#Icepick to the moon
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#Fred Lane#Icepick to the moon#LP#Vinyl#Genius#Fred Lane and his Disheveled Monkeybiters#2019#Feeding Tube Records
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rain showers from the cozy autumn prompts? either for sea slugs or enthralling you enthralling me? - @clxckwork-sun-n-moon
GREY DAYS
Featuring @scarredlove's sea slug boys. <3
Wordcount: 3050
Grey. It dominated the mid-autumn skies, blotting out the sun with thick storm clouds and drizzly rain. You were home alone, hunkered under a thick blanket, still in your pajamas. You’d felt little urgency to get dressed since, according to the weather forecast, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. It wouldn’t be so bad if it hadn’t been like this for the past two days now. The monotony was getting to you.
Going over to your window, you pried the window open. A misting of rain carried on a light breeze was there to greet you. You closed your eyes and called out with your heart, picturing him in your mind’s eye before calling out his name.
“Sun? I’d really like to see you.”
Moon would likely be asleep, and Eclipse was always touch and go. Sun was typically the safest be, especially during the daytime. You waited for a minute or so, staring out into the gloom as raindrops misted across your front. Pretty soon you were starting to shiver from the chill.
You shut the window, leaving it open just a crack before moving towards your bed, intent on burrowing under your blankets until you warm up again. The squeak of sliding wood announced an arrival at your window. Your head whipped around, expecting to see a flourish of bright reds and yellows akin to a summer’s dawn. Instead, you were met with dusky maroons and pale gold across a backdrop of inky black.
“Oh… hey,” you greeted lamely.
Gold eyes surveyed you as Eclipse cocked his head to the side, the frills around his face twitching in what might have been irritation. “I wasn’t aware my company was that big of a disappointment.”
“No, not at all,” you said hurriedly. “I was just…”
You were cut off as Eclipse’s huge hand grasped the top of your head and playfully tousled your hair. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. Don’t be so uptight.”
“To be fair, it’s hard to tell you’re joking when you look like you’re about to bite my face off,” you muttered.
Eclipse’s fingers grasped around your jaw and bent down so that his sharp smile was gleaming inches from your face. “I’ll only bite if you ask me to,” he said in a husky whisper that rolled through you with the force of an undertow threatening to pull you under.
His low chuckle made you huff petulantly in the face of his antics. He wanted a reaction, and he got it. So, you wrapped your arms around him and bit into his shoulder. A low hiss sounded next to your ear, not of pain, but of surprise.
“I see someone is feeling spritely today.” Amusement highlighted the otherwise dark tones dancing in your ears like a comforting melody. You gasped as you felt teeth dig into your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but firm enough to send a spark of thrill and contentment curling in your gut.
“I thought you said only if I asked,” you murmured teasingly.
“You didn’t need to use words for me to know, Angelfish.” His voice caressed your ear, his mouth ghosting over the sensitive flesh, making your skin heat.
Still, you wanted a reaction and you’d gotten it. You’d take the win. “So, where’s Sun?”
Eclipse drew away enough to meet your gaze. “Sunny sends his regards, but he isn’t feeling well. So I came in his stead.”
Concern pricked at your heart like an icepick. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be just fine,” Eclipse assured, his hand smoothing down over your hair to fix what he’d mussed. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you said brightly. “Today’s been… fine.”
Eclipse squinted at you. “Just ‘fine’?”
“Yeah, maybe a little lonely. Bit of cabin fever building up.”
“I can certainly help with that. If you think I make an adequate substitute,” Eclipse remarked wryly.
“I suppose I can suffer your company for a bit,” you returned with a grin.
“Shall I steal you away then?”
“You’re gonna have to catch me first.”
Eclipse’s eyes widened in surprise as you bolted to the door and fled the bedroom. At first, you didn’t think he was following you until you glanced over your shoulder and squeaked out an ‘oh shit’. The slug was surprisingly fast out of the water, and his flowing robes made it look like he was gliding across the floor like it was ice. You scrambled down the stairs three at a time, landing awkwardly but managing to avoid turning an ankle. Even with your efforts, you were barely keeping ahead, turning a corner just in time as Eclipse’s claws swiped for you.
Your downfall came when you fled to the living room, your foot sliding out from underneath you when you stepped on a pile of magazines your cousin had left lying on the floor. A yelp of surprise left you, but before you crashed into the wall, a pair of hands caught you, one cradling your head while the other was secured around your waist. Chest puffing, you stared up at Eclipse whose face was pinched up with concern.
“Thanks for that,” you mumbled.
“Don’t thank me just yet,” he murmured, and you were helplessly lowered down onto the carpeted floor. “I’m still debating what to do with you, now that I’ve caught you.”
The words sent a shiver of delight rolling up your spine, causing you to squirm beneath him. In a single motion, Eclipse pinned both wrists above your head, securing them with a single hand while the other tapped a finger against your cheek. Your heart, already accelerated from the chase, went in twofold from the action. You struggled, more experimental than an actual bid for escape, your body pushing and pressing against the constraints that were his body and his hands. The motion seemed to excite him, and you couldn’t help but grin. Eclipse may be the ‘big’ brother, but he was still the baby. He liked having attention just as much as Sun and Moon, even if he was sometimes brusque about it.
“I’m still up for you stealing me away,” you said. Not that you were bothered by the positioning, but the floor was starting to become just a touch uncomfortable.
Eclipse seemed to sense this, as he relinquished pinning you in favor of scooping you up off the floor. “Let’s be off then.”
“Wait, I should probably change,” you suggested.
“There’s a change of clothes waiting for you there,” he told you. “From your last visit.”
“Oh, I was wondering where those went…”
Eclipse kissed your forehead, and you were quick to slide into unconsciousness. When you next awoke, you were in their sea cave, their home. Eclipse said it was a way to expedite travel but… you wondered if it was because they wanted to keep the location of their home a secret, even from you. Which… fair. Everyone was entitled to have a secret or two.
However, it wasn’t Eclipse whom you awoke to, but surprisingly Moon instead who had curled around you a cradled you in the folds of his cloak while you slept. “Hello, sea star,” he greeted with a wide grin.
“Ah, I got ditched,” you said with a mock sigh. “Tell Eclipse my heart is broken beyond repair, and I shant ever recover.”
Moon snickered. “He said he was sorry, but he wanted to look after Sun.”
“Is Sun going to be alright?” you asked.
“Just a stomach ache. Ate something he shouldn’t have. I’d take you to see him but he gets extra cranky on rainy days.”
“And he won’t get cranky knowing you’re hogging me to yourself tonight?”
“He’ll live.”
The cave had been strung with lanterns that glowed a soft sepia, and a woodfire housed in a circle of stones crackled merrily, providing warmth against the otherwise wet and chilly weather.
“Did you do all this?” you asked Moon in surprise.
“Most of it,” he said with a shy smile. “The others helped some.”
You sidled up to the fire to help dry you off. You were always soaking wet whenever they brought you to their home, so you at least suspected that they took you underwater through the ocean to get there.
“Moon, when you bring me here how do you… I mean how do I…” You paused, trying to figure out how to word your question.
He seemed to figure out what you were gunning for. “Breath spell,” he said simply. “Allows humans to breathe underwater for a time.”
“Wow, that’s incredible and super useful,” you murmured.
It didn’t escape your notice that Moon was keeping a respectful distance from the fire. Probably afraid of drying out or his robes catching aflame. Moon once told you that it was their robes that allowed them to come and go from the sea, and should anything happen to them, they would be stuck on land forever, cut off from the sea, from their home. Thus, they safeguarded them and hardly ever took them off.
Once you were mostly dry and your clothes only slightly damp, you shuffled over to Moon who had been fidgeting restlessly as he waited for you. He happily invited you into his space, pulling you back into the crook of his lap.
“Missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling your ear.
“Missed you too, Moonie.” You bit your lip when you felt his teeth gently bite and nibble along your neck, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss over the skin.
“The sea salt tastes so good when it’s on you,” he purred.
“You always were the biter out of the three,” you remarked with a soft chuckle.
Back when they were just little slugs living in your aquarium, you used to stick your hand in the water and wait for them to swim close enough to touch. Moon was almost always the first to approach, and he would weave himself between your fingers and nibble on the tips. You found rubbing a spot just under his ‘chin’ caused him to lazily spin, allowing you to run your finger along the length of his body.
“You never seemed to mind,” Moon murmured, nuzzling against your neck.
“I didn’t,” you answered honestly.
With a mischievous grin, Moon took one of your hands and brought it towards his mouth. Your cheeks heated and your heart skipped when he took one of your fingers into his mouth and softly bit. It was a little unnerving, having your fingers in between teeth that looked like they could serrate through a cinder block. However, you trusted that Moon wouldn’t do something so vicious as to bite off your fingers. He was always sweet and gentle, even if he had a bit of an impish streak.
“I’d like to go swimming with you sometime.” The statement was more a request than anything.
“Mm, sounds like fun,” Moon chuckled. “I can chase you through the seaweed beds and kelps forests.”
“Not sure how much of a chase it’ll be considering you boys can easily outswim me,” you remarked with a laugh. “But yeah, I’d love that.” You reached under his chin and gave it a soft scritch.
Moon’s eyes dilated and he let loose a rumbling purr, flipping onto his back with you on top. You squeaked in surprise and he grinned up at you. “Do that again.”
—
At some point, during your cuddles with Moon, you passed out again. You hadn’t meant to, but whenever he started humming at doing his light show, you couldn’t help it. Considering you had a touch of insomnia the night before, the added sleep was nice and left you feeling more refreshed. Even though you didn’t hear the rain anymore, the low rumblings of thunder still reached your ears. Opening your eyes, you found that once more your partners had changed during your time in snoozeville.
“Did you have a nice nap?” a warm voice asked.
You lifted your head to find you’d been making a pillow of Sun’s lap. His long fingers were stroking through your hair, threatening to lull you back into a dozing state. The fire Moon built had burned down, leaving only smoldering embers desperate to hang on and stay alight. Judging by how dark the sky was, it was nearing the evening time. Just before Sun was usually due to start winding down in his activities.
“How are you?” you asked, your concern resurfacing. “They told me you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m doing better,” he said softly. Though looking at him, he definitely seemed off. His colors were far less lustrous than usual, and his eyes typically gleamed so brightly were dim. But he smiled that sweet smile at you. “Besides, I couldn’t let those brutes have you all to themselves. Do you like your gift, by the way?”
“My…” The question trailed off when you noticed that something dangled from your wrist that wasn’t there before. You stared in amazement as you found a chain of sea shells, pearls, and a sea star glimmering around your wrist, threaded by an elastic band.
“Did you make this?” you asked in astonishment.
“Yes,” Sun said proudly. “It took me a bit, but each piece of that is from a willing donor.”
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” you said, trying to find better words but failing miserably. “I love it.”
“I’m glad… and I’m sorry,” Sun murmured. “I wanted to see you. I just… didn’t want you to see me so…” He hummed, absently brushing a hand over the array of appendages surrounding his face. “I’m supposed to be your Sun. Your little ray of happiness, even when things are at their darkest.”
“Sun…” You reached out a hand but stopped. You grabbed your water bottle, spraying the water over your hands to clean them. “May I touch you?”
A faint smile passed over Sun’s mouth as he reached his hands out your clasp yours. “My precious pearl is so very thoughtful.”
You gently squeeze his long fingers. “It’s okay to have an off day. I have them all the time. You’ve helped me through a lot of them. So, I’ll gladly help you through yours.”
Sun effortlessly pulled you into his lap, enveloping you in soft folds of butter yellow and cherry red. He took one of your hands and brought them to one of his rays. “You can feel them… if you like.”
You carefully brushed your fingers over the delicate appendage, and it twitched against your touch. The texture was incredibly sleek and smooth and the more attention you gave it, you could hear a rumbling purr building within Sun’s chest. His large hands combed over your hair, rubbed over your back and brushed over the exposed skin of your arms and legs.
The explorative touches made you smile, once more thinking about Sun’s tank days. You had learned fairly quickly that you had to let Sun come to you, to let him be touched how he wanted. Then, once he felt like he was dominating the situation, he wouldn’t stop brushing and nuzzling your hand until you pulled it out of the tank and he would wriggle in his sluggy form of an indignant pout. Not a whole lot has changed on that front, but lately, Sun was getting better about letting you touch him. So long as your hands were clean first and you gave him fair warning. As for him, well… you basically gave him permission to touch as much as he pleased, so long as he was willing to back off when you became uncomfortable.
You shivered when his cool fingers snuck beneath the hem of your shirt, pressing over the curve of your stomach and the arch of your back. “You’re so warm,” he mrumured, his purrs thrumming through your body. You were turning into putty between his fingers as they fondled and caressed you in their gentle exploration. His hand splayed over the bare skin of your back as he hugged you flush against him. Your heart knocked loudly in your ribcage as you felt like you might disappear amongst the swaths of color that surrounded you.
“S-Sun…” You bit back a groan as his fingers gently pressed into your taut back muscles. As much as you wanted him to do it again, you weren’t quite ready for him to go any farther. “That’s a bit much.”
Sun hummed his disappointment, but his hands slipped out from beneath your shirt. “Apologies,” he said, keeping his hands busy by cradling your face. “I got a bit enthusiastic there.”
“I love your enthusiasm,” you told him, smiling in reassurance. Leaning up, you gave him a soft peck on his cheek.
