#i was thinking light purple or bright pink but silver is honestly my dream color as i havent hit it yet?

[the-kipsabian]

do you think i could get silver hair for wembley....

[mrs-gucci]

Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka​ for being the resident Studio 54 expert!  Mauri isn’t as��‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)​

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club. 

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges. 

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight. 

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there. 

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin.  “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair. 

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly. 

It doesn’t work. 

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on. 

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname. 

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high. 

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from. 

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his. 

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two. 

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position. 

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

[onceupona-chaos]

Feathers and dawn (part II)

Day 18 of Elriel month/ Teach me how to fly

You can read part I here.

"Spread your wings." 

The moment Elain opened her wings, the cold, impetuous wind hit them, and the full impact made her lose balance, almost falling backwards. Instead, she met Azriel's chest, his hands tightened on her waist, and her body went cold and hot all at once.

This time Elain did stop breathing. 

WC: 4164/ Warnings: Language

(I had so much fun writing this! As usual, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Sorry for any typos as well, but I can't look at it anymore lol)

Elain had held that light inside of her with everything she got, and even so it came close to controlling her rather than the other way around.

She still could feel it, not the light that shone so bright to blind someone's eyes, but more like a gracious flame of a candle in her chest. But that was nothing compared to how the muscles on her back burned.

When her eyes cracked open, she was half expectant that all of it had been a delirious dream or one of those visions that still hunted her from time to time. But then she tried to move to a sit position, and a scream escaped from her throat at the very, very real pain punishing her upper body.

Her entire back was sore, and she could feel a complex extension of muscles - from her neck to the end of her spine - that was now linked to two massive weights coming out of her shoulder blades.

Excruciating, blinding pain.

Elain didn't notice the tears falling down her cheeks, couldn't even hear the sounds coming out of her own mouth.

Strong, calloused hands were pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead a second later, and then Azriel’s beautiful face was there.

He was like a hiding spot in the middle of a storm, anchoring her from her agony, even though his expression was contorted in worry.

Azriel's eyes were wild, lips forming her name, but she couldn't hear a sound. Pain was all she knew, making her senses numbed.

Black dots started to dance in front of her eyes, her head getting light, and hazel ones full of terror was the last thing she saw before the world bleed into darkness again.

_______________

The next time Elain emerged to consciousness, first she smelled the leafy odor of salvia. Then the feeling of gentle, experienced hands massaged the line of her spine while she was lying on her stomach.

Heavy eyelids opened to the Velaris sunset, shades of pink and purple coloring the blue sky were visible through the familiar floor to ceiling windows, making her recognize her room in the river house.

Elain caught a movement from the corner of her eyes, and she inclined her head slightly to see Azriel, kneeling beside her bed, worry still printed in his face, but his eyes filled with relief now.

His hair was in complete disarray, the dark locks pointed in different directions as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly.

“You’re awake,” he breathed.

Those hands, unfamiliar hands, were still rubbing her exposed back, the gentle touch soothing the pain.

“That’s Majda, she’s almost finishing.” Azriel must have sensed her confusion. “How’s the pain?”

Her mouth was dry and it was an effort just to make words come out of it. “Tolerable” she said, voice raw.

He just nodded and then they fell in a comfortable silence. It was always like this with him - no need for empty words.

Azriel just stayed there in his vigil, shadows curling around his ankles, watching her with those familiar hazel eyes. Not the blazing gold of Cassian's, but rather an embrace shared between warm brown and stark gray, with hues of emerald green that would stand out according to his mood.

Eyes as complex as Azriel's himself, candidly observing her whilst Majda worked, her hands putting the exact amount of pressure to soothe her muscles, the salvia tuning the sharp pain into a dull ache. She didn't touch Elain's wings.

Wings.

Even with their weights on her back, even with the feeling of that warm power in her chest, Elain still was prone to believe it all had been a dream if it wasn't for the pain.

When Majda finished the healing massage, she merely told them she'd come back the next few days to do it again.

The bedroom’s door clicked shut, and Elain was already trying to get up, Azriel immediately protesting, "You should stay in bed.”

"I want to see them" was her only reply. She needed to see, to look at them. To know they were real.

"Your muscles aren't strong enough to support the new weight -"

Indeed, when she tried to stand, her balance wavered and she toppled forward.

Azriel caught her before she could fall on her face, hauling her up. Gently, one of his hands passed behind her knees, the other around her waist, and he scooped her up.

Elain let her head fall against his chest, breathing his scent as he walked through the room. A few moments later, far more than was necessary to reach her mirror, he put her down, but remained close.

She didn't see her pale face or even care about the fact that she was wearing nothing, but a nightgown that reached the middle of her thighs. Not when two massive wings rested on the floor behind her, the soft, white feathers touching the carpet.

Elain turned around to see her back, to see the point where the skin ended and the feathering began.

They were beautiful.

But she never had felt more unworthy of something. She couldn’t even hold them up, couldn't even lift them from the ground. It had been so exhausting spent months trapped in that murky realm, visions blending together with reality, that she hadn’t want find out what else the Cauldron had given her, hadn't want to touch that flame burning in her chest, not when her own body felt foreign and now -

Only when she felt tears dripping onto her chest, Elain realized she was crying, exhaustion falling upon her as a blanket, covering her to the bones.

She stood there for enough time that the next time Azriel spoke, she had almost forgotten he was there.

Almost.

Because she always seemed to sense whenever he was around.

"I will teach you everything."

It didn't sound like an offer at all. His words were a promise.

Slowly she turned from the mirror to face him - and nearly sobbed at how lovely and fiercely his eyes were, almost shining with sheer compassion.

Compassion for her, yes. But also for an Illyrian boy who didn't know how to fly, who found himself all alone in a war camp long ago. "I'll be with you and I'll teach you everything."

She didn’t know what to say, what to make of everything. So Elain only took his hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing firmly.

But then, a thought struck her. "Truth-Teller," she gasped.

A smile curved his lips. "It's with me," he said. "I went back to the Cave. Turns out, without the Orb, the wards were gone."

Relief washed over her. And guilty.

"I'm sorry. I should - ."

Before she could finish her sentence, Elain was again in his arms. Azriel chuckled, but hadn't missed how heavy her eyelids were getting. "Not your fault. You weren't exactly in position to remember it," he said while gently carrying her back to bed.

But before he could lay down the mattress, he stopped by the side of the bed, and turned to look at her. Every ounce of amusement gone.

"I thought…" his words died and he shook his head.

No trace of that mask he so often used, no sign of his usually neutral expression.

The look on his face was Azriel in his most raw state. And she could see it.

I thought I had lost you.

She wished she wasn't so tired as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed, "I know."

He nodded. He understood.

He murmured as he lay her in the bed, "Sleep. I still owe Nesta an explanation."

Elain smiled sleepily, and mumbled, "Good luck."

Just when darkness came to claim her once again, Elain felt the ghost touch of a light kiss in her temple and the smell of mist and cedar. ___________

The next day, Elain was sitting at her usual spot by the window of the living room in the river house, the Orb laying on a desk right in the center of the room. What was unusual, however, was the many pairs of eyes glued to her.

Cassian's jaw was still on the floor by the time Amren, the last one to arrive, entered the room. Even her face went a bit slack when she took in the wings and some emotion sparkled in her silver eyes.

Elain tried not to blush, but all that attention wasn't helping.

Although Feyre had helped her before to retract and summon her wings, which she was grateful for, Elain didn't want to summon them in front of everyone, so she decided to just get straight to the point.

She didn’t know how Azriel explained what had happened to the others, especially to Nesta. But given the look on her face fixed on Rhysand and on the spymaster, a perfect I Will Slay My Enemies look, according to Cassian, Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

But as for now Azriel just held her sister's gaze, his face neutral.

"So…" Cassian began, waving a hand towards her wings. "What the hell?"

"I think what he's trying to ask you is," Nesta gave a look at her mate. "Where did those come from?"

Elain took a deep breath. "Well..." She bit her lip, trying to choose her words in order to make sense. "After I found out what I was, I've never accessed the full extension of my powers. I knew the Cauldron had given me something else,something more, but I didn't want to find out what it was."

Rhysand asked, "Why."

"Because I was too scared," She replied honestly. That was all she could say. She didn't want to, didn't know if she could relive those days when she couldn't tell reality and dreams apart.

She glimpsed at Azriel, who was at the corner of the room, sorrow shining on his face while he gave her a reassurance nod.

"So when I grabbed the Orb, it… whatever powers I have just grumbled in answer, as if they were the same… they came to the surface. It tried to stop them, push them back, to let go of the Orb, but I couldn't… it trapped me"

"That's because they are the same," Amren said. As soon as the words left her mouth, Elain understood what lay on her eyes: recognition.

"What wicked sort of plans the Cauldron may have for the three of you," Amren went on, nodding to Elain and her sisters.

"Amren," Rhysand said, the voice of the High Lord. "If you know something, just tell us."

The petite female gave him a hard look, before turning to Elain. "The Cauldron didn't make you any Seer." Amren tilted her head, studied Elain. "He also happened to make you an Oracle." Her eyes were practically two blazing stars, and Elain had to fight a shiver, before asking "An Oracle?"

"That 's right, girl."

"What's the difference?" Nesta demanded.

"A different group of Seers… powerful ones", Rhysand murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I thought they were just a myth."

"They were as real as you and me, Rhysand," Amren said, shaking her head.

It was Feyre's time to demand, "Someone please explain."

"Before the High Lords, there was a time where this world lived in complete, unshakable peace," Amren began. "The Oracles were the great responsibles for this time of harmony, a group of Seers who used to celebrate life and pulled the threads of Fate. They travel through words just like we travel between courts, using their Seer powers to See and manipulate the future to their will… to prevent any cause of conflict before it even became a conflict. Subtle, swift creatures those females"

Elain wasn't sure if anyone in the room was breathing.

Azriel asked quietly, "How did they disappear?"

"No one truly knows." Rhysand answered. "The legends don't go that far."

"Common Seers have the gift of sight, but it's limited in its own way," Amren explained. "Oracles, however, have other sort powers as well and they can see further in the future, no matter how distant."

There was one question in Elain's mind, essencial and terrifying. "What is my power?"

Amren's smile was a thing of pure wickedness. "I guess you'll have to find out."

"But why the wings?" Nesta asked, brows furrowed.

Amren eyes softened a little. "Some claimed some of them heritaged from an unknown race of warriors. But not every one of them had wings. If you were blessed with them, they would call you the Leader. The others would fly on their winged horses by her side, travelling through the world and maintaining their balance."

Elain's head was spinning. "But what about the Orb?"

"I might have an idea, but I'll need to do some research in the Helion's libraries first." Rhysand shot his mate a look, his lips curving. "Care to join?"

Feyre only rolled her eyes.

Cassian let out a long breath. "So you're telling me Elain could see if a war is truly coming and stop it before it even begins."

A sick feeling gathered on her stomach, and she blurted, "No."

Silence.

"No what?" Amren asked thighly.

"No, I won't use my powers to play with Fate." She couldn't help the edge of rage in her words. "Espeacilly not when Fate itself had been playing with me all along."

Silence fell.

"You're right," Feyre offered at last, her voice soft. "It's your choice."

Gratitude washed over Elain.

"I want to learn how to fly, though" she blurted, glancing at Azriel, who was already smiling.

Feyre looked between them. "You'll find Azriel has… harsh methods, but they are quite efficient."

Rhysand, who had been just observing, suggested, "Maybe you, Feyre darling, can teach Elain, too."

"I will train her." Azriel's words were practically a snarl, challenge filling every one of them.

Elain looked at the shadows gathering around him as he stared at Rhysand, who just narrowed his eyes back. Strange.

"I'm sure Azriel is the better option to teach Elain, he was the one who taught me after all." Feyre was looking pointly at her mate. "But I can participate in a few lessons when they get tired of training alone." She said looking at Elain, eyes shining bright with an edge of mischief.

Elain ignored that.

"You'll have to build some muscles, you know that, right?" Cassian asked.

Muscles. It wasn't that Elain was opposed to that, but… she couldn't see herself as a warrior like her sisters. Surely, she wouldn't mind learning one thing or two, but...

"I'll help you."

Elain turned to her older sister, with raised brows. "I don't…"

"You don't have to learn how to use a sword, but I can help with your core muscles," Nesta offered.

Then, Elain couldn't stop the warmth in her chest - not from that source of power, but from pure gratitude. "Thank you."

Amren shocked her head and huffled a breath, edged with amusement, making Elain's brows furrow at that.

"A Made, reborn Fae and a Valkyrie training a new Oracle." Her lips curved in a feral smile. "Three Cauldron-blessed sisters, indeed."

Elain didn't have to use the Orb to know Fate had listened to Amren's words.

--------------

"Shit."

Azriel's curse hit Elain's ears, before her arm hit the rock as she fell on her face right into the lake.

They had been training for weeks now. At first, it was more about how to summon her wings and keep them up instead of resting on the ground.

Sometimes Feyre would join them, or even Nuala and Cerridwen made an appearance for what Cerridwen called "emotional support".

Which means they watched as Elain jumped just to fall right into that gods-damned lake and tried not to laugh. Cerridwen often failed spectacularly at that.

But after one particularly hard training lesson that ended up with more bruises Elain would care to admit, especially to her pride, Cerridwen had come to her room with a gift: a brand new and very pink apron with a winged fawn carefully embroidered at the front, the chain stitches meticulous done.

It was the most ridiculous apron Elain had ever seen - and she wore every chance she got with a stupid smile on her face.

But most of the time it was only Azriel and her. First they would stick to training, and she was able to focus only on the lessons. Until one day they had sat side by side at the shore, talking about everything and nothing, and, gods, she had missed him.

