip, a feeling so familiar from the years that Poppy had lived glued there until she got too big to carry. 

“Quite right, and I’m a man of my word,” he said slowly, his gaze zoning in on our fearful eyes, “You’re part of this hotel, Carla. You are safe,” 

She hadn’t expected that, and it shouldn’t have made her knees feel quite so weak. She was safe. When was the last time a man had said that to her? 

She had to stand her ground, dig her heels in. She had to make sure Clarence knew this was her home; this was her space, and he couldn’t just force his way back in. 

She didn’t care who he was now, she was still Carla. 

She stood behind Alastor as he opened the door; she was here but hidden behind Alastor; she was here but she was safe. 

As he opened the door, Niffty reached up to pull on one of Carla’s blonde curls. 

“You’re so pretty,” Niffty said with a giggle, and it felt…uncharacteristic, odd, but Carla decided against enquiring about it. 

“Thank you, darling,” Carla said quietly, almost a whisper so as not to be heard by the two men. 

“Where is my wife, you fucker?” She heard Clarence shout, hatred dripping from his voice and she gasped, covering little Niffty’s ears. 

Alastor leaned on the top of his mic, and she could see him tilt his head as he watched Vox, as he watched Clarence. 

“Tut, tut, Clarence~,” Alastor clicked his tongue as he spoke, “You should watch your language; you never know what little ears might be eavesdropping,” 

“Doll Face, please, I just want to talk to you; you don’t need him,” He called to her over Alastor’s shoulder. 

“I really must insist you leave, old friend. Your wife and I have a little deal that I protect this hotel and those within, and I’d hate to stop our little game because you don’t know when to take your leave,” Alastor said smoothly. 

Carla didn’t move, focusing on breathing. 

“You fucker!” Carla heard him snarl, and before he could lunge, she came out to take her stand next to Alastor. 

She was the woman of this house. They stood together. 

“Carla,” Vox said, and it stung the way he said it with such reverence, “Look: I’m sorry, I just miss you. You know how I can get; you know I don’t mean it,” 

She did know how he was; she’d never be able to count the number of times she’d nagged him about swearing in front of the kids— especially Poppy. He’d always apologise, always say it was just stress and she forgave him every time. She never questioned, never argued; she was his perfect Doll Face, the pretty little wife. 

The pretty, stupid, witless wife. 

The wife who knew he strayed, but never how far. 

The wife who wasn’t brave enough to fight, who dared not question him, and what if she had?

What if she’d forced him to fight her, fight for her? 

She was his perfect wife, but she wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough! Why wasn’t she enough? How was she supposed to be enough? 

She came out from behind Alastor, Niffty resting on her hip, and stared into that ridiculous TV screen of a face. 

She wanted to scream at him, to grab the lapels of his suit and shake him, demand he give her answers she was entitled to. 

Why wasn’t I enough? Why weren’t our children enough? Why wasn’t Poppy enough? 

“I don’t want to talk, especially if you’re going to be like this,” She said coldly, a gentle smile still resting on her face as she shifted closer to Alastor. 

Protect me; you said you’d protect me. 

Alastor wrapped an arm around her waist, almost as if he’d heard her thoughts, pulling her close to him and she leaned into his touch. 

It was wrong, he wasn’t her husband and Niffty wasn’t really her daughter, but she needed to let herself slip away. She needed to let herself fall into this fantasy where she was safe, and a man might be able to see her as more than just broken parts. The leftovers of a failed marriage, a broken marriage; the leftovers of Clarence Gill. 

“Doll Face, don’t do this. Come home with me; let’s talk about this,” He begged, and she struggled not to laugh. 

He spoke as if they’d had a lover's tiff; as if she was a silly little woman who had run away at the first sign of trouble. He spoke as if she hadn’t dug her heels in at every point, as if she was the one left, the one who spent hours in front of a television set while her family needed her as if she was the one who had gone and abandoned their family. 

“No, you don’t get to this to me. You don’t get to leave me like that, and then just come back and order me about like you’re still my husband,” She spoke wobbly, and she knew tears were threatening to fall again. 

Was I supposed to beg you to stay? Did you want me on my knees; would it have changed a thing? 

“Carla, he’s dangerous; you don’t know him. Whatever he’s offered you, it isn’t worth your soul. Let me help you,” Vox pleaded, and his voice dripped with Clarence. 

She did laugh then; a cold, empty laugh. 

She noticed Alastor snap his head to look down at her, so used to her gentle giggle designed to calm those around her, but he could never know how hilarious what Vox had just said was. 

“I sold my soul a long time ago, dear husband, and I assure you it was most definitely worth it.” She said, not even trying to hide the disdain in her voice. 

Maybe I would’ve told you that, late at night when I cried in your arms about the price I’d paid for our family; maybe we could’ve found some common ground for the little girl we both adored, but you weren’t there, so you’ll never know. 

The TV demon looked between them before he sighed. It was a heavy weighted sigh, a defeated sigh, and she despised him for making her feel guilty. 

She’d heard that sigh a hundred times before, a sigh that led to her kissing him on the cheek and bringing him his favourite shot of whiskey, but that was a lifetime ago. That was back when she’d been his wife, back before he’d turned them into this. 

She watched incredulously as he pulled out a fat wallet, and she raised an eyebrow. 

He passed her a metallic gold card with large white numbers printed on the front. 

“Look, I miss you, and I just want to talk, okay? We don’t even have to talk, you can just sit there and hate me, I just…I miss you, Carla,” 

She looked down at the card, one finger tracing over the large numbers. 

“A business card?” She said after a while, not looking up, daring not to see his face. 

“It’s my personal number, only the other Vees have it, but you’re always going to be welcome as one of us,” 

The Vees, the almighty trio of overlords. 

It made her feel a bit ill, to imagine being seen as one of them. 

Carla never wanted to be Vox’s wife; she’d only ever wanted to be the bride of Clarence, Mrs Carla Gill. 

“As soon as you call, I’ll be ready, Doll Face,” he said, before turning his head to shoot Alastor a suspicious look, “and if you’re ever in danger, I’ll be there. I’ll be there this time; I promise,” 

She couldn’t help the way she felt bitter as he made this vow; they hadn’t meant much to him last time.

“I’ll think about it,” She sighed, before turning away, bouncing Niffty on her hip as she went, passing the little one the card to fiddle with. 

She didn’t see the way Vox watched her with a wistful expression on his face or the sinister grin that spread across Alastor’s own the moment she was out of eye and earshot. 

“Don’t worry; I̷͈̼͌'̸̘̰̆̍l̵̩̒l̷͔̉͛ ̷̡̎̊k̵̦̕͝e̷̛̠̮͋ë̸̬̳́p̴̨̿̿ ̴̩̈̈́h̸̢̗͆̈ě̷̟͗ṙ̴͙ ̸̠̼̆̀s̸̝͌a̶̡̚f̷͓̈́̐e̴̮̳̒͘,”

𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑜𝒾𝓊𝓈 𓆩♡𓆪

𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉 𓆩♡𓆪

[marshmallowsqoosh]

[Ghost(Band) | Death Do Us Part]

Fandom: Ghost (Band) Title (also AO3 link): Death Do Us Part Rating: General-Teen CW: Canon Character Death, non-canon Character Death Lesser Warnings: Reference to viscera, headcanon galore, headcanon names for the Papas [*s h r u g s*], Omega3 ship if you squint??? I’ll write explicitly stated Omega3 one day.

Summary: Every Ghoul has some capacity to heal. Water Ghouls may be the most efficient, but all of them are capable in some capacity. Some are more destructive and some... simply give more. A/N: There was a totally logical reason for me to have written this but I don’t remember what it is anymore lmao. Alternate version of the brothers’ deaths, in which the Ghoulies didn’t die with the Papas.

... On a lesser(?) note, I choose to believe that Nihil didn’t actually hate his sons enough to call them one/two/three and use headcanon names for them that will be gone over in different pieces; for this one, Valentino is used for Terzo... and Special chooses to call him Vale (val-eh) for short. Think that was all, enjoy :3

As usual, I do not have a beta reader, so if you spot typos or weird spots please lemme know ♥

Extras: Status (And AO3 Link): Complete! Word Count: 1.783

[Death Do Us Part]

Copia comes to him for help.

Even in shock, himself, he manages to stop the remaining members of the upper clergy from banishing him. Omega presses his back further to the corner, growl still building in his throat and tail lashing, violently, from side to side.

"Please… help them—"

"Help them? Help them!? After everything they've done, why should I?" He felt every other death. Alpha. Water. Air. Earth. Drowned. Electrocuted. Suffocated. Burned alive. Special's still alive. He doesn't know where Cowbell is, but he hopes he got away. Special, though—

"Not for them—for Special, please, help him—"

Distract him, so he can be banished. So they both can be. … But if it gets him to where Terzo is…

The path down to the morgue is littered in bodies and viscera and splatter. Copia looks like he's going to be ill, despite doing his best to keep his attention forward. It doesn't help much with the scent or the carnage left in Special's wake. Omega feels the anger long before they reach the doors, torn clean off their hinges. He watches the Arch-Bishops, cautiously.

He doesn't speak up until Copia finally dismisses them, until he's certain they're gone. "I can't possibly imagine how any of you figured this would go differently."

"It wasn't… supposed to be like this. Not this. None of this—"

In a clearer mind, Omega might recognise that Copia wouldn't resort to this level of vengeance. But, Omega doesn't have it in him, neither to filter his response nor curb his own anger any further.

"You knew you were to ascend eventually… did you really think she would let anything stand in your way? I hope the price was worth it, Papa."

Copia isn't ready. He flinches away from the word and Omega knows… he isn't ready for what's coming. Not with this hanging over his head. He takes a deep breath and finally steps over the broken doors to the morgue, taking only a moment to marvel that Special tore straight through them.

He's sitting on the operating table, hunched over himself as he straddles Terzo's midsection. His claws dig, desperately, at his mask and head, like he's trying to pull his hair. Omega's never seen his wings—or… any Ghoul's, now that he considers it. He knew they had wings, but he's never seen them formed or even thought about how they emerged. Shreds and tattered rags of his uniform hang from the wings and he finally realises the other Ghoul is… grinding his teeth together to keep from sobbing or screaming.

His head snaps up, wings flaring out to their full span when noise draws his attention. The anger drains when he finds Omega and his eyes return to normal—true normal. Not the mask of a fire ghoul; the purple glows harshly against the void beneath the mask

"It isn't working… why isn't it working, nothing's working, I've tried everything, he won't wake up—" His mask makes a horrific noise as he drags his claws down it. Omega's surprised he hasn't torn through it yet. "Every element can heal… every element can heal and I am everything, why can't I do this!?" He snaps both horns on his mask, but it doesn't seem to bother him. His physical horns… are shorter than most Ghouls… Omega hopes he missed snapping his physical horns and carefully makes his way over, taking a gentle hold of both wrists.

"Special… you can't heal the dead. You know that."

He does his best not to look at the body. He doesn't want to acknowledge it more than he already has. Special curls further over himself, as best he can with Omega holding his wrists, wings pulled close to his body in security and in an attempt to cover Terzo more thoroughly.

"We are… everything. Why not?"

Everything… Special was everything. Fire was the beat of a heart. Water, the blood in the veins. Air, the breath of life. Earth, the fibers of bone and muscle and flesh that held everything together. … And soul. Terzo traded his soul for them.

He finally releases Special's wrists. "… Special? Try one more time. … I'll help you."

Special doesn't… appear to realise what Omega's trying to do; but, he doesn't argue the order, either. His hands and eyes glow in alternating colours as he cradles Terzo's face, mindful not to dig his claws in, even as he tenses and tries to blink through the tears. Omega doesn't hear what he says, words lost in the echo and growl of old enochian scriptures.

Omega places a hand over Terzo's chest, as gently and discreetly as possible, mindful not to interrupt or distract Special. He can feel the blood running again. He feels the sudden beating of the heart and sees that little bit of colour returning to Terzo's face. His chest barely raises with the tiniest breath… and then another. And another until he's finally breathing… labouriously, but in regular intervals at least.

He thinks Special tries to tell him they did it—but he's also realised what they did. Omega nearly collapses over the body. He thinks he hears Special talking to him—begging him not to go. He barely manages to stop Special trying to heal him… they can’t both leave Terzo alone with this. He can’t say as much; he can barely hold his form. Maybe he could have held back, returned less of the soul he was given… but he had to know it was enough.

He hopes, against all probability, Lucifer will see it… beneficial for Omga to return to Terzo. Whether by letting him out of Hell alone, again, or if Terzo manages to recover enough to perform another summoning…. something more intimate, this time, perhaps.

A personal ghoul, maybe.

Anything that lets him be Terzo's again.

♠

Special feels his wings retracting into his void form as the shock sets in. He gently picks up Omega's mask—the only thing left from his void dissipating, aside from a stain of void on the morgue operating table and Terzo's vestments. His ears perk when he hears a cough beneath him and hastily climbs down from the table, hugging the mask tightly. Hopefully.

For a few moments, Terzo struggles to breathe; but, he manages and even opens his eyes. He barely looks around the room for more than a moment—long enough to take the scene of carnage in and spot his brothers' bodies—before he finds Special. It takes him an effort to sit up; even with Special helping him, he's still clearly going through the shock of dying and coming back; of realising his brothers aren't coming back; of… probably realising that Omega's gone, too.

He opens his mouth, like he's going to ask. Special feels the smallest flicker of hope from his summoner—hope that he's wrong; but, his mouth closes, slowly, and Special feels the hope plummet into guilt and heartbreak as he cautiously holds the mask out for Terzo to take. He doesn't know how to make… this kind of pain go away, or even just hurt a little less.

"... Vale…? Vale, you have to give me an order, I can't just shadow walk you without an order—it isn't safe here—"

That much is obvious. Special's not even sure he's strong enough to shadow walk a human, even his summoner. He's barely holding together as is, even with Omega's help, but Terzo needs to be safe.

"No… it isn't, you're right, but… we will not run."

Special feels something cold trying to spread through his void. They can't give up, not after Omega died for this—

But it doesn't feel like giving up. Terzo is… furious. Heartbroken and angry and… vengeful. Special tilts his head, attention going to the door when he hears movement. Terzo raises his eyes, meeting Copia's evenly. There's a moment of silence between the two—Special might finally appreciate that Copia is more than a little distraught, though he can't determine if it's from the chaos or that Terzo's sitting up and clearly not dead. When Copia doesn't attempt to say anything, Terzo finally speaks back up, one hand settling gently on Special's head to keep him quiet and close.

"... We will cooperate. Provided there are no more attempts such as this. I will see to Special's punishment, that he’s upgraded to the era four masks and uniforms, and any further arrangements for my brothers. See to it that the dearest Sister knows that our Dark Father is most displeased right now… and that it isn't his wrath she needs worry."

Terzo has a plan. Or, at the very least, he has a direction he wants to go. Special falls into place, just behind his shoulder, opposite of where Omega would normally walk, and watches his back the entire time they move through the Ministry.

Hushed whispers follow them; the entire Ministry must already know the brothers "died, suddenly"… and yet, here's one walking about. No one stops them. Terzo doesn't stop until he's back in his room. He sets Omega's mask on his desk, gently. Special stays at the door, wringing his tail, worriedly, in a death grip.

"... Did any of the others…?"

"I… I sent Bell away, before they could banish him. He's safe." For now. Cirice will be the first place they look, if they’re still invested in this asinine slaughter, and he knows she can handle herself. Even if she were who Cowbell was sent to, he’s confident she’d never betray Terzo’s trust. … But, he also wouldn’t force her to protect any of them. They won’t find the Ghoul and they'll run out of leads long before they ever figure out where he’s been sent. "… I couldn't get to anyone else in time…"

"I see… The three of you will have survived and I am grateful…we will need to tread carefully." When Special finally raises his head, he feels a horrifying chill clawing its way up his back. Terzo doesn't meet his eye; he doesn't appear to be looking at anything in particular, but he is furious. His eyes burn, even as his voice freezes the room.

"I will not let them take another one of you from me… I just need time… I need to know this is real."

Special nods, slowly. He's finally starting to process, now that the adrenaline is leaving him. The three of you… Special frowns. He knows Omega's being counted, but Terzo isn't in any shape to perform a summoning, especially not that one. 

"… And 'Mega?"

"... They will regret taking him from me. If it's the last damn thing I do, they will regret taking him—all of them from me."

[trashcanfanfics]

Overlords (HH and HB) and Blitzo with an S/o that is constantly uncomfortable and stressed. only to discover that his S/o is a colossal entity, which is so huge that Lucifer threw him into another dimension so as not to destroy hell. Too specific? Yes, but it's fun to think about this scenario :)

Okay, I'm assuming you want the Hazbin overlords and Blitz because I don't remember any overlords in Helluva?? Unless you also meant Stolas and Stella, then I could make a separate thing for them

Hope you enjoy!! :)

Alastor:

*Whenever you would sit you would wince slightly and wiggle around until you felt comfortable enough

*Alastor noticed this and always asked if you were alright, you'd always answer that you were fine

*He'd also notice how you were constantly tense and looked uncomfortable

*He thought it was him and confronted you about it one day

*You had to explain that part of you wasn't in this dimension and it made you stressed and felt like you were always being stretched too far

*When he finds out WHY he is full of questions

*Do you look different when you're all put together? How big are you, really? Do you have more powers?

*Wants to know everything and anything

*If you decide to take him to this other dimension to see the full, real you, he's over the moon

*Wants to poke and prod but won't unless you give permission

*Just so curious

Blitz:

*Honestly doesn't notice your being uncomfy for the longest time but does see you stressed

*You cried over dropping a pencil once and he was so confused and worried

*Tries to talk to you about it and bugs you until you tell him

*When you explain it, you have to do so in very simple, careful ways (dumb it down)

*Once he gets it, he's still confused

*Why not just destroy Hell?