The rays around his face twitched and almost seemed to curl towards you. Those eyes, they were gleaming again. So bright and endless, like the sea. You could swim in those eyes. Or drown in them. Titling your head back, Sun pressed his lips to yours. His usual eagerness was absent, instead chose to slowly savor your kiss. It wasn’t long before you felt that drunken giddiness and your hands grasped at the air, only for Sun to catch your hand in his and hold fast to you, keeping you from sinking too far too fast.
Your whole world tilted, and when your mouth was at last relinquished, you found Sun lying back on the sand with you lying atop his chest. “I’m tired,” he murmured.
“That’s okay,” you said, relaxing against him. “I’ll stay if you want.”
His fingers raked through your hair before rubbing lazy circles over your back. “I’d like that very much, pearl.”
The two of you lay there, just soaking up each other’s presence. Occasionally Sun would say something, and you would answer, but you knew it was just him trying to keep you entertained when he didn’t need to. You didn’t mind at all when he dozed off, trapping you in the folds of his arms in the process. So much for that change of clothes.
As you lay there, you started to sing the ‘rain, rain, go away song’. Sun’s arms hugged you closer, a content sigh humming through him and through you, eliciting visions of sunlight rippling through water. Reminding you both that no matter how grey the days were, the sun would shine again.
#fnaf sundrop#fnaf moondrop#sun x y/n#sun x reader#moon x y/n#moon x reader#eclipse x y/n#eclipse x reader#sea slug au#justfangirlwritings#cw biting#cw suggestive
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Mordecai's smile
Mordecai has a large fake "smile" which he uses for intimidation which he calls "The Icepick Look"
Other than this he very rarely shows any emotion, staying largely stoic which is only broken with occasional looks of contempt, confusion, annoyance etc
But once in a blue moon we do see his genuine smile. It couldn't be more different from The Icepick Look. Its very small and subtle which makes it all the more sincere because of it
Naturally it is spared for private moments or for those people who really matter to him
#lackadaisy#tracy j butler#mordecai heller#lackadaisycats#viktor vasko#vikdecai#rose heller#esther heller#siblings
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Before it Gets Better
Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic
Summary: Kerry returns home with an unexpected visitor, but what he finds he did not expect.
(Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 12/?, 6748 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end)
>> Previous Chapter
>> Read from the Beginning
V was ripped from a dreamless sleep, coughing and choking, sputtering a red cloud across his pillow. He scrambled to sit up, his throat tight and scratchy. Fingers clawing into the mattress he tried to take slow, deep breaths to suppress the coughing, but his chest hurt like he‘d been stabbed, his heart was racing. An icepick through his optics would‘ve been more comfortable than the headache leaving his vision blurry and riddled with glitches. Trying to regain his breath, orient himself in the room, all he could make out through the blinding pain were the dark red stains on the bedsheet and pillow, blood trickling down the back of this throat as he continued to gasp for air. Even though he was sitting he could barely keep himself upright, growing increasingly lightheaded.
“Kerry?” he croaked, but no response. Slowly he crawled across Kerry‘s empty side of the bed. Every inch of movement was a challenge. He squinted against the bright golden light of the setting sun reflected in the shiny surfaces of their furniture and walls, his call for Kerry still lingering unanswered, mixed with a hint of iron. Shakily V put his bare feet on the ground, pushed himself upright. Dizzy from pain he stumbled towards the gallery railing for support, fingers almost losing grip on the polished steel right then and there.
“Kerry?” he called again, hot blood streaming across his lips and chin, dripping on his chest and onto the floor.
“Fuck…”
Vik’s injectors… Not that they would help much anymore if he died of a hemorrhage within the next minute.
Just… breathe…
The plastic bag was still on the kitchen counter downstairs, and V cursed himself for not taking it with him earlier. He clung to the rail, peered down into the living room. Nibbles was sleeping on the sofa, but Kerry was nowhere to be seen.
Kerry, fuck… I need you…
Not by choice, but solely because he couldn’t physically move faster without passing out, he dragged himself forward along the cold metal railing, barely able to stand without the support. The whole house spun around V as he shakily walked down the stairs, moving automatically rather than consciously. Step by step, slipping and sliding further. He wasn‘t sure how long it took him, how he even made it all the way… but when he arrived at the foot of the stairs, in his condition, the bag with the injectors might as well have been on the moon. He shivered, heart hammering against his sternum. Once more he hoped that Kerry would appear around the corner any moment, to catch him, guide him the rest of the way… But it seemed that V would have to make it alone somehow if he wanted to make it.
Shakily he let go of the rail, his head pounding, edges of his vision darkening further. He didn’t remember how, but somehow, he crossed the distance, chest harshly slumping against the counter. Briefly he was jolted wide awake enough to slip a finger through the bag‘s loops, but then his legs gave in. He slid to the ground, harshly slamming his knee and elbow on the hardwood flooring. Burning pain shot through his broken wrist, he winced, but instead of groaning or screaming he only coughed and spat out more blood. Dark splotches blurred his vision further, his head grew heavy. Half-blinded he fumbled for the bag by his side, where it had clattered to the ground with him. Fingers locked around a fresh injector. His head fell back onto the hard, cool floor. With his breath rattling, V slammed the piece of plastic, metal, and needles against his bare chest, pressing hard and hoping that, if this did not save him anymore, it would at least ease the pain and just let him drift off into darkness peacefully.
His hand fell to the side, numbing warmth washing over him, rushing to his toes and fingertips, and he heard the faint rumble of the elevator being set in motion just as his vision faded.
“…you fuckin’ do this to me again! V, please, can you hear me?”
Kerry’s voice seemed to come from miles away, but the pain in his words was like a punch in the chest. Or it was the lingering sensation of the injector needle, or both.
“Don’t just fuckin’ stand there like a gonk, make yourself useful! Get me a blanket and, fuck, dunno… do somethin‘!”
V’s eyelids might as well have been glued shut, they were so heavy. He managed to catch only the tiniest glimpse of a figure rushing by behind Kerry. Kerry himself was kneeling right by his side, had one hand under V’s head for support, the other on his chest. V wanted to move or say something, but his body was paralyzed. The meds hadn’t fully kicked in yet, his head was pounding still. He couldn’t have been unconscious for long. That at least was a tiny silver lining.
“Here,” the other person Kerry was ordering around said as he returned, and V recognized his voice as Lee’s now. Kerry took the blanket they kept on the sofa from Lee, not letting go of V’s head though. He carefully, loosely put it over him, tucked it under him as best as he managed, and V noticed his fingers shaking as he brushed against his bare skin.
“Should I… call Trauma Team?” Lee asked quietly.
“This isn’t somethin’ they can help with…” Kerry said hoarsely.
“Oh, okay… Um, should I, dunno…”
“Can you just get the fuck off my back for a sec?” Kerry barked and V heard Lee shuffle away towards the other side of the kitchen. Then a soft touch to his left cheek, a thumb calloused by guitar strings for decades brushing across his cheekbone.
“V?” his voice was so quiet, so brittle compared to just seconds ago.
“Can ya hear me? Can ya… move, gimme a sign?”
It took all his willpower, the little remaining strength still in his body, but V managed only just to crack open his eyes again, and this time Kerry saw it.
“Oh thank fuck… okay, okay…” he sighed with immense relieve, voice shaky. He sunk down until his forehead came to a rest on V’s chest, one hand still at his face, the other searching V’s right hand. Like this he stayed, breathing deeply, holding on to V as if he was the only thing that would keep him afloat, safe from drowning. V wasn’t sure for how long, maybe five, ten minutes, maybe longer, or maybe not all that long. Slowly, surely his senses grew clearer again, and his headache became bearable.
“’n I’m the workaholic, huh?” was the first best thing he managed to utter hoarsely in an attempt to ease the tension. He opened his eyes and instantly met Kerry’s, in the same moment looking up at him. Kerry sat up slowly, his brow was deeply furrowed. Once more he stroked V’s cheek.
“Can you get up? Wanna get you to the sofa, off the floor…” he said, quietly and clearly unsure what to make of V’s remark. V was too weak to explain and also didn‘t want to risk another argument.
“Might need some help…”
“Okay, hold on to me.”
V tried to reach up to put his arm around Kerry’s shoulders, but even that he didn’t manage on his own. How pathetic of an image he must’ve presented. But there was no hint of pity in Kerry’s face, only worry. V grabbed onto Kerry’s jacket as tightly as he could, and despite his muddled state, under his palm he noticed a thin, rough layer of dust clinging to the leather.
Kerry pulled him to his feet, slowly, their movements matching each other as if they’d choreographed this… and in a way they had. V had long lost count of how many times Kerry had pulled him back to his feet again in the last few months. Literally as well as metaphorically.
Yes, Kerry was scared to lose him, he’d made that pretty clear… and at the same time V knew he wouldn’t be here anymore without Kerry, without someone waiting for him at home, putting so much more trust and support into him than he deserved. V was just as scared of going under, losing his rock, his bastion of calm in this storm… but more so because he was slowly but surely eroding him away with a constant stream of worry, stress, and pain.
“Alright, I gotcha,” Kerry whispered with some strain, then carefully but as quickly and directly as he managed guided him over to the couch. V’s steps were still unsure, and he groaned as he sunk onto the seat, clinging to the blanket still loosely wrapped around his shoulders. His muscles were aching and only now he realized that he was shaking, freezing actually.
“I’ll get ya some clothes, just sit tight here for a sec, alright?” Kerry said, pressing a quick kiss on V’s forehead, another stab to his heart, “Need anything else? Painkillers, water?”
“Water sounds good,” V said, words rough and feeling strange in his own mouth.
“Okay,” Kerry briefly squeezed his healthy hand, then straightened up and walked back towards the kitchen.
“Drinking glasses behind you,” he instructed Lee as he passed him by, quickly and vaguely pointing at the cupboards, “Water’s in the fridge.”
Then he jogged upstairs. V slowly, carefully turned his head, trying to process still what had just happened. Then his gaze briefly met with Lee’s, who seemed just as confused. He was standing in the kitchen, staring like a deer in headlights, then quickly turned on the spot and rummaged through their cupboards. A slight thud right next to V drew his attention away from the kitchen for a moment and to Nibbles, who had just jumped on the sofa. She brushed against him, purring loudly, and looked up at him with her huge green eyes.
“Hey girl… what’s goin’ on, huh?” V said weakly, but he was shaking too hard now to reach out and pet her. Even his teeth were chattering… He hadn’t been this miserable earlier at Vik’s. But it was a fierce drug cocktail he’d injected, likely not without its occasional side effects.
The fridge door opened then closed again, and V turned back to Lee as Nibbles got comfortable on the sofa beside him. Even from a distance and even half-blinded by pain still he could see that Lee was shaking too, as he filled the glass almost to the brim. Only reluctantly he walked over to V, keeping the coffee table between them. He sat the glass down and took half a step back again.
“Thanks,” V said quietly, but kept the blanket wrapped around him. Lee avoided to look at him. V could taste the blood on his lips still, feel it pull at the skin around his nose where it dried. He probably looked like absolute shit.
“C’mon, in my state I’m not gonna be able to do anything to you. Even if I wanted to,” he then said, trying to get Lee to relax… not entirely without ulterior motives, because their penthouse was the last place Kerry would bring his manager to without a very good reason. Why was he here? Where had Kerry let‘s-just-spend-the-rest-of-the-day-on-the-sofa Eurodyne disappeared to while V had been asleep?
Lee cleared his throat and shifted slightly where he stood.
“Sit down, you’re makin’ me nervous,” V ordered, and after a moment of hesitation, weighing the pros and cons in his head for sure, Lee sat down on an armchair nearby. They were at eye level now, but Lee still avoided his gaze. But that gave V the chance to get a closer look at him in return. His hair was somewhat disheveled, and what V had mistaken as an unusual hint of stubble at first was dirt along Lee’s jawline and neck. His white leather boots were tinted orange, as were the seams of his sleeves and his knees and shins. Overall, he appeared shaken, more so than usually… And all that, plus the dust on Kerry’s jacket, painted wild scenarios in V’s head that he couldn’t quite place into a bigger context yet.
“Can’t you, like…” Lee mumbled, “With your hacking and such… basically kill people just with your thoughts?”
He then looked up at V wide-eyed, like prey that knew it was going to die but also had no means to get out of its dire situation anymore.
“It’s not quite as simple, but technically… yeah.”
Lee immediately looked back down to his lap, where he had his fingers tightly intertwined, resting on his thighs.
“Do you need to, like…” he then continued to stammer, barely audible, “Look the person in the eyes, or just, roughly know where they are in a room? How does it work?”
V sighed.
“Lee, if I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be sitting here anymore.”
Lee laughed nervously, gulped, and briefly looked up at V, then away again.
Right as V began to wonder where Kerry had disappeared to, he heard him coming back down the stairs. He carried some clothes flung over his left arm, in his right hand he held a clean wet towel. He walked straight past Lee and paid him no mind whatsoever, instead returned his full attention to V. Putting the clothes down on the sofa first, then giving Nibbles a short pat, he eventually knelt down in front of V.
“I thought, maybe clean up a bit first before gettin’ dressed…” he said and held out the towel in an offering manner. V’s eyes had been following Kerry’s movements, only now they found his face again – and he froze when he noticed his eyeliner slightly smudged, his eyelids reddish and a little swollen. Just slightly, and right now he was gently smiling, as if nothing was wrong. But V could tell that he was hurting so much and tried not to let it show, and that in return hurt V to no end. He wondered if it was because Lee was here, or if Kerry felt like he had to be strong for both of them right now.