But then she felt that ravenous pull towards him and had to look away, before she could do something stupid again - and just like that she remembered why they had kept their distance in the first place.

She knew he desired her just as she desired him. She had seen the longing in his face, and had smelled his scent that night, darker than usual. Had read the hunger shining in his eyes as he looked at her.

But she had crossed a line he didn't want to cross.

Good thing now she had other things to worry about. Like ignoring the pain in her left arm, finding her way to the surface to get the hell out of that chilling lake.

But before she could do any of those things, Elain found herself looking at the sky and then the ground was beneath her.

And a very, very shirtless Azriel was by her side. "Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping his tunic around her shoulders, scanning for injuries.

Even with her teeth almost chattering off her mouth from the cold, Elain couldn't help but take one good look at his muscled chest, those intricate tattoos on display and she felt her face heating. Not from embarrassment, but from pure desire that was pounding in her blood, traveling through her body. All she wanted in that moment, and so many before that, was to touch him, taste him. Be with him, by his side.

She imagined what would be like to have that powerful body hovering over hers.

Then she blushed a bit at those thoughts, too.

"I"m fine," she blurted after a considerable time, enough to make Azriel blush as well. And make her consider throwing herself at the lake again.

To distract herself, Elain closed her eyes and accessed that flame in her chest, letting it shine bright inside her, waves of heat running through her veins and bones until she was no longer cold.

When she looked at Azriel, he was already watching her. He cleaned his throat. "You kept yourself on the air longer this time."

Elain raised an eyebrow, "I fell on the only rock in this entire river."

A gleam shone in his eyes.

Elain narrowed hers at him.

"Are you trying not to laugh?"

"No," he said, clapping his lips together.

Every pound of desire in her blood died. "You said it wasn't funny anymore after the first four times!"

At that, Azriel tipped his head back and busted out such a rich laugh, that even Elain couldn't stop the small smile on her own lips. "You are a terrible teacher."

Except that he wasn't. Azriel was patient and thoughtful. He had refused to let her practice anywhere but the lake, and when she said she didn't need to be coddled and could practice on land, he had scanned her face, so many emotions passing across his, and told her he wouldn't see her getting hurt.

So they practice on the lake. Every day.

That was weeks ago and Elain was starting to think she would never take to the skies. She still couldn't sustain herself on the air for more than a few seconds.

"What is it like? To fly, I mean." she asked, eyes fixing on the lake before her.

She felt Azriel's eyes on her. "It 's freedom." Truth echoed in his words.

Elain nodded to herself. "I can hear the wind calling me." Her wing ruffled as if in emphasis."I can feel every muscle in my body begging me to jump out of the windows and it just… it's getting harder to ignore."

Elain tried to stop the burning in her eyes, her voice was broken when she breathed, "Why me, if I can't even get close to being airborne for more than five seconds?"

Azriel kept silent for so long, she didn't know if he heard her, but she was too much of a coward to look at him. Didn't want to look at him, not like this, not again.

But then gentle fingers found her chin and slowly turned her head to meet hazel eyes shining bright as the sun above them.

"Come with me."

Next thing she knew she was taking his extended hand and he shot to the skies, his tunic flying from her shoulders while she was being cradled against his bare chest.

Even though he was made of muscles hard as rock, his skin was warm and soft as the finest velvet.

Azriel landed right on the top of one of the highest mountains surrounding Velaris, the city bursting with life so far below that it seemed one of Nyx's toys.

And Elain almost stopped breathing. "Are you going to push me?"

Azriel chuckled, but didn't answer. "Turn around and close your eyes."

"So you definitely are going to push me," she murmured, but did as she was told.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't Azriel's large hands on her waist or the warmth of his body behind her.

"Spread your wings."

The moment Elain opened her wings, the cold, impetuous wind hit them, and the full impact made her lose balance, almost falling backwards. Instead, she met Azriel's chest and his hands tightened on her.

This time Elain did stop breathing.

Especially when Azriel's breath caressed the

shell of her ear. "Focus on the wind passing through your wings, how each feather answers to it. Try to understand its direction, its temperature."

So she did. And she could feel it. She could feel the most external layer of feathers absorbing the temperature impact of the icy wind. Could feel the most little plumes, so sensitive they could perceive the slight change in any air current direction.

She became aware of everything around her. But mostly of the heat emanating from Azriel's body on her back, of his thumbs now drawing small circles on her sides.

"When I was a boy, I used to think the same thing as you do now," he whispered. "I was locked away and had to suppress so many instincts…" He let out a breath. "These wings are yours and only yours, you command them. It might take some time, but you will fly and control your powers. Be patient. You can do whatever you want, Elain."

It was his words, the meaning. He believed in her, had always believed in her.It was that certainty that had her leaning into his touch.

She folded in her wings and tilted her head, slowly opening her eyes to find his beautiful face inches from hers, close enough for her to see the hues of green in his eyes.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Azriel said nothing. No, he just let every word shine in his gaze as he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers while his thumbs were still caressing her sides leisurely.

She sucked in a breath, eyes falling close as she lost herself at the pure intimacy of that touch. Elain's whole body went molten and she wanted nothing more than to melt against his chest.

But she couldn't cross that line again.

So she pulled back, just enough to look at his face and made herself say, "I think Nesta is waiting for me."

Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. "Right."

On their way to the House of Wind, she thought Azriel would keep silent but he surprised her when he said quietly, "Nuala and Cerridwen never told me you were training with them."

Despite everything, a faint smile curved Elain's lips. "You can't expect to know everyone secrets."

He lifted an eyebrow. "That's my job."

And Nuala and Cerridwen's, too.

"I don't want to be a warrior," Elain blurted. "But… maybe I can use my gifts - my sight gifts, I mean - to..."

A whisper of those shadows still filled his gaze, but Azriel gave her a small smile. "Like spying?"

Elain blushed. "Perhaps."

"You'd make a good spy, but you have to be patient."

Elain looked at him. At that male who had intrigued her and made her feel comfortable and safe from the very beginning. At that male who found her when no one else would, who had seen her. Had truly seen her.

No, she wouldn't cross that line now, but...

"I can be patient, Azriel," she breathed. Promised.

This time, hope shone so brightly in his hazel eyes that no room was left for shadows.

[space-lynn]

Helluva Boss Episode 6: Truth Seekers was amazing. I'd recommend watching the episode first before any of you start reading this snippet. SPOILER ALERT!!! since someone inspired me to write this based off of a scene.

(TW: Blood)

The world around her was barren, distorted and drained of color. The sky above her head, the ground below her feet, the SJMS uniform she was wearing and the chair she sat on were nothing more than different shades of white, black and grey. Sasha looked around, wondering where the hell she is. She stood up bewildered and stepped away watching, as the chair she sat on started to sink into the ground. Screeching noises could be heard above, and her head tilted up, watching streaks of color fly around. One colored in olive green smacked her head, dripping it's color all over her.

What the fuck? she thought.

She examined the goo staining her hands, before shaking it and getting it off. The green thing hit her again with enough force for her to land on her behind in mud. She groaned, hauling herself up. In the corner of her eye, she watched it land on the ground and take the shape of... Grime.

Only it wasn't him. It was a weird crudely drawn version of him.

"You're dangerous," he spoke, turning into the real Grime for a second. "Quick to please and charm others with lies."

"Grime, wh--"

"With a silver tongue, too. Never learned how to get what you want on your own, human? Do you always rely on others? Pathetic," he continued, interrupting her and still changing between the drawing version of himself and the real one.

"What are you talking about?"

Grime opened his mouth to talk again, but the words were unintelligible, a high-pitched ringing sound stopping her from understanding.

A shriek sounded above and her head snapped back up to see three other streaks whirling over her, one colored blue, another a mix of light green and light purple, and the last an emerald green.

She looked back at Grime, opening her mouth to speak, to tell him she'd changed but the blue streak wrapped around her right arm and tossed her away from Grime. She coughed, looking up to see it take the shape of Anne.

"You're a liar! A manipulator! Did you honestly think I would forgive you? You don't deserve it, Sasha. You never deserved it."

The green-pink mix barrelled into her next, coming up from the ground underneath her. It lifted her up into the air, taking the shape of the narwhal worm she had taken Barrel's warhammer from.

"You promised. Promised!" the narwhal shrieked in Percy and Braddock's voices. She watched it's face morphed into a horrible mix of her close toad friends' faces. Four eyes peered down at her as she floated for a moment.

"You promised we'd leave when things got dangerous! But we didn't, because you're selfish. You'll lie to get what you want, without caring for the safety of OTHERS!"

The narwhal-Percy-Braddock thing swung its tail onto her, smashing her into the ground on her stomach. Spitting out mud, she tensed up when the third streak, the emerald one, made a squelching noise behind her. It took the shape of Marcy, glaring down at her with orange irises shaped like a cross in the middle of bright red eyes.

"Running again, Sasha? Are you that much of a coward to face your damn problems? Because you're afraid that other's will think you're weak?"

"I-I..."

Sasha noticed stairs made out of mud behind her and she moved back from Marcy. She flipped herself over, pushing herself to stand up and run towards it, no longer caring for the words spoken to her. She dashed up the stairs, subconsciously noting the mud giving way to reveal blue. Her foot caught on one of the steps in her haste, making her fall forward. She placed her arms forward, trying to brace herself, but the once solid blue stairs liquified into a dark red and Sasha slammed into it head first. She pushed herself up, looking down at herself to notice the fluid slide off, revealing her in her old toad armor.

A deep voice chuckled at the top of the stairs, compelling Sasha to look up. Two guards stood in front of a throne made out of corals. Their halberds crossed in front of the figure atop the throne, concealing their face.

"Losing control, Sasha? You deserve it. After everything you've done."

When the guards moved themselves and their halberds to the side to reveal the figure on the throne, Sasha froze and the stairs below her glitched, switching between royal blue and crimson red. Upon the throne sat her father, dressed in the garbs and royal armor of a tyrant newt king that she'd killed before. He smirked down at her.

He lifted his hand. Red strings shot from his fingertips and stabbed her. One on each ankle, one on each wrist and one on her neck. The man closed his fist, pulling her forward. She tumbled down, struggling, but it was futile.

"Haven't you learned, dear," her father spoke, grinning at her. She watched as he glitched, his face flickering to look like her.

"Waybrights always--"

The ashen world distorted and glitched to feature a war-torn battlefield full of weapons and corpses, both metallic and flesh. Then it switched back.

"--always--"

Flames flared up around her, bringing with it the stench of death, rotten and pungent and sickly-sweet.

"--fuck up."

Now within his reach, he grabbed her neck, slowly choking her.

"We can't love and we'll never be loved. One way or the other."

His face melted, replaced by hers, replaced by 13 year old Sasha.

"Especially you, not by those friends of yours," her voice said.

Sasha had tears in her eyes. She whimpered, "No..."

"We no longer need you," Grime spoke from behind her.

She tilted her head slightly, just enough to look at those she was trying to escape from. They look at her in disgust, in anger, in hate. And in one voice, mixed with every other human or Amphibian she'd ever met in her life, including her own, they said,

"You're going to die alone."

"STOP!" she screamed. "Please! All of you, stop talking!"

She watched Grime and the others narrow their eyes, fading in a royal blue color. She then watched her 13 year old self and the throne fade in that royal blue and join the mismatched vortex swirling behind her. She watched it come down and spin around her in crimson. Drops of it rushed towards her, sticking to her skin. More came, this time with shards of metal that went through her armor and clothes and pierced her skin. Blood dripped from her wounds, joining the still-swirling crimson whirlpool. Globs of her blood wrapped around her wrists, pinning them together. Metallic shards drenched in red stabbed at her throat, making her choke and cough up blood. More of the red liquid hit her head and dripped over her eyes, before solidifying and effectively blinding her. The blood spilling from her lips crawled up her face and wrapped around her nose and mouth. She struggled against her binds, lifting her hands to her face and clawing at it. She grasped it, pulled it off and with a choked gasp, opened her mouth to scream, only for more to--

Her eyes snapped open, inhaling sharply as her body tensed up and her heart pounded in her ears. She lay there frozen, stopping herself from gasping or breathing loudly for fear of waking up the other two occupants of the bed. Once she calmed down, she slowly turned her head to see Marcy and Anne still sleeping beside her, clutching one another. Sasha sighed, then carefully extracted herself from the bed. She tiptoed out of the bedroom, years of experience allowing her to avoid the creaky floorboards.

She escaped into their living room, sitting down on the couch. She placed her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

She whispered, "It's okay. It was a just dream. Just a nightmare. You'll be fine. It was just a... nightmare."

Sasha sighed. Looking up to see the clock on the wall read 2:47, she wished that it was already 7:00. She doesn't think she can go back to sleep after something like that and she'd rather be productive to take her mind off of it.

She stared at their bedroom door, frowning. She'd talk to her girlfriends about ner nightmare soon. Not when they wake up, not that day, not later in the morning, afternoon or evening, but soon.

Another sigh escapes from her. She stood up and walked into her study, turning on the lights, sitting at her desk and starting on leftover paperwork from the day before. If she can't sleep, she might as well get some work done.

----------

My ending did not come off strong, but I couldn't think of anything else that did not give Sasha some sort of comfort from Anne and Marcy.

Well, I hoped you enjoy reading! Have a nice day!

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Five): Just To Want It All

Notes: As stated in last chapter notes, i have a decent chunk of chapters done so these are coming out pretty rapid fire. Otherwise, I don’t have much to say other than massive thanks to my friend who reads these over for me and has been cool with me dropping 80+ pages of fic on them in a week. because yeah...I finished another chapter of this. 