*Why do you bother with staying halfway here and halfway there? Just pick one?

*Don't get me wrong, he's happy you're here, even if a little bit, but he doesn't understand why you'd be partially here in the first place

*If you take him to see the full you, he'd be slightly weirded out but not repulsed

*Would get you comfy pillows and go with you to your dimension often to let you have a reprieve

*Totally not to gaze upon your glorious full body, though, not at all

Rosie:

*She's very observant so she knows that you're uncomfortable and stressed

*Constantly rubs your shoulders to relieve tension and gets you the softest pillows

*Tea constantly, to relax you

*You work up the courage to tell her the truth because otherwise she wouldn't ask

*When you explaain it, she's shocked

*A giant entity? That was too big for the endless expanse of Hell?

*Wants to see the real you but won't bother you about it if you don't want to go

*If you do take her, she finds her favorite expression of yours

*Your smile, relieved and comfortable

*Wants to go with you everytime you head back, she wants to see that smile again

Valentino:

*Assumed the uncomfy and stressed was just part of your personality

*He'd try everything to get you relaxed, though, from sex to vibrating beds

*He'd need the truth pretty quickly, or else he's not gonna wanna hang around anymore

*He won't put in effort and get no reward

*You tell him and he's confused

*You'd have to go over it a few times and answer any questions he had before he finally gets it

*"So does that mean you got a big-"

*If you take him to see all of you he immediately notices the difference in your posture

*He loves to see you this relaxed

*It kindaa makes him horny

*If you let him fuck you (or the other way around idk) like this, he'll swear it's the best sex he's had

Velvet:

*Just thinks you're squeamish and finds that fair because of the bloody mess she likes to make

*Would try everything to get you comfy and makes it her goal to see you totally relaxed

*It'd be a while before you tell her because she's too busy running around to find what makes you comfortable

*When she does learn the truth, she immediately begs to see your full form

*If you take her to see all of you, she is at a loss for words

*Your smile is easy, your shoulders aren't tense, you look to be breathing easier

*Would 100% be willing to stay with you in this dimension just to see you like this all the time

*She's already planning on where to build a house and how big to make everything

*Is a bit unnerved that she's literally a doll to you, but is fine with it

*Makes a joke about Toy Story and melts at the real, relaxed laugh you have

Vox:

*He already knows

*He's been attatched to the media, news, everything since he fell, so of course he knows

*Still makes sure you're as comfortable as possible in this dimension and tries get you to go back to your dimension often so you can recharge

*You do have to explain a few things though

*If you take him with you one time, he'll insist on coming everytime after

*It's the only time he feels he sees the true you

*Brags to everyone who would listen that he has the biggest, baddest s/o in two dimensions

*Takes lots of pics of your face in your real form because he wants to savor the look you have

*He looks at them when he misses you and his heart always beats a bit faster

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Seven): Flying Towards An Early Grave

Notes: Still posting my little backlog, I will warn in advanced, the next chapter is the heist (finally) AND IT IS A CHONKER, but for now have a little appetizer with some fun times, smut, and foreshadowing!~

Word Count: 10860

Chapter Warnings: heavy foreshadowing, food, blowjobs, groping, protected vaginal sex, car sex

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V’s body is heavy as she gets to her apartment door, ready to curl up into bed and call it a day. She’s exhausted with adrenaline gone. She presses her thumb to the panel. The little intercom doorbell is also the lock, scanning and searching for SID validation. It takes a moment to scan, it seems to be lagging more lately. 

Calling. 

The intercom says it’s calling, why is it calling? She can hear the automated ringing and her lights inside are probably flashing. It only does this if the SID doesn’t match the apartment owner’s, assuming them a guest. V presses again. 

Calling. 

She presses harder. 

Calling. 

She tries her entire hand.

Calling. 

She kicks her door, a heavy sound as her boot collides with it. That doesn’t help with the lock, but it makes her feel a little better. Just what she needs; bloody, sore, and locked out of her apartment for who fucking knows why? Her stomach growls as she pulls up the number for building maintenance. 

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?” 

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” V signs, her choker translator on. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.” 

“Can I get your name and apartment number?” 

V gives them the details and they say they’re sending a maintenance guy. All of the services floor is nearly shut down at the late hour, her stomach growling. No doubt the maintenance guy will take his sweet fucking time, so much for getting some decent sleep. She gets a burrito, a Nicola, and a little thing of ketchup from the machines. Sitting on the ground near her door, dumping ketchup on her burrito as she eats it. 

By the time the guy arrives she’s finished eating, drinking, and is a little unsure what’s dried blood versus dried ketchup on her shirt. She hops to her feet when she sees the guy walking up, a massive case of resting bitch face. V doubts he wanted to be dragged out at three am to help unlock a door, but it’s not her fault the tech fucked up. 

“You V?” he asks, voice gruff and annoyed. 

“Yep.” 

“Hard day?”  His eyebrow raises, gaze focused on her blood stained flesh and chrome. 

“Work.” 

“Ah… I see,” he nods, “so, what's the issue with your door?” 

Night City is one of the few places where one can just admit to being a mercenary for a living, even if it did earn her an odd look. V presses her hand to the lock button again and it once again initiates a call. 

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.” 

“Hmm, you are V, right?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Who the fuck else would I be? The building has a picture of me on file for fucks sake.” 

“Hey, hey, nowadays with enough eddies anybody can look like anybody.” 

“If I had an identity worth stealing, you really think I’d be living here?” 

“Fair enough, let’s check something,” he pulls out a holo tablet, jacking it into the bottom of the intercom lock, “this will show what the lock is reading it as, try again.” 

V keeps an eye on his tablet as she presses her hand back to the lock and the projected information starts to show. And for a moment she sees herself; her face, her name, her information, and all the shit Vik had to set up for her to have SID. Then in a blink of an eye it glitches out and the information shifts. She watches her nearly mugshot like photo shift into that of a man, with short dark hair and dark eyes. V [REDACTED] becomes Robert John Linder. Birthdate shifting from November 12th, 2056 to November 16, 1988.  Birthplace shifting from Seven Devils, North Carolina to College Station, Texas.  

Who the hell is this old man? 

“Looks like it’s reading your SID chip as someone else's, strange, any chance you’ve been spiked by a ‘runner?” 

“No, even if I was, not sure why they’d want to make my SID register to some senior citizen.” 

“Weird, can’t think of how else this would happen? Seems like it starts to read your chip and then changes to this guy’s. Do you know him?” 

“Don’t hang around old folks homes too much, actually. Just some random dude to me.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“I can promise you, I’m not a ninety year old cowboy man.” 

“Somehow I noticed that, actually… looks like the guy is dead.” 

“What?” 

“Mmhmm, scroll down a bit and there’s the date his death certificate was issued,” the guy shows her, “you’ll probably need to have your SID looked at, see what’s wrong with it. For now, I can unlock it for you and have them add whoever this guy is to registered owners, so, you won’t be locked out until you fix it.” 

“Fine, I guess.” 

“But that does mean if this guy’s ghost decides to pop in for a visit, lock won’t stop him,” the man jokes, offering the first smile since he’s been here. 

“Somehow I’ll handle it, thanks for the help, and if it’s not too much trouble can you forward me the details of that SID info?” 

“Sure, no problem,” the maintenance man’s eyes glow and she can feel the very soft warmth and whirr of her neuroplant as it accepts the file. 

She gives one final thanks as he unlocks her apartment and she’s finally able to step foot inside. Thankfully her door locks behind her and she makes a beeline for her shower, scrubbing blood and sweat from her skin; finding bruises, cuts, and flesh wounds she hadn’t noticed in the midst of fighting. 

It takes her a little longer than expected to wind down for the night, the merc putting in her optic contacts and playing with the bot. Looking through its eyes, she has it twist and climb all throughout her apartment, making herself dizzy until she falls out of  bed and bangs her head against the floor. Finally, putting the cute spider looking tech away when she feels the knot starting to form on her head. Then, setting her alarm and sleeping for the night. 

V is still tired when her alarm vibrates beneath her pillow, waking her up as the sunlight streams in from her large window, warming her skin. She checks her phone, double checks the time and that Dex hasn’t sent the car for her yet. The young merc rushes through her morning routine; showering, brushing her teeth, dressing, and taking her medication with some Chromanticore in hopes of getting some energy back. 

She’s out the door and has her  mask on in a matter of minutes, phone buzzing with the message that Dex’s car is waiting for her. As she comes down the steps of her building she sees the same limousine and bodyguard waiting outside of it. But this time when he opens the door for her, there is no Dex, nobody. Chills creep their way up her spine, but she gets in nonetheless, sinking into the leather backseat as Dex’s guard starts to drive them away. 

The guard is quiet, doesn’t explain where they’re going or why, V has a feeling he wouldn’t tell even if she asked. So, she doesn’t. Only the radio drones on, a mixture of news and occasional pop music from bands and singers she doesn’t know or care to know; an anouncer coming over the radio to speak somberly. 

“Today marks the fifty-fourth anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower. Fifty-four years ago a group of terrorists stormed Arasaka Tower and detonated a bomb, which forever changed the history of our dear city. Devastating the lives of millions; thousands dying in the initial attack and more perishing in the aftermath as well. Today we ask for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in this senseless act of violence so many years ago….:” 

A beat of silence, barely a moment, then the high energy voice returns. 

“Now, after this short music break, we return with the heartwarming story of Stumpy, the three legged puppy who’s gone viral after the use of  veterinary cyberware has given the pup a new lease on life!~” 

V rolls her eyes, sounds about right, barely a moment for something so somber. No real grief or empathy, time to move on to a cute puppy because that keeps people happy and listening.  She watches the city around her change, spotting the Valentino graffiti starting to cover the buildings and that they’re entering Heywood.  She sends a heads up text to Jackie, letting him know they’re not far from his house. 

A short moment after,  the driver is parking outside Jackie’s garage and she watches the older merc walking out. The guard opens the limousine back door and Jackie relaxes when he sees V, climbing into the seat next to her. 

“Hey, V, you figure out what’s going on?” 

“Was sort of hoping you had…” 

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.” 

“Not sure I like Bug’s idea of surprises.” 

“Hey, hombre,” Jackie calls out to the guard as he starts to drive them away, “mind telling us where we’re headed?” 

They’re met with silence, because of they are. V nervously wrings her hands as she watches for signs of where they’re going based on the passing scenery. 

“Has to be something to do with prepping for the job, just wish I knew what.” 

“Speaking of which, you got the bot on you?” 

“Yeah, brought it just in case and if Bug’s there she’ll want to take a look. Wonder if there’s any chance of keeping the Flathead after this?” 

She knows Dex said it’s a single use toy, but...who knows, maybe she could somehow keep it afterwards. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Its cute.” 

“You think a military grade combat bot is cute?” 

“It's a little spider.” 

“You find the weirdest shit cute, I swear.” 

“It is cute!” 

“It’s-” Jackie looks out the window, “shit are we in Corpo Plaza?” 

“Maybe we’re just passing through?” 

As if only to prove her wrong, the limousine parks outside a store on Senate Avenue, the bright sign says Jinguji. Even looking through the window, it looks entirely like a place that her and Jackie do not belong. Brightly lit, immaculately clean with fancy designer clothes on display. 

“We’re here,” the guard tells them and the doors open with the press of a button. 

V and Jackie share a look before getting out of the limousine, standing before the Jinguji store like deers stuck in headlights. 

“Dex can’t be serious, Jinguji?” Jackie says, scratching at the shaved underneath of his hair. 

“Looks…. Fancy.” 

“Corp store, designer; a sock in there will cost you a few thousand eddies.” 

“I know he says we need to play corpo, but… I don’t know, it feels weird.”

“I’m sure Dex knows what he’s doing. But, uh,  you gotta take off the mask, chica.” 

“What, why?” 

“‘Cause its fucking Jinguji, they’re not gonna let you through the door looking like that.” 

“You’re one to talk, you got a ketchup stain on your shirt.” 

“Firstly, that’s blood. Secondly, you’re a wearing a jacket you stole off a dead guy last week.” 

“Not like he needs it!” 

“Jackie, V!” A voice yells out, drawing the merc’s attention into the doorway of the store, T-Bug in realspace, wearing a black netrunning suit, “would you gonks stop bickering and get in here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the mercs speak and sign in unison, falling the netrunner into the corp store.

There’s a large lit up advertisement at the back of the store. Gold decor dripping down from the ceiling, plush white couches, and an ice bucket with champagne. To her surprise, there’s no other shoppers within the store. A man in a tailored designer suit sits at the desk, greeting the two mercs as they walk in. 

“Welcome to Jinguji, an oasis of elegance!~” 

V gives an awkward nod and wave. She’s not sure what else to do. She doesn’t belong here; she knows that much. A dirty black leather jacket under the bright lights and old raggedy boots on shiny polished floors.  The merc wants nothing more than to run out of the store, some of the clothes she sees displayed are nice, if she’s being honest. A few bit tacky for her taste, but others are cute or sexy with dramatic flair, but nothing she would ever really have a reason to wear. 

“Mind telling us why the fuck we’re here, Bug?” Jackie asks and the netrunner chuckles. 

“To get into Konpeki, you two will have to look the part. Rather than blindly guessing what will fit, Dex is flitting the bill and getting you both some corpo threads,” T-Bug explains, taking a seat on on of the couches. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“Store is rented out for the next couple hours, discretion. V, did you bring the bot?” 

“Got it in my bag.” 

“Lemme see, got to make sure it’s in working shape.” V puts the bot down on the table, T-Bug opening the case and looking over the bot, running diagnostics that the merc can’t begin to understand,

“Right this way, you two, I’m sure we’ll find something perfect for both of you,” the man who greeted them, grabs their attention again, “but it would be easier,  if I have a full idea of your features, miss.” 

“Told you,” Jackie taunts and V elbows him in the side, slowly taking off her mask and she feels bare. And she knows people have seen her face before, but this is work and it just feels… wrong. 

“Wonderful, so we’ll begin with the gentlemen, I think you’ll find we have a wonderful array of fine suits in our men’s department.” 

The man, who’s fancy name tag says Zane, shows them a vast collection of suits. They range from slick classic black ones, deep navy blues, florals, brights, embroidered, and every color she can imagine. Its hard to imagine the big merc in any of them. She’s always seen him in muscle shirts or his favorite red and black jacket. His eyes seem to land on a red suit with gold detailing. 

“Well-” 

“Point is to blend in, not stand out, Jack,” T-Bug calls out, scolding him without having to even look at him or his choice in suit. 

“Just black then.” 

“Wise choice, sir, our tailors will get your measurements and get the perfect fit for you.” 

Another employee guides Jackie to a fitting room and V feels the sudden urge to sink into the ground, Zane’s attention now solely on her.  She scratches at her cheek and flips on her choker translator. 

“Now, what about you? We have plenty of formal options in women’s fashion as well. A more androgynous business suit or perhaps a dress?” 

She’s shown mannequins dressed in tight body con dresses with various necklines, materials, colors, and a few well fitted pants suits. Her eyes are drawn to the dresses, if she’s being honest. She has a rather small collection of skirts and dresses, for off days, but she never has a chance to wear anything more formal than a sundress or mini skirt over leggings. These dresses are dramatic, gorgeous; some with mesh inlays or cut outs. 

But, like Bug said;  they’re there to blend in, not stand out. This isn’t an outfit for fun but for work and if something goes wrong, the last thing she needs is this going to shit and having to battle in a tight constricting dress or too high of heels. 

“I think a pants suit in black would be best; keep it simple.” 

“Understood.” 

V taken to a fitting room, given the chance to put on the ready to buy pantsuits in privacy. A stark white button up blouse, black blazer, and black slacks. And she knows immediately it will need to be tailored to suit her; the pants longer than her legs and the shirt loose around her chest. The tailor comes in after a moment and begins measuring, marking where things need to be taken in and raised. V left trying not to get embarrassed each time the measuring tape is wrapped around a part of her.

“Is there a way to make the blazer sleeves easier to roll up?” She signs once her arms are done being measured. The material is stiffer and harder to get tight around her elbows when trying; she wants her Mantis Blades easily used.

“Hmm, lets see, maybe it’d be best to use it more like an accessory rather than wearing it properly?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you could just wear it over your shoulders like a cape,” the woman drapes it that way across V’s shoulders. 

“Not my thing.” 

“Then you can carry it, like this,” the woman shows  holding the jacket back over her shoulder with her fingers hooked in it’s collar. It looks alright, casual enough, though having a jacket and not wearing it still reads as strange to the merc.

“I’ll consider that.” 

“It can also help keep you cool. Now, lets talk about makeup, hair, and shoes.” 

V listens and nods as the woman gives recommendations; getting V a pair of low heeled black synthetic leather shoes. Then going into advice on hair; recommending french twist, a bun, or a low ponytail depending on how formal V wants to go. The woman recommends simple classic makeup styles and a few other tips for the merc to meet her full corpo potential. Finally, with measurements, adjustments, and everything marked; V is allowed to change back into her street clothes. She leaves the room, seeing Jackie already in his regular clothes again and sitting next to T-Bug. 

“We have all the measurements down and will begin altering the clothes immediately.” 

“Good,” T-Bug confirms with Zane, “remember we need them finished and delivered to The Afterlife by five.” 

“I assure you, our tailors are already on it.” 

“V,” T-Bug calls out when she sees the short merc, “got something for you.” 

V sits down on the couch, watching as T-Bug sets out a pair of white hearing aids. They’re designed like her normal ones, just more boring. 

“Hearing aids? I already have those.” 

“These are special, optic camo. No corpo worth their salt has anything less than top of the line phonic implants, with press of a button or a thought, these will go invisible.. They’ll work just like your regular ones, but look like you’re wearing nothing. Try them out.” 

She switches her blue hearing aids with the new ones, they fit well and she pushes the thought of turning the camo on.  V catches her reflection in a mirror in the store, she can feel them, but see nothing. 