“Kerry…” V mouthed, his throat too tight to produce sounds. Kerry flashed a short smile, shook his head only just enough so V would see it. Then he carefully dabbed the warm, soaked towel against V’s face to get rid of the blood.
“Gotta get you checked out…” he said overplaying his sadness, the white towel progressively turning redder as he slowly worked away, “By Vik, or better, at the MedCenter. That wasn’t just a lil’ nosebleed.”
V held still, focusing on the warmth of the towel, the movement of Kerry’s eyes, his other hand gently stabilizing V’s head, fingertips caressing his face. And the slight resignation in his voice…
“MedCenter sounds like a plan,” V then said, automatically again almost, causing Kerry to freeze for a moment, stare at him with mild surprise. But then he smiled, more genuinely than before, and continued to gently dab the dried blood.
“Okay, good,” he said, “Want me to give Dr. Fuentes a call before, or…”
“I’ll do it myself,” V promised. Kerry finished by wiping the towel across V’s mouth, then his chest, then leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips before putting it down on the coffee table.
“Not quite good as new, but it’ll do,” he announced, and V laughed weakly. The tension in the air was still tangible though, as Kerry followed V’s gaze back to Lee, who still sat on the chair, hands folded and staring at his feet.
“What’s he doin’ here by the way?” V then asked, no longer able to ignore the elephant in the room, “And where were you?”
Now Kerry avoided to look at him, bit his bottom lip and sighed, but his hands resting on V’s lap now also briefly clenched, curled into fists. He shrugged, and gestured at Lee, who stared at them both with wide eyes first and then over to the elevator. How subtle.
“Dunno, Lee, you wanna explain what happened?” Kerry asked, barely able to mask his annoyance and anger again now.
“Uh…” was all that Lee managed to utter, still petrified.
Kerry cocked his head, and when Lee didn’t manage to rediscover his voice, he turned to look back at V.
“Turns out, this little motherfucker is the one who swapped your pills.”
Lee audibly gasped and jumped up from his chair, hands raised in defense, before V had even fully registered the meaning of Kerry’s words.
“He what…” he said, his pulse gaining speed, then he turned to Lee, “You did what?”
“They… threatened me!” Lee stammered, and if V hadn’t been shaking too much to hold a glass of water, he would’ve long grabbed and punched the shit out of him. But then a shiver ran down his spine, and he turned back to Kerry.
“He tells you he works for Blue-Eyes and your first impulse is to bring him here? Into our home?”
Now Kerry flinched, visibly guilty.
“Hey, listen,” he defended himself, “My first impulse was to leave him to die in the desert – and I’m still tempted to take him back there, if I’m honest with ya.”
“No, please!” Lee whined and both Kerry and V instantly turned to look at him and in unison told him to “Shut up!”
There was a brief pause, their eyes met for a moment, V couldn’t help but grin and noticed Kerry’s cheeky smile as well. But then he turned serious again.
“Fuck it’s… a fuckin’ mess,” Kerry sighed. He got up to sit on the sofa next to V, Nibbles between them, to explain the whole story.
V listened intensely, from Kerry’s discovery on the security footage to paying Lee a visit (admitting his plan wasn’t as well thought-out as he’d liked it to be), down to their conversation in the desert and the return to Charter Hill.
“Dunno I… had a real bad gut feelin’ about just leaving him there,” Kerry said, “He downright admitted to everything, I think if Mr. Bastard figures out he told us…”
V nodded pensively, keeping a close eye on Lee who had sunken back into his chair again, appearing small and lost like a guilty child called to the principal’s office for the first time.
“How did these people get in contact with you for the first time?” he then asked, “And when?”
“It was the same night after I’d signed the contract with Kerry,” Lee said quietly, but without hesitation, and V nodded. That had also been the same day V had been contacted by Mr. B about the Crystal Palace heist.
“Got an unknown number call me, voice distorted, and they had… all this information on me, no idea how they got their hands on it,” Lee explained, “They told me I should get something from an apartment in a Megabuilding, everything would be ready to go as soon as I get there. Or they’d ruin me, if I didn’t do it.”
He looked up at V with watery eyes.
“I didn’t even know it was your place, didn’t even know who you were at the time. Only that you wouldn’t be home, and that I had to find a specific pill bottle. Take one pill, deliver it to a drop point with a specific code. And I thought that would be it.”
“But they came back, I take it, with more demands?” V asked, and Lee just nodded.
“I got to know you a few days later…” he stammered, “And they said, they wouldn’t only ruin my career, they’d put all the blame on me somehow and you’d kill me the second you figure it out.”
V leaned against the sofa’s backrest and closed his eyes for a couple of moments, still tightly wrapped in his blanket. He didn’t know Lee that well yet, but he’d dealt with enough professional liars in his life, and Lee simply didn’t strike him as one. Also, he had nothing to gain from making this up, or at least he also risked his life big time. For what, money? He earned ridiculously well as Kerry’s manager, his life already was more prestigious than those of 90% of NC’s citizens. Also, the details matched up, his fear was real. No matter how much he searched, V couldn’t think of a reason to distrust him, not believe him.
V could feel both Kerry’s and Lee’s eyes linger on him, waiting for him to deliver an answer, a solution that would magically make all their problems disappear. Admittedly, knowing with relative certainty now that neither Vik nor his trusted chemist, nor any other third party out of their reach was responsible for swapping V’s pills, that it had “only” been Lee, was a small relief. One thing to cross off of the to do list that was longer than the lifetime V had left.
But what good was it really to know the truth when in the grand scheme of things V was still dying, Lee had a bright glowing target on his back the moment he walked out the front door, and Mr. B’s true intentions were still unclear… and V and Kerry were continuously delivering him reasons now to silence them as well. He had put a certain amount of trust in them by inviting them to the lab, showing them his tech, and they’d declined to work with him – or rather, V had declined, Kerry had at least tried to convince him to reconsider.
Either way though, they were in the process of figuring out more and more of Mr. B’s secrets, and V was certain this man had his means and ways to stay in the loop on what they were up to. Whatever had been in these pills, V wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. B would notice if he no longer took them, at the very latest when Lee – or someone new – was tasked to swap them out the next time.
The hamster is running in his wheel again. Has he ever left it, I wonder…
“I need fresh air,” V just said and shakily good up from the sofa, Kerry jumping to his side instantly.
“Woah, careful,” he said, hand on V’s back.
“I’m good, really,” he replied, and quickly squeezed Kerry’s hand. He slid the blanket off his shoulders, let it drop to the floor, then grabbed the comfortable jogging pants and t-shirt Kerry had brought him earlier. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lee staring, then getting flustered and averting his gaze. V could almost feel the daggers shooting from Kerry’s eyes behind him, even if he said nothing, and V grinned.
He pulled the t-shirt over his head, then turned around. Since he had to pass Lee on the way to the balcony anyway, he made a point of walking up to him slowly, then he stopped right by his side. Lee froze, then sheepishly looked up at him. V waited, looked him in the eyes… and then grabbed his jaw as hard as he could, leaving Lee wincing and gasping.
“Don’t ever try to fuck with me or Kerry again, or I swear, you’re gonna wish he’d shot you in the desert,” V threatened, his voice calm but cutting as sharp and deep as the finest katana rolling from an Arasaka assembly line.
Lee stared at him wide-eyed, and when V let go of his face again, he just nodded firmly. Then V slowly continued his walk to the glass sliding door connecting the kitchen to the outside world.
With each step onto the balcony he took another deep breath as Night City was slowly engulfed by darkness… But simultaneously somehow it came back to life in a rainbow of a million neon lights. V stopped at the railing, still somewhat lightheaded, and just listened to the pulsating heart of the city for a few moments, taking in the smells and sights, as if he’d awoken from a too long sleep as well.
He rested his arms on the metal bar and let his head fall forward. He could still sense the strain of his headache, his arm and knee hurt from his fall.
Next one might kill ya for good, just sayin’. You gotta get your ass up and do somethin’.
The echo of Johnny’s voice lingered in his ears again, and V wasn’t surprised. It was almost as bad again as it had been that day Johnny took control and dragged him to the Pistis Sofia. V had been so angry, so scared, and even in hindsight still felt betrayed, no matter that Johnny had acted in his – their – own best interest. Sometimes he wondered, even though he was gone, somewhere behind the Blackwall now, if a piece of his mind didn’t maybe remain in V’s brain after all somehow. He still had many of Johnny’s more vivid memories, because they were V’s now as much as they’d been his first. Why not part of his personality as well, seeped from the Relic into the fibre of his being where not even Soulkiller could reach it? The thought terrified him, that the reason he was dying wasn’t even just his body not accepting his own personality anymore, but rather part of Johnny still being here and actively – even if unwillingly – fighting back against V too.
V, you gotta do somethin’. Promise, this isn’t one of those things that’s gotta get worse before it gets better.
“Fuck…”
V opened his eyes. He was sick to his stomach and needed another couple of minutes of just breathing in the cool evening air slowly and steadily for the nausea to fade to bearable levels. Only then he pulled up Dr. Fuentes number on the holo. In the corner of the interface the time read 6.56 pm, so not awfully late for a spontaneous call, he hoped. He took another deep breath, then it started ringing.
“Fuentes?” was the firm response on the other end of the line just a few seconds later. But V hesitated.
“Hello?” Fuentes asked after a short pause.
Only the memory of Kerry’s teary eyes managed to remove the knot from his tongue.
“This is V,” he said briefly, not really sure how to even start, “I… wanted to apologize for turning your offer down so harshly the other day.”
Now Fuentes remained silent. Her holocall avatar was a plain logo of the Little China MedCenter with her name beneath it, “Dr. Isabella Fuentes” in sleek letters.
“No need to apologize,” she then said, voice calm and professional, “I take it, you’ve reconsidered?”
“Why else would I be calling, right?” V grinned, trying to play it cool after his initial hesitation.
“I’ve thought things through,” he continued, “Examined a few other options and… I think it’s best to at least explore all possible paths before making a final decision.”
She didn’t need to know about Blue-Eyes, at least not yet and not over the holo. Despite the secure connection, having Lee sitting just a few yards away behind him, made it hard for V to speak openly. Also, he still waited on Nyx’ background check of the doctor. Apart from that, she also didn’t need to know that he was growing desperate. Despair quickly attracted all sorts of favours and demands that weren’t part of original bargains in this city.
“A wise decision,” she said then, and once again, a shiver ran down V’s spine as if he’d just walked right into a trap, “Let me check my calendar… You’re scheduled for the cast removal on Friday. Would that be alright, or do you want to come in sooner?”
V paused once more. Viktor’s injectors would last him until Thursday at most, at this rate probably not as long. Hopefully AJ would have the next pill batch ready before that happened. Right now, he might still have remnants of Mr. B’s fake pills in his body that Fuentes could have a look at, too.
“Would tomorrow work?” he asked, and Fuentes hummed.
“Let me see… I can definitely move some appointments around. Why don’t you come in at… 10 am? And I’ll see what I can do for you, get things moving at the very least.”
“Alright,” V nodded, and his stomach slightly turned again.
“Alright,” Fuentes repeated, “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“Good night.”
He hung up and returned to trying to breathe deeply, rubbing his forehead with his healthy hand. He stood in silence, in the fresh breeze for a little while longer, until eventually the door slid open behind him. Familiar hands found his sore shoulders, rubbed his back.
“Ain’t ya gettin’ cold?” Kerry asked quietly, pressing his lips against V’s left shoulder blade as his arms wrapped around his waist. V shook his head.
“Got an appointment with Fuentes tomorrow mornin’,” he announced, “Can you drive me? Otherwise, I’ll just call Del.”
“No, of course I’ll drive ya. Hell, I’ll come with ya,” Kerry said.
“It’s fine, don’t have to,” V shook his head, “Been driving me around all day today, and yesterday… I bet the studio’s been breathin’ down your neck the whole time.”
Kerry’s silence and slightly tightening grip was answer enough.
“But you hate doctors and hospitals,” he then mumbled against his shoulder, and V chuckled, putting his hand on Kerry’s.
“But,” he countered, “I’m also a big boy already. I’ll manage on my own this once.”
Kerry squeezed him once more, then slowly let go to lean on the rail beside him. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up, his own way of “catching some fresh air” V mused. They stood in silence side by side for a few moments, admiring the glowing cityscape.
“Y’know,” V then said, “I’m really damn proud of you.”
Kerry laughed briefly and flicked some cigarette ash into the air.
“Yeah?”
V nodded.
“How you figured out that it was Lee… couldn’t have done that better myself.”
“Got yourself a man of many talents,” Kerry smiled, taking another drag.
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but really, Kerry, you give yourself too little credit,” V insisted, “Couldn’t do any of this without ya.”
V turned to look at Kerry, but Kerry didn’t reciprocate his gaze, instead stared off into the distance. He seemed to want to respond in a cheeky way, something like “yeah, of course you couldn’t”, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to it. In the end, he just smiled, flicked away what was left of his cigarette, then looked up at V finally with his big blue eyes.
“I know you’re carrying big enough burdens and responsibilities without me already,” V said quietly.
“V, you’re not – …”
“I’m not a burden, I know,” V interrupted him, “I’m just sayin’… Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. Neither of us has to carry all the weight all the time. We can take turns, share the load.”
Once again, Kerry seemed to want to say something, although this time V had a harder time guessing what it may have been. Instead, after a couple of moments, he changed the topic.