Word Count:  7885

Chapter Warnings: mentions of alcohol and cursing, if that counts as a warning in cyberpunk 2077.  

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

Lizzie’s Bar stands out brilliantly in the city; out of all the gangs, she thinks she likes The Moxes aesthetic the best. Vivid pink and bright teal. Their colors splashed across the overpass, along with a neon pink skull sign with hair and a bow. At the side of the building is a towering neon skull girl sign, full bodied with an animated kicking leg and axe held above her head, the same hot pink color.

She parks and gets out of her car, doing a quick scan of the area, searching for more Militech drones. None that she sees, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The credchip burns in her pocket, remembering some of the stuff T-Bug has taught her. How to crack an encrypted shard and see what’s on it, how to transfer its contents. V rifles through her bag, remembering she had a blank credchip somewhere. If Militech did anything dirty, V should be able to transfer the eddies onto a clean chip.

V makes a beeline to the front door, cement blockers and walls covered in graffiti.  More neon signs, the bars name over the door in glowing turquoise letters. Lizzie Jizzie scrawled across an outside wall; two screens on each side of the double stores, all covered in Nicola ads requesting V ‘taste the love’.  Groups of people loiter in the open outside the bar. V’s eyes are drawn to the two bouncers outside the doors.

Two women, one leans against the outside wall as she puff away on a cigarette. Short slicked back hair that starts blue and then fades to green, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and a gold septum piercing in her nose. The other one stands in front of the doors, a yellow spiked bat held over her shoulders. Long hair pulled up into space buns, purple roots and pink ends. Both of her arms are metal; black with pink and teal accents as well as spikes along the forearms.  Both women are skimpily dressed, no shame in that. The one wielding the bat has a white top with cleavage going beyond her breasts,  showing her almost plastic looking skin and the Moxes tattoo across her chest. The other shorter haired bouncer is wearing neon pink pasties beneath a teal bomber jacket.  V’s been here before, has maybe seen them in passing, both really attractive. She’s not sure there’s a Mox member who isn’t.

“Hey there, dollface!~” The bat wielder greets her with a grin, as if she could actually see V’s face.

“Interest you in a preem BD?” The smoker offers.

“What you got?” V asks to be polite, she doesn’t honestly even like brain dances. But the girls are cute, so… no harm in a little small talk.

“What don't we got? Women and men of your dreams, synaptic acting A-listers. No washed-up virtuporn boytoys or blow-up dolls here.”

“Auteur stuff - It'll grip your heart and blow your nerves right outta your body. Pure bit-based ecstasy - that’s why people come here.”

“Sure know how to sell it, don’t you?” V signs, trying not to laugh as the bouncers give her the spiel.

“Not a sales pitch, it's a warning. I'll give you one word - bespoke. Not for everyone's synapses.”

“Think you can handle it?”

“Think I can manage it,” she tells them, knowing damn well she has no intent to get any sort of virtus.

“Mmhm. Couple of things you need to know first,” she affectionately rubs her bat, “Ahem. Severe penalties for any unauthorized recording… “

“No drugs, no groping. Someone catch your eye, you do not grab 'em. You find 'em in the catalog, ask for a BD and get yourself a box.”

“No worries, not even my first time here.”

“Door's open. Have fun, Doll.”

“Welcome to Lizzie’s.”

The double doors open and V walks through a blue beaded curtain. There’s a front room, a stand where a woman with a bright pink mohawk is selling clothes, under another Nicola ad and neon letters saying ‘Fuck To Death’ behind her.

“My what a sweet face you have,” she says, her tone honeyed but its clear she hasn’t looked up from the counter, not even noticing as the masked merc walks past through another beaded curtain and double doors to the main club.

“Here in Night City~”

Music thrums as she steps in; the room is lit with strobing pink and teal lights. Couches with neon glowing lights on the underneath, some people with BD wreaths and others playing on their phones. People dancing  to the club music and  bar tucked away in the corner.  She doubts the client will be right at the start of opening, so V finds an empty stretch of couch, sitting down on black leather with a pink neon light at her feet.  V slides the Militech cred chip into her mask, it takes a moment, but she manages to crack it and get a look at the inside.

Ten thousand eddies and malware; it was meant to send all of Maelstrom’s data to another server and then fry the systems. Meaning, if V handed it over Maelstrom would get their systems fried, with her and Jackie dealing with the aftermath. V slides the blank cred chip into another slot in her mask’s edge, transfering the clean money over to it. Fucking around with tech and daemons isn’t her strong suit, but if she recalls Bug telling her that fairly simple malware like this could be reworked pretty easily. She works through the coding with her thoughts, the data and interface all on her mask. If she can get the coding right, she might be able to have it send something other than data back to the Militech servers…  Shifting and twisting what she thinks will work… if she’s done it right, instead of sending data back to Militech’s server, it should inject the same malware back into their system. If used, it would spike both Maelstrom and Militech.

She’ll call up T-Bug before they hit Maelstrom, double check she did the steps right. If Maelstrom play nice, they can pay and be done, if not...she can fuck over the gangoons, Militech, and walk away with an extra ten thousand in her pocket.  She puts the credchips in her pockets, spiked one in her left and clean one in the right.

Time to have a look around for the client. V making a beeline for the bar, bartenders always have all the info. Lizzie’s Bar in neon over the drink station, a brightly blue lit corner where a man works at making drinks, shelves of booze behind him.  She climbs onto a blue vinyl bar stool, feet no longer on the ground and unable to resist swinging them a bit. The bartender comes to her; a man with slicked back dark hair,  glowing white cybernetic eyes, and silver embellishments run across his cheeks and jaw. His shirt bright blue with a tropical design and if not for a single button above his pants, it’d be completely open. Beaded necklaces bringing even more attention to his exposed chest and stomach.

“Get you something?”

“Looking for Evelyn Parker,” she speaks the woman’s name, not wanting to waste time fingerspelling it even if the sound feels tight in her throat.

“And you are?”

“V, me and her were supposed to meet here.”

“Well, V,  it’s a pleasure. I’m Mateo.”

“Nice to meet you… any idea where she’s hanging around?”

“Club's big. Gonna have to look around. Can't do it for you-”

“It's all right, Mateo,” a feminine voice calls out and V’s eyes are drawn to a woman at the bar, “I was waiting for this one.”

There’s something about her, distinctly Mox and also not. Her hair is a short vivid blue bob with bangs cut straight across her forehead. Heavy makeup, a tight silver sequin dress with a dipping neckline, red thigh high vinyl boots, a black trench coat that pools around her knees with a pink and white feathered collar.  She holds two fingers up to the bartender and moves to the bar stool closer. There’s a clang and tink of glass; Mateo getting out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.  

“That won’t be necessary,” V signs before he can fill the second glass, “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Aww, what a good girl,” Evelyn coos, a smile pulling at her painted lips, “Evelyn Parker. I knew it was you as soon as you walked in.”

“And you decided to let me wander around instead of introducing yourself?”

“I wanted to get a good look at you first.”

“And?” V watches as Evelyn takes a swig of her tequila.

“Rest assured, if I didn’t like what I see, you’d know,” she takes another drink, “C'mon. Know a place we can talk where ears won't prick up to listen. We'll be in the lounge, Mateo. Anyone asks we're not here.”

Evelyn takes her black clutch purse and leaves the bar, V puts some money down for Mateo; if nothing else to compensate for his time. V hops down from the stool and follows after Evelyn, through a pair of double doors that goes into a hallway tinted red and pink, booth doors lining the way. The blue haired woman opens up a door, standing to the side as V walks in.

The booth is small, circular with a red vinyl couch around it’s curve, a table in the middle projects a hologram of a stripper who twists and dances. V sinks into the cushions, watching Evelyn stride in and light a cigarette as the door closes behind her. Everyone in the city a smoker it seems.  As Evelyn puffs on a cigarette, V is somehow just noticing the gold nail like finger caps she wears.

“Dex had a load to say about you. Called you professional, effective. And trustworthy. I hope he wasn't overselling…“

“You don’t give a shit what he says,” V retorts, not missing the tinge of disdain Evelyn’s voice. V doesn’t need anyone to blow wind up her ass.

“You have trouble accepting compliments?”

“Flattery’s beneath you.”

“Maybe Dex is beneath you,” Evelyn moves around the table, grabbing an ashtray from the table, then sitting down next to V, crossing her legs, “Have you known each other long?”

“First time working with him.”

“Hmmm, I've heard there are two kinds of fixers. Those with stable crews on long contracts and short leashes. Loyalty and predictability they value above all else. Then there's the other kind- Dex's kind.”

“Meaning?”

“Headhunters. They lay their trust elsewhere, not in people but in a thing- their intuition. They bet on potential. And if they lose that bet…It's the last mistake they ever make. I’m hoping Dex’s intuition served him well in this case.”

“Let's get to the point, why am I here, what’s this about?”

“Your target - I trust you know what it is.”

“Arasaka biochip.”

“Mmmhmm, their Relic, secure your soul technology. Arasaka's poured billions into personality transfer technology. But me - I just want the data on this one. The chip is tucked away inside Konpeki Plaza, the hotel. You ever been?”

“Fancy corp hotels? Yeah, no, way out of my price range.”

“The decor's to die for. As you'll see for yourself.’

So, V and Jackie have to bust into some fancy hotel to get the chip people are arguing about on tv. Understood, so far. But, theres a lot of risks involved in a heist of this scale. Its one thing to rip off a dropped piece of cargo or a convoy from a corp; but this kind of top notch tech?

“You know where the chip is, exactly?”

“In a suite on the top floor. The room's occupied by Yorinobu Arasaka.”

V swallows the lump in her throat, the son of Saburo Arasaka, heir to the entire fucking corp. She’s once again finding herself wondering why Dex thinks her and Jackie can handle a job of this caliber, the Arasaka’s seem downright un-fucking-touchable to a merc like her.

“He’s in NC?”

“Don't you read the screamsheets?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, the media couldn't get enough of Yori coming to Night City, it was all over the headlines. He's heir apparent to the Arasaka empire - Saburo Arasaka's only surviving son.”

“So, he trying to take over while he’s in town?” V asks, trying to understand what exactly is going on.

“Only a handful of people in Night City know what the Arasakas' real plans are.”

“And you included in that?”

A smirk stretches across her face, green eyes devious; “Yorinobu is a puppet. He lost all his cards years ago when he failed to do daddy's bidding. Saburo's had Yori's balls in a vise for years. He might just turn the screw and crush them outright if he learns his son's up to no good again.”

“Someone like him is bound to have an army surrounding him, that hotel is probably a fortress by now.”

“Yorinobu keeps exactly no muscle around. Not one guard. Got rid of them a long time ago.”

“Why?”

“Surely you know what they say about Arasaka intel? Sneeze in Night City and a blossom drops from a cherry tree in Tokyo. Yorinobu was convinced his Arasaka security detail reported directly to his father.”

“If you got a spare ache up your sleeve, I’d love to see it.”

“ Now, this should make your tits perk up,” she says, putting the ashtray aside and leans forward.

“My tits are quite comfortable where they are, I assure you.”

“Cute, but more importantly, Yorinobu recently swiped the chip from an Arasaka laboratory. He's made a deal with NetWatch, aims to sell it to them. Have you spotted my ace yet or do I need to spell things out?”

“Okay, no muscle because he has daddy issues and no security on the device because he stole it from said daddy. Any idea where he’s hiding the thing?”

“Likely in a specialized container, one that mimics an organic neural environment. On the outside, it looks like an ordinary briefcase.”

“Which would be where?”

“You'll see for yourself soon enough,” she stamps out her cigarette and stands up, walking to the door, “Provided we're done gossiping about the Arasakas.”

“You know anything else about him?” V asks, wanting to see if she can mine any more useful information about the heir that could help.

“Quite a bit, actually. He studied finance and biotech in Tokyo. Hm, probably didn't have a choice in the matter, come to think of it. Saburo was grooming him to be his successor. But then Yorinobu vanished to chase his own dreams, cut himself off from the corp for years. Long story short, though the black sheep returned, the bitter taste remained. But that's only one side of him. There's another - an intelligent man who has always walked his own path and so has his own designs on the corp.”

There’s no doubt in V’s mind now that Evelyn knows Yorinobu personally, the way she talks and speaks is clearly colored by experience. Some prodigal son who ran away from his father and then came back with his tail between his legs when he couldn’t cut it alone. An odd lump in V’s throat at the thought; running away from shitty dads, being a black sheep…

“Sounds like any other corpo dick to me,” V signs, not liking the parallels her brain is starting to draw.

“Hm. Ever tried to imagine what life might be like for an emperor's son? You have everything, yet you are no one, nothing. At least as long as you remain in Saburo Arasaka's shadow. I…” she scratches almost sheepishly at her neck, her wannabe femme fatale attitude slipping for just a moment, “...sympathize. It's a vulnerability I understand well.”

V is still finding herself finding uncomfortable similarities between herself and fucking Yorinobu Arasaka. Its stupid, she doesn’t know the man and he has the wealth to destroy her for pretending she does. But, a power hungry leader for a father, leaving home, terrified of being under his thumb. Only difference, well many, but most pressing is she’s managed to make it on her own...so far… at least. Not that she hasn’t had her doubts or worries.

“So, what’s next?” V asks, practically shaking her head to dispel the weirdness swimming in her brain. Black sheep or not; Yorinobu Arasaka has a silver spoon in his mouth. She’s a nomad turned Night City edgerunner; their lives couldn’t be more far removed.

“Now comes the best part,” Evelyn opens the door and turns to leave, “Follow me. Got somethin' for you. Should help you plan. Braindance from Konpeki Plaza.”

V follows Evelyn out into the hallway, “ how’s a braindance going to help?”