“Perfect, no one will be any the wiser. This also means no signing or translator.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

“I know its not ideal, but it’s just the reality of it. Corpo types like this; lose your hearing, new implants. Vocal chords fried, get a new set in gold. Get paralyzed, new legs or entire nervous system. Go blind, new optics. They see you signing or using hearing aids, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.” 

“I get it.” 

“No sweat,  I’ll do the talking, V,” Jackie comforts her and then turns his attention to Bug, “So, what now?” 

“We’ll go over the full plan this evening at The Afterlife, you two need to be there by five. We’ll talk with Dex and you’ll be in Konpeki by eight tonight, relic in hand before midnight strikes.” 

“So we get to kick back and relax until five?” 

“As long as you’re there by five and ready to go, I couldn’t care less what you do, Jack.” 

“Said this place was rented out, right?” V asks, noticing a dramatic purple dress that reminds her of a certain tarot card reader’s favorite color.

“Yeah, why?” 

“How much longer is this place reserved?” 

“Another hour, maybe two and again, I ask why?” 

“Ow, hell that for, chica?” Jackie looks up when V kicks him in the shin. 

“Call Misty, dumbass. Buy her something nice, make a date out of it before we go on the job.”  V tells him, remembering Misty’s concerns from the other night. It might ease her mind a bit to have a nice afternoon with Jackie, dress shopping and a fancy lunch in City Center. Just a chance to enjoy themselves. 

“Dex is nice V, but sincerely doubt he wants to pay for Misty a new dress.” 

“Oh no, if only one of us had scammed ten grand off of Militech, oh wait,” V says, pulling the Militech credchip from her bag and sees the twinkle in Jackie’s eyes. 

“You serious, V?” 

“Should get her a hell of a nice dress, maybe you a suit, and a nice fancy lunch; play corpo for an afternoon.” 

“Shit, V,” he takes the credchip from her fingers, “what’d I do without you?” 

“You two are going to make me puke,” T-Bug says, rolling her eyes while Jackie is already calling up Misty. 

“Just wait until Misty gets here and the constant pet names start,  you’ll really lose your lunch.” 

“Ugh, more reason to get out of here, I’ll be taking the Flathead with me to keep in working shape.” 

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?” 

“Not quite, had an issue with my SID chip last night, was wondering if there was a chance I was hacked?” 

“You get spiked, jaina?” Jackie asks when he finishes chatting with Misty. 

“Don’t know, couldn’t unlock my door last night, reader thought I was some old dude.” 

“Hmm, SID hacks are tricky, we’re going to be using one for your covers in Konpeki. But they usually only alter your ID a bit and die after so many hours. Thing is, that wouldn’t really benefit anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, I don’t think anyone would get much out of pretending I’m some ninety year old dead fuck.” 

“I can jack in, see if I find anything in your soft.” 

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” 

V shifts her back to T-Bug, sweeping her hair off the nape of her neck and showing her neuroports. The netrunner pushes some loose strands out of the way and slots her personal jack into V’s biomon. A few moments pass and V can feel her cheeks flushing a bit, a weird feeling to having T-Bug directly touch her and jack in to her tech. This is the first time they’ve met in person, may even be the first time Bug has seen her face. 

“Everything looks clear to me, SID is registering as yours, no signs of a hack,” Bug explains, jacking out. 

“Weird, maintenance guy showed last night it was showing as some dead guy.” 

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.” 

“Or you’re being haunted.” 

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.” 

“Hello… “ 

A soft voice calls out and V lights up seeing Misty poking her head into the fancy luxury store, looking every bit as nervous as V had been. Jackie is up and rushing towards Misty in a heart beat, pulling her into a hug and twirling her around, kissing her head. 

“You’re here, mi carina.” 

“Babe,” Misty says, giggiling as she’s put back down on her feet, then steps up on her tip toes to kiss Jackie’s lips. 

“Gonna puke,” T-Bug comments low under her breath and V tries not to laugh. 

“V, Bug,” Misty smiles at the two, “glad I got here before you two left out.” 

“What’s up?” 

Jackie walks Misty over closer to them, large hand on her hip as she rummage through her purse. After a moment, she pulls out three beaded bracelets. A mixture of beads in black, gold, and blue mottled with gold. T-Bug is already raising her eyebrow and V’s not sure how well Misty’s spiritualism will go over with the runner. 

“These are protection bracelets. Lapis lazuli, black tourmaline, and gold sheen obsidian. They’re all meant to help with creating a protective spiritual barrier, it should keep you all safe from negative energies and frequencies.” 

“Ay, you still in knots over this, mi alma?” 

“It would just make me feel better knowing you have a little more protection, babe.” 

Misty slides the biggest of the bracelets onto Jackie’s wrist and he gives her a soft smile, kissing her temple before starts to give the others to V and Bug. The young merc slides it on with a smile and T-Bug takes it in hand, with a less enthusiasm. 

“Thanks, Misty, I appreciate it,” V tells her and elbows T-Bug in the side, earning her a glare, but the netrunner plays nice. 

“Thanks…” 

“I know it’s not much, but a little protection is better than none and should keep energies bright.” 

“Right….” 

“Well,” V cuts in before Bug can say anything else, “we’ll be getting out of your hair, have fun you two!~” 

“Thanks again, V, see you two at The Afterlife.” 

Jackie waves them off, Bug packing up and V putting her usual hearing aids in their case, away in her pocket. The runner and young merc leave the store, Dex’s guard already left a while ago, so V will have to either call her car or use the public transit. Come to think of it, she’s not sure how she’s going to kill time until its game time. 

“V,” Bug stops her outside Jinguji before they go their separate ways for now, “gotta ask, you really believe in that spiritual crap?” 

“No, but she does and it makes her happy, so, why not?”

“I guess, if she really thinks a bracelet is going to save us from Arasaka.” 

“Won’t kill you to accessorize a little, Bug.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

They say their goodbyes and V is left thinking again about what she wants to do to pass the time. She could do a few short gigs, but her mind is preoccupied with the heist. Ultimately, V finds herself taking the NCART to El Coyote Cojo. Mostly just because she’s bored and maybe something or someone there will occupy her time.  The bar isn’t too active at the early hour and she doesn’t see Mama Welles around. 

“V!” Pepe greets her when she walks through. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Same old, same old. Jaquito is still out, Senora Welles is out shopping, but Jake is taking out the trash in the back if you want to say hi.” 

“I think I might go and do just that.” 

Playing grab ass with one of her go to lays seems like a solid way to waste her time. V walks through the bar and out one of the backdoors that open to the alley with the dumpster. Sure enough, Jake is there tossing away a trash bag. He’s around 6’5 about as tall as Jackie, muscular, with a head of ginger hair shaved down on the shades and a thick beard. 

She throws her arms around his waist, feeling the muscle underneath his shirt. He teases his fingers over her forearms, the chrome of his Gorilla Fingers cyberware sending a soft chill through her skin. 

“Hey, V, new chrome?” He runs over the chrome patterns in her arms. 

She hums against his back in response, not wanting to move. But, he twists in her arms. He cups her face in chromed fingers, for a moment, his browns furrow in confusion. 

“No hearing aids?” 

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign. 

“Camouflage ones, it and the blades are necessary for the gig.” 

“Oh yeah, Jackie’s been talking everyone to death about this heist you two got planned. He better be damn glad no one here’s got loose lips.” His hands drop from her face and loosely wrap around her waist, fingers starting to graze over her ass. 

“Can’t blame him for being excited.” 

“Hmmm and you?” 

“Nervous.” 

“Figured as much,” he squeezes her ass, “you looking for a distraction?” 

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be letting you grope my ass in broad daylight, now would I?” 

A low dry chuckle echoes in his chest and he dives in for a kiss. It’s quick and rough, his beard scratching over her skin before he pulls away. She can’t help but giggle as he pulls her back into the bar, hand still shamelessly on her ass. 

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!” 

“Yeah yeah, go on.” 

“C’mon,” Jake guides her out of the bar, “lemme at least buy you lunch first.” 

“You actually trying to be nice today?” 

“Something like that.” 

V settles into his passenger side seat as Jake climbs behind the wheel. They pull away from El Coyote Cojo, driving around Heywood and finding a drive in to go through, Burgers, fries, and pop bought; Jake finds a relatively empty place to park meanwhile V has already begun taking the pickles off her burgers. 

“So, you wanna actually talk about it?” Jake asks, taking a bite of his burger. 

“Not much to talk about,” she signs with salt covered fingers and a mouthful of fries, “biggest job of our career. Nerves are natural.” 

Not to mention the shady client, the fact they’re robbing Arasaka, the fact they’re robbing Yorinobu specifically, the fact they have to play corpo, that V will have to force herself not to sign, and that every fiber of her being is screaming that something  is going to go wrong. Then she has the weirdness of her SID chip fucking up on her mind as well. 

“Yeah, but you overthink, so I know that little brain of yours is spinning in a billion directions.” 

V shrugs, “No more than usual, so,  what’s been going on with you?” 

“Not much, been thinking of quitting the bar.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, get to work the day shift so I can pick the twins up from school and spend some time with them. But, day shift in a bar basically means staring at a wall and waiting for Senora Welles to cut me a paycheck.” 

“You don’t like getting paid to sit around and look pretty?” 

“Not gonna lie, it’d be hard to find a boss as forgiving as Senora Welles.” 

“Not every boss would let you take an hour or longer lunch just to play grab ass with me?” 

“Eh, pretty sure if she knew what I was doing with her precious adopted daughter, she’d already have me fired.” 

“Oh please, she’s known you longer than me.” 

“Yeah, but she likes you more, you’re basically her kid and I’m her employee,” he pauses watching V roll her eyes, “you know, she’s been worrying a lot about you and Jackie, lately. She knows things are getting riskier with the merc work and-” 

V quiets him with a kiss, not wanting to hear another word of this. She comes to him for a distraction. The kiss is messy and he tastes like greasy fast food, but she’s sure she’s not any better, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She cups his jaw with one hand, scratching over his beard and as he deepens the kiss, she drops her other hand into his lap. He’s already half hard in his jeans, pressing into her touch as she gropes him through the denim. Jake curses against her lips, breaking their kiss. 

“You talk too much, honey,” she chastises him, a soft smile on her lips as she undoes his belt buckle, he lifts his hips, allowing  space to pull his pants and boxer down just enough to get his cock out. 

She pulls her legs up into her seat, on her knees so she can fully lean over the center console into his lap. V pushes hair back behind her ear and takes his dick into her mouth; not bothering to tease, swallowing around him. The taste of him on her tongue causes a heat in her center to stir, getting slick between her thighs as she bobs her head up and down. He groans as she strokes and sucks him, teasing her tongue ring along the head of his cock. The bitterness of his precum and the salt of his skin making her dizzy with need. 

His chrome fingers slide across the expanse of her back, reaching out to grab her ass. He gropes and fondles her through her pants, the rough feeling of her jeans and panties being pressed against her sensitive wet folds. Jake curses as V alternates between sucking, licking, and taking him as deep into her throat as she can. 

He tugs on her hair, bleached strands wrapped around chrome, pulling her mouth off him. Drool covering his cock and her lips. She pouts at him for stopping her, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy.  He gives her a swat on the ass, barely hard enough to sting. 

“Want inside of you.” 

That’s all the explanation he gives and she pulls away, thankful that the windows of his car have steamed from body heat, she begins to quickly strip off her clothes. Its clumsy as she tries to strip down in a car seat, throwing her jacket off into the back, kicking off her boots, before yanking her pants and panties down in one fluid movement. She curses herself for not wearing a skirt or something with easier access. A part of her mind recognizes how stupid she must look, still in her shirt, bra, and her socks staying on after tugging off her pants. But lust has killed her ability to think, just wanting him inside of her. Jake has rolled a condom on, but otherwise has simply watched the flustered merc strip down. 

V’s easily able to jump into his lap, straddling him and having her back to the steering wheel. She steadies herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other lining his cock up with her entrance, sinking herself down onto his dick. She’s slick enough that she takes him all in one movement, both cursing out at the feeling. The stretch of his cock inside of her and the tightness of her cunt around him. Jake digs his nails into her hips and bounces her on his cock, fucking up into her. He takes complete control, setting a brutal pace that leaves V reeling with every thrust. All she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and moan against his sweaty skin, accepting each harsh movement of him inside of her. 

The tension inside of her grows tighter with every thrust, every smack of skin against skin like a strike of a match trying to grow a larger flame. She can’t think, can’t focus, every thought consumed with pleasure and a desire to be pushed over the edge. Bruises form on her hips where he hold her, where he uses her for pleasure. The chair of his cheap car creaks with each bounce and a few thrusts slams her lower back into the steering wheel, but she doesn’t care, couldn’t if she tried. She whines and whimpers against his skin, feeling her end nearing. 

And then the tension snaps, orgasm hitting her fast and hard, she digs her nails into his skin, squirming and writhing as she moans out her pleasure. Mind a haze as she’s overwhelmed with her pleasure. He thrusts a few more times and she nearly chokes at the continued stimulation, the feeling of him fucking into her already sensitive cunt. Then he curses, bringing her hips down fully to meet his own one last time before he cums, spilling his seed inside the condom. 

V rolls off of him and back into the passenger seat, hating the empty feeling  Her skin is sweaty and flushed, as much she hates it, she needs to get her clothes back on. Fumbling to get her pants and panties out of the passenger side floorboard. Pulling them on and shoving her feet in her boots. V waits as Jake ties off the condom and adjusts his jeans, opening the car door and tossing the condom away into a nearby dumpster. 

The Night City air feels cool compared to the heat of the car after fucking, she watches him light up a cigarette outside of the car and grimaces. He climbs back into the driver's seat, keeping the window rolled down and she makes a gagging sound as the smoke hits her nose. 

“You coming back to the bar with me?” He asks, blowing smoke out of the window. 

“No,” she signs, thankful the choker translator can survive sweat, “I’ll catch the train back to Watson.” 

“Let strangers see you sweaty and fuck-dazed?” 

“Well, it’s a good look for me.” 

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.” 

She rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket getting out of the car, walking away on still slightly wobbly legs. V takes the train back to Watson, fiddling with her holophone the entire way. The merc gets off at the stop closest to her megabuilding and makes her way to her apartment; lock recognizing her on the first try. 

V checks the time and decides to get ready to go to The Afterlife. Those nerves she had managed to fuck away for a moment creep up on her all over again. She shakes her head not wanting to focus on her anxieties, she strips down and grabs a shower, cleaning off the sweat from her liaison. 

The merc pulls her hair back in a small low-set ponytail and does her makeup to the recommendations of the stylist. She gets dressed and uses the new camouflaged hearing aids, she takes her mask with her too. Though she knows she can’t wear it into Konpeki, she’ll still be walking into The Afterlife. That thought alone twists her guts into nervous knots. 

The Afterlife is the go to bar for the top of their game, Major Leagues mercs and fixers. It’s where the biggest deals are made, the easiest place to catch a drink and a job, but only mercs or fixers of a certain standard are allowed through its doors. Jackie brags about the place like it’s heaven for mercenaries. If they’re going to become regular fixtures of the bar after this, then she’d prefer to maintain her usual level of anonymity for fixers moving forward. She’ll drop the mask when they’re finally in corpo threads. 

V slides on Misty’s bracelet as well, fiddling with the beads meant to provide some form of protection. Her mind goes back to Misty’s tarot card reading, while she doesn’t put much weight on it, her friend’s fortune telling often sticks with her. The Wheel of Fortune is sticking out to her; she could care less if the cards thinks she’s stupid or if she’s about to fall in love, the latter of which so ridiculous she can’t help but dismiss it. But the idea of conflict sticks out, fear of the heist going wrong has been heavy on her mind. Something always goes slightly wrong, no job is perfect. But this has the highest stakes she’s ever encountered. 

V has new cyberware, the best possible tech and upgrades from Vik. She has Jackie, her best choom and partner in crime who’s never let her down. There’s T-Bug, her friend and brilliant netrunner who could bring half of Night City down if she wished. Their fixer is Dex, one of the best in regards to his job, he has everything to gain by having their backs covered. They have military grade tech and an inside look into Konpeki. They are going in under the best possible circumstances. 

She has to remind herself, review this again and again, that if something goes wrong someone there should be able to take care of it. But, those nerves don’t fade even as she leaves her apartment. 

The Afterlife isn’t far from V’s apartment, practically a hop and skip downtown. Barely five minutes pass before she’s under the roofed alley, nearing the club. Vivid cyan and purple graffiti across the wall, trash along the way.

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!" 

The voice is familiar, Jackie’s and V pressed her back to the side of the vending machine, he’s telling someone he already has plans for tonight. He sounds frustrated, like he’s on the verge of pulling his hair out. 

“Virgen Santsima, ma! Te vas a enterar mañana,” a beat of silence, “también te quiero, ma."

The conversation ways on her, he’s talking to Senora Welles. Remembering Jake talking about her feelings, that the matriarch has been worrying herself half to death. And it sounds like Jackie has been on the receiving end of that worry for a while.  V pulls her mask on and rounds the corner past the vending machine, stepping in front of the main entrance of The Afterlife. Her friend standing in the doorway under the harsh green light. 

“Heh, about time, chica,” he greets, tucking his phone into his pocket, she catches the blue of Misty’s bracelet mingled with his usual gold ones. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Ehhh, y'know. She's worried about me - whatever. Can't help herself, y'know - checkin’ to see if I'm not rottin' in some dumpster… like most of the Welles boys. Been worse lately.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Started climbin' our way up. Got more an' more knives out there, waitin' to stab us in the back. Higher stakes, higher risk. She can see that.” 

“Look like you’re about to keel over.” V reaches out, touching the red blotches on his skin, stress and sweat inflaming his skin. 