“I was hopin’… you’d have an idea about what to do with Lee.”
V looked over his shoulder. Inside, Lee was still sitting on the armchair in the living room, head hung low.
“You really think he’s in immediate danger?” V asked, but Kerry almost instantly shrugged.
“It’s less knowin’, more a feelin’,” he said, “Based on livin’ in this city for longer than most people, mostly.”
V nodded. Kerry’s life experience wasn’t to be underestimated. Even if he’d never been a true part of Night City’s underworld, he’s lived alongside it long enough, dealt with enough shady crooks, crazy fans, and dubious corpos to have a deeper insight into human nature and this city’s inner workings than most.
“Also… dunno, it could be nothin’. Just my own paranoia,” he then added, and V perked up, “There was this black van just outside the studio, right when we left to come back ‘ere.”
“A black van?”
“Yeah… pretty non-descript, just… black.”
“Did you see the model, or brand?” V’s thoughts were racing, drifting back to the high-speed chase of the black Ragnar on behalf of the Peralezes. His first contact with Mr. Blue-Eyes’ organization, even when he wasn’t aware of it yet at the time. A black, non-descript car, not quite a van, but…
“I think it was a Columbus,” Kerry said, and V frowned, “Like… 80% sure. Not brand-new, but also not one of the older models that still pop up now and then. Fuck, Nance once organized one of those for a tour, lemme tell ya, was tired of the thing the moment I got in. Flimsy doors, too narrow really to get anything in and out that was bigger than a person… And fuck, it stank.”
V hummed.
“Odd for that corner of Charter Hill, too,” he said after a couple of moments, “In broad daylight and all.”
Kerry nodded. V knew Charter Hill well, he knew the street the studio was on, and really, black, non-descript vans stood out. It wasn’t exactly an area with a lot of big families that might get use of a car like that, neither an overly commercial area with a lot of delivery vehicles… And those were branded or parked in the back of the fancy stores they delivered to. Maybe it was a vehicle of Mr. B, or maybe that of a bad private investigator who hadn’t done their research on the area and just brought the usual inconspicuous car… Or a dozen other possibilities. If it was enough to worry Kerry though, he would treat it seriously.
“Alright,” V said and pulled up his holo again, “Better safe than sorry. Imma call Emmerick, arrange some security for Lee – and for you, on that matter – ‘til we know more.”
“Ah, c’mon, V, I’m safe here, and at the studio… and everywhere else I’ll be with ya anyway.”
“I’ll sleep better if I know there’s a couple more eyes on you than just mine,” V said and called up Emmerick to set everything in motion – and to remove Lee from their house as quickly as possible.
Less than half an hour later the doorbell rang, and Lee was picked up by two trustful mercs who specialized in personal protection. He was visibly reluctant about leaving with them, but in the end, V would’ve left him no choice but either go on his own or at least accompanied by well-paid professionals.
“You’re gonna pay us back for this,” Kerry said as Lee already had one foot in the elevator, “Not just the huscle, everythin’. Big time.”
His jaw slightly red still from where V had grabbed him, Lee just nodded in resignation before the elevator doors closed between them.
A huge weight was lifted off of V’s chest, and he leaned against Kerry, who put his arms back around him.
“What a day, huh?” he said quietly, gently rubbing V’s back in small circles.
“Hopin’ tomorrow will be better,” V nodded with his eyes closed, forehead resting on Kerry’s shoulder.
They remind like that for a couple of moments, then V stood up straight again to look at Kerry. Meanwhile it was almost eight.
“Whaddaya say… pizza, popcorn, and movie night?” he suggested. Kerry squinted slightly, in disbelief almost. But then he also began to smile and nodded. V reached up to brush his fingers through Kerry’s ridiculously soft hair, then scratched his beard, and Kerry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Like a cat, V thought, and chuckled. Simultaneously, he placed an order at their favourite pizza place over his holo.
“You’re all dusty still,” he mused quietly, “And I bet I look like a mess, too.”
Kerry didn’t even open his eyes.
“You’re particularly handsome when you look like a mess...”
V snorted and kissed him softly.
“I’m still kinda cold though, too. I’ll hop in the shower real quick. Wanna join while we wait for the food?”
Kerry grinned.
“Be there in a sec, I’ll just finally put my jacket and… stuff away.”
V had noticed Kerry still had his gun in his pocket the whole time Lee was there. He had been wondering if he’d kept it on him on purpose.
“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” V teased, giving Kerry’s jaw a quick squeeze the same way he’d done it to Lee, and Kerry bit his lip.
“I would never,” he purred, then they slowly moved away from each other. V began to head upstairs, clinging to the railing, the exertion really making him feel his earlier attacks now. Halfway up the stairs he actually had to pause for a moment to catch his breath. Then his gaze fell to his feet, and between them on the steps the dark red dried bloodstains he’d left here earlier still marked the floor.
He cursed between his teeth, froze for a moment, as his eyes wandered further up the steps where the blood trail continued. Then he looked down behind him, could see the stains still where he’d laid on the floor in the kitchen.
Slowly he made it the rest of the way up the stairs, behind him on the ground floor the door to the armory opened and closed a second time. Kerry caught up to him at the top of the stairs where once more V couldn’t continue moving. He could feel Kerry follow his gaze to their bed, where the pillows and blanket looked like a dark red can of spray paint had exploded. Even the wall had tiny stains.
V turned to look at Kerry, whose cheeky grin had disappeared, replaced by distress he didn’t manage or want to hide this time. Neither of them said a word until eventually Kerry just dragged V to the bathroom with him.
“I’ll call someone to clean up tomorrow when we’re outta the house,” he said, “Can sleep downstairs tonight.”
V just nodded and wordlessly followed Kerry. Any spark of romance was gone, not even the hot shower water raining down on them helped. But actually, just holding each other and existing in this peaceful moment together was what they both needed more now than a quickie, V realized. He clung to Kerry, and Kerry clung to him, and neither said a word. They just understood that all that mattered right now was that they still had each other after a day full of arguments and unpleasant surprises, with only little glimmers of hope between.
“I thought you were dead,” Kerry eventually broke the silence, voice barely louder than the rushing water, finally addressing what both of them had had on their mind the whole evening. He had his face buried against the side of V’s neck, and V stroked the back of Kerry’s head, scratching and caressing the short grey hair there. He couldn’t say anything in response, could barely imagine the horror Kerry must’ve felt, walking into the kitchen and seeing his legs and a trail of blood behind the counter first thing. V had stumbled into murder and violent crime scenes that had been less bloody than the state of their bedroom right now.
“I’m here though,” he then said quietly, “I’m so… fucking sorry, to put you through this, but I’m here. And I hope I can make up for it somehow, in... in the future.”
He almost said, “in the end”, but no. He didn’t want to think of things ending anymore, but of continuing, of something, some kind of future to look forward to.
“V…” was all that Kerry managed before he almost collapsed against him and just began to cry against V’s shoulder. It started as just one, two big sobs, but then he couldn’t hold back anymore. V clung to Kerry, soothing, whispering into his ear that they’d find a way, somehow.
“And if I have to burn the whole damn city down, I’ll fight like hell to get better. Be with you. Never leave you again.”
Like this they stood, holding on, until all the tears they were still capable of crying had been washed away and down the drain with the dirt and blood and dust.
*****************
>> Next Chapter
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Notes:
The mood of this chapter was: Lie down. Try not to cry. Cry a lot.
I always struggle a bit with transitional chapters, but this here finally ties off the "who switched the pills" plotline and V moves away from focusing on Mr. B as much (at least for now). I've been struggling a bit with putting it all together, but I'm ready now to move forward XD Next time Dr. Fuentes will make a return and I'm scared and excited to introduce you to her plans for V 👀 To recap the timeline a little bit, the day before all this happened, V was introduced to Mr. B's "cure" of his problems, and just a couple of days earlier he returned from the Crystal Palace and had his car accident. Busy af weekend really xD
Also yes, this is not the last you'll have heard of Lee, promise! He will have to pay for what he did, even if he was somewhat forced 👀
Requested Fic Update Tags:
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#cyberpunk 2077#cp2077#cp2077 fanfic#cyberpunk 2077 fanfic#cyberpunk fanfic#cp2077 fanfiction#kerry eurodyne#kerry eurodyne x v#cyberpunk kerry#cyberpunk v#vincent ezaki#otp: to bad decisions#my writing#love is stored in the olive jar
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The Moon
Din Djarin:
The Moon card stands for illusion and deception, meaning that things aren’t always as they seem.
I was a little hesitant about chosing Din for this card, mainly because the Moon card has a darker meaning than most of the others. However, the more I thought about it, it does fit him in a way. While he isn't actively trying to deceive others, I think his outward appearance is kind of an illusion. Din projects a sense of danger (don't get me wrong, he can be very dangerous) but at his core, he's a good man. Things aren't always what they seem.
Taglist: @sleepingsun501 @sexy-rex @starqueensthings @homie-one-kenobi @techs-feral-wife @a-single-tulip @corrieguards @icepick-jackalope
Major Arcana Masterlist
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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
Millicent's office at ICHIBANGASE //. EISHER CORP ; ━━━━ Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan.
for @cainhood //. 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.
❝ 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑! 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑! is it true that there has been a burgeoning question of leadership in the company amongst you & your older sister since your mother had officially stepped down a year ago? ❞
THE THING ABOUT MILLICENT EISHER, whose silhouette has shadowed the television screen with a practiced vulnerability, whose RUTHLESSNESS will one day strike it with stunning tyranny, is that she is always living a truth.
Even now, withdrawing a cigarette from its pure gold art deco case & setting it against the cupid's bow of her lip as she reviews her earlier press conference from the perch of her desk, she watches as she leans in to a statement that should've stabbed an icepick of fear into her heart for someone KNOWING, with a sincere hike to her brow. ❝ i don't know about that. here at ichibangase / eisher, we focus on always operating in a polished and professional manner. the support between all of us is very prevalent. ❞ Her televised self says. There's none of Malvina's canary-catching coyness in the way she replies.
There's no game to be in on.
You're well-practiced — have your own rules to fit into the system of safety ; you know how to wear the right thing, to never falter in your reactions, you can curtsy & smile & play up to the game with the best of them.
❝ perhaps you should learn to pay attention to the right things instead, watanabe-san. ❞ Millicent snares at the reporter in the center lens of her stare. Her gaze is a STEEL PIERCE set behind the careful art of mascara’d lashes lined to perfection. A poised, painted lip curls around her next comment as it leaves under a rehearsed emphasis. ❝ what we’re doing here is very important. ❞
In a showman’s flourish, she flicks both hands out to the cameras. ❝ we are one of the largest tech corporations worldwide & who better to represent the future than us, no? ❞ the plasticine smile straining at her lips says there’s no room for disagreement. When Millicent speaks again, her voice dips its register like she’s speaking directly to the people watching. ❝ i can’t see any reason why you wouldn’t want to be a part of that. ❞
Millicent turns it off, sighs & swerves in her chair, overlooking Tokyo's skyline. This hour of the night is dipped in neon shades of blues, pinks, and greens & so her rich hum runs indigo with its assent. It’s a typical spring evening replete with a thick fog rising up from the ground hanging under the moon’s dutiful watch. She thinks: a cut between the shoulder blades is a lesson to be learned to always watch one’s back, to never feel a depth of TRUST to the point where vulnerability is on display to receive the deep sheath of a sword between its slats.
She has the ENTIRE WORLD at her fingertips & endless hours to peruse it. Her mind is more than a lockbox of all the information pored over, more than all the moves & twists & insults thrown that she used to ingest only to learn how to mock her own body into the fray. Millicent's flippant fingertips bat at the air in a simple gesture that begs the question: could she have done better?
It's not an inquiry she is given the chance to further deliberate when she makes note of footsteps echoing against the marble floors of her office. Foolishly thinking she had been the only one around, she'd left her door open.
❝ jack. ❞ She turns to face him, a lacquered nail taps the cigarette at the end of the ashtray. An elegant, one-two rap. With her left hand, she reaches for the drink she'd made herself some time ago. ❝ shouldn't you be at home getting your beauty sleep? ❞
#﹠⠀ ⠀ 𝗺. 𝗲𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿 ⠀ ⠀ 〳 ⠀ ⠀𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.#FEAT. 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄#me? knowing how to do short starters? nevaaaaaa#﹠ 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴.
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oops i’m on a roll with these two
they’re just so good and i love them so much
read sweeter than coffee on ao3
Enid has never felt such a hammering headache in her life.
It’s the morning after her second full moon, and the lunar hangover is enough to keep her in bed until noon. She had woken up earlier just long enough to stumble to the bathroom, grumbling and swaying the whole way. It was a miracle she hadn’t woken Wednesday, but her roommate slept like the dead anyway, so it wasn’t the biggest surprise.
She feels well enough to go to class, barely, and her second one is with Wednesday. When she slumps into the seat beside the simmering storm cloud that is her roommate, her eye catches on the cup of coffee at the edge of Wednesday’s desk. She should have grabbed coffee before she came to class. Maybe it would’ve helped her stay awake and stave off the sensation of a drill straight through her head.
Her staring must have been obvious, because a moment later, Wednesday nudges the cup toward her.
Enid blinks, but Wednesday doesn’t even look at her when she reaches for it. Still, it’s a sweet gesture, and it makes Enid smile.
She’s not so bad, once you get to know her.