“Think BDs are only good for fondling virtual tits, jackin' off to in those boxes?”

“Thought that was the main selling point, yeah,” V teases back as they turn a corner in the hallway, headed towards a door.

“No. They can be a very useful tool. Good for analyzing details human perception, even boosted, doesn't grasp. Exactly what you need,” Evelyn teases as they enters a dressing room, a few Mox at the tables painting their faces with makeup and styling their hair.

“What's on the tape?” Through another door and neon lights fade to harsher, darker lighting.

“Yorinobu's suite. The glorious interior,” the walk down a short metal flight of stairs, “You'll need to locate the Relic yourself. Hope I grabbed enough detail to make that possible.”

The stop at the end of the steps, Evelyn turning to look at V with a hand on her hips. Not that V really had any more doubt about it, but she’s been given more evidence that Evelyn and Yorinobu know each other.

“You recorded it?”

“Mhm. BD rec implant. Why, you object?”

“Not particularly, who you know and what you do with them is none of my business, lets see the braindance.”

“Judy'll help. She's a Mox, too,” down another short flight of stairs, deeper into the basement, “Besides, we go back… years.”

Evelyn stops them again outside a pair of double doors, Lizzie’s is starting to feel like a little maze at this point. But more importantly, Evelyn’s paused again, stumbled over her words and showed something under her facade. V felt something was off, a Mox but somehow not, and she’s starting to think Evelyn is purposely trying to put up a front. That she’s trying, a little too hard, to come across like femme fatale or corpo. Evelyn clears her throat.

“V, this is important. Judy's always been there for me. Always helped out. I trust her. But she's a Mox, not the latest member of your crew. Try not to forget. So you'll be a good girl, tread lightly and keep that tongue on a leash.

“Oh, but it's not my tongue you need to worry about.”

“Hmm, can feel you smirking under that mask, keep it up and I’ll tie those hands down, too,” Evelyn says with a wink as they pass through the double doors into another hallway, then through one more door.

Evelyn leads her through the basement doors, a dark little room with servers, netrunning chairs and screens. In an office chair slouching with one leg on a desk is a woman; late twenties or so with olive skin. One side of her hair is shaved, the other shaggy and down to nearly her shoulder, a deep green color with bright pink ends. The woman is heavily tattooed, bright red roses nestled above her collar bones, a spider web on her right shoulder, a cartoon ghost sitting in a shell, and a large number 13 on her bicep are among the standouts. But V could spend hours describing each artwork.

“Ahem.”

“Hey, there you are…” Judy greets Evelyn, a playful almost flirty tone to her voice.

“This is V. She's here for that BD roll. And V, this is Judy - best braindance editor I know.”

“Enough already, gonna make me barf.” There’s a slight accent to Judy’s voice, not unlike Jackie’s.

“Impressive set up,” V signs, at least, she assumes it’s impressive. Tech is already a bit of a blind spot for her, especially when it comes to brain dances.

“Mhm, Analyzers, sensory sig amps, acoustic and emotive wave monitors, facial expression translators.”

“Ahem, Judy,” Evelyn stops the inked editor before she can tell V more.

“All right, all right… Compiled your BD, Ev.”

“What do you think? Will it do?”

“Still pretty raw… but yeah, oughta do.”

“Mhm. V needs to get deep inside, that's most important.”

“So, let's calibrate, tune it to her,” Judy stands up from the table and moves to the desk closer to the door, sitting down below a neon pink light, “Believe me, I've dealt with worse. Should see the dig-Jig Street porn we gotta contend with sometimes.”

Evelyn has followed behind Judy, standing behind the editor’s chair, “So we drop V inside? Let her look, let her rummage around, right?”

“How 'bout it, V? Raw braindance - ever taken a dip before?” Judy leans forward on the desk, looking at V.

“No, not at all, but I’m a quick learner,” that feels like a lie as soon as she says it, “ and need to know what I’m dealing with. So.”

“Siddown, settle in, and we'll get you goin'.”

V turns around to the chairs, either netrunning or ripperdoc chairs, she’s not sure. But, she climbs into one, settling down into it as Judy comes back out around the desk. Judy is nearby, fiddling with a brain dance wreath.

“Be easier to fit without the mask.”

“Mask has optic tech, linked to my neuroport and biomon, should work just like it does with any set of cybereyes.”

“‘Fraid of ruining the mystery?” Evelyn asks, teasing again.

“Mask is for business, lot harder to track a merc if you got no clue what they look like. You that curious, feel free to try and track me down during my off time.”

“Fine, fine,”  Judy affixes the BD wreath around V’s head, lining it up properly on the merc before walking back to the desk,  “Gotta create your sensory profile first.”

“Go for it.”

“Now, sit still, look at me. Gonna run the analysis soft should feel a slight tingling…”

V’s breath catches as it prickles across her skin, a crackling and warm sensation crawling across every nerve. From the base of her skull, down her spine, across her arms to her fingers, running down her legs to her toes. A vague pulse, a current of something.

“OK now let's set the optics and other sensory sigs. Look smack into these two screens, pretend it's an eye exam.”

The two wreath panels flash and strobe white light, building in urgency and frequency.

“Gimme two more minutes. One more sec, need to get the pain receptor limiters in… OK. All set. Need to test your profile first. Tossing in a sam-”

“We can just use my recording, there’s no point in wasting time,” Evelyn interrupts Judy.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’m fine with just jumping to her BD,” V interjects her opinion, “better to get right to it.”

Judy sighs and rolls her eyes; “Fine, fine, what do I know.”

“Great, I’ll just need to patch Bug in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Who?” Judy jumps up from her desk, crossing her arms and looks at V like she just asked to summon Satan.

“Runner from my crew, security specialist. She'll tell me what to look for while we analyze. No problem, I assume?”

“Actually, it is a problem! You’re already asking me to cut fucking corners and now you want to bring someone else in?! Not what we agreed, Ev!”

“It’s not a big deal,” V signs, not sure what Judy’s sudden problem is.

“No big deal! You don't quite grasp the risks I took by lettin' you in here! What I'm risking pokin' around with this stuff!”

Judy continues to yell and V rolls her eyes, she’s a BD editor, not part of the actual crew, the client, or the fixer. If Arasaka goes after anyone it sure as shit won’t be Judy, so why is she throwing a fit.

“And you don’t seem to grasp the risk I’d be taking if me and my partner went stumbling into that hotel with no fucking clue as to what we or our runner are up against. I miss one hidden turret and I get pumped full of lead, either my runner links in or I’m gone.”

V makes a point to twist her head and look at Evelyn at the last part; Bug is the most highly trained member of their crew and Dex’s go to runner. Without her involvement and eyes on it, the job won’t be going anywhere.

“Bye then!” Judy yells out, “good riddance and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

“Judy, please…”

“Ev, she wants to bring a 'runner in. What part of that don't you understand?! How do I know she'll only perch in this footage, observe, not fuck with anything?!”

“Because Bug is literally involved with the heist, has a dog in this fight, and wants it to go well too,” V signs, hoping the AI voice is getting her annoyance across, Judy does level a glare at her over Evelyn’s shoulder.

“Me,” Evelyn steals Judy’s attention, “I'm your guarantee.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Help me, this one last time. I promise everything'll work out,  just like we planned.”

And it hits V, between the flirting and the soft drop in Evelyn’s voice here. The reason Judy is so worked up about this; her and Evelyn have something. Friends teetering the line into something else, girlfriends already, or maybe even more than that. V’s not sure. But there’s something distinctly not platonic to the way they interact. Maybe that’s the play on Evelyn’s. Scam Yorinobu Arasaka then run away with her porn editor girlfriend.

“Fine,” Judy shakes her head and sits back down, the anger gone, “call Bug and we’ll dive in.”

That issue taken care of V rings up T-Bug, the netrunner answering after a ring or two.

“What’s up, V?”

“Bug, listen. I got some useful footage from Konpeki Plaza. It's a braindance.”

“Konpeki? Ohhh, thought as much…” Judy looks up at Evelyn.

“Someone there with you?”

“Client and her...friend...is what I’ll settle on; that’s not what matters right now, its going to give us a layout of the room, a chance to find where the chip is, and some idea of security.”

“All right, see if I can walk you through it. Jackin’ into your tech now,” notifications alert across her mask’s interface, “Mh, you've gotta give me access. Opening port 1779… Secure protocol? Good, I'm goin' in. Should be getting my request… …now.”

“Got it. You ready?”

“Millisec. OK, connection confirmed, now some quick temp ICE and… we're clear. Ready to dance.”

“Let’s do this.”

And with that the wreath panels begin to flash and strobe in front of V’s eyes, quicker and quicker until the world goes out in white. And in the next snap of a moment, one reality becomes another. Her body is no longer her own, she’s placed in Evelyn’s mind standing outside an elevator. What feels like her body, moves to adjust a purse strap, gold capped nails.

“All right, V - eyes open. Gotta find out where Yorinobu is keepin’ the Relic. Everything is controlled by thought and intention; you can step into editor mode, access everything her cyberware picked up a signal of, can scan, rewind, fast forward. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

The doors open, exposing the hotel room, and a horror show of a man walking towards her. V can feel the spike in fear, whether from Evelyn in the moment or V’s own instinctual reaction; she isn’t sure. He’s around eight feet tall, complete metal and cyberware from his feet to his upper lip; more machine than human. Wire, hydraulics, steel; all branded with Arasaka. The flesh section of his head is sickly ashen protrusive veins, glowing red where eyes should be. As he draws closer there’s a whirr of machinery, hydraulics pistoning to give him movement. How is he alive? How is he functional?

“You look like a cut of fuckable meat. Are you?” He asks as he walks past, voice edged with something inhuman.

Evelyn reigns her fear back in, the past version of her walking deeper into the room, where a dark haired man sits at a table in front of a large screen where another blonde haired man speaks back to him.

“I said no,” the dark haired man speaks out, his voice colored by a Japanese accent and V knows it’s Yorinobu. Evelyn continues to walk closer, her heels clicking against the floor.

“They'll have my head for this…”

“Then you shall perish for a good cause.”

“But I-”

“Make yourself comfortable. I need a minute to finish,” Yorinobu tells Evelyn, sparing just a glance over his shoulder.

“Listen in on that conversation, V! Could be something important.”

She wants to watch through first, do an initial watch to look for things and then go more in depth. Two watches at least should mean she’s covered everything. Yorinobu switches the conversation to his holophone, pacing around the room. Evelyn meanwhile puts her purse down on the chair, then walks behind him, trying to keep him in range

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble! You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

Yorinobu continues to talk as Evelyn pours herself a glass full of champagne and takes a drink, the tech allowing V to taste the sweet bubbles as if they were on her own tongue. Glass in hand she takes a slow look around the room and walks back to the center of it, sitting at the table, the plush of the cushion letting her sink into it.

“Noted,” Yorinobu says into the phone as he starts to walk back to Evelyn, there’s something in his eyes, “enough.”

He hands up, putting the phone down on the table. Evelyn looks up at him and V through her eyes gets her first good look at the Arasaka heir. Dark hair with the sides shaved down close to the scalp, glasses perched on his nose. His cyberware is surprisingly minimal for a man of his wealth, two streaks of silver going up his neck to his jawline.

“Sorry, to make you wait,” he touches Evelyn’s shoulder and the woman rises, “business can be stupid.”

They’re close and V can feel his hands on her, Evelyn’s, hips. Evelyn’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mmh, it wasn't long,” Evelyn hums and it feels wholy unnatural to feel like she’s speaking with someone else's voice, “Not even long enough for me to grow bored.”

His hands start to creep and Evelyn goes to pull away, movements playful, when Yorinobu pulls her back in. Then he starts to dip his mouth.

“Fuck no!” V yells out as she pushes the thought to enter editor mode, separating her senses from Evelyn’s before she has to feel Yorinobu’s lips on Evelyn’s neck. She looks down and sees herself, though slightly digital, her bright blue nail polish and not gold jewelry. The scene around her has paused and a digital filter over them.

“Something wrong?” T-Bug asks with a slight laugh.

“Nearly had corpo droolon me,” V signs, happy to find the tech allows her translator to work in editor mode, “was going do a watch through, then a second go in editor mode, figured two look throughs would be best...then”

“Then you nearly had to lock lips with Yorinobu Arasaka.”

“Gag, rewinding back to scan the call fully.” With a thought she watches as Evelyn and Yorinobu move in reverse, getting back to win the heir was starting the call. Once she gets where she needs to be she scans his phone and restarts it from editor mode, thankful for the sensory disconnect. She hears the man on the other end of Yorinobu’s call speak.

“Please speak with your father. He's taken a particular interest in this project, he can certainly explain the risks invol--”

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble!”

“I should not even be listening to such things.”

“You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

“Read the documentation carefully. The Relic requires specific storage conditions. You MUST provide them.”

“Noted,” Yorinobu hangs up again and V pauses the BD.

“Heard that? Relic docs gotta be around here somewhere. Look for them,” Bug confirms.

“Once we find where the chip is stored we’ll do a clean sweep of the security, okay Bug.”

“Smart thinking.”

V watches half-heartedly as Yorinobu and Evelyn interact; her range of vision and senses limited to Evelyn. She fast forwards through the two canoodling, only mildly catching Evelyn mentioning something about ‘candy’ though V assumes it’s of the nose variety. Evelyn separates away from Yorinobu for a moment and walks to a control panel, offering to lend music to the scene.

But V’s interest is piqued when she catches Evelyn rifling through Yorinobu’s messages, a few spam and scam emails. Then she pulls up an email from Clouds, a dollhouse in the city. Evelyn deletes it, V rewinds back and pauses. The email thanks Yorinobu for his patronage; hmm, heir has a taste for doll prostitutes. Something, Evelyn doesn’t want that email to be there… Its all beginning to make more sense and V’s not sure she likes it.