“Years of merc work, and yet,  still sweat like a roasted pig when I talk to my ma. It's really startin' to wear on me. More tell her everythin's OK, more I feel like I'm straight-up lyin’.”

“Well, hopefully you had a nice date with Misty at least.” 

“Went about as well as talking to my ma right now,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “for two women who don’t get along, they sure agree when it comes to worrying about me.” 

“They worry because they love you, worse things in life than people giving a damn about you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t matter none. Not anymore, Afterlife, here we come, baby!” 

Jackie changes the topic and she can’t really blame him for it, rubbing his hands together and practically cheering in excitement. This is everything they’ve talked about, everything they’ve said they want. So, why does she still have a lump in her throat? 

“Afterlife… we’re really here.” 

“Does not get any higher, choom. And you know somethin' else? We fuckin' earned it, chica!” 

“No point in standing around then, is there?’ 

“Ready to get your cherry popped?” he laughs leading her into the club, “Yeeeah! Come on!”

“Little late for that one, Jack,” she teases as they make their way down the stairs, a pair of double doors opening up for them. A short step down into a small hallway with mercs and fixers alike talking under the green glow of a sign bearing the club’s name. 

“Place used to be a morgue - you believe that?”

“Really?” 

“I know, right? Way before our time, that. When proper burials were still a thing.”

They come to another set of doors, through the small window V can see the true club main room beyond them. But a man stands guarding them, around Jackie’s height and a similar bulky build. Cyberware indented along his jawline and nose. His face is stony, eyes sharp when Jackie and V stop before him, then he puts a large hand out in front of him. 

“And who might you clowns be?”

“Jackie and V,” the taller of the mercs says with a grin, “Dexter Deshawn is waitin’ on us.” 

The bouncer gives them a look and V is glad for her mask helping hide her emotions. His expression is dismissive, looking down on them, making her feel all at once that she has not earned her place in this club. A baby merc, new to the city, barely six months under her belt and she’s standing at the Afterlife. How the fuck did she get here? 

“Yo, Dex. Got two live ones sayin' they're here to see ya,” his optics glow as he calls Dex, “Yeah? All right, then. Says he needs a second or two. Go get yourselves drinks or somethin'.”

The doors open to a green and cyan lit club. Music louder as the barrier breaks away, people fill the room. Some sipping on alcohol and other’s puffing away on cigarettes; the smell of nicotine and booze wafting from the bar. 

“Way ahead o' you, viejo,” Jackie laughs and leads the way in. 

V follows him around the corner; the large bar coming into full view. It’s lit green, the same neon sign reading Afterlife at the top of it. A bartender in a blue button up slings drinks to the patrons. Floor to ceiling columns, like tubes, are places around the club each filled with water with a dancer twirling around inside with strategically place chrome clothing covering the most private parts of them. Everything is basked in that green neon light, despite being surrounded by mercs like her, she feels so completely out of place. 

Jackie marches proudly across the bar floor, stride confident and unwavering. 

“This is it… The heart o' Night City! That's it right there - beating. Hear it?” he proclaims as they pass by rows of half closed off booths, “Can you imagine? Susan Forrest, Boa Boa, maybe even Morgan Blackhand… All sat on those stools, fell asleep on that same bar.”

Jackie sits in one of the barstools, beaming and brimming with excitement. His eyes wide as he takes it all in, the place he’s dreamed of for all his years. V climbs into the seat next to him, placing an elbow on the bar, leaning her head onto her hand, as she shifts to face him. 

“Doubt that puts us in the same league as them,” V teases, Morgan Blackhand brought down Arasaka Tower. They’re stealing a biochip, hardly the same thing. 

“Oh, but we are. They just don't know it yet,” Jackie tells her with a wink and she can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“We-” 

V drops her hand when she realizes Jackie’s attention has gone elsewhere, an older woman walking past the two. She’s nothing unusual, older looking than most of the crowd here, sure but nothing immediately stands out to V. An older woman with long gray hair shaved on one side and a bright yellow cropped sweater, She marches her way across the bar and into a blue lit booth, moving past a guard.  

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

“Yeah, didn’t know grannies were your type,” V taunts him again, he’s always given her shit for her taste in older people, yet he’s ogling some grandma? 

“Fuck off,” he playfully smacks her, but nearly knocks her from her chair, “that’s fuckin’ Rogue, best fixer in all o' Night City.” 

“Thought Dex was the best?” 

“Pff… Rogue was linin' up jobs when Dex was still shittin' in diapers, heh. Place belongs to her.”

“What can I getcha?” The bartender cuts in, hands down on the bar in front of them. She’s a woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a soft round face. 

V doesn’t drink on the job, something she’s always stuck to. But, this is Jackie’s dream and she knows how he likes to celebrate. If nothing else, their banter has failed to undo her nerves, maybe booze will do the trick. 

“You order,” she signs to Jackie and he grins. 

“You drinkin’?” 

“Special night, pick me something nice.” 

“Two Tequila Old Fashioneds with a splash of cerveza and a chili garnish.”

“A duo of Johnny Silverhands, comin' up,” the bartender starts to put the drinks together, “somebody did their homework.” 

“Guessing the dog ate mine,” V signs, confused because what the fuck is a silver hand?

“Age-old tradition. Drinks're named after our regulars,” she explains, putting the drinks down in front of the mercs. 

“What’d I have to do to get a drink named after me?” 

“Snuff it,” she grins, “ In mind-blowingly spectacular fashion, Mid-op'd be best.”

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

“Steep price for a drink, not going to lie,” V signs, letting her nerves speak for her, if only for a moment. Her guts are in knots, she can only hope the alcohol will untangle. All of the merc’s usual stress relieving tactics other than a weed brownie, have failed to do much of anything.

“Hey, everyone's gotta go sometime, right? Why not in style? Death’s nothing but the final flourish!” 

“To hitting the major leagues,” she signs, holding her shot in the other hand.

“To becoming legends.” 

She pushes her mask just up above her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick and  they throw back their shots. Smooth but strong booze with a kick of spice from the garnish, a burn in her throat. Not her style, but she’s had worse. She pushes her mask back down, regarding the bartender, her nametag says Claire. 

“So, who else can I drink here?” She still has no idea who Silverhand is, but maybe there’s a name she does recognize, reading the posted drink menu. 

“All on the menu…”  

“'Cept there's a spot missing. Morgan Blackhand, right?”

“Heh,  true. Morgan's yet to make up his mind he's dead or still kickin',” Claire tells Jackie and V rolls her eyes. 

“Think he’s still alive? It’s been years,” Jackie asks Claire. 

“No way he’s still alive,.” The radio was just talking about the devastation of the tower going down, if that many folks were killed who were just near it, then there’s no way someone who was in the tower survived. 

“Why not? Look at Rogue. Peeps from that era - a species unto themselves.”

“And one day we’re gonna be there too,” Jackie probably proclaims, “speaking of which, name’s Jackie Welles if you want to write down my recipe.” 

“Sure.” There’s a playfulness in her tone, just going along with Jackie’s whims. 

“Shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer… oh, and most importantly - a splash of love.”

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

“Gag,” V signs just to see the glare Jackie levels her way, the playful smack of her arm. 

“Okay, what’s your drink then?” 

“Literally, the only thing I drink is like cherry cola with a splash of bourbon.” 

“You know those are usually supposed to be reversed, the bourbon and coke.” 

“Maybe so, but, and hear me out… cherry cola tastes better.”  

“Heard you were Dex’s latest finds,” Claire tells them. 

“Just biz, no big deal.”

“How'd you know?” V raises an eyebrow behind her mask. 

“My job to know. Look around - how do you think meres earn their reps? Through gossip rivaling that of schoolgirls, that's how.”

“Mr. DeShawn see you now,” a booming voice rings out behind the mercs, turning around she sees Dex’s bodyguard. The first time she’s heard his voice. 

“Love to hang, imbibe the vibe, but we got an important meeting,” Jackie tells Claire, getting up from his seat and V following suit, throwing some cash down on the bar. 

“Break a leg.” 

“This way,” the bodyguard tells them and the mercs falls in line behind him. He leads them around the bar, past the crowd and through a door towards the back of the club. The lighting shifting, more blue than green as they walk past another vending machine. 

“Damn, holmes, you're huge... Work out?” Jackie asks, unable to stand the silence. 

“Hmm.” A vague grunt as they pass through another door, the music fading as they get further from the main bar. But V can just hear the starting beat of some old dad rock, something about losing another day to pointless drudgery. 

“Same here, y'know, in the ring. You do some kinda exotic shit? Kempo? Ninjitsu?”

Nothing as they turn another corner. 

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

“Jackie…” Why must he sound like he’s picking a fight with the guy?

“In here,” the guard says, stopping and standing in front of another door. 

"Este pinche tipo..."

The door opens and they’re greeted to the first room with warm lighting, though it just seems to be a storage corner. With a cabinet and vending machine. But to the left are barely see through walls of a booth that takes up half the room, through them V can just see T-Bug’s outline and leather couches. 

They walk around, the front of the booth opened. A wrap around black leather couch goes around the back wall and left side of the booth. Dex sat on the back portion, talking into a holo about Excelsior and cold hard eddies. T-Bug sat to side, a table in the center of the room with the Flathead, Jinguji boxes, and shards placed on neat little index cards. There’s a small disconnect leather seat in the right corner, next to the door. 

“Gotta bounce,” Dex hangs up, “well, if it ain’t Miss V.” 

“Whole family in one place! Hah! Finally!”

“That’s one way to put it,” T-Bug teases and a shine of blue catches V’s eye, the netrunner wearing Misty’s bracelet. She can’t help but smile. 

“A’ight, then… Set your butts down comfy,” Dex tells them. Jackie plops himself onto the larger couch next to T-Bug, comfortably spreading his arms over the back of it while V takes the smaller seat, putting her at an angle to see everyone.  She stifles a laugh, seeing Jackie’s leg excitedly bounce up and down. 

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?” 

“Jackie…” T-Bug scolds and V stifles a laugh. 

“Now, now, Mr. Welles is right. We gon' be goin' over some sensitive material. But if it's all right with y'all, I'd like to start with a question for Miss V… Evelyn Parker - how'd you fare?”

All eyes on her, stomach still twisted in a vise, this is her chance. She’s got to tell him, but she doesn’t want Evelyn hurt. Some fixers will go to any length to get revenge on a client or merc who does them dirty. But, he’s got a right to know the shit she pulled. 

“Intel was good, brain dance was exactly what we needed….” 

“So, she just wanna see wha'ss good, or was there somethin' else?”

“Honestly?” 

“Wouldn’t ask for anything else, Miss V.” 

“She’s high risk as far as clients go. Shady as fuck, naïve as all hell, and genuinely thought she could make me another offer.” 

“Another offer?” Dex’s brow raises about his sunglasses. 

“Wanted me to cut you out for more cash, told her no, of course. But, wouldn’t do business with her again, if I were you.” 

“Cut me out… shiiiit, now that’s rich,” Dex laughs, Jackie nervously laughing along, “Clients... never learn, do they?” 

“You’re not pissed?” 

“Lived in NC too long to blow my top every time some amateur thinks they can take me for a ride. Parker ain't the first and sure as hell won't be the last.”

“Fair enough,” V lets out a sigh, thankful if nothing else that Dex doesn’t seem prone to getting too mad at Evelyn. Maybe she’s being too kind, but she can’t help but think Evelyn is more naive than malicious when it comes to the offer. A stranger to the merc world. 

“I do appreciate you sharin' this info, though, Miss V. You see, trust… …is essential in any partnership that's to be long-lasting and fruitful.”

“Figured you had a right to know, so, what’s the plan?” 

“This.”

Dex gestures towards the shards on the table, V takes the one in front of her and slides it into her shard slot.  UI and graphics lighting up her mask, a map pulling up on the tech. 

“Me and Dex've already covered the fine detes. Ops wise, should be a stroll on the beach.”

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.” 

“A Delamain'll drop your asses at the front door of Konpeki Plaza,” a picture of the hotel shows,  then two names, “You'll stroll right in thanks to your false identities. Then, with Bug's help, you'll breach the hotel's subnet…”

“Mine and the Flathead's help.” Images of the hotel’s interior and the bot flash by. 

“Last but not least, you slip into Yorinobu's penthouse and klep the Relic,” his words bring up images of the heir and his suite.

“Goes without sayin' we do this on the hush - ideally no bodies, not a one.” The shard shows them The Relic and then blips out. 

“You'll have T-Bug on comms for the duration. Time for your burnin' questions.”

“What’s our cover?” V asks, they’ve been told a thousand times they’ll be acting like corpos, but that’d be hard to do if they have no idea what their story is suppose to be. 

“Hello, Ramón Victorino,” T-Bug looks at Jackie and then to V, “and you’re Hannah Conwell.” 

“Ramón - yeah, OK. What do we say we're there for?”

“Biz as usual. Corpo arms deal. Case anyone asks, you there for a bogus meetin' with Arasaka's defense rep - Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

“Yorinobu's got barely any muscle. Hardest part'll be penthouse security. If we wanna disable, we'll need to neutralize Konpeki's dweller - elite ‘runner monitoring the hotel's subnet twenty-four seven. Only catch is there's no way to get in the dweller's den from the outside.”

“Hold on, how you want us to get inside a room you can't get into?”

“Trust me when I say whatever hitch you think up. T-Bug's solved it already”

“This is where the Flathead comes in. You'll have to get him in the ventilation shafts, guide him to the dweller and force the dweller to… take a break. Flathead'll stay there, jacked into the dweller, but thanks to that I’ll be able to roll out your red carpet into the penthouse.”

“Anything else?”

“Transports a Delamain?” She has no idea if the company has an ASL sign like most other corporations and doesn’t have time to think of one on the fly. 

“Preemest cab company in all Night City… Nada mal,” hackie tells her. 

“DeShawn don't ever work with anyone but the best. I consider Delamain just that.”

“Yeah, who needs creepy, nosy cab drivers when you've got a clean AI to get you from point A to point B in style?”

“And how he bags a permit to operate every year's still a mystery.”

“If everythin' goes as planned, Delamain'll drop you back here. If things get sticky, he'll head for the safe house.”

“Which is?”

“The No-Tell Motel. Quiet, no questions asked. Make our next move from there. But I'm flat certain that won't be necessary. Though, there is one more consideration for if it does.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Hate to put you on the spot, Miss V,” Dex explains, “but if shit goes sour, I’m gonna need to know who I’m letting into the hotel. Mask can’t go with to Konpeki, so I’d sure feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what was hiding behind that thing.” 

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”  

Even if she’d have Jackie with her when shit goes down,  Dex is trusting her with this heist. The least she can do is trust him to see her face and not write her off or sell her out to The Herd if the chance arised. Not that she can see that happening anyway… 

“Don’t even know why you wore the thing in, V,” Jackie teases. 

“Well, there are other fixers here, didn’t want to give away my face…” 

V carefully pulls off her mask, feeling exposed all over again, a new set of eyes on her face. The merc knows how she looks; five feet with a head of bleach blonde hair and big gray eyes. Not the picture one conjures in their mind when they think of a capable, strong, badass merc. Sprinkle in her disability and the reactions to her deafness; most people think she’s not a threat, weak. 

“That what you’ve been hiding behind that mask? All that fuss, for what?” Dex laughs. 

“Hard to take,” she stumbles over her English trying to sign at the same time, “be taken- seriously sometimes when you’re five foot nothing, deaf, and look like…” 

“Gutterpunk Barbie,” Jackie cuts in to tease, earning him a sharp kick to the shin. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Trust me, Miss V, you pull off this job; ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna underestimate you” 

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?” 

“I got a question. When do we get to the real reason we're all here?” Jackie asks, shooting a wink V’s way. 

“Now's a good a time as any. Fresh talent gets thirty percent always, but I'm willin' to make an exception in your case. I'ma cut you a nice, juicy forty as a bonus for your honesty, V.”

“Much appreciated.” 

“Ka-ching baby!~” 

“Last thing, Konpeki's got a strict no-iron policy. Security gates, the works. So you dawgs'll leave your lead-spitters in the ride, take the Flathead inside in its case.”

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.” 

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.” 

“So, not to count chickens, but when'll we see our eddies?”

“All depends how Ms. Parker unrolls herself or her role, but a week, two tops is my guess.”

“And what do we do in the mean time?” 

“You sit tight, heads down, 'cause ol' uncle Arasaka be watching. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg says, life's a banquet - so don't go thirsty, but don't get drunk, either,” he tells them as he leaves the booth, “Your chariot awaits outside.”

“My cue to delta, too. Gotta prep to jack in, be there when you come on comms. Any other issues, now's your chance,” T-Bug tells them, shifting her feet and something catches V’s eye. Delta V emblazoned on the netrunner’s boots, was that there before?

“Plan - your take?” V shakes the thought from her head, must be a brand or a runner thing V doesn’t know.

“Enough, I hope, to put me in a luxury Creton Villa from which I'll never set foot in cyberspace again.”

“Send me a postcard?” 

“No offense, but I'm gonna burn any and all bridges - need a clean break.”

“Gonna take Misty’s bracelet with you?” Jackie teases, grinning because he caught it too. 

“Shut up,” she tells him, rolling her eyes. 

“Uh, just realized something, what’s gonna happen to our clothes? I don’t want to lose my mask…” 

“No worries, put them in the boxes, we’ll have ‘em sent back to your places.” 

“Alright then, lets get this show on the road.” 

“Let's get to work, go ahead and get changed, Delamain is parked out front, uh, okay-”Bug starts to trip over her words when the two mercs start taking off their jackets, “you can use the bathrooms.” 

“Eh,”

Jackie and V shrug their shoulders, the outfits are right there. Not much point in dragging them out to the bathroom. The pair shared a bedroom for the better half of six months, a room with one bed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty, boundaries destroyed a long while back. 