Wednesday takes her coffee disgustingly dark, and Enid prepares herself for the assault of espresso. She’s pleasantly surprised —and confused— to find the drink is just shy of her preferred sweetness, which she knows from experience is a crime in Wednesday’s eyes.
She downs the drink in one go, and she thinks she sees the ghost of a smile at the very corner of Wednesday’s lips. It’s gone as soon as it appears, and Enid stares at the empty cup in her hand, then back to her sheepishly. “Sorry,” she apologizes, and Wednesday’s gaze flicks to her for a split second. “I’ll buy you another cup later.”
“Don’t bother,” Wednesday replies, but there’s less bite to it than Enid expected. “You clearly need the caffeine far more than I do.”
She pretends to be offended, but the fact that Wednesday noticed makes her feel bubbly.
—
The next month is the same. It’s only a fraction less awful than it was the first time, but Enid is still largely incapacitated for the early morning. Which is a shame, since it seems to be a nice morning, and she had planned to go get coffee before class.
She’s preparing her sore muscles and aching mind to roll out of bed when the door opens and Wednesday walks in, coffee in hand.
Enid blinks at her.
Since when has Wednesday been a morning person?
“You’re going to be late,” she says, and Enid groans.
“You try taking the mental equivalent of an icepick to the skull,” she grumbles, and finally she rolls out of bed. She sways uneasily, trying to right herself and the world, and she thinks she hears the click of Wednesday’s boot against the floor. When she glances back, she can’t tell if Wednesday is a step closer or if her depth perception is just that bad today.
“Sounds delightful,” says Wednesday, and Enid snorts.
She dresses painfully slowly, and for some reason, Wednesday is still here. She’s fidgeting by the time Enid is finally ready, and she rolls her eyes at the display. It’s subtle, but so are most things Wednesday does. She has a vice grip on everything she feels, and it’s a rare treat to see her express any of it. Even if it’s agitation.
But she’s in no mood to entertain Wednesday’s sourness and need for punctuality today, so when she slings her bag over her shoulder, she breezes past her roommate with a grumbled, “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
Wednesday doesn’t answer, not with words. But she does tilt her cup toward Enid, just enough for it to be an offer, and Enid is so exhausted she takes it without question.
The cup is hot, and the coffee inside is sweet. Sweeter than before, even.
The caffeine helps.
—
She runs out of nail polish a week later, and is halfway through painting her nails when she finally admits defeat. There’s nothing left in the bottle in spite of her efforts to scrape every last bit out, and she pouts. She’ll have to go into town for it, and in the meantime, she’s going to have only one painted hand. The thought stresses her out, and Thing finds her staring at her perfect, colorful hand against her dull, boring one.
He skitters up the leg of her vanity and taps it to get her attention, then opens a drawer that she usually stores her notebooks in.
Nestled in the corner of it is a brand-new bottle of polish. It’s not the same color —a delicate silver, rather than her usual colorful ones— but it’s the same brand, and it’s a full bottle, and that’s all that matters.
“Thing, you’re the best!”
Wasn’t me, he signs, and Enid tilts her head.
The door opens, shuts, and Wednesday only spares her a glance as she hangs her bag up.
Thing hops off the desk to smack her thigh and point at Wednesday. Oh.
Wednesday sits down to write, and her hands hover over the typewriter’s keys when Enid finally manages, “Thanks.”
She turns her head to look over her shoulder, and she’s silent for a moment. “I was already in town,” she replies. “You were getting low.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but Enid doesn’t need her to. She’s already said more than she needed to. Wednesday had been thinking of her, and that’s the sort of thing that she would rather suffer a burning death than admit, and she had just offered it up without prompting.
The clack of typewriter keys punctuates Enid’s happy humming as she finishes her nails. She has to remove and redo the hand she had already finished, but that’s okay.
When she’s done, she stands up. She hesitates at the invisible line down their room. Wednesday never put the duct tape back up —stopped Enid from doing so, even— but it still feels wrong to cross the barrier. Too personal. Too intimate. But she takes the risk, and she knows Wednesday hears her approaching. But she doesn’t stop typing, nor does she turn to look at Enid.
Enid holds her hands out to show Wednesday her perfectly-painted nails, gleaming silver instead of garish (in Wednesday’s eyes) color, and she’s surprised by the way Wednesday jolts a little. It’s almost unnoticeable, but she hits a key accidentally, and her eyes roll toward Enid.
“Look what you’ve done,” she says, and Enid can’t tell if she’s genuinely upset, or just mildly annoyed. But then she looks at Enid’s nails and nods. It’s tiny, almost as small as her start at Enid’s presence, but it’s enough. “Silver suits you.”
Her heart slams against her chest, and she can’t help but flash Wednesday the brightest smile. “You think so?”
There’s a tightness in Wednesday’s voice when she says, “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” There’s a beat of silence between them, Enid bouncing on the balls of her feet as she tries her best not to crowd Wednesday with affection, and Wednesday allows it for far longer than usual before she finally looks up at Enid. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver!”
Wednesday makes a small hm in reply, and Enid risks a shoulder squeeze as she heads back to her side of the room. It’s brief, because she knows how Wednesday hates physical contact, but Enid’s love language is touch and she wants to share how much it means to her that Wednesday cares about something so small.
It’s a good thing that Wednesday doesn’t have Enid’s super-hearing, because she knows her heart is still aflutter.
She chooses not to acknowledge that.
—
Two weeks later, there’s another full moon. This one is the worst yet, and Enid has to take a full day off from classes. She sleeps most of it, and just manages to drag herself out of bed the following day. Wednesday waits patiently for her as she dresses, coffee in hand, and before they leave the room, holds it out toward Enid.
She blinks. That’s new. She’s not sure what to do with such an obvious offer, nor is she sure what to do with the implications of care behind it.
Wednesday arches a brow at her. “You’re far more palatable with caffeine,” she defends, but Enid knows that it has nothing to do with her palatability. Wednesday cares.
She takes the cup with a smile and clutches it in silver-tipped hands, and she might be crazy, but it feels like Wednesday walks a fraction of an inch closer to her than usual. Close enough to brush Enid’s shoulder when they pass a loud group in the hall.
It’s basically a confirmation that Wednesday has been intentionally getting sweeter coffee for Enid after the full moon, and she had already suspected as much, but it makes her heart sing.
That night, she feels leagues better when gets home. She isn’t sure whether it’s from the caffeine or because she’s floating on cloud nine from Wednesday’s attention, but it could be either and she chooses to think it’s the caffeine. Because acknowledging the other option is terrifying, and she can’t handle that right now.
She finds Wednesday sitting on her bed, with a bottle of polish in one hand. It’s jet-black like her nails and hair and everything else Wednesday owns, but it strikes Enid that she’s never actually seen Wednesday paint her nails. She had almost assumed that they just stayed that color out of sheer terror for what their owner would do if they dared show color.
It’s a good thing she’s never seen Wednesday paint her nails before, actually, because it nearly gives her a heart attack when Wednesday starts just painting over the half-peeled and cracking polish already on them.
“Wednesday, you can’t just paint over them,” she huffs, already snatching her polish remover and her own polish from the nightstand she keeps them on. She’s a flurry of activity, and before Wednesday has time to realize what’s happening, Enid has caught her hand and has the polish remover uncorked with a cotton ball in hand.
To her surprise, Wednesday doesn’t snatch her hand back. Enid realizes she’s never actually felt Wednesday’s skin before. Their one hug was still over clothes, and Wednesday usually layers herself in fabric to avoid any chance of sun exposure. Her skin is so much colder than Enid’s, and she can feel the callouses on the pads of Wednesday’s fingers as she dabs the cracked old polish from her nails.
She focuses on fixing Wednesday’s nails, refusing to acknowledge her pulse slamming against her chest. She’s almost surprised that Wednesday can’t see it, because it feels like the pulse point at her neck makes her skin jump with each pump. At least her circulatory system works well.
Wednesday’s hand is soft when Enid’s thumb brushes across the back of her palm. She thinks she might hear a jump in Wednesday’s pulse, and it makes her pause for just a second. It does feel a bit quick, but Wednesday isn’t used to physical contact. She’s probably stressed, but Enid had to fix the disaster that was Wednesday’s nail habits.
Enid pulls back and holds Wednesday’s hand up so that she can turn it over in the light. The base coat looks good. It’s as even as she can get it without buffing, but she’s pretty sure Wednesday would not tolerate fine-grit sandpaper on her nails. She pauses for a second, then holds up the silver and glances up. The intensity of Wednesday’s stare knocks the breath out of her lungs, and she forgets she can breathe for a moment.
She doesn’t want to let go yet, and she’s looking for an excuse to keep Wednesday’s hand in hers just a little longer. “Trust me?” she asks with a sheepish smile.
Wednesday watches her, glances between her eyes and the silver bottle held up. “You’ll run out faster.”
It’s not a no.
Enid shrugs. “I can always get more.”
And that’s that. She adds a thin stripe of silver to the very tips of each of Wednesday’s nails, humming under her breath as she does so, and she’s surprised by how amiable Wednesday is to her efforts. She lets Enid manipulate her fingers, twist her wrist, and only pulls her hand away once when Enid’s fingertips graze her palm. She returns it a moment later, muttering that her palms are ticklish.
It makes Enid giggle. She hadn’t considered that Wednesday Addams, Queen of Darkness herself, could be ticklish.
“If you use that knowledge against me, I’ll end you and your entire bloodline,” Wednesday huffs, and Enid snorts.
“Duly noted.”
She puts a clear coat over Wednesday’s nails when she’s done and brings both hands up to face-level so she can blow gently on them. It doesn’t dry them much faster, but it still helps, and at this point it’s habit for Enid. Enid straightens her spine, blinking at the intensity of Wednesday’s eyes on her as she meets them. It’s a piercing stare, and she has a feeling that Wednesday has been watching her this way longer than a few minutes.
Her hands aren’t so cold anymore, not after being in Enid’s for so long, and Enid looks away before Wednesday does. When she dares to look again, Wednesday is still watching her, and she finds her voice buried under emotion and nerves.
“Um, Wednesday?” she starts, and dark eyes snap to hers. She hadn’t realized that Wednesday wasn’t looking her in the eye. “I know you like death-staring people but it’s been like five minutes, is there something on my face?”
“No. I was admiring you,” Wednesday says, and Enid knows she didn’t mean to say that the second it leaves her mouth. There’s a beat of silence between them, and Enid is sure that the full range of every emotion that she’s capable of feeling passes over her face before Wednesday carefully pulls her hands away. She doesn’t expect Enid to tighten her grip, and this may be one of the first times she’s seen Wednesday blink. Her voice is a measured razor-edge when she says, “Thank you for the nails.”
Enid knows she’s being dismissed. Wednesday hates feelings, and now Enid can hear the way her pulse quickens. It’s fluttery, but without super-hearing and without knowing Wednesday as well as she does, she would never guess that Wednesday was anything but picturesque calmness.
She’s not sure how to proceed, and neither is Wednesday.
But her nails should be dry now. Enid glances down at them, then back up, and with immense effort, she manages to squeak out, “Silver suits you.”
Wednesday’s face is unreadable. There’s more emotion in it than Enid has ever seen, but because she’s never seen Wednesday show emotion this way, she has no idea how to interpret it. Wednesday looks down at her nails, flexes her fingers, and Enid relaxes her grip, giving her a way out if she wants it. But cool hands stay firmly set in her own, and she smooths her thumbs across the backs of Wednesday’s hands again. She’s careful to avoid tickling Wednesday’s palms, but she’s still saving that knowledge for later.
The room is deathly silent, and Enid looks everywhere except Wednesday because she can’t handle the intensity there and she’s fairly certain that she’d overwhelm Wednesday with her emotions if she did.
She feels Wednesday pull one hand away, and she expects the other to leave as well, but instead that one turns and carefully, so slowly, Wednesday twines their fingers together. Enid swallows hard, and refuses to look back at Wednesday. She knows what’s in her own heart, and she doesn’t want to chance ruining her friendship with Wednesday over it. She can convince herself that this is Wednesday still trying to understand how to be friends with someone so different, and she can sweep what she feels under the rug. For now.
“Enid,” Wednesday finally says, and it sounds like a command. She’s been weak against Wednesday ever since she came to Nevermore, and this is no exception. It takes a monumental effort, but she meets Wednesday’s gaze again and searches her face for any clues of what she’s thinking. Wednesday’s hand, the one not holding Enid’s, is raised and it hangs in the air. Wednesday hesitates, fingers twitching, and Enid almost shies away when she finally reaches out. She’s feather-soft when she cups Enid’s chin, and there’s a flicker of recognition as her calloused fingertips pass over Enid’s pulse.
Enid waits. This must be how Wednesday’s cello feels before being played, she thinks. All tight muscles and expectation, and she knows the openness in her gaze is almost blinding to Wednesday. She knows Wednesday needs time, she needs to take this at her pace, and Enid doesn’t want to make an impulse decision if she’s somehow misunderstood.
But she doesn’t think she has.
Wednesday looks terrified. Enid offers her a reassuring smile, unsure if it’s more for her own benefit or Wednesday’s, and feels fingers twitch against her cheek. But she takes a measured breath, exhales, and there’s a quick glance down and back up to Enid’s eyes.
Definitely not a misunderstanding.
It feels like an eternity has passed since Wednesday’s confession, but it’s worth it when she finally leans forward. Enid waits as long as she can, but she’s always lacked impulse control, and she meets Wednesday halfway, trying to keep her hands still and her claws retracted in her excitement.