The merc fast forwards further through the BD, moving through to Evelyn playing awful music and going to meet Yorinobu in his bed. Where he sits with a tablet, the second the screen is clear. She pauses and scans it, bingo.

“Manual details a special temp controlled container. Relic needs to be kept real cool,” T-Bug explains through the technobabble.

“Chip’s got to be in a freezer.”

“Yep. Could damage it otherwise. OK, switch on thermal layer detection in the editor. Should be easier to spot where Yorinobu's keeping the chip.”

V switches with a thought, the world turning into temperature signatures as she searches for unnatural cold places and spots. An air conditioner pumps out cold air, but that would be a stupid place to put billion dollar tech. One malfunction and you lost it all.  She rewinds back to get more of a view, a ice bucket for champagne, a fridge?

“That’s just a regular fancy fridge, not cold enough,” Bug tells her when she spends t0o long contemplating it.

V rewinds further and an amass of blue ice cold air from behind a pillar catches her eye, It seems to come up through the floor, unlike the AC, ice bucket, or fridge she has no clear idea where this one is coming from. A secret container in the floor? Seems like a much craftier place to hide expensive stolen tech, V scans it.

“Right, grabbed the heat sig. Matches the spec in the docs,” T-Bug tells her.

“Chip has to be here, we got it.”

“Mmhmm, time to scan security.”

V switches back to the regular mode, looking for what she needs to scan. The camera system first.

“Shit, cameras packed with newtech motion sensors, heat sig activators. IFF.”

“Can you kill it?”

“With access to their subnet, but we need the Flathead bot for that.”

They continue on, with Bug commenting on each security measure they scan. Alarm with fresh firmware, Automated turrets connected to the hotels server. Yorinobu’s pistol, loaded with the safety on. V rewinds and fast forward, searching anything else that might be an issue but comes up empty handed.

“Seems like we got everything. Looks like all their security systems are linked to the hotel subnet. We need the Flathead. No other way to shut down these systems,” T-Bug sumises.

“No way around it ourselves?”

“Nope. Least I'm fresh out of ideas. Think we got everything we need.”

“Okay, but hang on the line with me after we get out of the BD, need you to look over something for me, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

V exists out of the brain dance, a flash of white and the world returns. Judy and Evelyn looking at her from across a desk, T-Bug still in the call panel of her mask. Her eyes hurt, her throat feels dry, and she can feel a migraine pushing at her temples. She fucking hates brain dances.

“Get everything you need?” Judy asks, a dark raised eyebrow.

“From the BD, yeah, got to clear something with Bug while I got her on the horn,” V gets the chip she fucked with out of her pocket and slides it into the proxy reader of her mask, “got a chip I fucked around with; decrypted and tried to rewrite the virus on it, so it will spike the people who gave it to me. But I want to make sure, I didn’t fuck up.”

“Need me to grade your work, V?”

“Kind of…”

“Oh, shit, V. You fucking over Militech?” T-Bug exclaims, a little pride in her voice as she reads over the code, thankfully her voice is only audible to V through her hearing aids.

“Mmhmm.”

“And you don’t want to sign and have your translator read it, because you don’t want to risk the client knowing you’re fucking over Militech while prepping to fuck over Arasaka.”

“Mmhmm, will it work?”

“It will fry the servers of any tech it’s plugged in proper and fry the servers it’s linked to, a Militech van from the looks of it. Won’t be a dent in their bottom line, but will surely piss off some reps. That what you meant for it to do?”

“That was the plan.”

“Preem work then, but I do want to make some...edits,” T-Bug edits the chips code in front of V’s eyes, “there we go.”

“Something wrong with it?” Nerves creep up V’s throat, if she fucked up, she’d rather learn her lesson now.

“Nah, I added a bit of a personal touch for you, nothing wrong with a little style added to your hacking.”

“Appreciate the help.”

“You know I won’t always be here to check your work.”

“I know, I know, but it doesn't mean I won’t take advantage while I can. Thanks again, talk soon.”

“Later, V.” With that V hangs up the call and slots the spiked credchip back into its respective pocket. Judgement, suspicion, and resentment are radiating off of Judy.

“I'll wipe the cache and your data. You were never here.”

Judy stands up from the desk and V tries to decipher a few of the tattoos she sees, noticing more sea themed ones, like a dolphin and sharks. V flinches behind her mask as Judy removes the BD wreath, glad to be free of the contraption, but she could have taken it off herself.

“Thanks…” V signs, despite this, just trying to be polite despite their spat.

“Keep it,” Judy hands her the wreath, V getting a good look at the octopus tattooed on the woman’s hand,  “I'll put it on Ev's tab. Portable device for handling BDs. I already uploaded your calibration settings. Not as sophisticated as what we got here, but should do the trick.”

“And it keeps you outta harm's way. Clever.”

“Speaking of harms way, know what I see looking at you,” Judy pins her hands to her hips and gives V that look again, “walking, talking corpses.”

“We needed this recording, just… relax, will you?”

“Relax! If Arasaka finds out you have it, you're dead. I'm dead! If you fuck this up and Arasaka comes knocking on my door!”

“Judy, relax, that’s… not gonna happen,” Evelyn is the one trying to soothe the editors temper again.

“Evelyn, please… no shortcuts. You go that route, city'll always win. So be careful.”

“'Course I will be. Besides, we'll talk in a bit,” Evelyn looks to V,  “lets walk.”

V stashes the new BD wreath into her bag and climbs from the chair, following Evelyn out of Judy’s basement space. It’s not like V is heartless or doesn’t know anxiety; but of everyone involved, Judy has the least skin in the game. V can’t spend her time coddling someone who doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about compared to her, Jackie, or Bug.

“Well? What do you think?” Evelyn asks and V can see that hint of nerves coming back.

“You’re not worried about this coming back on you, if they start looking through everyone he’s been dealing with?”

“They'll have a long list, then. Packed full of big names. Much bigger than mine. You tell me who they check first. Corpo hotshots and cutthroats? Or a little bedroom plaything like me?”

“Well, then... “ V tries to find her words, this all seems, too good, “intel on the heir, on the place, know roughly where the chip is, and how we should get to it… Seems like a perfect plan and job.”

“Mm. Thanks. Now the punch line, please.”

“Seems too good to be true, there’s got to be a catch…”

“Cold feet? Are you looking to get out of it?”

“I want to know you’re in control here; that there’s no secrets, no catches, no surprises that turns this heist from a cakewalk into a bloodbath.”

“V. I have zero reasons to haze you. We’re in this together. Really. Trust me that I got this.”

“Okay, if you say so, what next?”

“V….” there’s nothing good in the way Evelyn pauses, words stuck to her tongue for a moment, “Do this job for me. I mean me alone. No splitting the payout with anyone else. No middlemen. No Dex.”

Of course, of fucking course, there had to be something. Evelyn’s trying to play cutthroat corpo, fucking over a fixer because she has dollar signs in her eyes. But, she’s too damn naïve to the game to know that no merc with the lead in their gun would pull that shit. Greedy mercs who screw over their fixers end up broke on the street at best and swimming  with cement shoes at worst. And a high profile one like Dex has the means to destroy her.

“Fucking knew there was a catch, you want to fuck over our fixer.”

“Dex is a middleman. And a useless one at this point.”

“You don't fuck with fixers. That's the one rule every merc in this city knows - and actually follows!”

“But if we're smart…”

“There is no smart to this, a mistake like that will cost me my reputation and without that, a merc is fucking nothing in this city. Are you serious about this?”

“Better ask yourself that question. Do you want to spend the rest of your days blasting scavs? Or become a legend overnight? Your choice.”

“He would put me in the ground, if I pulled some gonk shit like that.”

“I could give you fifty percent, V, . Eddies enough to do whatever the hell you like, without needing Dex for anything. With cred like that, you wouldn’t want for anything, you could retire.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“I thought you were a merc. I thought it was always about the money.”

“No, its not actually. He trusts me, he’s taking a leap with me. And even if he weren’t, I’m not the only person I got to worry about. Bug vouched for me too and Jackie is my partner. I fuck over my fixer, it hurts them too. I’m not going to send them down the river for a bigger cut of the pie.”

“Fine. I never asked. But V?”

“Yeah.”

“I just hope you're as good as you are naive.”

“Pff, you think I’m the naive one, here. Cute.

“If you need me, call. I'll send you my number. Now go. I need a few words with Judy.”

“Later, then.”

And with that V heads back up the stairs, tension draws tight across her shoulders. This whole damn thing with Evelyn throwing her off. The BD and everything seems clear cut, if they get the Flathead, the job might even be easy. But, wanting to fuck over their fixer. Evelyn is not the corpo or femme fatale or whatever she seems to think she is. A doll, V’s sure of that.  Evelyn must have deleted the email from Clouds because its’s connected to her and the Mox offer protection to sex workers; must be where she and Yorinobu met. Clouds even has connections to Arasaka through the Tyger Claws. And she managed to become a powerful rich man’s plaything, so now she thinks she’s smart enough to fuck over not only him but Dex too.

She’s a messy client with good intel. V doesn’t want Evelyn to get hurt. The older woman is in over her head and doesn’t know how the merc world works. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt for that, the last thing V wants is for Dex to lose his cool and hurt the woman. But, V also owes it to him to let him know Evelyn put that deal on the table. If she doesn’t, what’s to say Evelyn won’t pull this on another fixer? Or Dex gets another job aligned with her and the next merc she offers this to isn’t so loyal? She has to tell him.

V fumbles with her holo as she walks back through the club, doing some quick research on Konpeki Plaza. Finding their policy on guns. Given the stealth nature of this mission, she can assume the only way they’re getting in is to find a way to get in like regular patrons. Which means they’d be scanned for guns as soon as they get through the door. If something goes south, she doesn’t want her and Jackie left unarmed with a hoard of Arasaka soldiers on their ass.

But they can’t confiscate cyberware.

Might be time to cash in her savings for something. Her holo buzzes in her hand as Dex calls; her stomach drops. Unsure for a moment what to say to him, if she should go ahead and tell him what Evelyn tried to pull. Would he lose his temper? Drop the entire damn heist? Would he hurt her for it? It weighs on her shoulders as she pushes through a blue beaded curtain, considering her options with a finger hovering over the phone.

[hopeless-island]

Dying Dream Cast Directory

A helpful guide to remind you about the main crew of the Hopeless Pirates and their basic info stuffs. Keep in mind, names are done the Japanese way. So, Last name/middle initial/ first name

Also, there are spoilers in here for all people who are not caught up with the story. Read at your own risk.

Captain: 

Gol D. Maven 

Nickname/known as: Maven/ Usurper Maven/ “Momma Maven”/ Big Sis Maven

Age: 20 (at the beginning of Canon)

Disease: Usurper’s Syndrome. A terminal illness that is continual, and progressively aggressive, muscle degradation. Combats this disease by building muscle faster than it can degrade, leading to painfully slow increase in strength and low muscle mass on her body.

Appearance: Like a gender-swapped Ace essentially. Small chest, much wider waist than typical for OP characters. Clearly defined abs, lithe but defined muscles on arms and legs. She is not thickly built, her disease keeping her from being “bulky” and making her body remain rather lanky despite the strength on it. About 6′1″, long wavy black hair that goes down to her butt and is extremely wild and untamed. Freckles on her face that add a slight childish appearance to her face, and sleepy looking gray eyes. Always carries Stormfall, a large battle axe/halberd with a purple metal butterfly-winged blade. Stormfall is over six and a half feet tall, so the blade is always poking above Maven’s head a bit. 

First Mate:

 Nymph Katylan

Nickname/Known as: Katie/ Dark Nymph Katylan

Age: two years younger than Maven. 

Disease: Unnamed terminal immunodeficiency, alluded to being like AIDS. 

Appearance: Stereotypical blond rich-girl appearance. Classic OP-girl physique, with large bust and small waist. Straight gold-blond hair that falls a few inches past her shoulders, and large sapphire-blue eyes. Commonly wears light colored sundresses with exercise shorts underneath just incase she fights, so there is never an indecent moment. She is also the Helmsman and Archer for the crew, and uses an ivory-white recurve bow made by Kilik.The center of the bow can change lengths, controlling the strength and range of the bow. Average female height of about 5′7″

Navigator (Original):

Linral

Nickname/Known as: Rabid Linral/ Lin

Age: 18 at death

Disease: Unnamed cancer, alluded to being more than just one type as it is “everywhere.” 

Appearance: Short tomboy, but with classic OP-girl body. She had short silver-white hair cut in a boyish pixie cut, and bright emerald-green eyes that she took pride in. Her body was littered with small scars, though not so many as to keep guys from blatantly trying to flirt with her. As stated earlier, she was very short-- just barely over five feet tall. Primarily a brawler, she had slightly more defined muscles than even Maven, considering Lin’s own disease didn't effect her muscle mass. Usually wore boy’s sports shorts and a grey or black tank top.

Weaponsmith (Original):

Kilik

Nickname/Known as: Kilik/ (I couldn’t remember/find his pirate name, so I made a new one up) Killing Steel Kilik

Age: 21 at death

Disease: Due to being unwillingly experimented on, his body developed the ability to produce its own organic poison straight into his own bloodstream. It never stopped his production, and production sped up over time. Too high of a concentration, and it would be fatal. 