“Why do I bother,” T-Bug rolls her eyes and leaves the booth, letting the pair change. 

V kicks off her boots and takes off her socks, Jackie tugging off his jewelry first. 

“So, you’re nerves still going crazy?” Jackie asks her as she tugs off her shirt, his own tossed off. 

“What do you mean?”  She tugs off her pants, both mercs soon standing around in their underwear. 

“Can’t hide that shit from me, chica, been giving me twice as much hell as usual. You’re freaking out.” 

“High stakes, Jack, of course I’m a nervous mess. Means I give a shit.” 

She pulls the slack on and tugs on the white blouse, buttoning it up. The two of them putting on the corpo clothes, similar in look. Black slacks, white button up tops, black suit jackets, and Misty’s beaded bracelets for protection. Each perfectly tailored for their body types. 

“Don’t sweat it so much, V, we got this.” He sticks his fist out. 

“Sure fuckin’ hope so.” She bumps her fist to his. 

Their street clothes are packed away in the boxes, V puts in her optic contacts and slide on her heels, then they start to make their way out of the booth. But, Jackie stops her with a hand on her shoulder and he taps his throat. She catches on taking off her choker translator, neck feeling bare and odd without the tech. With that they leave out through the club, Jackie carrying the Flathead case and the smaller merc keeps her head down as best she can. Her stomach still in knots as they spot the Delamain in the parking lot. 

Her life is about to change forever; hopefully for the best. She’s on the cusp of having everything she’s wanted since she’s come to the city. The verge of earning the respect of everyone in this city and finally feeling like she’s someone, like she’s done something. 

So, why does she feel like she’s about to puke?

[madamsixx]

Beyond The Leather Chapter 17: To The Moon

January 13th, 1986

"Wow who gave you these?" Tamara asked walking into my room and noticing the roses in the vase.

Shit! I completely forgot about those. "I...uh...a secret admirer." I lied throwing the covers off of me.

"Well what's his name?" She picked the vase up.

"I said he was a secret admirer. The delivery man gave them to me." I got up out of bed hoping she would stop asking questions.

"That's so cute, you know when I was your age and modeling. A lot of men chased after me. I was the most hottest thing in the news." She chirped

"I believe you Tamara." I giggled.

The thing with Tamara was that she had a lot of guys come calling for her. But she never settled with any of them. She also dosen't have children and I often wonder if that's by choice?

"Soooo how did the Magazine shoots go. I'm sorry I got back late both times I was really busy." She leaned against my dresser crossing her arms.

"They were good, I really really like Rachel." I smiled.

"I'm glad you do cause shes also going to be doing London fashion week. So you'll have somone to talk too." She moved off of the counter and left my room.

"Hey." I called out to Tamara.

"Do I have any bookings or anything today?" I asked.

"No sweety your off today. But tomorrow we have a lot to do."

I brushed, showered, and threw on some clothes. I wanted to relax a bit and watch TV before me and Nikki went out. I heard the phone Ring.

"I got it!" I yelled running to the phone.

"Hello!"

"Mani?"

"Hey Nik! I whispered

"Why are you whispering?" He asked

"Because Tamaras here." I giggled

"Soooo are we still on for today?" He asked like he was unsure if I still wanted to go out with him.

"Yes we are." I whispered again.

He sighed in relief. "When can I get you?" His voice sounded like he was very excited.

"Um... I'll meet you somewhere. We can meet at our old cafe for 6, is that alright with you?"

"Sure is princess."

By this point I was smiling to myself like a school girl. God what has gotten into me. Before I know it I'll be drooling.

"Alright see you then." I laughed.

"Hey before you hang up, what are you wearing?" He laughed.

I hung the phone up right away. Nikki was still Nikki. He could be sweet sometimes but at the same time be a complete pig.

6:15 pm

"Why are you rushing to leave? Can't she pick you up here?" Tamara asked blocking the door way.

"No she can't I promised Her I would meet her Tammi. Now please I need to go!" I raised my voice.

"Do not raise your voice at me young lady. If you don't speak to your mom like that you sure as hell won't speak to me like that!" She shouted.

I looked over at the clock, Nikki for sure would start wondering where I was, or worse he would think that I wasn't going to show up. And whenever Nikki had those type of thoughts he would show up here at the Condo and start making noise. And I didn't need that at the moment right now especially when Tamara was here.

"I'm sorry I just haven't seen Lisa in a while." I spoke softly.

She sighed and moved away from the door. "I want you back here as soon as the movie is over!" She demanded.

"Ok." I hugged her and ran out the door.

I didn't even bother to take the elevator I ran down the stairs in my platforms and bust out the door leading to outside. I ran down the street like I was chasing someone who stole something from me. I finally made it to the cafe that me and Nikki used to meet up at. But he was no where in sight. I walked over to the cashier and decided to ask her if shes seen him.

"H...hi um by any chance have you seen a raven hair guy in here? He's a rock star?" I asked.

She looked me up and down and raised her brow. "What's a girl like you even doing looking for a rockstar don't you know there just trouble?" She popped her gum.

Well she's no help.

I looked up at the clock that read 6:24. Nikki probably left thinking that I stood him up when I didn't, I just got held up. I felt really bad like I let him down. I sat on the chair in the cafe with defeat written all over my face and stared out the window. I got up and turned to leave when I saw Nikki burst through the door panting and sweating.

"Princess I'm so fucking sorry I lost track of time." He said walking towards me. "Please don't leave or get mad. Just give me another chance I'm so fucking sorry." He pleaded grabbing my hands and kissing them.

Well....I guess we were both late. But I don't have to tell him that I was.

"It's ok Nik I'm just glad you showed up." I rubbed his cheek. He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me slowly towards him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our faces came close to each others. Our noses were inches apart and I could smell the alcohol on his breath as his lips moved closer to mine.

"Emem." The cashier cleared her throat making us break apart and look at her. "If you want to make out or fuck, do it outside of my cafe. Thank you." She pointed to the door. We looked back at each other giggling and he intertwined his hand in mine and we walked out of the cafe together.

"So what did you have in mind princess?" He asked helping me on his bike.

"Were going to the movies. When we get there I'll tell you what movie were going to see." I smirked.

He stood in front of his bike then bit his bottom lip. I felt his eyes trailing up my body from my legs to my torso and stop at my chest which was showing part of my breasts because of the tube dress I was wearing. He gave me a devilish grin then looked up at me.

"Nikki get on your bike and let's go." I demanded. He chuckled then walked around towards me. He leaned and kissed the top of my head.

"Fuck your beautiful." He said as he made his way down to my neck and peppered it with kisses. I closed my eyes and breathed out wanting to feel more of him. His kisses were sweet and I was craving his lips on mine. He then planted one last kiss on my cheek. I started blushing and smiling. "Nikki let's go." I whispered. He got on his bike and I did the same thing as last time. I wrapped my arms around his waist, shuffled close to him, and rested my head on his back. He sped off like lightening with my dress and hair blowing in the wind. If I knew he was going to bring his bike, I would have worn pants or shorts.

We arrived at the movie theater and lined up to get our tickets. I looked around and noticed that a bunch of people gave us curious looks. Nikki noticed it too but payed no mind to it. I think they were surprised by the mis matched pair that we were. He was a crazy looking rock star in all leather and I was a model wearing a Valentino Garavani dress and heels. But that wasn't the only thing, girls were smitten with Nikki and scowling at me. I started to feel weird with all the looks and slowly put my head down and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Dont do that." Nikki lifted my chin with his index finger. "Learn how to tune people out and stop caring about what other people fucking think." He stated. I nodded my head and he put his arm around my shoulder. We walked up to the cashier and she looked at us wide eyed.

"Oh my God Nikki fucking Sixx, I'm a huge fan. Can I get your autograph!" She squealed.

"Sure you can." He smiled.

She pulled out a pen and paper and he took it and wrote his signature on it.

"So doll what movie did you want to see?" I smiled shyly.

"The Karate Kid." I giggled.

Nikki's smile turned into a frown. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the cashier. "Two tickets for the Karate Kid please." He said with a groan. She wasn't even paying attention, she was so far gone day dreaming about Nikki.

"Two tickets for the Karate Kid please!" I raised my voice.

"You don't need to raise your voice at me." She scoffed. She collected the money and gently handed Nikki his ticket and threw mine on the table.

She's lucky I didn't slap her.

"You hungry?" He asked putting his arm around my neck.

"Yes starving." I looked at him.

"What do you want?" He moved his arm away from my neck and brought out his wallet again.

We reached the cashier and I began ordering. "Um I'll have a poutine please with a medium orange pop." I said to the cashier. She looked at me with a scowl and rolled her eyes.

"Hi Nikki I'm a huge fan what could I get for you?" She smiled with all teeth showing.

This girl was actually ignoring me.

"Thanks, I'll have medium fries with a medium coke please." He smiled back.

"Ok that's going to be $5.88 please." She said in a seductive voice."

"That's pretty cheap are you sure you got both orders?" He asked raising a brow.

"Oh forgot hers, what was it again you wanted? A salad?" She gave me a devilish grin.

This bitch.

I leaned over the counter and smiled. "I want you to wipe that grin off your face or I'll take my size 10 heel off, and shove it up your ass." I leaned back. "Now I'll have a poutine with a medium orange pop!" I demanded.

Nikki looked at me with wide eyes and a smile . "Fuck your hot!" He spanked my ass.

"Nikki!" I gasped.

We collected our food and headed into the theater. I was so excited to watch the karate kid. I loved Ralph Macchio. He was so hot and sexy. If I ever met him I would just die I know it. The movie started and my eyes stayed glued to the screen. Nikki on the other hand was bored out of his mind, he would huff and puff one minute, then kick his foot up on the seat in front of him the next.

"This movie fucking sucks!" Nikki shouted.

"Shh!" Somone responded back.

"Nikki shh." I slapped his leg.

"Why do girls like him? What the fuck does he have that I dont?" Nikki snarled.

"Well for one he's classy, he's not a hot head, he's handsome, he's intelligent, and he's the type of man you can bring home to your parents." I responded quietly.

Also he dosen't snort coke, he doesn't get drunk, and he certainly is not a womanizing rock star. But those are just my thoughts. I would never say that directly to Nikki.

Nikki shot me a dirty look and I quickly turned away from him. He crossed his arms and huffed like a toddler that was on time out. I sat back and crossed my legs and started smiling at the scene when Ralph takes his wet shirt off. My lips parted alittle when I see him in his black tank top. God can men really look like this. My chest started moving up and down when he squeezes his wet shirt.

"I wanna leave, now!" Nikki demanded.

"W...why the movie isn't done yet." I furrowed my brows.

"Do you see your self. Your practically having a fucking orgasm watching him with his wet shirt. I wanna fucking go now!" He raised his voice.

"Hey can you be quiet please!" A woman shouted.

"Fuck you bitch!" Nikki shouted back.

"Hey don't speak to my wife like that!" A male voice shouted.

"Your wife's a cunt!" Nikki yelled.

"Oh my God Nikki let's go!" I grabbed him by his jacket and started pulling him towards the door. We exited the movie and I walked fast away from him. I crossed my arms over my chest and walked down the side walk.

"Mani the bike is that way!" Nikki shouted trying to catch up to me.

"I'm not getting your bike Nikki." I stated.

"Why cause I wouldn't let you finish your sex fantasy with Karate boy?" He yelled.

"Because your acting like a child!" I snapped and turned around to face him. "Its a movie Nikki your getting angry over a movie! And on top of that, you said I could choose what I wanted to do! And I wanted to watch the Karate Kid!"

Nikki sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm....I'm sorry I just got jealous." He whispered.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Can you just take me home?" I asked.

The look in Nikki eyes broke my heart when I asked him to take me home. He looked like he was going to burst out into tears any second. But I honestly didn't want to be around him. Our friendship or what ever this was, was a rollercoaster. One minute we would be up and good then next be down and fighting. It was stressful. And I didn't want stress like this.

He nodded and we walked to his bike not uttering a word to each other. He sat on his bike and I sat behind him.

"Can you...can you please give me another chance? I'm not ready to take you home yet." He looked down at his hands picking his nails.

I rolled my eyes and scratched my neck. I honestly just wanted to go home. Today has just been the worst and I was tired of him.

"Mani!"

"What?" I responded.

"Tell me where you want to go and I'll take you there. But I can't take you home, not yet." He said with a low voice.

I thought about were I wanted to go. I didn't really know any where that I wanted to be right now other than home. And than I thought came to my head.

"I have a place that I want you to take me. If you can't take me there than I'm going home Nikki!" I stated.

"I'll try my best to-"

"No...no trying." I interrupted him. "You either take me there or I go home!"

He breathed out like he was nervous. "Ok... where do you want to go?" Nikki asked.

I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "To the moon." Then I leaned back.

He turned around to look at me with an expression I couldn't read. His face was blank and I knew he knew that this was a challenge.

"I'll take you there." He turned around without smiling, laughing, smirking, or even grinning. This was a big deal to him and I knew that he wanted to fulfill what I asked. How he would fulfill it, I dont know, but this was going to be a lot of fun. He started his engine and took off. He sped fast passing cars and even running through red lights.

We turned into a neighborhood that I have never seen before. We stopped in front of a small complex/apartment. I looked up and read the sign it said Sunset Strip at 1124 N. Clark St. West. Where the hell are we? He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the complex.

"Hey Nik where are we?" I asked.

"I'll explain later just come." He pulled me along. He stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. The person opened up and her eyes went wide.

"Nikki Sixx how are you?" She squealed. She was an older lady probably in her 50s and she seemed to know him really well.

"I'm fine, I was wondering if I could use the old Motley balcony again. I have a task that I need to fulfill." He said with a serious voice.

"Of course you can. Hi honey how are? I'm Bonnie nice to meet you." She stuck her hand out for me to shake.

"Its nice to meet you too I'm Iman Darlington." I shook back.

"Nikki your girlfriend is beautiful." She cooed.

"Yup she is." Nikki grinned at me.

He then pulled my hand and brought me to the balcony. We ducked underneath the window to get outside. When I looked up I saw the moon shining bright in front me. It looked like I could touch it with the palm of my hands.

"So!" He leaned against the railing looking at me with a smirk. "How'd I do?"

I looked at him and smiled. "Your something else Mr. Sixx." I turned back around to look at the moon.

Nikki moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.

Fly to the moon We'll take my rocketship, It's outta sight, Oh so outta sight. Leave your head, Check into this time, Check your mind, Let your sparkle shine. Pass the sun, Say goodbye to everyone-

"What are you singing?" I giggled.

"Well I took you to the moon so now I have to sing to you." He whispered in my ear. "From the moon, To the stars, To the sun, Baby I'm in..."

He all of a sudden stopped singing. I felt his fingers go underneath my chin and turn my face for me to look at him. I looked up at his hazel eyes that had darkened. He moved in close to my face with his lips parting. His lips grazed mine and he moved his fingers from underneath my chin to the back of my neck and pulled my head towards him. Was this actually happening? Was this my first kiss? He closed the gap between us and kissed my lips. It was beautiful, sweet, and was soft. My heart was pounding I thought it would burst out of my chest. It felt right like we were suppose to be here at this very moment. We parted from each other and looked into each other eyes. He brushed my cheek with his thumb and did that annoying smirk that will get him into trouble one day. I smiled then turned back around to look at the moon. Nikki held tightly on to my waist then kissed my cheek and rested his chin back on my shoulder.

[slothgiirl]

shadowplay ch 2 (alex turner x reader)

Your phone rings, vibrating on the sette while you try and decide what to order for dinner. 

Work had run late and you had really just wanted to finish to jacket tonight and not have to pick up where you left off tomorrow. Not expecting any calls, you hit ignore and decide on chinese. Fried rice and pot stickers sounding heavenly. 

Your phone rings again and you decide to answer just to see who could be calling you. 

It can't be work. And your friends would've texted you. 

"Hello," you answer. If it's some telemarketer you can always hang up. 

"It's Alex." 

"Who?" You don't know anyone named Alex. 

"ugh you pretended to be be my girlfriend that one time," he trails off. 

"Oh yeah. Sorry my brains at like half charge right now."

"Long day at work," Alex asks. 

"Basically," you answer, "my hands are beyond cramped. You know you could've texted. Who calls anymore?"

"If I can't do something face to face," he counters, "callings the next best thing."

"Okay grandpa."

"I just wanted to well. . .ask if you would mind much doing it again." He pauses as if working up the courage to say the words. Taking so long I think he might have hung up. "Pretending to be my girlfriend that is."

"What happened," you can't help but asks, already wondering what kind of situation he got himself into. 

"Arielle sort of told some mutual friends and now. . ."

"Your friends think we're dating."

"Exactly," Alex finishes. 

"You could just come clean. No shame in that." Though the idea of seeing him again alone is worth considering faking a relationship. 

"Yes," he protests, "it's embarrassing. Arielle's getting married and I pretended I have a girlfriend. I 'fink I'd 'ave to live under a rock after that."

"Are you free right now?"

"Why," Alex asks.

"So we can talk things through. Oh and can you pick up food on the way. That'll save me the delivery fee."

"So you'll do it Love," sounding so hopeful you almost say yes on the spot. 

"Well what's in it for me?"

Alex snorts, "I'll grab you dinner or something. Anything you want for saving my bloody arse." 

"Well like I said, you can start by picking up dinner." You give him your address. 

A small flat at the top of some old building with a tiny balcony that was the main attraction. You had been looking at houses but had yet to find something in your range and one that you also wanted. So here you still were. 

You buzz Alex in, looking dapper in blue jeans and a strokes shirt with a different leather jacket on. This time sans glasses. 

"Thank you so much," you tell him as you unpack the food onto your coffee table, but not before making sure he takes off his leather boots with more of a heel than you could walk in. 

"No problem love," Alex says with a smile, "least I could do right." 

"Your learning."