Wednesday’s lips are softer than she imagined. Not that she had imagined, of course, but… if she had. It’s chaste, and Enid doesn’t dare to deepen it, but she doesn’t have to. This is already so much, and that Wednesday trusts her enough… it means everything.
She can’t resist cupping Wednesday’s face in her own, and it forces her claws out. Wednesday makes a startled little noise against Enid’s mouth, and Enid whispers an apology.
They part, a hair’s breadth away, and Wednesday won’t meet her eyes. It’s a lot, it’s too much if the way her pulse races is any indication, but she shakes her head. “Don’t be.” It’s the quietest she’s ever heard Wednesday’s voice, and it makes her heart sing. Wednesday traces a claw with her thumb and looks down at them, and when she finally meets Enid’s gaze, she’s so soft. “I admire many things about you. Claws among them.”
If Enid wasn’t already swooning, she would have then.
She beams, and Wednesday looks away. Shows of emotion really are a lot for her.
Enid squeezes her hand, and Wednesday squeezes back, and Enid can’t resist one last peck on the lips. She restrains herself, and that restraint is why Wednesday feels safe enough to relax into her, and when they separate again, Wednesday pulls her hands back and clears her throat.
She knows she must have the most ridiculous smile on her face, but Enid lets her pull back. She thinks she sees the tiniest bit of color in Wednesday’s cheeks, and she can’t pull her eyes away.
She’s so, so pretty.
Wednesday flexes her fingers and shakes her hands. She does that sometimes, often when she feels overwhelmed. Enid scoots back to give her some extra space, and she thinks she catches gratitude in Wednesday’s eyes.
“I still have to practice my cello,” she says. Enid nods, and Wednesday stands, and Enid is about to return to her side of the room when Wednesday glances back at her. “The sky is clear tonight.”
It’s as clear an invite as Wednesday would ever give her, and Enid almost contains the little squeal at the back of her throat. She grabs a blanket and curls into one of the patio chairs, and she doesn’t even bring her phone outside with her.
She watches Wednesday play with a smile on her face, and when Wednesday catches her eye, she gives Enid the tiniest hint of a smile of her own, and for Wednesday that’s practically a grin.
Wednesday has definitely been getting her those coffees intentionally.
She’d kill Enid for this, but Enid thinks she might have inherited some of her dad’s romantic streak.
#wenclair#wednesday 2022#wednesday addams#enid sinclair#sunshine & stormcloud#i love them ur honorr#they're useless sapphics like all of us
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Partnership.
It had taken me some time to gather so much coin. I hadn't wanted to involve myself in notes of transfer or anything of the case, just taking a little here, a little there, until i finally had enough to give White the amount in full... And then some.
What i had overestimated was how heavy it would be to carry.
A heavy set of knocks settles on the wood of the door, barely muffled by the fabric of her gloves. Once finished, they return to grasping the cloth of the heavy sack that dangled over one shoulder. Bexy fought to stand as straight as possible regardless, gaze boring ahead as she awaited the occupant…
White Rabbit had been nestled up on the windowsill beside her bed, looking out at various things that caught her attention like a bug flying by or the shuffled feet belonging to a gaggle of guys heading to she didn't know where. The was the last to catch her attention. She made her way over to greet whoever stood on the other side, dropping off an opened wine bottle at the foot of her bed. "Hello!" She spoke between a smile. "Hello. Icepick. What— oh what do you have /there/? You look like you're goin' to break your back. If you haven't. Already. Have you?"
Bexy Amalaryssia: "As though you can't guess." Bexy makes to step inside, eyeing the smaller woman with only a hair of a frown. "I had a mind to tell you to come pick it up yourself, but that would do nothing but paint a target on your back for every bandit and thief in Thanalan. So i decided to be -nice-."
I'm surprised my journey was as smooth as it was. Ul'dah itself carried risks now, but i didn't tarry anywhere for long enough. And then there was the matter of carrying so much coin.
Worst case scenario, i'd bury anyone who tried to mug me. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary.
White Rabbit didn't move, not at first. She watched her, noting the itty-bitty frown. "You are. So /very/ nice. To bring it here, to me!" With a swing of her leg she turned herself around, wandering herself over to where she left her wine. "You can put it on the table." Like hells she was going to carry it. "Do you like wine?" she asked, sitting down on the footboard where the woman had pinned her hand not /too/ long ago. "If I count it all. Every /single/ coin. How much will it come to?"
Bexy Amalaryssia: "I drink it from time to time." Bexy replies, striding along the corridor she'd marched down just a few moons since. The sack of coin is slowly deposited onto the table, where Bexy almost reluctantly leaves it. Opting to pause before answering White directly, Bexy inclines her head with a slow, long sigh from her nose. "…Four million gil. You have no idea the difficulty i went to to get that in coin enough to carry." Her eyes lid for a moment, watching the Raen on her perch. "…But it's yours."
White Rabbit paused the lifting of the bottle who's destination was her lips. She stared at her, brows lifted some. Only a little, but enough that she'd be able to see it. "Double? You really are /nice/. Unless." She paused again, filling her mouth with a swing of wine, making the woman wait for her to swallow it. Cleaning her throat she added, not leaving her hanging any longer even if it'd be funny to, "You're lookin' for more. Business? With me."
Her appearance is deceiving enough for anyone who doesn't know her. White is smart. She knew what i wanted already.
...Maybe there are perks to being more... Amicable, after all.
Bexy Amalaryssia: "…There's some people i'm looking for more information on, yes. Though i don't know if it can be found. Slavers, if it makes you feel any better. The same that took them." Bexy's head slowly tilts on her shoulders, eyeing White and her reaction. "What were the words you used last time… A partnership…?"
White Rabbit took another swing, listening to the woman's words. /Slavers/. Her eyes narrowed a smidge. "/Anythin'/ can be found. You just need to know where to look. What to. Ask." And she was good at both of those. "Yes! A part-ner-ship! I get payment. You get information. I don't get stabbed. Again." Turning her wrist she wiggled the bottle, hearing the dampened slosh of wine crashing in on itself within. "What do you want to know? What do you /need/?" She paused again— it seemed that'd be a theme for her that bell. Or two. "They're lookin' for them. For /her/? /Him/? Both?"
Bexy Amalaryssia narrows her own gaze in turn, though upon dismissing her more dour expression with a sigh from her nose, pulls some parchment from her pocket, which she unfurls. Taking slow, steady steps towards White, the papers are offered to her; two in all. One detailed a bespectacled Seeker man, and the other a smirking Viera; both of which held the facial marking of a well-known group of slavers. "Q'kura Tia, and Vairg… I don't know his surname, or if he even has one. Doubtless they would come for us if they had chance, but we won't give them one. I know where they're hiding, but going there would be a deathwish even for me. I want to know everything i can of them, and hope to catch them in Thanalan proper… And preferably alone."
If anyone would know, it would be her. If not, she would be the best avenue for finding out.
...Sayuri's sketches were accurate enough that they may as well have sat for the portraits, and i had thought to show them to White.
White Rabbit took them between her thumb and finger, flipping the top one over to get a good look at each of their faces, careful not to smudge the portraits. Q'kura she /might/ have seen. If he had he didn't leave any lasting impression, not enough for her to remember him. But then there was the Viera. "Him." She tapped his face with her pinky uncurled from the bottle. "I've seen him. He's a pretty one. Pretty annoyin' to a lot. Pretty dangerous, so /they/ say. But. You'd know that. Wouldn't you?"
Bexy Amalaryssia: "…So i've heard. I've encountered him once in the city - No weapons were drawn, much as we wanted to. I know he's dangerous… So i'm told. What do you know about him?"
White Rabbit lifted the portraits into the air as if it'd jog her memory, the light from the hanging chandalier brightened the edge's. "Did you /also/ know he got kicked from bein' one of those fancy gladiators? I heard he was too harsh. Much too /brutal/. Too mean." Down to her lap she brought the papers to rest. She wouldn't give them back just yet.
Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I didn't, but i can well believe it. Sayuri told me of his brutality, and i've had more than one person telling me to exercise caution should i meet him in conflict. We're… Worried he's going to go after Eir for any future performances, so he's keeping to the cities where it's safer. I just… Want to make it safer still, by putting an arrow through his head."
I can't say i'm surprised. All the things i've heard about Vairg aren't pleasant, and for even Vex to speak of him with such trepidation...
Ugh.
It's a wonder Eir survived at all. He's lucky to have done so.
White Rabbit tapped his face again. Vairg's. "They'd be silly, so /very/ ridiculous, so stupid if they tried doin' the /same/ thing. Kidnappin' him. Unless they're— he's plannin' on just killin' him. /He/ seems the type to want to make him scream." Which was to say she didn't think the brute would off him quick-like. "I've seen him with Blades before. Their pockets must /jingle/."
Bexy Amalaryssia: "There's enough of them in Grym's pockets that i can't trust any of the Blades to be helpful. I don't know if it was simply an empty threat to rile Sayuri, or if he's actually serious. Either way… He…" A slow shake of Bexy's head sends her hair falling over her shoulders. "…He broke Eir's legs. Almost killed him. I've done some less than pleasant things in my cycles, but i've never just hurt someone for the sake of it."
Bexy Amalaryssia: "My actions have purpose. He just sounds… Twisted."
I hurt people plenty, but it's never just for the enjoyment of it. It's for information. Or revenge. Or to protect those closest to me. I always have a reason for it.
Always.
White Rabbit would argue the Icepick could have done something else less pleasent than /stab/ her for the same purpose, but her head was filled with wine and thoughts that floated around. Thoughts that bobbed against the choppy waves aggitated by the woman's tidbit of information. She opened her mouth expecting words to come out. Instead, wine went in as she stared at her.
Bexy Amalaryssia: "Hm?" Bexy lofts a brow, then. "Rare for you to be one without words. And not of your own withholding?"
White Rabbit set the bottle down on the footboard, beside her thigh. "If he /had/ died. Would you visit his grave?"
Bexy Amalaryssia stares back with much the same expression, before her brows slowly furrow. "…Yes. I would. Of course i would." A pause, then. "…Why would you ask me that?"
...A strange question, coming from White. I never expected any kind of discussion about the intricacies of life and death.
I'd visit him. Of course i would. Eir and i... We're not all that close, but i'd consider us friends. More likely i'd be with Sayuri for her own comfort.
...Gods, i don't even want to think about how it would affect her would he have actually died. Especially now.
White Rabbit ignored her question, asking a simple to-the-point of, "Why?" She repeated words she had said before. To someone else. She wondered if Bexy would have the same reaction adding, "You couldn't talk to him. He couldn't talk to you."
Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I could speak to him, even if he couldn't listen. Sometimes… It helps to ease a grieving heart. If Eir had died, i would have paid my respects. No doubt taken Sayuri to him. Even if they are gone it… Sometimes makes us feel less alone."
White Rabbit contuined to stare. She was good at that, looking right into a person's gaze unfazed by them looking back. If they looked back. Her own was hard, above a slight smile. It's corners were weighted by curious confustion that threatened to push them closer towards the floor at the mention of respect. "He wouldn't know." Another pause. "You're surrounded by people. /All/ kinds of them. Why would she be alone? Why would you?"
Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Have you ever lost someone, White? Someone… close to you? Someone important?" Bexy asks, though her tone is a far more gentle one than she often spoke to her with. "Perhaps he wouldn't. Or perhaps… He would, in some way. I don't know, in truth. But it's nice to think of it. Even surrounded by people, you can still feel lonely. A yearning for those lost to us, a void unable to be filled by another. Visiting their place of rest is the next best thing to spending time with them."
White Rabbit didn't feel the corner of her lip twitch under the weighted questions. Not at first. She felt them in her chest pushing something against the inside of her ribs as if its escape would do… what, she didn't know. "People. Are /easily/ replaced." They /were/ close. "I can find out more. About them. The ones you want to know about. It'd be easier to focus on one of them. Than both." She looked into the opening of the bottle. There were a few mouthfulls left. Good. "Or I can. Look into both."
A strange and sudden departure from our previous topic. I do wonder why she asked...?
Her curiosity, probably. There was no harm in answering her, but something just felt off about the whole question.
Strange...
Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Some people are easily replaced. But not those close to us. Not those we care about." Bexy corrects, head inclined before the subject is shifted. "Q'kura is the better target. I want to know as much as i can about his routines, and anything else you might think will be of use to me."
White Rabbit hopped off the footboard, bringing the bottle and papers along as she walked past Bexy towards the sack occupied table, handing off the papers. She didn't wait for her to take them. "I could disrupt them. His routines. We could have a little chat." A grin parted her lips letting her devious words slip free as she pushed a finger into the sack, wiggling to open it up and peer inside at her new fourtune.
Bexy Amalaryssia collects the papers, folding them up to slip back into her pocket. "So long as you mention nothing of me or the others. He's not strong, but he's smart. But he has a tendency to babble under pressure, so i'm told. I'm sure you'll find a way to use that to your advantage, hm?"
Q'kura is the better target. Vairg would be better off dead. Q'kura, however...
I need him for information, and likely not the kind White can pull out of him with pleasantries, no.
...I just need her to find out where he'll be, and when he'll be alone... Or... At least, in easily disposable company...
White Rabbit turned around, leaning back against the table. "Yes! /If/ he babbles." A chuckle filled the air. "Won't /that/ be fun? Even if he doesn't. It will be enough." Bold coming from the question ignoring woman.