Appearance: About 5′10″, with fluffy cinnamon-brown hair that is on the long side, almost brushing his shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes. He is somewhat lanky, not muscular but with his own brand of lithe strength. Overall boyish, with most of his muscle mass being centered in his arms without being bulky, because of his occupation as a blacksmith. Also a swordsman. Known for creating a bunch of really wacky, weirdly-designed “swords” and other weapons in an attempt to find his own unique sword style. He finally did, after making round “swords” in the shape of clocks. Usually wore a simple black or mustard-yellow t-shirt and dark jeans with brown or denim overalls. 

Doctor: 

Razdall 

Nickname/Known as: Raz/ Misery’s Herbalist Razdall

Age: 24 at the start of Canon

Disease: Unnamed heart condition, makes him extremely susceptible to spikes in blood pressure and heart rate. Weak heart. 

Appearance: About 6′0, with short but messy purple hair. Gray eyes the same shade as Maven’s, but instead of having narrow eyes like she does his just look perpetually bored. His body is pretty lanky, and since he isn’t a fighter he doesn’t have much muscle mass at all. he has a slight, perpetual slouch and usually wears a black or dark purple turtleneck with black, slightly baggy pants and a lab coat with the Hopeless Pirate jolly roger on the back.  Never seen without a utility belt laden with different pouches, orbs, and syringes full of his battle-ready herbal concoctions.

Seamstress:

Yalla

Nickname/Known as: Yalla/ Pretty Ninja Yalla (at least I think that’s what I went with as her pirate name... I can’t remember/ find it >.<) 

Age: 15 at the start of Canon

Disease: Assassin’s syndrome. Similar to Usurper’s, but instead of muscle it is a constant degradation of organs in the body. 

Appearance: A cutsey girly-girl, she has bubblegum-pink hair and bright golden yellow eyes. Originally she wore her hair up in constant long pigtails, but she started to wear it down after Kilik’s death. It reaches her knees when left down. She usually wears a frilly pink, gold, and black kimono that is cropped around the knee with sunflower-yellow boy shorts underneath incase any incidents occur. The kimono has three-quarter sleeves instead of the traditional long sleeves. She pairs it with flip-flops or goes barefoot. Still growing, she is relatively short at about 5′4″. She ate the Ribbon-Ribbon fruit and grew up as an acrobat in a circus, so she is not only very nimble and usually fights aerially, but she can turn her body into ribbons. 

Shipwright:

Gino

Nickname/Known as: Gino/ Black Thorn Gino

Age: mid-thirties by Canon

Disease: Akui Hanahaki. Like the Hanahaki in other stories, this disease grows flowers in and off of the victim’s lungs, causing them to hack up flowers and leaves from it as the disease progresses. Unlike the normal mythical disease, this one is caused by hatred from a loved one rather than unrequited love. The only cure is being forgiven, but the person whose hatred caused Gino’ s illness is dead so it is officially terminal for him. He coughs up black roses. 

Appearance: A large tiger-shark fishman, he clocks in at about 7′7″ and has greyish-blue skin with subtle grey stripes down his back and the back of his bald head, and partially over his shoulders and the back of his upper arms. Usually wears a black or dark grey tank top and black cargo pants or cargo shorts. He fights with spiked iron knuckles, and (spoiler alert) gets them upgraded to Seastone spiked knuckles after the Magician arc. He is very bulky, unlike the majority of the crew. Classic body of a thug/body builder type, with bulging biceps, very well-muscled chest/torso, and several tattoos. 

Dancer: 

Synalla

Nickname/Known as: Synalla/ “Crew Grandma”/ Slice-Dancer Synalla 

Age: Late twenties by Canon. About 28 or 29..?

Disease: Unnamed lung disease. Fashioned a bit after Cystic Fibrosis, but obviously made into a fantasy terminal illness. 

Appearance: She is a Snakeneck, and from her feet to the top of her head she is about 11′4″, with her neck by itself taking up almost half of that. Her body, like with most Snakenecks, is naturally lithe and lanky. Her hair is jet black, and goes down the entirety of her over-four-foot neck in sharp zig-zags that for some reason never lose shape. She dresses like a tango dancer almost constantly, in long brightly colored Mexican-styled dresses that end at her ankle and matching flats. She fights with tessen, or bladed war fans. She dances with them, too. She is naturally maternal and tends to mother hen, earning herself the nickname “Granny” or “Grandma” within the crew. 

Scout/ Navigator (new): 

Cala

Nickname/Known as: Cala/ Lynx Cala 

Age: about 26 by the start of Canon

Disease: Nature’s wrath syndrome, another disease similar to Usurper’s and Assassin’s syndrome. This version is constant degradation of the bones and severe calcium deficiency/the body burns through calcium at a really fast rate.

Appearance: Is it even a surprise by now? Cala is lanky, as apparently most of the rest of the crew omfg where is my originality at? But to the point of being almost bony. He has very short-cropped blue hair, buzzed but not shaved. He ate the cat-cat model: Lynx fruit, and can change into a lynx. He is incredibly frail because of his disease and tends to stay out of fights unless absolutely necessary (I have bones of glass, and paper skin...) But he makes an excellent scout and spy with his enhanced senses from his Zoan fruit. He, uh. honestly I haven’t put much thought into his wardobe. He’s a bony cat dude. Probably wears long blue basketball shorts and goes shirtless half the time honestly, idk. 

Crew Hypnotist..? I honestly don't know this guy’s role, I think he’s just a combatant/ bums out on the Dream honestly. 

Dyan

Nickname/Known as: Dyan/ King Dyan/  Deranged Prince Dyan (Pirate nickname)

Age: idk if I put a solid age for him, but he’d be about 40 by the start of Canon

Disease: Similar to Kilik, Dyan’s blood itself is mutating and becoming toxic to itself. There is no known cure. 

Appearance: He ate the child-child fruit, so he looks to be about 10 years old instead of his true age. He has spiky dark green hair, and is about 4′3″. He has a child’s body, so no real visible muscle mass or anything. He did used to be the King of the Ceres kingdom though, so he is constantly dressed in high quality clothes and somehow always looks like a stereotypical child prince/ rich brat. His devil fruit hypnotizes people along with making him stay in a child’s body, but you can read more about his devil fruit in the story itself. 

Magician

Azalea

Nickname/Known as: Azalea/ Scarlet Magician Azalea

Age: I don’t remember if I gave her an exact age, but we’ll say 23 by Canon

Disease: Cancer (sound familiar? (;)  Cured by Trafalgar Law. 

Appearance: about 5′9″, with bright, vibrant red hair in an asymmetrical pixie cut that she is just now beginning to grow out. Classic OP-girl body, but with muscular legs that most people seem to not notice. She is a magician, and as such is always wearing a maroon suit jacket, black slacks, and a bowtie. She has a flair for the dramatic. whatever she wears, she is always stylish. She does, in fact, have a magic wand that she uses occasionally. sporty-cute-girl. OH yeah, she has the feel-feel fruit and can sense everyone’s emotions and shit

I think that’s it for the Dying Dream crew. Whoo that took a while. There ya go!

[imtryingthisout]

Sanders-Tale: The Falling Child

(A fic based on @nachosforfree Undertale Au, check it out)

Running.

Running: Tiny twig-thin legs carrying a skinny body as they desperately ran.

Faster- faster

Ducking under branches and leaping over stones

Faster- faster

The black and grey cloak was made of heavy fabric. A winter’s cloak in the middle of summer.

Faster- faster

It weighted the child, for it was a child who was running, down slightly. Not enough to slow down, but heavy all the same.

Faster, hurry, faster.

The forest surrounding the mythic mountain was thick and treacherous . The trees grew wide and untamed for no logger or lumberjack wanted to brave the mountain, not even to obtain the plentiful wood and other resources that lay there. There were stories about those who ventured up to the mountain top, and those stories rarely ended well.

They say those who go up to Mt Ebbot don’t come back down.

It was dark, making an already dangerous journey all the more perilous. The child could not see the moon nor stars. The child could barely see the sky at all, over the blanketed canopy of branches that lay over their head.

Raindrops fell heavily from the growing storm, making the earth below wet and slick. Mud clinged to the child’s clothes, clogging up the groves in their shoes, making it harder to not trip over the many treeroots and other obsticals that lay in their way. As they ran up the mountain.

Faster and faster.

Soon the terrain changed from the unpredictable muddied earth to the cold certainty of stone. And so the child stopped running.

Two unnaturally bright violet eyes- demon eyes the villagers whispered- tried in vain to see what lay ahead in the dark. The child had seemingly wandered into a cave at the top of the mountain. Seeking shelter from the storm- the child wandered in further. Taking short cautious step to avoid the myriad of roots that grew into the cave’s mouth from the forest.

Step by step the child crept further into the cave, and step by step the child gained more and more confidence. Till a burst of thunder cause the child to jump—

—a foot got caught in a twisted vine that curved upward making the child slip—

—and fall into a great pit that was unseen in the darkness of the night making the child fall

Further

And further

And further down into the great abyss

The child didn’t even have the time to scream before darkness overtook their exhausted vision.

………..

.......

....

...

..

.

The first thing the fallen child noticed was sunlight streaming down from the top of the cavern, ricocheting of the warm brown stone just to hit them square in the face.

“Hellooo? Hellooo? Hey, are you dead?”

The second thing they noticed was that they were not alone.

“Oh good you’re not dead, that would’ve sucked” said the… person in front of them? It certainly didn’t look like any person the child had ever seen. It was short- with two baby goat horns poking out of its forehead. Wide dual colored eyes looked down at the child as if it was the most curious thing on earth. Green and Red like holly berries and leaves.

The child let out a pained groan. They must have hit their head too hard when they fell, because this was the weirdest hallucination they had ever seen. Or maybe they were dead- or bleeding out at the bottom of a pit where no one would ever find their body- not that anyone would have bothered to look, but still it was the principal of the matter.

“Where… am I? And what the devils are you?” The child rasped out, their voice gaining more strength as they went on, till it ended their question in a pointed tone.

The creature blinked owlishly. “Uh you’re in the underground dummy- where’d you think you were?” It said as if those words were the simplest thing and the child was very very stupid for not knowing. “Well technically you’re in the ruins, but the ruins are part of the underground soooo” it’s voice trailed off.

“Ugh great, my death bed hallucination is a smart ass. Perfect”

“What?!” The creature exclamation, quite dramatically too- it put his hand over its chest like some histrionic uptown woman who had just been delivered unthinkable news. “I’m not a hallucination! And you are certainly not dead… though I think you might have hit your head cause you’re acting pretty dumb right now. Honestly, what monster forgets what the underground is?” It said rolling its eyes.

“I’m not a monster” the creature-monster?- startled, looking back at the child oddly. “What? What do you mean you’re not a monster. How could you not be- you’re either a monster or you’re—“

“Human. I’m a human”

A pause. A single beat of stunned silence before the monster pounced- literally pounced! - on the human child, squealing with excitement.

“Holy Stars! I’ve never seen a real life human before! What’s it like on the surface? Do you really eat naughty monsters who don’t finish their supper? Do you have fields of wildflowers and fruit that you can just go and eat whenever? What’s the sun like? Do you still have magic battles? Did you really paint yourselves with the dust of your enemies and dance around bonfires? What’s—“

“GET OFF OF ME” the child yelled, shoving the monster. “What are you even talking about? Magic? Monsters? What’s going on?”

The monster seem confused at child’s questions, “what do you mean you don’t know? Humans locked all monsters under the magic barrier after we lost The Great War. Don’t they teach you guys about this stuff?”

“No? What war?” The child could not remember being told about any war, especially one with monsters. “Also magic isn’t real.”

The creature rolled its eyes at that, “uh yeah it is. Monsters are pretty much made of magic so how could I exist if it wasn’t real.”

“I’m still not convinced this isn’t my brains last fuck you before I die via fall damage”

“Uh! How can I convince you that this is real- do I need to pinch you or—“ the child flinched away violently. The monster frowned at the sight. Biting it’s lip in concentration as it thought of a way to prove to the human that, yes, this was real.

The creature was a colorful sort, the child noticed, with curly rusty brown hair that was streaked with silver and gold. It was a chimera of features all cobbled together.

Mixed-mashed eyes, wolf like ears, two baby horns, just to name a few. It seemed to have some sort of paw-feet, for it wore no shoes and the child could see the dog-like toe beans that carried the monster. The parts of the creature that were exposed flesh seemed to glisten slightly in the light, creating little rainbows that swarmed the child’s eyes. There was pattern of some sort, thin even lines separating the diamond-like shapes, crawling up its arms like the scales of a snake. With deeper patches showing pigment more clearly, the spots of a copperhead.

“I know! What if I show you?” The monster exclaimed, finally coming up with an idea. It also Startled the child out of their venomous thoughts. “Show me what” the child demand- their mind already swarming with numerous horrible possibilities. But the monster carried on unconcerned, “Magic dummy”

The child started blankly. “You… can do magic?” maybe the incurious tone was a bit snide and rude, but the child had had a very rough day and couldn’t help but be unimpressed with the thing-monster in front of them. But the creature just nodded vigorously, eager with anticipation “Yuh huh- here,watch this”

The monster closed its eyes, focusing on its outstretched palms. It seemed to be concentrating very hard if the tautness in its expression was to be believed. The child was about to retort with a smart ‘don’t strain yourself’ when their words died in their mouths.

Suddenly the atmosphere grew heavy and dark, like a cold winter’s night. The human felt a sharp tug at the center of their being that set their heart racing. Looking up the human couldn’t quite believe their eyes. As the monster seemed to be holding light itself in its clawed hands. All manner of formless colors shifting and spiraling in beautiful and terrible patterns. Behind it tendrils took shape, the child likened them to the limbs of the kraken. The legendary monster that old sailors that hung near the edges of town would curse.

All around it innumerable shapes were called into existence. The bold streaks of color shining in the dark like a beacon.