He chuckles, taking a seat next to you on the sette. The great british bake off plays, an old episode. You haven't paid enough attention to know what's going on. 

"So. . ."

"Yes Al," you grin playfully. 

"Would you like to be my fake girlfriend?"

"Not until you explain what's actually going on."

He ducks his head as you start on the fried rice. Shoving forkfuls into your mouth without a care about how you look. Lunch seems to have been ages ago for how hungry you feel now. 

"Like I said over the phone. Arielle told a bunch of our friends and now Jaime invited us over and I said yes. And now I can't just fess up."

"You could though," you note, offering him a fork too. 

"I'd look so bloody pathetic."

"So if we were to do this," you ask carefully, not meeting his eyes, wondering what you were getting yourself into. But as the weird girl in college with only one good friend, you knew a thing or two about being embarrassed. And it sounds amusing. 

Not to mention Alex is beyond hot. 

He sighs, relieved. "It's just be once or twice. Then we break up and no one ever has to be wiser."

You sit up straighter, studying Alex. His well defined bone structure, his expressive brown eyes, and the way he couldn't quite meet your eyes, unsure as you felt about the whole thing. He looked like a proper douche with all the hair gel and habit for wearing sunnies when the sun had gone down, but you'd enjoyed talking to him. 

You still can't imagine it being hard for him to get a girl. And yet here he was. "Alright. I'm game if only because I think this whole thing is ridiculous. They're your friends. Not to mention I'm such a nice person." 

Alex laughs, which has you smiling hard enough that your cheeks hurt and for once not caring that it might look weird, might make your face look fat. 

"Oh thank god I was about ready to book a flight to LA and pretend I had work or something along those lines."

"I wish I could do that whenever I didn't want to deal with my aunt. My cousin got married last summer and now everyones looking at me every time we get together. I'm twenty six. Practically a child bride!"

It makes Alex laugh again. 

"If we're going to do this though," you tell him, opening up a fortune cookie, "we have to like establish details and have our story straight. Like I still don't know what you do. That'll raise eyebrows."

"True enough," Alex acknowledges. "I can already tell you'll be the smart one in this relationship."

You snort. "Tell that to my maths teacher."

"I was thinking, we've only been seeing each other for a weeks. I've flying back and forth quite a bit. It adds up," he states casually, like people just flew back and forth from one home to another all the time. "Haven't told anyone because we we seeing where this was going."

"Makes sense. So where did we meet? Musicians are supposed to be creative aren't they?"

"Are you really going to make me come up with everything by myself love?"

You roll your eyes, "I really should stop getting take out. It's bad for the planet but I'm so out of it after work."

"How about you tailored some clothes I needed fixin'," he suggests with a dangerously flirty grin. 

"That's so unprofessional Al," you protest, "I'd get into so much trouble for something like that."

"Which is exactly what you said when I asked you out," he continues, looking gleeful as the whole scenario plays out in his head, "but I was persistent. And said I'd never be a customer again if you'd give me a chance."

"And you pouted so much I just couldn't say not to that face," you add with a giggle. "I work at Hargreeves by the way. Mostly suiting through there are quite a few dressmakers there too."

"I have a little band called the Arctic Monkeys," Alex offers, watching you carefully. 

You shrug, "never heard of them."

"The last shadow puppets too," he adds, still studying your reaction carefully.

"You any good?"

"We're signed love so I 'fink we're doing all right."

"I don't think you're being a reliable source Al," you note, googling Arctic Monkeys instead. "much too humble."

"I'd sound like a twat otherwise."

Your eyes widen at the number of results and articles right off the bat. "doing all right my arse! You're bloody famous!"

"Only a little," Alex protests, running a hand through his hair, pink dusting his cheeks. 

You tell him about going to trade school and your apprenticeship  "Something right out of the devil wears prada! Kept pricking my fingers so badly!" Your friend Sam who does dresswear and complains about how, "everyone wants the same boring sillouttes! Can you believe dropping ten thousand pounds on a dress you could get at Harrods!" 

He tells you about growing up in Sheffield, about his band mates and old friends who have all gotten together or married by now, about his love for the strokes and Miles Kane. 

Alex talks about moving to New York for a girl, about moving to Los Angeles for a different girl. "I guess I'm a romantic at heart," he confesses. 

You blab about wanting to work for an Atilier like Valentino and how you still feel weird about spending money on things like a Chanel bag though you can justify it. About devouring magazines while your mum shopped. 

It had been that initial love for fashion and your grandmothers own seamstress skills that had led your down the path you'd taken. "Poshmark is bad for the environment and the clothes don't even hold up," you ranted. 

Old clothes done by hand had lasted much longer and there was something about making things. "It was always just fun to design something and then see it come together through I nicked myself a lot and my mum made sure I finished my assignments before spending hours in my room." 

Alex asks you about your taste in music which is, "hasn't really changed since college I mean Britney spears still slaps and who doesn't love the spice girls." 

Your shamelessness has him laughing again."I mean your not wrong about the spice girls love."

It's past ten when he finally makes to leave. "So next week at Jaime's," Alex asks once more, worried you might have changed your mind. 

"Yes. Text me the details. Or I guess call if that's more comfortable for you." 

He smiles, resting against the doorway, looking down at you with his soft brown eyes. "Can I kiss you? For practice I mean. . .they'll be expecting us too. . ." 

If you let him go on, it might take two years for him to get to the point and you've already set boundaries. Hand holding, hugging, all the typical couple stuff except for sitting in his lap. 

That was too much for you. A kiss here and there for believability but obviously you wouldn't be making out in public. 

Or at least, if this was real you wouldn’t go overboard in public so there was no reason to with him. 

So you kiss him on his lips, light and quick, just a goodbye kiss. And send him off.

[wendip-week]

Of Masks and Men

(Here it is: part 3. And I managed to get this out in time for Halloween, too! Hope you enjoy.)

//

For what might have seemed like an eternity but was really no more than an hour-and-a-half, there was darkness. It was not necessarily a foreboding darkness, but rather almost uncomfortable (but not quite). It was the kind of semi-lucid darkness one might experience as they try for a catnap in the afternoon. You doze and find you find out that you can't sleep but realize that you've killed so much more time than you expected (or vice-versa). And in a hidden place in Gravity Falls known only to a few, a certain twelve-year-old boy found himself in such darkness (not that he was totally aware); for a while, anyway.

"Abel..." said a voice from out of nowhere. "Abel, wake up..."

"Abel. Hey, you in there, dude?" said another. This one sounded vaguely female.

"Abel. Time to wake up." This time, the previous voice (definitely male) spoke, sounding very clear.

Abel Wood, who had started to realize he was probably asleep, began to stir. He groaned and raised his head before opening his eyes with a little difficulty. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was sitting in the middle of some kind of library, or maybe a study. Either way, there weren't any windows, and there was something covered by a tarp right in front of him. His head had just cleared when he found out he wasn't alone.

"There he is," said that distinctly female voice. "Hey, Abel. How has your day been progressing?"

"Huh? Aunt Wendy?" Abel replied as he saw her coming around to face him. "I-uhhh…"

"You don't need to answer that." From the other side, his great-uncle came into his line-of-sight. "We've already got a pretty good idea how it's been. That said, we need to talk."

It took the pre-teen a moment, but he realized what the man was talking about. "Wait a minute! You knocked me out! And... you tied me up!" he said as it occurred to him that he was tied to the chair he was sitting in.

"True. Sorry about that," Mason replied.

"We had to keep you from panicking and doing something stupid," Wendy added.

"I take it you probably have some questions for us?" Mason asked.

Abel scowled. "What did you do with Grunkle Mason and Aunt Wendy?!" he demanded. The aging couple looked mildly surprised at the question. "And who and what are you?"

The two adults looked at each other. After a moment, the man nodded to his lady, who decided to speak. "To answer your first question, I am your great-aunt, Wendy Pines, just like my husband over here really is your grunkle, Mason Pines, or as everyone used to call him, Dipper."

"As for what we are..." Abel's supposed-Grunkle Mason continued. "We are part of a race of sentient, mutated pistachio-plants."

"We're called Pistachions," said Wendy. "And to make things easier, it might be prudent if we show our real faces while we're explaining things. That okay with you, Mason?"

"If you think that's best, Dear." The older-gentleman turned back towards his supposed-nephew. "Alright, Abel. Try to keep an open-mind." He and his wife placed their hands on their necks and pulled at an inconspicuous line. It required some stretching in places to get them to properly move. In the bunker, it had happened so quickly that Abel didn't get a chance to see anything. Seeing these two doing this slowly and carefully was really creeping him out.

Finally, the two of them had them off. "Much better," said Wendy. "I don't look too shabby, now do I?" Abel wasn't sure what to expect, but he was surprised to see quite a contrast between his great-uncle and great-aunt. For starters, unlike Mason, who had but a few leaves on the back of his shell-like head, she had a full head of red-hair with some leaves growing here-and-there. She also had more prominent eyelashes and apparently even wore lipstick under her mask, because it was pretty visible over her mouth full of sharp fangs...

"Oh, crud!" Abel thought. "She has fangs! And so does Grunkle Mason (if he even is my grunkle)!"

"Hey, Abel. I know that look. It's something I'm all too familiar with. I'm gonna need you to keep your cool," Mason spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

"Fine... Where are we?" Abel asked.

"Under the Shack, in the refurbished study of the late Stanford Pines," said the nut-like woman in front of him. "Next question?"

"Right. Wait, hang on. How the heck are you my uncle?" he said, turning his head in said creature's direction. "You're supposed to be my grandma's twin. I'm pretty sure me, Dana, and everyone on Grandma Mabel's side of family are human. What's the deal with you?"

"Good question," the male "Pistachion" replied. "Okay, well, for starters, your aunt and I were humans originally. It was around the time we were dating. We and your grandma went on a cross-country road trip. Now, weirdness exists outside of the Falls, and one of our stops resulted in Wendy and me getting captured by Pistachions in disguises like the ones we wear.

"Their leader, Derek's, plan was to take over the world by transforming all the humans into plants like him and his kind. Wendy and I were among those zapped by his machine. But thanks to some time-travel shenanigans, all of the Pistachions got erased from history; all except for us. We created some disguises for ourselves and have been living like this since."

"After that, Mason and I formed a plan to restore our lost race in secret," added Wendy, who began to explain how they reversed-engineered Derek's "MULCH"-technology and made use of local nut farms to create new Pistachions. It eventually led to two societies forming. One was living in the valley; the other lived in the town itself (they, too, disguised themselves as humans).

"Seriously?" Abel asked.

"Sure," Mason replied. "Half of Gravity Falls are like us; born or transformed."

"So... does that mean all of your kids are like you? Aunt May and Uncle Chaz?"

"Yes. Something would definitely be wrong if May was born a human. And the Valentinos are old friends of ours. Assimilating them was a given. This was before they had Chaz, obviously."

"Oh. And Uncle Danny and Aunt Arctica?"

"Yes, being May's twin, Danny's a Pistachion. Arctica, well... was originally human. Being a valuable business partner and a friend, we couldn't turn her mother (or father, for that matter). Of course, after Pacifica passed and her husband retired to Florida, we found out Danny had already revealed himself to Arctica in secret. Long-story short, after he proposed, she agreed to become a Pistachion, too. Before you ask, yes, the others are also plants like us."

Abel looked shocked (and for good reason): almost everyone on his grandmother's side of the family were plant-people in disguise, which raised another question. "Sheesh. Okay, that's something that's going to take a while to wrap my head around. So... you guys just walk around in rubber costumes all day long? Doesn't that get uncomfortable?"

Wendy replied, "Sometimes. The masks especially. We definitely make it a point to at least get those off by bed-time. Otherwise, our faces might conform to the shape of them."

"But is that even a big deal? I mean you're disguised as yourselves, aren't you?"

Mason blinked his black-and-red eyes: "Huh. Never really thought about it that way. I suppose not. But it's still uncomfortable, and we're rather accustomed to the contrast."

Abel chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if Grandma had decorated your masks while you were asleep, like during that road trip."

The horticultural couple just stared. The pre-teen in the chair, not understanding, stayed silent, studying them for a moment. He wasn't too sure, but it looked like he might have seen traces of guilt, like that time Dana admitted to cheating on that test in fifth-grade. Finally, he decided to break the tension. "What did I say?"

Mason turned away. "She doesn't know," he quietly admitted. "And it's going to have to stay that way."

"Wait, what?" Abel replied. "Are you seriously telling me that all this time, you kept this from your sister, or that she never caught you?"

"First of all," replied Wendy: "No human knows about our true-selves. But either way, we couldn't tell her. If by some odd-chance she was cool about it, I doubt she could have kept it secret. And if she thought this wasn't right, she might've blabbed to Ford, who'd have probably tried to find a way to change us back."

"Time-out!" Abel interrupted. "Why wouldn't you want to be human again?"

"Probably the same reason you don't want to be a Pistachion," said Mason. "You don't, right?"

"NO!" Abel shouted.

"That's what we figured. Look, for us, it's almost as though we've always been this way. An instinctual feeling, I suppose.”

“Generally-speaking, we’re not exactly fond of humanity, anyway,” Wendy added. “Again, instinct. That isn’t to say we hate them. That’s an old mentality of a long-dead generation of Pistachions.”

“Right…” said Abel. “Is that also why you kept this from her?”

“No,” said Mason. “Look, we love your grandma. And it isn’t as though we haven’t thought about telling her, but the right opportunity never presented itself. Your aunt and I thought of telling her after our Grunkle Ford passed away (and there being no one else to change us), but on top of losing him, Grunkle Stan died a month later. It was devastating for everyone. If we had said something so soon after, it might have crushed her. Then we lost our parents; your great-grandparents. Then Pacifica left us too soon. Old Man McGucket… And after… after… after that…”

The humanoid-plant trailed off, but Abel had a pretty good idea of where this was going. “You’re talking about me and Dana’s parents, aren’t you?” he asked solemnly.

“Your dad was her only kid. And she loved your mom like her own. So much happened in succession; we don’t know if she can take it. She was always excitable, but this might be too much, especially at her age.”

Abel sighed. This was not how he expected this to turn out; eventually leading to a sore subject. He still didn’t know what their game was. This situation had gotten terrifying, sad, and awkward. He needed to break the tension (partly because he couldn’t break the dang vines that kept him restrained). “What’s the point of all of this? What are you planning?”

“To live, basically,” said the horticultural redhead. “Study, protect the town, hang out with our family, and in my case, spend time alone with my man.”

“We also want our race to have this opportunity, too,” added the male Pistachion.

“Seriously?” asked Abel skeptically. “No plans to take over the world somehow?”

“Oh, please,” said his great-aunt. “We’ve lived through that kind of scheme multiple-times. Appealing as that might sound, it’s a pipe-dream.”

“Plus, we also don’t want to hurt anyone: human or Pistachion. As the unofficial leaders, we have a rule against such plots. Anyone who violates that answers to us.”

“We’re in charge, sucka! Either get with the program or get out!” The plant-man and the boy just stared at her. “I can’t pull off ‘teen-as-cool-as-ice’ anymore, can I?”

“No. Now you’re just cool.”

“Awww, Mason!”

He chuckled quietly before turning back to his supposed nephew. “So that’s the gist of it. A lot to take in, huh? Abel…?” The pre-teen was staring off into space.

“I… uh… yeah. This is… I don’t even know.” He looked up at the two. “How do I know any of this is real? How do I even know you’re telling me the truth? How… do I know you’re really my aunt and uncle?”

The Pistachions paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback. Finally, the nut-headed scientist without hair spoke. “I don’t know. How can we prove that?”

Abel took a moment, before remembering something brought up recently. “What did you tell me at me and Dana’s parents’ funeral?”

Without hesitating, Mason answered, “We’re family, and family sticks together. Even when they mess up, they can still find a way to reunite.”

“It’s that bond that makes losing our loved ones so hard. But it’s also what makes it so important that we come together when we go through such times,” Wendy continued.

“And we want you to know that like your grandma, we’re here for you and Dana. If you ever think you’re alone, remember-”

“-You’re wrong,” Abel finished. He looked at the two plant-people in front of him and noticed something he hadn’t seen before about them. Very subtley, on his aunt’s shell-like face were brownish speckles right where her cheeks might be (if she even cheeks); they resembled freckles. As for his uncle, on his forehead was a faint indent just visible under the right light. It resembled the Big Dipper, just like his grandmother told him. “It really is you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. We are, Abel,” said Mason. “That’s why we’re so conflicted about what we must do with you, now that you know our secret.”

To be continued

//

(Hope everyone's having a happy Halloween.)

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

Dark Sins AU Drabble

Dark Sin’s Masterpost: https://tema-makes-art-sometimes.tumblr.com/post/183574237222/the-kingdom-of-dark-sins-masterpost

Main Characters: “Sloth” Ven Vargas (Veneziano), “Envy” Daniel Matthew Kirkland (Canada), “Wrath” Raymond L. Fuchs (Germany)

Mentioned: “Pride” Benjamin A.C. Kirkland (England), “Greed” Yao Ling (China), “Gluttony” Jason Eugene Miles (America), “Lust” Matteo Valentino (Romano), Lily Trembaley (Nyo Canada)

Synopsis: Ven pays Daniel an unwanted visit; Ray also visits, but it is less unwanted. 

Daniel sighed, running his blade down the wet stone once, glaring over his shoulder at the unwanted and exhausted guest. Ven had been insistent in seeing him today, and no matter how the man tried to shrug the slothful off the sin would not leave him alone. So he had allowed the man to stay while he sharpened his tools. The one plus side is that he was able to convince the sin to make dinner so he could focus on his work. Ven was making some sort of seafood stew, he didn’t know where he had gotten the ingredients for such things but he wasn’t going to bother to ask right now. His scissors were dulling and he’d rather fix that first than deal with the mysteries of Ven’s seafood. 