Bexy Amalaryssia: "I'm sure you'll get the information i want. I wouldn't have asked, otherwise." Bexy's lips widen into a grin, turning her head away to contemplate with a small hum; her gaze catching the bottle of wine as she did. "…Enjoy the gil, White. Perhaps i will enjoy this little… Partnership, after all."
White Rabbit smiled at the little 'praise'— she took it as that. "I will! Enjoy it." Both the gil and the partnership as long as no more knives made of ice were involved. Or any knives for that matter. Lifting a hand she gave her little wave of farewell. "I'll see you, icepick. Soon. /With/ fun little nuggets of knowin'."
Bexy Amalaryssia offers her own departing wave, making for the door. "Until then, White. I look forward to listening." Throwing a glance and a smile over her shoulder, she makes for the door… And slips through it the way she came, several million gil lighter.
...It was a lot of coin. More than i've ever paid for anything, and enough that i feel the missing weight of it. But i've enough to get by, and even if i didn't, i'd make do.
Gil is nice enough, sure. But there are far more important things to be concerned with...
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It's been a long time since I've seen Goncharov (watched it in a high school film study class with a teacher who was a huge fan of mafia movies) and the Goncharov sweep had me so excited for people to talk about my favorite character, Vasily Michaelov. But I am seeing no love for him so I guess I gotta take matters into my own hands.
So Michaelov is initially introduced as this standard angry Russian guy and I initially kind of rolled my eyes at the concept, thinking he's just there to be a reason why Goncharov can't immediately shack up with Katya. Standard older brother being suspicious of the men his sister tries to date, yeah?
It's not until we get to the first clock scene (not THE clock scene, just the first one) where we learn that he's not just some thug, he's literally an ex Soviet general, that I changed my mind about him. He's a man who sacrificed everything for his country in the name of honor, only for it to come crashing down around his ears. That's why he's always contrasted with the moon. The moon represents the unattainable, the unreachable heights of nationalism and honor.
That's why Michaelov sheds a tear when Andrey refers to him as "General." It's a symbol of legitimate respect. One that his country would not give him, is granted to him by an enemy, in this, their last meeting before the climax of the film.
Anyways, Gene Hackman does an amazing performance as Michaelov and I'm really tired of people ignoring maybe the most complex character in the film! He doesn't have the humor of "Icepick Joe" Morelli so maybe that's why I'm not seeing him in all the gifsets people are posting, but I wanted to come out to bat for him.
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Book 45: The Icepick Surgeon
This week was a choice book, and last week has piqued my interest in a science history book again and who's more fun than Sam Kean? So I thought The Icepick Surgeon: Murder, Fraud, Sabotage, Piracy, and Other Dastardly Deeds Perpetrated in the Name of Science would make for a fun read. I suppose I should have paid more attention to the subtitle, because sure it had fun piracy, dinosaur wars, and money lender murders, but it also has slavery, misgendering and animal torture. Not all fun topics at all.
The first topic was piracy and that was fun, but the second was how science was entangled with slavery. Even something as abstract as Newton's Principia Mathematica used slave ship data on tides to propose the moon affected tides. Natural science was even worse and one could practically only get to Sub-Saharan Africa or South America to study plants and animals by slave ship transport and once there that was who you had to trade with for supplies. Even worse, many unscrupulous naturalists relied on slaves to gather samples, especially in the more dangerous areas. So tons of science museums' collections are built on slavery (in addition to the outright theft of property in history museums).
Other topics include the origins of forensic pathology helping solve a Harvard murder that resulted in the second and so far last Harvard graduate (and professor) to be executed, the dehumanizing experiments performed on a teenage Ted Kaczynski that undoubtedly helped turn him into the unibomber, and a overzealous yet lazy drug lab scientist swearing in court that a crushed up cashew was crack cocaine. The title refers to Walter Freeman performing lobotomies with a kitchen Icepick.
Best line: "Now, there's no truth to the rumor that Freeman dubbed the car he used on these trips "The Lobotomobile", but probably only because he didn't think of it."
Should you read this book: well, if you can stomach all the crimes against humanity and animals, it is very interesting. But there is a lot to take in. Sam Kean is always smooth, interesting reading
Art project: Here are a handful of the dinosaurs discovered during the dinosaur wars, all impossibly ranged in age and size .
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Misc. Songs
TL credits under the songs
Matasaburo
Night Deer translations
I want you to summon a storm so fierce / That will blow away even this sky
I was waiting for the wind / Because I'm sure an empty life would be too boring
Just blow the words away as well / Until nobody can utter a single word, / Just go and swallow us whole
"So you do really summon the wind, huh?!" / "Heh, I can freely bend it to my will"
I was waiting for the wind / Because a society that fits the mold is too suffocating
"Then I'll summon a rain even heavier! / Along with some wind that would also blow away this shared sentiment"
Just cast everything away
If we stay this way, / Soon we will even forget who we are
Make the wind that will destroy this town / Rage even fiercer, as fierce as it can be
Go and blow away the sadness, dreams, and everything else, Matasaburo
The words are your wind
Howling at the Moon
I'm howling at the moon by the roadside
Without anyone noticing, the night swiftly sinks into the deep
When I come to my senses, I notice that people around me are standing still
"Quit acting like you know me!" / I blink at them, pretending to be a beast
Please, tell me that I'm alive
If you sing like you're howling at the moon, ah, things will become vivid and beautiful
I want to try satisfying myself with this malice by smashing open the earth with an icepick
Can't anyone see it? What a bunch of unsightly beasts
Someone is watching me / From the shadows of the wharf over there
I don't have any faith in you, not in the slightest / Nobody is expecting anything out of you
I want to dip the tip of a solid pen in a moonlit lake and try drawing a line on the waves
Everyone thinks that I'm some pitiful, ill person! / I want to toss every single thing away
I-I haven't violated the world enough, not yet
Please, smash my skull open with an icepick and fill it up with some lukewarm soup
The world is at the mercy of your heart's desire
The Old Man and the Sea
I can only hear the sound of your breathing
Far, far away into the distance, let's go even farther away / Taking off and leaving behind even our bodies
Your shoelaces are untied, playfully bouncing around like a snake
The whole time, you're leading me by the hand through the road
We'll become just the wind / And go even father away, to beyond the clouds
You gently pat on my shoulder, and at that moment I finally realize / That the sea is right in front of my eyes
We'll ride the wind, and go beyond the gravity that is my imagination
Your eyes are looking far off into the distance / The sandy beach in Africa where the lions are frolicking around / Is far, far away beyond the sea
Bremen
'Cause you see, we can't get each other with just words / For now, let's lose ourselves in this sound
My body is achromatic, feeling laidback
Hey, let's live together and forever / At the corner of this night
"Hey, you see, it's okay to be the nobody that we are"
A life with nothing but logics is so vapid / Do you still think that this is a waste of time?
It's just like we're the town musicians of Bremen--We have the march all to ourselves
Well then, breathe in and out quickly, and-- / Let's sing like there's no tomorrow! Shall we laugh? Do you wanna join me?
Look, let's just take it easy, put all your worries behind! See, there's nothing in this world worth killing yourself over
Hey, you don't have to rack your brains out / The cells in your body have started dancing around
Let's sing together more / If you're free, let's fall in love
Go ahead and sing like there's no tomorrow! / People are going to laugh at you anyway / 'Cause everything's all messed up. Don't you agree? Ahahaha
Playing the clown isn't exactly easy either, y'know
Hey, just for today, can you please lend me your heart?
Are you guys making fun of me? Don't pretend you can't hear me
Look, let's just take it easy, put all your worries behind! If your life's that unbearably miserable, just get away from it all / After a few years, nobody would even remember about it, I promise
While we're at it, let's get to understand each other, okay?
Left Right Confusion
Night Deer TL
Your right eyebrow looks a little droopy
It's hard to believe how many mornings have arrived
I'm content with just one thing / For example, just one eternal peony tree, from which the flower never falls / Or a happiness that touches you, / And makes you forget even your heart
A night so dark and deep you can't tell left from right
If I could convey to you even one of these things...
I just can't seem to remember / It feels like I just never knew
Just one ray of sunshine that shines through the night / A sentimentality that would touch you and open your heart and let me see through it / Really, I'm fine with just one thing
I would tear off my heart from my body, little by little, / And hand it to you. I will give my everything to you, so...
Just a little bit, / Let me leave just a little bit of my footprints in your world
Do you understand? That your happiness / Isn't confined to just one thing
The fact that I'm the only one that doesn't smile
I can't taste anything no matter what I eat / It feels like I've lost my body
I believed / That your heart and mine would always be one
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"Amazingly, here is the glorious (long-delayed) follow-up to Fred Lane’s 1988 Shimmy Disc LP, Car Radio Jerome. In the wake of that surreal masterpiece, Shimmy announced an LP called Icepick to the Moon, but it took 31 years to wrestle this slab of bacon to the mat. And you’ll be glad we did.
Icepick takes up where Jerome left off. As inhabited by visual artist, Tim Reed, “Fred Lane” (I’ll drop the quote marks after this) is a lounge crooner with smoothly classic vocal chops and a taste for lyrics shaped by Alfred Jarry’s proto-Dada writings. Fred Lane is a creature of the ‘Pataphysical South, inhabiting the same pocket universe as Bruce Hampton and Eugene Chadbourne. And we guarantee his music is as deeply fried as anything you’ve ever heard. Or eaten.
The roots of Lane have been explored in Skizz Cyzyk’s great documentary, Icepick to the Moon (to which this is not a soundtrack LP), and are traceable back as far as high school in the late ’60s, where Lane and the late guitarist Davey Williams had a weird-o cover band. A couple years later, they both ended up in the Tuscaloosa Alabama student/hippie ghetto (near the University), where some older artists — Craig Nutt (aka “Ron ‘Pate”) and a few odd others — had formed an art collective, Raudelunas, to do all the whacked out stuff interesting people like to do. This included art, free music, film and so on, all incorporating a decidedly Dada/Surrealist perspective. This was the beginning of a long Alabama Surrealist tradition that includes LaDonna Smith, Anne LeBaron,Wally Shoup and many others.
Anyway, at some point, Reed brought his Fred Lane persona to the party — an accretion of totally insane lyrics and performance tropes, set to what almost sounds like swinging cocktail music until you start noticing the bizarre detailing and avant-garde highlighting. Coming at the same early ’70s moment that lounge retro was functionally hip (Manhattan Transfer, Asleep at the Wheel, Capt. Matchbox, etc.) the results were a complete mindfuck.
The rest of the story you should know. Several albums were generated by the Raudelunas cartel on their own Say Day-Bew label, and much related madness was done on Davey Williams’ and LaDonna Smith’s label, Trans Museq. But this music was mostly a regional and sub-sub-underground secret until Shimmy Disc issued Car Radio Jerome in ’88, then followed that up with a reissue of its predecessor From the One That Cut You) in ’89. Those records blew a lot of minds on a variety of levels. After that Lane more or less disappeared back into the art world, where he applied the same brakeless aesthetic to different forms. Whirlygigs, anyone?
Icepick was either a long time in gestation or it wasn’t. The music, penned by Reed with Roger Hagerty (aka Dick Foote), played by a band with Williams (aka Cyd Cherise) on guitar, is unbelievably fine. Sadly, this was Williams’ last recording session, but the instrumental inventions are a wonderful extension of Jerome (which was notably more sophisticated, sonically, than earlier recordings). And the lyrics just get wilder the more you listen. Still, it’s hard to fathom there hasn’t been a new Fred Lane album in 31 years! I mean, Reagan was president then, and I had a full head of hair!
Regardless, we’re now well into a new century and Lane’s back to finish the job he was born to do! America, prepare to meet Fred Lane. One more time." -Byron Coley, 2019 (c/o Feeding Tube Records)
#reverand fred lane#fred lane#ron pate#raudelunas#ron 'pate's debonairs#tim reed#kramer#mark kramer#shimmy disc#icepick to the moon#from the one that cut you#car radio jerome#vinyl#bandcamp#mp3
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even when the moon shatters the tide
a fandom trumps hate fic for @petrifiedforests
pairings: Geralt/Jaskier, Lambert/Aiden
warnings: torture, graphic depictions of violence, 50k
When Geralt and Jaskier are ambushed, Jaskier is helpless to do anything but shout as a mysterious group subdues Geralt and drags him away.
When Geralt wakes up in a cell, he quickly realizes that escape isn’t going to be simple. Luckily, Jaskier finds one of Geralt’s brothers to help. Lambert may be used to saving damsels in distress, but they don’t normally have white hair.
Will they be able to get Geralt out in time, or will it be too late?
Geralt groans as he comes to, a sharp pain like an icepick at the base of his skull. Trying to scramble up as he registers that his surroundings are unfamiliar, a shackle on his leg stops him from getting too far. He pulls at it experimentally, but all it does is bite into the soft flesh of his ankle. Weak and feeling like someone stuffed his head with gauze, everything seems vaguely fuzzy. He slides his tongue over his teeth painfully, trying to generate some saliva for his achingly dry mouth, but he’s not sure it helps.
He looks around, but his pupils refuse to dilate and everything appears to be covered in a dark haze. He tries squinting, but that doesn’t do anything either. When he lifts up a hand to rub his eyes, it takes much more energy than it should. It shouldn’t even register, but lifting his elbow level to his shoulder makes a dull ache reverberate down his arm and to the joint.