Pink, yellow, blue, red. The colors where solidifying now. Gaining depth and hue.

Green, orange, navy, teal. They twisted up out of the monsters hands. Curling around one another and Blooming like a spring rose.

Red-yellow-orange-white. The colors where mixing with each other . Loosing themselves and being reborn as something new.

Blue-black-red-pink. Cancelling each other out. Some darkening, some lightening, as they blended.

Navy-gold-yellow. Swirled together till they were inseparable, to form a marvelously rich deep green.

Blue-pink-red. Each one coming together in glorious cacophony - until-

A burst of white light engulfed the room, chasing away the dark and lifting the atmosphere. The crushing weight on the child’s soul let go as cavern returned to itself, the shadows subsiding.

The child was on the ground breathing heavily, “what… was .. that!” They demanded in between pants for air. The monster ler out a gap-toothed grin. “That my human companion, was magic! Look-“ the creature shoved its hands in front of the child.

There in its cupped hands grew a flower that was unlike any the child ever saw. Its stem was a rich emerald green, the color of jewels they could never dream to own. The petals were dotted with specks of gold- buttercup yellow, but the majority of the flower was-

“purple” the child whispered, voice with wonder. The same freakish color of their eyes, down to the very shade, but the flower wasn’t freakish. It was beautiful.

“Soooo, do you believe me now?” The child nodded mutely, not trusting themself to answer. “Good!” Said the monster it (he? She? ) seemed quite pleased now. It passed the magical flower into the humans hands.

“I’m Romulus by the way” he said extending his (paw?claw?) hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

“Virgil” said the human, using Romulus grip to hoist themself up. Their clothes were -predictably- ruined from the storm, forest, and fall. Not that they were great to begin with, but still. Most of the fabric had been torn to shreds by thorns and branches. And what wasn’t reduced to rags was soaked with mug and dirt. Combine that with the cuts and bruises that painted their body, Virgil looked like crap.

Romulus seemed to be thinking the same thing. Since he offered to take Virgil to his house to help them. Apparently one of his dads knew some healing spells and would be willing to fix them up.

Virgil wasn’t one to go home with strangers, but what choice did they have? Besides Romulus didn’t seem bad- egocentric and ditzy brained, yes- but not dangerous. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t human, or maybe they were just too tired to care. But Virgil allowed themself to be guided by Romulus, the purple flower tucked neatly behind their ear. Listening to their new (friend?) companion as he regaled them with dramatic stories and adventures. All the while never knowing how this one action would change everything for good.

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 2

Hello loves, the following is the second installment of my Pynch fic! as usual you can find it on Ao3 @glam_reaper2 

TW: Blood and honestly some just big sads/ hospital/ references to grief and self harm.

His phone had not stopped its incessant Rhythm atop his nightstand. Adam was staring blankly at it. ringing... ringing, and then flashing: BLUE (missed call). She’d been trying to reach him for two days and he had yet to move from his bed for more than a quick trip to the bathroom. He’d shot a text to Boyd telling him he had a family emergency, skipped classes, and stood vigil alone in a sea of blankets. 

Grieving. 

His heart ripped from his chest by a man he’d never learn to love. His happy ending. Every color he’d dreamt of seeing, swallowed him whole. How was the world outside so bright? Who gave it the right to be so radiant, when hope had bleed out on the concrete in a back alley.

He closed his eyes, and let the dark drag him back.

The sound of a key turning the lock of his front door woke him. He knew it would be Blue, his best friend of four years, the only person other than his landlord who had access. He burrowed further into the covers and stared blankly at his bedroom door, waiting for the inevitable. 

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEE- oh…. Adam.” What had begun at a yell, drifted to a near whisper when her eyes found his. They were big, and the richest brown, Adam would have been lost in the color if he had the strength to feel. 

“Adam, what happened?” She whispered, coming to perch at his side, delicate hand reaching to touch his cheek.

“He’s dead Blue. He died. I- I couldn’t, I- “

“Shhh, it’s okay. Who Adam, what happened? Who died?”

My heart died. 

His eyes shifted to her left hand which was firmly gripping his. “Your nails don’t match Blue, they’re all different.”

“My wha- oh… OH GOD. ADAM! You found them? When did this happen? This is amazing! No, no don’t cry, fuck…Sweetheart.. what happened?”

He looked up then, her face a mask of concern as she wiped the tears falling from his eyes in splashing drops. 

“I… I was going to Boyd’s. There was screaming. There was so much blood Blue, it- it was everywhere. I tried to help, I- I couldn’t stop the blood. And then everything was bright and it was so red. Everything was so red. And warm. And cold. And I couldn’t sto-stop it. I-“ he choked on a series of sobs that wracked his whole being. He couldn’t find it in himself to stop. Blue kicked off her green boots and crawled into the covers, holding him tight to her chest as he cried. 

For hours she said nothing, allowing him the comfort of touch, and the space to grieve. He was completely broken, and she held the shattered pieces of his soul so tight, as if she could glue him back together with force alone. 

At some point he had fallen asleep, and when he woke Blue brought him water. He mustered the courage to tell her what had happened in the alley, tears flowing down both their faces when he finally made it through. 

“I don’t,” he released a shuttered breath, and tried again. “I don’t know what to do now Blue… there’s nothing, no happy ending. It’s… everything I’ve done.. I’m alone. I’m alone, again.”

“No. You’re not alone. You have me.” She stated, fact. “You have Henry. You have grad school and a future, and you’re going to change the world. This? This is horrific, but this is not the end for you. I promise.”

She was earnest in the way that only Blue could be. He heard the words, and wished they were true, but this felt like the end. 

“I…. I never even knew his name. How can I- how- I can’t even grieve Blue. I don’t know who I lost,” Adam whispered.

“Your heart knows, love, that’s enough.”

****

His eyes were heavy. His body felt like it was weighed down by sandbags, and his throat was on fire. He stirred slightly, trying to open his eyes, to lift his head. Water he thought, but the word never fell from his lips. 

He heard the muffled sound of a chair scrape back, and suddenly there was a cup being pressed to his lips. A warm hand holding his head steady, allowing the liquid to coat his ravaged throat. 

Ronan felt like death. Which was funny to him because, had he actually been dead, he imagined he’d feel a lot better. He choked on the cold, and the cup was removed. The telltale click of it being set somewhere off to the side, though the hand never left his face.

“Ronan…” Gansey. His voice was hollow, and the name on his lips was like a whispered question. 

“Mmm,” he hummed a non-committal sound, and tried again to peel his eyes open. He was met with bright light, and squinted, the blurry face of his friend slowly coming into focus before him when his breath caught.

“Dick,” he croaked. “Your eyes…” He still couldn’t breath. The world narrowed down to two pools of light-brown, rimmed pink, and set above purple shadows.

“What? Ronan, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck.. your- they’re- brown…” He trailed off, and felt Gansey stiffen from his perch at Ronan’s side.

“....What?” Gansey spoke, nearly inaudible. 

“I said they’re brown, Dick. THEY ARE FUCKING BROWN!” his scream was met with a surge of noise from the machine to his right, and that’s when he realized he didn’t know where he was. 

The world around Gansey’s eyes flew into focus, and he found himself in a hospital room. White walls, scratchy sheets, yellow lights.

He hated hospitals. 

“What the fuck happened? Who touched me Dick, WHO FUCKING TOUCHED ME?” He was hysterical. The beeping from the machine intensified with the beat of his heart. I’m having a fucking heart attack.

Gansey was pulled back by a team in scrubs, they swarmed the bed and spoke quickly. He couldn’t breath normally, his chest to fucking tight. His wrists searing flame. His heart a staccato beat hammering his ribs. He was dizzy. 

He was going to die. 

This is it.

Ronan felt the cool of a liquid being pushed through the IV in his hand, and as sleep came to claim him once more, he heard himself say “Who touched me..” then it was only a dream.

~~

He woke again, minutes, hours, days later, to the sound of hushed voices. This time, he stayed still. He didn’t want to be awake. He didn’t want to be here.

“- I asked Noah,” Gansey said.

“And?” Declan. Fuck.

“And, he doesn’t know.. He never got a name.”

“We’re sure it wasn’t one of the paramedics?” Mathew. Shit. Ronan wished his little brother wasn’t here to see him like this.

“I asked everyone on the scene, even the cops present just to make sure. It had to be the- Hey, Ronan. How are you feeling?” Gansey’s whisper morphed into the “Senator’s son” voice easily as his eyes found Ronan awake, and watching the group meeting in the corner.

“Fucking fantstic Dick.” He croaked, then swallowed hard, fighting the bile rising in his throat. They don’t know his name. He didn’t want me. He left m- Ronan smothered the thought in a blanket of self-hatred. Of course he didn’t want this, who would? 

The bed sank next to him and he turned to see Mathew’s beautiful head of curls softly lit in the low light of the room. “Hey buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” Mathew’s bottom lip quivered, and silver lined his ice blue eyes. “I, we, should have- I’m..” the sentence ended in a sob, and his head fell against Ronan’s chest. 

“Shhh, shh, shh.. Matty it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong, I promise. I love you, okay?” He brought a bandaged wrist up to rest lightly on Mathew’s back. Even the slight movement sent dizzying pain down his arm. Ronan met Declan’s hard gaze over the head of curls. He looked tired; wrinkled and unshaved. His eyes, like Gansey’s, were circled pink, but his jaw was set. 

He was pissed. 

He made his way to Mathew’s side and gently pried him from Ronan. 

“Hey, do you think you and Gansey could go find us some real coffee? I can’t stand the vending machine anymore and I think we could all use some? Maybe you could even find Ronan some jello? I’m sure he’d love it.” Mathew dried his eyes, smiled, and nodded. Gansey moved to open the door, and Ronan saw Declan mouth thank you. Gansey’s head dipped subtly, and the door closed behind him with an echoed click. 

Silence. 

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Ronan growled. 

“Well that’s too fucking bad.” Declan spoke, tone hard. “What the hell were you thinking? Christ Ronan-“ 

“It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It matters a great deal actually. Do you know what it was like? I got a call from Gansey telling me that Noah found-“ he took a deep, shuttering breath. “Found you, I.. I had to tell Mathew. How could you be so selfish?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Ronan turned his face away. “I’m still here, so you can fuck off back to hell anytime. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh fuck you.” Declan spat. “You don’t get to do this anymore.”

Ronan ignored him, rage boiling beneath his skin. He wanted to be left alone. He took a deep breath, in through his mouth, out, slowly through his nose. A smoker’s breath, and closed his eyes. 

“This shit, whatever has gotten into you? I’m done, Ronan. You’re done.” Declan spoke frankly. “I’ve already called a rehab center in Arlington-“

“No.”

“-and seeing as you’re on a 72 hour hold as it is, they’re willing to take you in.” Declan continued as if Ronan had never spoken. “You’ll finish your detox there. Gansey has already sent over your clothes.”

“I said no. Get the fuck out!” Ronan snapped, opening his eyes to glare at Declan with a look that had brought lesser men to their knees.

“You don’t get a choice. Either you go, and save yourself, or you continue on this path of self destruction alone. I will not allow you into Mathew’s life if you choose the latter, he won’t be made to watch you deteriorate any longer.”

Ronan closed his burning eyes, once more.

“I’m sorry,” Declan whispered. “I-we can’t do this anymore Ronan. You’re breaking us. We love you, but we won’t help you destroy yourself.”

Silent tears slipped from beneath his closed lashes, running tracks to the starched pillows below. 

“I’m tired.”

Declan sighed, bringing his hand to squeeze Ronan’s once, lightly, before making his way through the door. 

“I’m sorry.” Ronan whispered to Declan. To no one. To everyone. To him. 

[magolor-starcutter]

My friend reacts to some Touhou characters

Marisa: She’s pretty cute, actually. I’m still kinda mad that she has orange eyes, because it’s just stupid.

Elis: If I see one more blonde red-eye, I’m gonna scream. And for some reason, she has a weird silver lollipop, but if she casts a spell on me, I’m gonna be real mad. There’s a big… something on her back.

Ellen & Sokrates: I don’t have anything to say. She’s just, hot. She’s cute. But why is there a cat there? What’s with her dress, too? What is up with that? It’s dumb.

Kotohime: Why does she look like a man? She kind of reminds me of a really bad otome I played.

Kana: She’s cute. She looks like she could be cute if any person with artistic talent drew her. But what’s with her hat? What is she trying to protect herself from?

Sara: Red-dress girl. I don’t like her already. Girls with pink hair also suck.

Luize: White dress with the purple accent who also looks like a guy. Her fedora is kinda cool but she looks like an annoying businesswoman. She has a weird french thing going on with her clothes.

Alice: Blue dress lady looks like a lost girl. I don’t know what’s going on little girl, but you need help. She’s also an Alice in Wonderland rip-off.

Yuki & Mai: They look like gay. White-dress girl looks like she’s about to stab someone. She’s wearing those surgery boots for some reason. The blonde… is just… I know I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but blondes look bad in dark clothing. She looks stupid and she needs to wear her colors, which are light colors. Why can’t people just have normal eyes in this series?

Rumia: She looks like Danny (Angels of Death). She’s gonna scoop out my peepers. She looks very heterosexual.

Cirno: Oh, she’s cute, I don’t have any complaints about her. She looks like she’s gonna pierce ice directly through my soul, and I don’t really mind.

Meirin: Ahh… okay… I’m pretty sure she has a communist Russia hat. That means that I have a communist on my hands. Honestly, that means she has to die. She’s a commie.

Yuyuko: She also looks like a man. She looks like she’s gonna take my soul. I wouldn’t be surprise if that’s accurate. She also kinda looks like a nurse. But like a fake nurse. She’s gonna steal my soul while I’m injured. Also, her pink hair is gross.