The tan sin mindlessly stirred his pot, continuing to stare at the envious as he worked. He had to have guessed his work ethic was from his mother’s side. After all, there was no way someone like Ben had been the source of Daniel’s diligence. The boy didn’t know how to take a break sometimes. It was surprising how he accepted a life of mundanity, in comparison to the rest of them. The only exception being Ray, but Ven doubted the man would ever be able to gain a foothold in Iras anyway with their intense anti-sin policies. 

“Hey, are you going to keep staring at me and let your stock boil over?’ Daniel asked with a smirk, Ven whipped around to move the pot off the open flame a moment so it could settle back down. He smirked a bit to the sin at the table.  

“Thanks Danny, I’d hate to piss you off.” 

“Yeah, yeah.. I can hear the sarcasm.” 

The two were almost friends, in a way. Ever since he was young Daniel had gained Ven’s favor for his sass and his work ethic, his determination to be better than his father in every way. And nothing was more satisfying to Ven than a nap- and if there was a second thing he was satisfied by it was seeing Ben eat shit. 

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” Daniel sighed as he added another few passes to the blade of the scissors over the stone. “Just cryptically not leaving me alone for your own amusement while I work?”

“Oh you wish you were that entertaining,” Ven said with a laugh. 

“Clearly I am if you stayed this long and were so determined for me to not lock you out that you, the embodiment of Sloth, was willing to make me dinner for the trouble.” The blonde remarked, rewetting his wet stone so he could refine his edge. 

“Alright, you caught me.” he laughed again, reaching for a few of the fresh herb plants growing near the windowsill and making a few trims with the small scissors Danny remarked were for the task. Goodness did that boy love his scissors.

“Skip the half sarcastic congratulations, and cut to the chase would you?” the blonde sighed, putting his scissors down for a moment to focus his attention on Ven. Ven didn’t turn away from his task, cutting herbs on the chopping board. 

“Don’t you find it weird?” he finally spoke up, Daniel confused. 

“It?”

“That you, the sin of Envy, son of Pride- who is the King of Supasin, is running a small local dress shop and making alterations to clothing?” he remarked. “That you, by what is decreed as destiny, are supposed to be trying to gain favor in your district and rise into power, but instead here you are! Sewing on buttons and hemming work pants.”

Ven could tell that the sin was disgusted by his assumptions, insulted that all of his work was belittled in such a fashion. He didn’t mean to sound demeaning to the man this time, actually curious on why the man would completely disregard a position as high as his father’s that he could raise even higher if he wished for such a calm and well-- uninteresting life. Daniel did not seem like the time to accept mundanity. Speaking of Danny, he was glaring at the sin, not bothering to answer for a moment. 

“Oh fuck off with you! I run this shop for my mother! She passed it down to me, it was all she had after getting away from that bastard you call a King. I couldn’t just abandon it.” He scoffed. “So what? Others don’t follow that dumb prophecy anyways, what do you even do?”

“That doesn’t pertain to the topic.” Ven yawned. “I just find it interesting is all. Raymond is the same.” he had to turn his back to the man to hide the smirk as the envious man tensed, the faintest of pink on his ears at the mention of the Irasian sin. Just as he thought. 

“Exactly, he’s a hunter in Iras. And stays off the mainland.” he scoffed, turning away from Ven. “It’s not that weird.”

“Though it would be hard for him to even get into a decent position in Iras anyhow with their policies against sins.” Ven remarked. “The poor man’s being hunted in his own home.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yes, but if there was any sin I would be concerned about when it comes to public acceptance, it would be Ray. At least people like Matteo, Yao and Jason have been able to keep in public favor.”

“People don’t know about Yao.” Daniel huffed. “And Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut so of course they know. But Gulan in general is one uprising from being flipped on its head and he knows that.”

“And that doesn’t even bring up your father.” Ven added, Daniel scoffing. 

“Him and Matteo are in the same boat. Sins with no link to humanity who never outwardly deny being such things. If it weren’t for Supasin being the way it was, I doubt he would have been able to take power in the first place.”

“Another thing we can agree on.” Ven laughed. “I do get Ray’s struggle though, Acedian isn’t that welcoming to sins either.”

“Neither would they after you destroyed an entire town and turned it into an insomniacs wet dream.” Daniel remarked, Ven scoffing in response. 

“That was two cycles ago!”

Daniel simply laughed at the slothful’s distress, finally satisfied with his scissor sharpening he moved to wash the pair in the sink. 

“So you seem to really like Ray, care to give me the tea on it?” Ven remarked, suppressing a snicker as he heard the scissors tumble and thunk to the bottom of the sink before being picked back up. He could tell Daniel had hoped the running water and the boiling stock had covered the sound. 

“Wha- What are you on about? He’s my friend. So what?”

“Just friends? I doubt it.” 

“Shut up Ven.” Daniel huffed, turning off the water pump harshly before drying his hands and meticulously drying his scissors. “We’re not a thing or anything.”

“Ah, right. He’s talking to that Supasinian woman isn’t he?” Ven smirked, “Ah what was her name? Lily?”

“Sure.” Daniel tensed, drapeing the towel he was using back into place before moving to clean up his wet stone and dry off the table where he had been sharpening his blades. 

“Did I strike a nerve?” 

“Thin. Ice. Ven.” the green eyed sin glared at him, clearly about to tell him off before hearing a harsh, frantic knocking at the door. The two were startled, Ven turning off the heat to the stove and Daniel keeping his scissors in hand as he walked to the door. He opened it, but was not prepared for what he saw. His prized possession fell out of his hands to the floor without hesitation. 

It was Raymond, his blonde hair disheveled and hanging into his face. His clothes were torn and his body was covered in bruises and slashes, he had clearly been in a very bad fight. His cheek was swollen, his nose looked broken. 

“Shit! Ray- Ray what the hell happened!?” Daniel panicked, helping the man inside. The male weakly started signing, but Daniel placed one hand over his. “Actually don't worry about it right now get inside. Ven bring me the big mat in the kitchen on the back wall NOW!”

Ven having not heard the struggle, and only just the last bit Daniel had shouted was surprised to come out with the folded blue mat in his arms and see Ray in such terrible shape. He joined the man, laying the mat flat, allowing the two to lower the man down to the ground onto his back. 

“What do you need me to do?” Ven asked. He left the snark and remarks to the side, he could see the panic and concern in Daniel’s eyes and knew better than to test the already thin patience of the sin. 

“Finish making dinner, he’ll need to regain his strength and rehydrate himself. I can tend to his wounds.” Daniel paused. “And… do you have any of that numbing tonic on you?”

Ven nodded without a word, handing over a blue glass bottle. It was Ven’s specialty brew. He knew Daniel didn’t know much about him but he did know the boy knew he had more alchemical hobbies than he would ever let on. It was one thing he and Matteo could do together. 

“Alright, but if anything happens call for me. I’ll be in the kitchen. And remember t--”

“Apply to the wounds lightly and make sure it’s heavily diluted in water I know, I know.” Daniel corrected as he moved to get a large bowl, luckily able to have some still warm water from earlier. He didn’t have the patience to wait for water to boil. After what felt like hours Daniel had gathered the different things he needed, cleaning Ray’s wounds, first with soap and water and then the diluted tonic to help numb the pain. He also was able to snap the man’s nose back in place and brace it. 

Ray snapped his fingers, getting Daniel’s attention. Daniel glanced over with a frown. 

“Sorry I got really focused. What was it?”

The sin gave him a worried look, signing quickly. 

I’m okay

Daniel huffed. “Don’t give me that, you are not. Let me finish treating these and I can get you some new clothes. 

I don’t need them.

“Yes you do, you are not running around in blood soaked and torn clothes. Not in my house. I’ll clean and repair them, you can borrow some spares.” Daniel sighed. 

“I’m going to have to stitch up this gash in your arm.” He remarked. “I numbed it with Ven’s tonic but it might still hurt.” 

Ray nodded, and relaxed his arm as much as he could. Daniel made swift work of it, making sure to make it clean as he could, pausing when Ray hissed in pain, letting him slowly relax before he continued. Eventually it was sewn shut, re-cleaned and bandaged. Daniel sighed, shaking his head as he finished tying one of the smaller wounds with a bandage. 

“What in supasin happened to you Ray?”

Ray frowned, glancing to his bag. 

“Would you rather write it?” Daniel asked. Ray shook his head, signing again. 

Don’t be mad.

“I’m not going to be mad at you.” He said, Ray gave him a knowing look. Daniel blushed slightly, looking away. “I can’t promise anyone else.”

Another stern look. 

“I’m not going to hunt anything or one down, come on. That’s your job.” Daniel remarked, getting a bit of a laugh out of the injured sin before he started coughing. “You want something to drink? If you don’t want to talk about it we can discuss it after you--” 

As Daniel had gone to get up, Ray had pulled him back down by the wrist, a concerned expression on his face. The envious focused down at his own hand as Ray held it in one of his own, the other hand moving gently to write into the man’s palm with his finger. 

H.. U.. N.. T.. E.. R.. S..

Daniel felt his blood go cold, a deep frown etched into his face as he took Ray and brought him up to a sitting position, his hands on the wrathful’s shoulders. 

“Ray please, tell me what happened.” he begged, moving to get the man’s pad as he saw him struggle to sign it. Ray nodded, thanking the envious as he took his charcoal pen from Daniel’s hand, and began writing. He handed over the pad, the blonde reading aloud what he had written. 

“ ‘Was out on the mainland for a supply run and ran into another group of hunters. They recognized me. I fought them off but I was too injured to get home. I didn’t know where else to go.’ “ Daniel felt his fists gripping the pad so tightly his knuckles turned white, his shoulders starting to shake. 

“They.. they tried to kill you again didn’t they?” he asked, only receiving a sigh and a sad nod in return. He handed the man back his pad. “Well, thank you for coming to me. You know you’re welcome here no matter what.”

“Soup’s on!” the two heard from the other room. Ray tensed up, tilting his head in surprise as he looked to the kitchen door frame before looking back to Daniel and signing. 

What is Ven doing here?

Daniel sighed. “At this point, I don’t know. He was insistent on visiting with me today while I worked. I was spending most of the day sharpening my--- shit-!” he started looking around to where he dropped his scissors but it seemed that Ray beat him to it, gingerly picking them up and holding them out to the now pink sin. 

“Th-thanks…” He glanced away, putting his favored pair back in the pouch on his belt where they belonged. “But yeah, he made some sort of seafood stew or something since I told him he could stay if he made dinner. It was my idea, but who knows where he got the ingredients..”

Part of that was a lie, and Daniel knew it. But he couldn’t help himself. Ray had started lighting up at the mention of seafood and he just couldn’t resist that man’s smile. It was impossible. He helped support the wrathful into the kitchen, doing his best to try and hide the deep blush on his face. The last thing he wanted right now was this moment ruined by Ven. Ven may have thought this was weird, but honestly it was all he really wanted. Sure being King sounded nice and all… but he wouldn’t mind if things stayed like this. 

[ramajmedia]

Big Bang Theory: 10 Biggest Twists & Reveals, Ranked | ScreenRant

Twelve years is a long time for anything, especially for a TV show. That gives you an indication of just how popular The Big Bang Theory is. On the air from 2007 until 2019, the show has cultivated a pretty rabid fan base. From the catchy theme“The Theory Of Everything" by The Barenaked Ladies to having the charming Kaley Cuoco and always likable Johnny Galecki as the leads certainly helped the show find an early fan base. Throw in Jim Parsons’ portrayal of Sheldon to make up the core trio of your series and The Big Bang Theory took off pretty quickly.

RELATED: The Brady Bunch: 10 Jokes That Have Already Aged Poorly

Not resting on those laurels alone, Simon Helberg and Kunal Nayyar also debuted in the premier episode and over the years Melissa Rauch and Mayim Bialik rounded out the main cast. The series came at the perfect time. The superhero movie craze was about to really take off with the MCU debuting a year after this show premiered. Geek culture was about to become the norm amongst a lot of pop culture fans, and presumably, a lot of people just wanted to escape for a few minutes with a silly show like The Big Bang Theory. But the longer it went, more and more storyline threads began to appear too. Here are 10 biggest twists and reveals from the show, ranked.

10 Penny Calls Out Leonard’s Name

It was known from the second that she became the girl next door that Leonard was in love with Penny. Whether she knew it or not, whether the feeling was mutual or not at first, a Penny had started to like Leonard more and more as well... even if she tried dating other people. She even once dated Stuart before he got all weird and awkward and creepy. But perhaps dating Penny is what did it to the comic book store owner.

In “The Classified Turbulence,” as the two are making out, he gives her the ol “Oh Penny,” but she reciprocated with a name not his own. Yup, it was Leonard’s name.

9 Bernadette’s Pregnant

TV shows generally like to play up the schmaltzy joy-joy feelings of being pregnant and the eventual giving birth. Sometimes this is done with over-emotional expecting mothers and clueless nitwit fathers, both of whom Bernie and Wolowitz were before they became parents!

Related: Big Bang Theory: 10 Hilarious Sheldon Memes That Are Too Funny

Bernadette had little to no interest in being a parent. That all changes in “The Valentino Submergence,” when Bernardette revealed to the stray rabbit that she was, in fact, pregnant.

8 Leonard And Penny Elope

After years of the off-again/on-again, will they or won’t they push and pull between Leonard and Penny, things finally came to a definitive conclusion when they decided to elope. The move at least began as a sweet one in earnest. Leonard’s vows explain that they are both made up of particles from the beginning of time, and Penny quotes Toy Story.

RELATED: Teen Wolf: 10 Times The Show Broke Our Hearts

The night didn’t end as perfectly as one might expect, but their surprise ceremony was as sweet as fans thought and wanted it to be.

7 Penny’s Pregnant

We found out that Penny was pregnant after months of letting Leonard know that she doesn’t want any kids, even to the point that she was trying to be okay with him even helping her ex-boyfriend Zack have a baby of his own.

However, during the opening moments of the series finale, “The Stockholm Syndrome,” we find out that Penny is now pregnant. While she still hasn’t wrapped her head full around it, she has been mothering Sheldon for over a decade, so she’ll be fine.

6 Sheldon’s Nobel Speech

In a lot of ways, every single episode of The Big Bang Theory, built up the series finale, “The Stockholm Syndrome.” All Sheldon ever wanted was to be a respected scientist and win the Nobel Prize for his work. Now that it’s finally happened, it’s easy to see how worked up and egotistical Sheldon would be.

Not to mention how self-congratulatory he would be during his acceptance speech. But then Amy makes him realize what a fool he’s been and how all of his friends have merely tolerated him all of these years. After a brief off-screen self reflection, Sheldon gives the most heartfelt acceptance speech ever, acknowledging how he could not be on that podium without all of his friends.

5 Teller Speaks?!

It took nearly a decade, but we finally met Amy’s dad, Mr. Fowler was played by Teller, the silent half of magic duo, Penn and Teller.

Related: Big Bang Theory: 10 Times Amy And Penny Were Friendship Goals

For those in the know, watching him on the show was a treat to see, especially when he followed through with not speaking, considering his TV wife Kathy Bates did all the speaking for him. That made him finally speaking an actual twist in not just the episode, but pop culture in general.

4 Howard Goes To Space

As scientists, engineers, and sci-fi fans, the boys have all had a lifelong fascination with space. In “The Countdown Reflection,” Howard is getting set to blast off into space and regales his new astronaut friends about the previous week and how Bernadette wanted to get married before he left. All of his friends got ordained so they could all marry the couple.

RELATED: The Handmaid’s Tale: 10 Questions We Need Answered In Season 4

That touching twist was followed up by another: Sheldon grasping Amy’s hands an dwishing his friend to “boldly go.”

3 Sheldon Kisses Amy

Amy went all out and planned an entire Valentine’s Day trip for her and Sheldon, which was a train ride to Napa Valley for a romantic getaway. In “The Locomotive Manipulation,” Amy gets him on an old-timey train, which Sheldon loves. He then befriends another train enthusiast on their trip, leaving Amy to hang with Howard and Bernie, who she invited to make Sheldon more comfortable.

What seems like your typical “Sheldon takes Amy for granted” episode becomes a great moment when Amy stands up for herself, demanding some romance. Sheldon gave her some, at first in anger when he planted one on her, then his real feelings took hold and he took hold of Amy.

2 Sheldon Proposes

Since the moment they met, seemingly at least once a season, we all get to experience at least one small leap in the relationship of Sheldon and Amy. After the two characters met, it took Sheldon a long time to admit he liked her, ask her out, hold her hand, kiss her, etc.

Related: Big Bang Theory: 5 Relationships Fans Were Behind (& 5 They Rejected)

While Amy was patient, it was becoming almost groan-inducing watching her put up with his slower than a snail’s pace approach. Then they broke up, and it was revealed Sheldon had gotten a ring. Sometime after reconciling, another woman actually kissed Sheldon. His made the theoretical physicist find Amy and propose.

1 Raj Speaks To Women

When we first meet Raj, he has a particular affliction: selective mutism. The poor guy can’t talk to women. However, if he had a couple of drinks in him, he could talk to any girl.

This took until the end of the sixth season when he was talking to Penny. She (and the audience) realized that Raj was speaking to her without a drink in his hand.

Next: 10 Hilarious Big Bang Theory Memes Only True Fans Understand

source https://screenrant.com/big-bang-theory-biggest-twists-reveals-ranked-tv-show/

[usamotorscycle-blog]

MotoGP COTA 2017 Results

The run-up to the Red Bull Grand Prix of the Americas set the stage for a much-anticipated cage match between Yamaha phenom Maverick Viñales and Honda triple world champion Marc Marquez. All day long, the British announcing crew was breathlessly prancing about the broadcast booth, pondering the sheer wonder of it all, going absolutely hyperbolic. Showing no sense of the moment, Viñales crashed out of fourth place on Lap 2, letting the air out of the balloon and ceding, at least for the moment, the lead in the world championship to teammate Valentino Rossi, with Marquez suddenly back in the game.