Reisen U. Inaba: She looks like she’s gonna sacrifice me to her rabbit god on the blood moon. I cannot describe the tribal fear when I see her.

Kaguya: First of all, she reminds me of someone who I knew from first grade; she has hair that bridged on her ass. She looks annoying. Maybe she could cut her hair. Calm yourself, Rapunzel.

Aya: She’s pretty cute. Apparently she has wings, but on her ass, and that’s… she’s got booty wings, so that’s pretty cool. For some reason, she has a little mini hat on.

Medicine: Ellen’s emo older sister. The fairy is her OC.

Kisume: The girl in the bucket is clearly really small. We both know how I feel about small, green gremlins. I like her already. She’s on my good Touhou character list.

Yamame: Weird blonde girl is wearing brown for some reason? She has yellow highlights on her dress? She has a bad fashion sense, she’s ugly. She has brown eyes, though. That’s a rarity.

Sunny, Luna, & Star: Alright, so, blue… wait, is this Heathers? Where is Duke? Did Veronica kill her? Anyway, blue-dress girl looks cute. I bet her name is Sakura. Redhead looks like eight. Her clothing adds to it. Blonde hair girl looks like I just killed her dog. Screw you, too, curly nuts.

Wakasagihime: Blue and green girl is just… I don’t know… her hair is too bright and her dark-forest green dress doesn’t go well whatsoever. She has like a.. tail? I’m not sure what that is. She’s ugly, though.

Sekibanki: I… what… she looks like a cheap magic trick that went wrong. This stupid girl is walking around carrying her head. Little Red Riding Head.

Kagerou: Then there’s the furry. She’s the biggest furry, she has weird ears or something. She’s sinful.

Benben & Yatsuhashi: They’re both cute. The blue-hair girl has a weird guitar thing, but it’s cute. She has a mullet apparently, a really long one, too. She’s not wearing shoes, either. Brunette, I really like her, she has good fashion sense. She has that purple that accents with her friend… she just looks good.

Seija: Upside-down emo girl.

Shinmyoumaru: She has like a Dream Catcher… and there’s like a fish in her hand? There’s a loop thing down there. I don’t know what it is. It’s like a fish catcher. Her hat is dumb. She looks like she does some embarrassing stuff. Her dress is open, which is weird.

Raiko: Now for hot girl. I don’t know her power is, but it looks like she controls planes. Her hair goes with her jacket. I love her tie, and it makes her way hotter. The tie goes with the boots, which goes with the boots. She’s just cute. She looks like she’s 12, but I’m 14, so it’s okay.

Seiran: She looks like she likes really long black dick. I don’t know, it’s just what I’m thinking of. The blue hair versus the red eyes is so ugly. Also, she’s a furry. Her outfit is so…

Ringo: Oh no, she’s hot. Red doesn’t go with blonde, though!

Doremy: What is… what is going on? First of all, she has a tail situation down there, and then she’s like… I think that’s a bubble gum bubble there. And then she’s got like a Santa hat on, even though she’s clearly not Santa. This is cultural appropriation. She’s got blue hair, which doesn’t go with literally anything she’s wearing. She has blue eyes, though - that goes.

Sagume: She looks like an angel, but she also looks like she’s gonna kill me. I don’t trust her. Her stupid red bow doesn’t go with her dress. She looks like she needs to calm down. Why do you have boots with a dress? She’s annoying.

Clownpiece: Weird patriot girl looks really annoying. She looks like an annoying straight girl who attends 4th of July parties. She’s waving around a sparkler.

Junko: Crazy-flowy hair girl looks hot. But her eyes and sleeves are lame. She’s really pale. REALLY pale. She looks like she’s a white as a sheet.

Hecatia: She’s hot. She’s just hot. I want her to crush me with her world-holding hands. I don’t know about her fashion sense, but it’s okay. I don’t know your punk things, but whatever floats your boat. But she has a third world on her head or something.

Eternity: I don’t like fairies. I never have. She looks especially dumb. She has like a bowl cut. She’s got a weird thing coming out of her head. Can you just not show me this again? She’s gross and ugly.

Nemuno: Cleaver girl seriously needs to calm down. Her dress is like… teared. She has a scarf that’s all over here or something. The question is her sleeves. They aren’t connected to anything. Maybe she’s coming them up with magic. At least she’s aesthetic.

Aunn: Uh, she’s pretty cute, but like she has a Hawaiian shirt-looking thing going on. Also, she’s got a horn thing. I think multiple horns. That’s cool, I guess. If she wants to stick up my ass, that’s perfectly fine with me. Her hair is weirdly curly.

Narumi: That’s snow-hat girl. I know that she tries to kill you, so I’m kind of skeptical.

Satono: Stupid pink girl. Ugly shade of pink, no fashion sense. Is that a maid outfit? It’s ugly. She has like a bean bag on her head, too.

Mai: Slightly less annoying clone of the pink one. I feel like she will actually run you through with that bamboo.

Okina: She looks like a mommy. I don’t care if she tries to kill me. Okay, but why is she wearing a Mickey Mouse hat? That’s so weird. And she has this weird fire but I thought her thing is doors. Her clothes are kinda dumb, so…  whatever.

Sumireko: She’s got like, Pagan symbols on her cloak, which scares me. She has knobby knees. She has too-high socks for like what’s going on; if you wear socks, you have to wear pants that cover them, or with a dress long enough that cover them. She looks like a cheapskate magician.

[ian-the-existential-crisis]

Fairly Lost

A cross post and probably the worst story ever AO3 FF

Frustrated, Prince Ranmaru slammed his bedroom door shut. He kicked off his nice shiny boots, sending one flying across the room. He was almost old enough to succeed his father and take the throne, but yet again his old man had forced him away from a negotiations meeting. Apparently, the last time he and Premafrost's prince, Camus met they had done nothing but argue, which but a small bit of tense on the alliance they were trying to form. It wasn't like it was Ranmaru's fault. He didn't want to listen for hours on end how he should be more princely.

There was no way he was going to listen to that guy. That guy with his piercing blue stare, his light frost-like skin, and long blonde hair. He was like walking perfection. And people who were perfect would never- no, could never understand people who weren't perfect.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he had been kicked out of the meeting. Sure he was mad, he had every right to be in that room knowing what was going to happen to his country. But at the same time, this gave him a chance at freedom. He could seldom slip away from the palace to venture into the great city of Tokyo that his father ruled over with an iron fist.

So he shifted off his royal attire and slipped into something less conspicuous. One last glance back at his door, to make sure completely alone before he bent down a retrieving a small metal box from under his bed. The tattered jeans and black shirt were nothing for a maid or other servant to worry about. More often than not he would wear jeans and a tee-shirt around the castle when he knew there would be no unwanted guests. But this box was something different entirely. The contents of it were only two things. A silver wig and a single purple contact. Now if he were ever caught and asked about it, he would claim that having only one purple eye was cool, but in truth the first time he had left the palace after getting these necessary items, he had lost one. He had only been a child of the age of ten and two at that point. But it didn't matter, as long as he had the silver wig to hide away his chocolate brown locks it was unlikely he would be discovered.

He slipped the contact into place, adding color to his right eye, and wig under his arm. That could wait until he was out of the small hole in the wall. The hole that was hidden by the thorny rosebush. The plant that he always managed to scratch himself on. But what were a few scratches compared to seeing the people of Tokyo? To be among them, not as their prince, but as another person. When he was out there he was just another commoner. One day he would rule over Tokyo in his father's stead, so he should know how those people lived. It was his duty to make sure that he was doing what was right for his people.

Or so he told himself. Sure that was probably a big part of it. But the smaller part of him just wanted to be free of the chains that came with being royalty. For him, his home was a cage with an open door. But at the same time, he was a bird with clipped wings. There was always the option of leaving through the front gates, but then he would just be Prince Ranmaru Kurosaki.

If there was one sight that Ranmaru loved to see it would have to be the cherry blossoms. He loved walking among the untamed cherry trees, watching their petals fly through the air like pink snow. It seemed like they could stretch on forever. It wasn't too far from the palace that a grove of them grew. But like all good things, after a while the cherry trees became sparse and dark oak filled in, leading to the northern forest that separated Tokyo from Premafrost. He had heard that the dark oak went on for miles and miles, days and day until it reached a grove of Mimosa trees. But on the other side was snowy, and the home of the cold but beautiful Silk Palace. He guessed that they only called it the silk palace because of the beautiful silk trees that kept them safe from the dark woods.

Ranmaru had never been there, but he talked to commoners who travel between the bordering countries for work. The Silk Palace stood tall, taller than his own palace, like a giant white icicle. Or so the travelers claimed. He doubted he would ever go there.

"Young man." Someone behind him called.

His breath caught in his throat as he turned. To his surprise, he turned to see a familiar redhead with browned skin. He couldn't help the small, almost non-existent, grin that began to spread across his face. "Saotome."

Shining Saotome was one traveler that he talked to. The older man as an ailing wife and two young children. He, more often than no, took his merchandise over to Premafrost to sell and left his oldest son to tend to his shop in Tokyo.

"What are you doing so far back in the cherry grove, boy?" He asked, hands holding woven baskets.

"I didn't realize how far back I was. Is there a problem?"

The older man just sighed heavily at him. "Don't your parents teach ya nothing? The dark oak patch houses this frightening evil spirit. Come on away from there before ya get yourself cursed."

An urban legend. The dark woods fairy was somewhat well known. According to people from both Premafrost and Tokyo that once the silk or cherry trees grow sparse there is a figure that lurks in the darkness of the oak trees.

"I don't believe in that kind of thing." He sniffed at the air, moving away from the dark woods and making his way next to the man. "Then what are you doing here?"

Saotome stiffened. "I was on my way back home when I thought that it would be nice to see the blossoms."

They turned and walked away, talking about Saotome's travels, what he had sold, and various other stupid did glance back behind him as they left. He didn't believe in a mythical being just living in those woods. So he had no trouble walking away, leaving both the cherry trees and the urban legend behind in favor of something that was real. Something that mattered.

"So you don't believe in me?"

Those words had Ranmaru bolting up. He had yet again fallen asleep at his desk. As a prince, he had many duties to attend to, especially after vanishing for the better part of the day. Honestly speaking, he was the kind of person who could fall asleep anywhere, because he did so when he had the chance. So at first, he thought those words were probably part of a dream that he was having. But as he rubbed his half-lidded eyes, he noticed he wasn't the only one in his room.

Sitting in the bay window sat a pale, so pale he was almost translucent, man. His bright shoulder length cyan hair reflecting the moon's glow making it seem brighter than it already was. If he were wearing shoes, he would have been dressed from head to toe in white.

Ranmaru's eyes widened. How in the world had he gotten in? His window was on the second floor, and he had pulled the rope he used to escape back up into his room, stashing it as far back in his closet as he could get. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

The male tilted his head. "I am Ai." Was all he said.

"Ai? Okay, but who are you?"

"I am Ai."

Searching for anything he could use as a weapon, Ranmaru asked. "Okay... What are you?" Since asking who was getting him nowhere.

"I am the fairy of the dark woods."

The brown haired prince frowned. "Oh, I get it. This is some kind of big joke, isn't it? Look, I don't know how you figured out who I am, and I don't care, but you have ten seconds to leave before I call the guards."

"You won't call the guards." He sounded so sure of himself.

"What makes you think that?"

"If you truly intended to have them come and get me, you won't have asked who I was twice. In fact, you should have called them the moment you realized I was in here with you but didn't."

"Well, that was..."

"You thought you were dreaming." Ai, or so he claimed to be, finished for him. "I can assure you, this is not a dream."

Ranmaru's brow furrowed. "Then why are you here? Just to prove me wrong."

"... No."

"Then why?"

"I wanted you to believe in me." He said, shifting. "I know it's illogical to believe in something you have been old is a myth."

"Then why ask?"

He didn't answer. He just sat there watching the prince with cyan blue eyes as he waited for the prince to do something, anything. However, Ranmaru did nothing. He simply waited for the 'fairy' to do something and fell asleep in the process. When he woke up the next morning Ai was gone, the window was firmly shut. As if nothing had happened.

However, he knew that it did.

One occasion wasn't enough to make Ranmaru believe. But two months straight was another story. And sometimes Ai didn't even wait until he was asleep, he climbed through the window. There would be times, in the middle of the day, that he just appear in the prince's room.

"What do you want from me?" Ranmaru shouted at him.

"I enjoy watching you." He said. "I have never been able to watch a human so closely before."

"You say that as if you weren't human."

"I am not." He nodded. "I am what you humans call a fairy."

"And what is a fairy?"

"I do not know."

Ranmaru frowned. He was saying that he was something but didn't know what he was. How could he not know what he was? "So you don't know what you are?"

"I know what I am called. Is that not enough?"

"I guess maybe if you're an idiot." He huffed. "You're probably just a lost little kid that have been lost in those woods. I knew there was no such thing as a fairy haunting those woods."

"If that is what you believe." Ai frowned. He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Ranmaru scrambled for him, barely catching his arm. "Maybe you should just stay here. I'm sure we can find your family."

"What makes you so sure I have a family to find?"

"Because you're just a lost kid. And it's my duty as Prince of Tokyo to help you."

"If that's what you think."

"Don't worry." Ranmaru pulled him into a hug. His silver eyes glancing around the room. "Until I find your family I will stay with you."

"I don't understand your desire to help me. You don't even know if I have a family."

The prince pushed him away. His face reddened, whether it be from the embarrassing thing he was going to say or the anger he felt that was evident in his voice as he yelled. "Then I will aways stay with you!"