Practice, Practice, Practice

FP1: Viñales was in charge, not having received the memo about Marquez’ ownership position at COTA. FP2 was led by Marquez, snatched from Johann Zarco; Viñales right behind, trimming his cuticles. FP3 was Viñales, Dani Pedrosa, Cal Crutchlow and Marquez. Embed from Getty Images Johann Zarco continues to impress, qualifying onto the second row and finishing fifth for the second-straight race. Something had to be done about the weirdness in the standings heading into Austin. Early in the season, MotoGP seemed to have fallen through the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland. Yamaha is just taking it to Honda – the 2016 M1 is competitive with the 2017 RC213V. All four Yamahas sit in the top 11 for the season after the opening two rounds, including the two rookies. Crutchlow led all Hondas, tied with Yamaha Tech 3 rookie Jonas Folger. Fellow rookie Johann Zarco is on the move, a mere five points behind Folger and Crutchlow. Three Ducs rest in the top ten led by, of all people, Scott Redding in fourth. It was time to come up from the rabbit hole. Time to return to Europe. Just one more foreign outing in Texas to endure before things could return back to normal.

Establishing Positions

Embed from Getty Images Marc Marquez continued to dominate in Austin, once again taking the pole. Q2 saw a few things put right, beyond the fact that Viñales and Marquez stand head and shoulders above the rest of the field, a bunch of Aliens and wannabees slugging it out for supporting spots in the top ten. Viñales delivered the first sub-2:04 lap of the day with maybe 30 seconds left in the session. 20 seconds later, Marquez flogged his Honda to a fifth straight pole in Texas, from which he had won the previous four races. Rossi snuck onto the front row late in the session, creating a second row of Dani Pedrosa, the impudent Zarco on the satellite Yamaha, and one Jorge Lorenzo, clad in white and red. Oh, and perhaps the save of the season, by Loris Baz late in the session.

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MotoGP™ ✔@MotoGP Laws of physics? What laws of physics? Could be the greatest save of all time...

@lorisbaz 3:15 AM - 23 Apr 2017 5,6355,635 Retweets 7,4857,485 likes Lorenzo and Jack Miller had made it through Q1, with Lorenzo putting the Ducati as high as fourth position before settling for sixth. Zarco had been up near the top of the timesheets again all weekend, putting pressure on a lot of factory rides. Miller crashed out of Q2 and appeared to be trotting back to the garage “gingerly,” his inevitable early-season injury having possibly arrived. Pedrosa was hanging around in fourth, back to starting up front with the big dogs. In support of my blog, Rossi and Viñales had their first set-to on Saturday during qualifying, with Viñales seemingly cheesed off about Rossi cruising on the racing line. Race Direction was later said to be considering sending a strongly-worded letter to Lin Jarvis asking him for “best efforts to prevail” upon The Franchise not to seriously injure The New Kid in Town.

The Race Itself

The 2017 American Grand Prix was more parade than firefight. The factory Hondas and Yamahas emerged from the early chaos to form up the leading group, with Dani Pedrosa front and center. Cal Crutchlow got clear of The Great Unwashed, and there was even a Jorge Lorenzo sighting around fifth place on the first lap. The usual suspects quickly found themselves strung out along the bumps and potholes littering the Circuit of the Americas, which stands in need of a paving crew.

Maverick Viñales’ race was over after just two laps, his first mistake of his career at Yamaha. Although it took 21 laps and 45 minutes to confirm it, the race basically came down to four moves. 1) Viñales crashed late on Lap 2, leaving Pedrosa, Marquez, Rossi and Johann Zarco in the lead group. 2) Marquez took the lead from Pedrosa on Lap 9. 3) Rossi and Zarco came together a few minutes later, the Frenchman pushing Rossi wide to the right where he could cut back and increase his lead, incurring a hypothetical .3 second penalty that amounted to nothing but had the announcers, fully recovered from Viñales’ crash, happy to find something new to go mental over. 4) Rossi went through on Pedrosa on Lap 19. Game. Set. Match

Johann Zarco forced Valentino Rossi to run straight through an S-curve. And while he didn’t intend to do it, Race Direction ruled Rossi still had an obligation not to gain an advantage and docked him a 0.3 second penalty. In the end, the penalty did not affect Rossi’s second-place finish.

At Ducati Corse, Life Goes On

Andrea Dovizioso being interviewed elsewhere about his place in the Ducatisphere: Q: So why can’t the problems (with the GP17) be solved? A: “There’s a big difference between understanding the problems and solving them.” Quoted elsewhere, it seems Andrea “The Maniac” Iannone has finally accepted as fact something the rest of the planet observed late last season. This, allegedly, is News You Need: ‘Andrea Iannone says he is resigned to having to race with a top speed deficit with Suzuki throughout the 2017 MotoGP season.’ Please refer to the above quote from Dovi with regard to this revelation. Embed from Getty Images The good news for Jorge Lorenzo is he qualified sixth at COTA. The bad news is he finished ninth. Rubbing salt in the wound, I’m pretty sure that Danilo Petrucci and Andrea Iannone stole Jorge Lorenzo’s lunch money over the last few laps of the race. We could be charitable and suppose JLo’s tires gave up on him. Or we could be hateful and small and speculate that he got out-cojoñed by the two Italians.

The Big Picture

With Viñales’ feet replanted in terra firma after an otherworldly start to his Yamaha career, we can now have a straightforward, adult conversation about the state of the MotoGP championship after three rounds. The factory Yamahas and Hondas appear significantly ahead of everyone else early in the season. Rossi and Viñales are frightening, Viñales for his sheer speed, Rossi for his strategic brilliance. Marquez has atoned for his crash in Argentina and will push The Boys in Blue for the entire season. The factory Ducati program is in deep yogurt, Dovizioso hanging onto fourth place by his fingernails while grasping bad luck with both hands. LCR Honda stud Cal Crutchlow continues to nose around the top of the standings, his crash at Losail all that stands between him and a top three ranking.

Dani Pedrosa and Marc Marquez secured their first podiums of the season. Valentino Rossi scored his third to take over the championship lead. So, order has been restored at the top of the MotoGP food chain just in time to return to racing in Europe. Aliens occupy the top three spots in the standings. Near-Aliens (semi-Aliens?) sit fourth and fifth, while the Alien Emeritus stands sixth. The apparently brilliant Johann Zarco has seventh place all to himself, while teammate Jonas Folger is tied for eighth place with Pramac Ducati pilot Scot Redding and Jack Miller. My boy Alex Rins, previously nursing a bad ankle, suffered a compound fracture of his wrist during practice this weekend and is out until further notice. And Jorge Lorenzo, who sold his Alien Card for filthy lucre, sits counting his money in 13th place, with 12 points to show for his first three acts with Ducati.

A Look Ahead

The DNF dropped Maverick Viñales out of the points lead but he remains second by just six points and remains one of the favorites to take it all. Two weeks from now MotoGP blasts into the Spanish Riviera. The racing will be at Jerez, while the action in the evening will be on The Strip in Cadiz. Maverick Viñales, despite the good vibes associated with a return to home soil, probably will not be in the gift-giving mood in which he found himself today. Excuse me while I butcher the old Smith Barney one-liner. If they want spots on the podium next time out, Rossi and Marquez will probably have to do it the old-fashioned way. They’ll have to earn it. 2017 MotoGP Grand Prix of the Americas Race Results Pos. Rider Team Time 1 Marc Marquez Repsol Honda 43:58.770 2 Valentino Rossi Movistar Yamaha +3.069 3 Dani Pedrosa Repsol Honda +5.112 4 Cal Crutchlow LCR Honda +7.638 5 Johann Zarco Monster Yamaha Tech 3 +7.957 6 Andrea Dovizioso Ducati Corse +14.058 7 Andrea Iannone Suzuki Ecstar +15.491 8 Danilo Petrucci Octo Pramac Yaknich Ducati +16.772 9 Jorge Lorenzo Ducati Corse +17.979 10 Jack Miller Estrella Galicia 0,0 Marc VDS Honda +18.494 11 Jonas Folger Monster Yamaha Tech3 +18.903 12 Scott Redding Octo Pramac Ducati +28.735 13 Tito Rabat Estrella Galicia 0,0 Marc VDS Honda +30.041 14 Hector Barbera Avintia Racing +31.364 15 Alvaro Bautista Pull&Bear Aspar Ducati +1:06.547 16 Bradley Smith Red Bull KTM +1:22.090 17 Aleix Espargaro Aprilia Gresini +2 Laps Not Classified DNF Sam Lowes Aprilia Gresini 10 Laps DNF Pol Espargaro Red Bull KTM 12 Laps DNF Loris Baz Reale Avintia Ducati 13 Laps DNF Maverick Viñales Movistar Yamaha 20 Laps DNF Karel Abraham Pull&Bear Aspar Ducati 20 Laps 2017 MotoGP Top 10 Standings After 3 Rounds 1 Valentino Rossi Yamaha 56 2 Maverick Viñales Yamaha 50 3 Marc Marquez Honda 38 4 Andrea Dovizioso Ducati 30 5 Cal Crutchlow Honda 29 6 Dani Pedrosa Honda 27 7 Johann Zarco Yamaha 22 8 Jonas Folger Yamaha 21 9 Scott Redding Ducati 21 10 Jack Miller Honda 21 Click to Post

[trashcanfanfics]

May I get a fanfic in Val’s POV where Valentino is in one of the worst moods he’s ever been in since nothing has been going his way correctly and he ends up lashing out in reader?(Im a sucker for angst) 🥲

There were a few more asks that I felt could fit into this so thats what I did! Also, friendly reminder, I write gender neutral! Hope you enjoy!

Valentino was pissed. Nothing was going right. Three actors were maimed, five more killed, and to top it off, Y/n wasn't at work or answering his texts. He had half a mind to march down there and demand why they didn't come to work. He missed them more than anything, really. Val thought that seeing them would definitely would change the whole day. That was before he remembered that he confessed while drunk. He decided to let them be, but he was irritated to say the least. He was losing money, afterall!

He gave up on trying to be the bigger person. Valentino was their boss, fisrt and foremost. He pulled out his phone and pulled up their contact. He'd call them.

The phone rang twice before a groggy "hello" answered. Val's anger raised. They ditched work to sleep in? Absolutely not. It doesn't matter how much he loves them, this was unacceptable.

"Y/n where the FUCK are you?" He was seeing red. Val was also slightly hurt. It seemed like they were avoiding him the last few days. Whenever he tried to talk to them, it seemed something else was in the way. Their breath caught in their throat. Fear. That was fear. They were scared of him. That didn't sit right in his mind and made his anger worsen, but this time, at himself.

"I'm sorry, Boss, I-" there was vicious coughing fit, "-I'm a lil' under the weather." There was more coughing. Guilt bubbled up in his chest. Of course they're sick. They've been looking awful for at least two days now. He can't believe he didn't notice sooner.

"It's alright, it's just been a stressful day today." They hummed back in tired underestanding. "Get some rest, babycakes." He hung up the phone and turned to the closest office person. Val informed them he would be out for the rest of the day and to contact his second in command to take care of whatever else was needed today. With that, he left.

~*~

Y/n's place was that little house Val murdered their stalker in. They appreciated not living in a run down apartment now, but was slightly confused as to how he got the house. He told them not to worry about it and enjoy their new space.

Upon entering the house, he took off his coat and hat, hanging them on the rack by the door. The furniture was replaced with lovely red and black walnut instead of that tacky white and bright makore it was before. He had let Y/n take over with his interior designer and decorators. They certainly had taste, just as he knew they did. The ceilings, he was pleased to notice, were now high enough that he could stand properly.

Val made it to the kitchen and opened up some cabinets, looking for some type of soup he could make for them. That's what people eat when they're sick, right? It's what Vox always made him when he wasn't feeling his best. When they weren't fighting or on a break. He found it weird that he didn't feel empty the way he used to when he broke up with Vox before. Maybe it's because he didn't have anything past platonic feelings for him now? Hm.

He found the soup and then went searching for a pot. The pot he pulled out was...very well used, to put it nicely. Val made a mental note to get them a new pots and pans set. Heating up the soup, he added a few extra seasonings to it to make it less bland. the next thing he found that needed replacing were their dish and silverware. How did they live like this? Their bowls and plates had chips in them, silverware with dents and scratches. Plastic cups from the second hand store? No wonder they got sick! He immediately went online and bought them new dishes.

He grabbed the bowl of soup in his bottom hands while grabbing a chipped mug (more replacements needed) and pouring some juice from the fridge into it. Putting the juice back, he handled both items in both sets of hands. He carefully made his way down the hall to the room.

Inside, he was greeted by Y/n's sleeping form. Their peaceful face made his heart melt. He gently placed the soup and drink down on the nightstand before gently shaking them awake. They snorted and sat up, immediately groaning, then held their head. A headache probably. Their eyes met his and widened.

"Bo-" They started coughing harshly. Val placed a hand on their back, rubbing up and down to help. His lower hands reached for the mug and brought it up to them. They looked at it when their coughing calmed down and then took it, taking a drink.

"How're you feeling, Y/n?" The question took them off guard. Had they expected him to be angry? The thought made the guilt from before rise up again.

"I'm...not the best." They looked down at the mug in their hands, gently rubbing the rim with their thumb. Val rubbed their back some more before grabbing the soup in his upper hands and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I heard soup can help with that." He smiled as he dipped the spoon into the soup. Val offered the filled spoon to them. They stared at it amoment before looking him in the eyes and taking the bite. Val's face erupted with a blush. Why did they have to do it like that? He looked away as his lower hands smoothed out the bedsheets near them. The thumping in his chest reminded him that he had drunkenly confessed just a few days ago and hasn't said anything about it to them since.

"...Val?" His breath hitched wheen he heard them say his name. He looked back at them. "Can I have more?" He just about died again. He quickly dipped the spoon back into the bowl and raised it back to their lips. Their...very soft looking lips. The way they wrapped around the spoon and took the soup with it. He was getting very hot and bothered. Oh no.

"How about I take that cup and you take the bowl, precious. I'll get you more juice." He stood, holding out the bowl with his upper arms while the lower ones reached for the mug. They let out a soft laugh and handed him the cup before grabbing the bowl. Both of their hands touched and Val swore it felt like fire raced across his skin. He squinted, awkwardness forgotten for a moment, and leaned down to place an unoccupied hand on their forehead. They had a fever!

"Uh...Boss?" Their face was red, probably from the fever. He removed his hand and hummed. Val left the room without a word and headed for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and picked up the jug of juice in his upper right hand, twisting the cap off with the upper left. As he was pouring the juice into the cup, he wondered what he wwould do about the confession thing. He capped the juice and put it away.

Back in the hallway right outside the bedroom door, he knew he had to tell them again. But sober this time. He entered the room and walked over to place down the mug. Y/n watched him, the bowl, empty, had been placed on the nightstand.

"Y/n, there's something I'd like to discuss with you." He sat down on the edge of the bed again as they went ridged. There's that fear again. He hated the way his chest hurt at the thought of them being afraid of him. "About a few days ago. When I was drunk." He wasn't looking at them, but heard their sigh as they relaxed. The ache in his chest eased a bit when he saw that from the corner of his eye.

"Yes...That." Their reply almost made the moth laugh. They felt just as awkward as he did over this. That made this easier somewhat.

"Yes, well, I meant what I said." He took a breath. "I love you, and that's the reason that Vox and I aren't together anymore. He called me out on my infatuation with you a while ago but I said it was just a passing thing and that I wanted to make things work between him an' me."

"So...You two are back together now, I'm confused by the continuity, here." Y/n's voice was hoarse. They cleared their throat as Val reached over to hand them their mug. They thanked him and took a swig.

"No. This time it's for good because I want to pursue you." He grabbed one of his antenae and scratched where the base and his head meet. A tic he'd picked up from Y/n. Though, they have hair that they run their fingers through instead. "I would like to become your lover." He finally met their eyes. They were staring blankly at him. His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. They didn't feel the same.

"...You do know how...inappropriate this is right?" They ran their hand through their hair, undoing knots as they came across them. Val itched to help them with that. Even when their hair looks like a rat's nest, he imagined it'd feel soft. "If we were to be together, how would that look? I'm your employee, a porn actor. everyone'll see this as you taking advantage of me. How would that be for your reputation?"

"To hell with my reputation! I couldn't give less of a fuck. All I want is you! If it makes you feel better, I'll fire you, I'll make you co owner of the studios! Anything to have you beside me and share your existance with me."

"Boss-"

"To allow me to kiss you! To let me hold you! To let me wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night!" He was waving all four hands and his lower ones reached out to hold them by the upper arms.

"Boss!" He didn't hear them, too caught up in his feelings.

"To share meals and experiences! To live with you and laugh with you!"

"Valentino!" This snapped him out of it. His upper hands were now gently holding their face. He enjoyed the warmth and how close they were. They let out a breath. "Calm down, I still have a headache." He immediately let go of them and scooted as far as he could from them.

"I-I'm sorry, precious, I don't know what came over me." He looked down at all four of his hands folded on his lap. They sighed and reached over to hold the bundle of hands.

"I do. You've got it bad." They huffed out in amusement, but their attempt at a joke made his heart sink further. "But, uh, I kinda got it bad too." These words made him whip his head back up to look at them.

"What...?" He could have slapped himself if he wasn't so focused on the next words to come out of their mouth.

"I love you, too, Valentino. I would love to be your partner." Those words made him grab them into his embrace and snuggle his head into the crook of their neck.

"That's wonderful, precious! I'll make you so happy, I promise!" He squeezed them tighter. They wheezed slightly.

"That's great and all, but," they wheezed again, "I'm still sick." Oops. He let go and stood up to take care of them thoughout the rest of their sickness.

The word after may have changed, but they wwill always be his favorite.