There’s a clatter somewhere across the room, and Geralt is relieved that he still has his hearing. His heart starts to race at the lack of sight he’s accustomed to, so he shuts his eyes and tries to take deep breaths. Maybe he’s not as fucked as he thinks he is.
He tries to remember what happened before he ended up here, but he’s drawing a blank. He vaguely recalls Jaskier… shouting? And then a crack over his head, and something absolutely vile smelling slid over his mouth and nose, sickly sweet to cover the smell of decaying flesh.
As Geralt lets the hard floor he’s sitting on ground him, he twists his fingers into the sign for aard, but nothing happens, and he sighs as his fears of dimeritium shackles are confirmed.
The cell door clangs, and Geralt jerks his eyes open. His vision is no better now than it was before, and a worry starts to niggle at him that they’ve done something to it. A witcher who can’t use all his senses is certainly less dangerous than one who can.
They’ve taken great lengths to secure him, so that doesn’t make Geralt feel very confident about the possibilities of his escape. He tugs a hand through his hair, and the way it’s moved beyond tangles into matted makes him think he’s been unconscious for more than just a few hours, or even a few days. Fuck.
Geralt makes out a shadowy shape standing at the door, and he takes a deep breath deliberately, determined not to panic. He’s not going to show weakness in front of whoever this is.
Finally, the shape clears their throat when it becomes evident Geralt’s not going to lunge at them. As they approach and their features get clearer, Geralt takes notice of more and more details, his mind spinning as he tries to patch the pieces of this puzzle together. He can tell that it’s a man, now. The man’s wearing a robe which, combined with Geralt’s shackles, tells him this is a mage. Geralt’s going to have to be clever if he’s going to get out of this situation. If the mage has the right connections, he might have all sorts of information about witchers, even some things that Geralt doesn’t know.
After the man stares at him for a minute, raking his eyes over Geralt’s bare chest with undisguised fascination, Geralt’s finally had enough. “What do you want?” he snaps, but it comes out less threatening than intended after the disuse his voice has suffered.
The man titters. “Is that any way to talk to me?”
Geralt tilts his head, pretending to ponder. “Why exactly do I care about what you think?”
The man grins lecherously at him, holding up a wicked serrated knife that gleams from the little light in the room. “Because we can either make this easy, or very, very hard. And trust me, I don’t mind the hard way.”
Geralt shuts his eyes for a brief second. He’s been through worse, and he’ll get through this. There’s no way they can put him through any worse than the trials were.
A nasty voice whispers in the back of his mind that this man might be a part of the mages that designed the trials, and that he could put Geralt through a hell of a lot worse, but he tries to block that out.
A litany of chanted fucks floods his mind, and the mage walks over to him and tilts Geralt’s head up with the knife. “Don’t be so dour. We’re going to have lots of fun, you and I.”
read the rest on ao3 here
#the witcher#geraskier#lambden#geralt#jaskier#lambert#aiden#hurt comfort#whump#angst with a happy ending
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A short scene, with three old designs (Red Moonstone, Violet Sapphirine, Emerald) getting redone for human-shaped practice. I hope it’s easy to follow Moon’s word bubble - I was trying to be experimental.
Red moonstone, or Moon, is a Space Crystal Gem, gathering rebels and hiding on distant asteroid belts or untouched moons, waiting for Rose Quartz to summon her. She uses a hooked sword, to harken back to her original design of Literal Pirate.
Violet Sapphirine, or Vee, is a pseudo-Sapphire, meant to predict actions taken by the rebels. She instead uses her ability in battle, knowing her opponents moves before they do. Moon found her on a Hessonite ship, surrounded by bubbled gems. She uses cruel-looking daggers, with too-keen edges and twisted hilts.
Pale Blue Pearl, or Wave, is a mostly average pearl, save for being exceedingly modest dress-wise. Wave always hated the outfits her Agate demanded of her, and when Vee caught up to them in an escape pod, Wave shanked her former master and never looked back. Her weapon is a thin stiletto, looking quite a bit like an icepick.
Star Emerald, he/him pronouns, is White Diamonds second Emerald, lower in rank because of gem placement rather than merit. Ruthless and cunning, his greatest flaws are his strong sense of self-preservation, and an ego the size of Homeworld. His weapons are a whip-like tail that shoots destabilizing beams, and a pair of gloves that do the same.
Aquamarine, or Bangs, is Star Emeralds second, which feels a great deal like gemsitting. Bangs true talents lie in machinery repair and design, but until their emergency Rebellion, she’s never gotten to partake very often. Her weapons are the traditional Tractor Beam and the non-standard Spanner of Certain Doom.
This scene is when Moon captures Star Emerald and he finally joins up, only a few years before Pink diamond’s shattering. The large group of gems hide out, until one day a small ship of off-colors and their human captain fly by…
#Steven universe#Steven universe au#Au#Su au#Gemsonas#Red moonstone#moonstone#violet sapphirine#sapphirine#sapphire#Pale blue pearl#Blue pearl#pearl#star emerald#Emerald#aquamarine#And they were rivals (oh my stars they were rivals)#Crystal gems#gempire#Emerald is just twink Vegeta#Aquamarine is short Bulma#Dragon ball#but only vaguely#Rock ladies#Rock ladies AU#rock ladies
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Books (and comic books) read in March 2022
Summer of Blood : The Peasant’s Revolt of 1381 (Dan Jones, England, 2009)
Kinou Nani Tabeta Vol.15-Vol.17 (Fumi Yoshinaga, Japan, 2021)
Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI (David Grann, USA, 2017)
The Icepick Surgeon: Murder, Fraud, Sabotage, Piracy, and Other Dastardly Deeds Perpetrated in the Name of Science (Sam Kean, USA, 2021)
Dream Work (Mary Oliver, USA, 1994)
A Darker Shade of Magic (V. E. Schwab, USA, 2015)
How not to be a boy (Robert Webb, England, 2017)
Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint webtoon 1-100 (Singshong and Sleepy-C, South Korea, 2019-2022)
Contos de Mentira (Luisa Geisler, Brazil, 2011)
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Ends of the Earth | Chapter 24
Fandom: The Mandalorian
Pairing: Mando x OC
Read on FFN or AO3
Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.
Chapter index
Chapter 24 - The Searchers
Sinead stood at the bottom of the ramp, hands on her hips. They were back on another forest planet. Or moon rather, and this one seemed more hostile than the last one. The trees were older and darker, covered in thick moss that swallowed the sounds of nature. The trunks were too wide for her to reach around, and the branches intertwined to make a nearly impenetrable canopy that covered the ground in shadows.
The tracking fob had led them here, to this place.
She let out a deep breath.
Inside the Crest, Mando placed the child on top of the bed. "You gotta stay here. It's too dangerous."
The child let out a sad coo and tried to climb down before Mando grabbed him and put him back.
"You can't come. I'm sorry."
Sinead smiled for the first time since they left the mining station. Mando still seemed ... hesitant around the kid sometimes, like something was stopping him from fully committing.
At last, Mando appeared at the top of the ramp. "According to the tracking fob, it's close by."
"Great." The forest swallowed the sound, making her voice sound faint and weedy.
"You can stay with the kid. I can do this myself." Mando pressed a command into the device on his vambrace and the ramp went up.
"You've already done enough heavy lifting, it's time I earn my keep, don't you think?" Plus, she'd rather not do a repeat of what happened on Zessol; somehow, the deep forest felt more dangerous than a city populated by pirates and other miscreants.
He wanted to say something more, she knew it; the way his head tilted slightly to the side made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and she turned away before he had the chance. "Where are we going?"
There was a long pause, and she could feel Mando's eyes on her back.
"This way."
She followed him away from the ship and into the overgrown forest. The ground was spongy, moisture seeping up around her feet when she stepped on the moss that carpeted everything. The way every surface was some shade of green messed with her depth perception. If it hadn't been for Mando, she would've gotten lost minutes after losing sight of the ship.
She took a deep breath of the still air, tasting the decomposing leaves on her tongue.
"You miss it?"
Mando was quiet for a moment. "Miss what?"
"Doing this. Bounty hunting."
Seconds ticked by while he thought. "It's the only thing I've ever known."
That wasn't an answer, but in a way, she was grateful that he didn't elaborate. She wouldn't have believed him if he said no, but she didn't know what to do if he said yes.
The forest grew deeper and darker as they went, fed by their silence. Now and again, a rustle went through the treetops, or one of them would become stuck in the peaty ground and have to pull their foot out with a wet squelch.
"It's kinda ironic, isn't it," Sinead said when the silence became too much. "A former slave now turned bounty hunter."
Mando rounded on her, and she took a step back, nearly tripping over a root hidden under the moss. "This isn't the same. You're only doing this to find Kyen."
That did nothing to quell the tight feeling in her chest, but she managed to force a smile. "Thanks."
They stared at each other, standing in the twilight under the trees. A shiver ran up Sinead's back.
Suddenly, a fast beeping broke the tension like a rock through an icy lake, and Mando pulled out the tracking fob.
"It's close?" Her voice sounded shrill.
"About one klick east."
"Then let's go."
After a small climb, the ground plummeted into an overgrown dell. One wrong step from a careless wanderer and they would tumble down the steep side and disappear into the foliage.
"You see a way down?" Mando silenced the screaming tracking fob.
"Not one that won't result in a broken neck." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes; she wanted to get rid of this lingering unease that made her skin itch.
Eventually, they found a faint path snaking between the trees, which led through a thicket and into the dell. The forest seemed less dense in there, and for the first time since stepping in between the trees, Sinead got an uninterrupted look at the sky.
At the bottom of the dell, the forest opened into a clearing, with a farmhouse and a dilapidated barn that was only standing due to sheer stubbornness. Behind that, there was an empty pasture. Once upon a time, someone had painted the house white, but now it had faded into a dull grey.
"You sure this is the right spot?" Sinead whispered, eyes scanning the area. "It looks abandoned."
"Be on your guard." Mando drew his blaster.
"How do you wanna do this?" Sinead asked.
"Careful. Find out where he is."
Mando reached the steps that led to the front door when a thump sounded from the barn.
"Mando-"
"I heard it. Stay behind me."
He crept towards the barn, placing his feet deliberately on patches of moss that hid his footsteps.
The was another thump, and a shadow moved behind a crack in the small door set into the side. The tall double doors looked like they had been welded together with rust.
Sinead held her breath as Mando reached the door. He looked back at her, holding up three fingers.
One.
Two.
Three.
With a hard kick, the door came apart in an explosion of splinters.
A young human girl tumbled back with a scream.
"Oh, shit!" Mando froze halfway through the door.
Sinead was the first to snap out of it, and she pushed past Mando while shoving her blaster back into its holster. "I'm so sorry! We didn't know you were in here."
The girl scrambled to her feet, wide eyes glued to Mando. Her scruffy overalls were at least three sizes too big, and it looked like someone had taken a dull scissor to her hair, leaving it uneven and frizzled. Still, there was a determined spark glinting under her fear.
Sinead crouched down to her level. "Are you here all alone? Are there any adults around?"
The girl's eyes flickered from Sinead to Mando. Then she took a deep breath.
And screamed.
It was like a siren going off right by Sinead's head. She slapped her hands over her ears, but the explosion of sound was an icepick through her eardrums.
At last, the girl ran out of air and her scream tapered off, leaving a thunderous silence. A hand grabbed Sinead's shoulder and pulled her to her feet.
"What was-"
The door to the farmhouse exploded open, and a human shot out, a raised rifle in his hands.
Sinead didn't have time to react. Mando shoved her behind him and leveled his blaster at the human.
"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he screamed, voice shaking.
The little girl darted around Mando and Sinead and ran up the stairs to hide behind the man, wrapping her arms around his leg.
"We're not here for your family," Mando yelled.
"I want you gone. Now!"
"We're looking for someone. A Twi'lek-"
"There's no one here but us! Leave, please!" He had a distinct Core World accent.
A young Togruta boy, clenching a blaster in his hands, appeared in the doorway. His lekku only reached his shoulders, and even though he was as tall as the human, it looked like someone had grabbed him by the feet and montrals and pulled, leaving him lanky and awkward.
The tip of the rifle wavered in the air before the human blinked hard and held it steady. "Take your sister and get back in the house."
"Wh-what's going on? Who are they?" The young Togruta squared his shoulders but his hands shook as he lifted the blaster.
"No questions. Just go!"
Sinead's eyes widened. A cold barrel pressed into the small of her back, and her blaster slipped from her fingers. She slowly raised her hands.
"Put down your blaster," a sharp voice sounded behind her ear. "Or I'll sever her spine."
It seemed like Jami had found them before they found him.
Mando turned with lightning speed, but Jami was quicker, grabbing Sinead by the shoulder and pulling her out of reach.
"Don't try me! I'm serious! And step back!"
Sinead felt her eyes meet Mando's through the helmet and gave an imperceptible nod. Blood rushed in her ears.
Mando's hand tightened around the blaster for a moment before it thudded to the ground, but he didn't step back, didn't try to keep the human in his field of vision.
"Kick it away."
Mando did so, his entire body tensed like a spring ready for release.
"Laar," Jami said, raising his voice, "take the children inside and stay there."
Sinead could see the human - Laar - over Mando's shoulder. He nodded tightly and grabbed the little girl before bodily pushing the Togruta back into the house. Sinead felt a warm exhale on the back of her neck when the door banged shut.
"Vekkass sent you, didn't he?" Jami pressed the blaster harder into her back, and she winced. One shot and no amount of bacta would fuse her spine back together. Best case scenario she would be paralyzed for the rest of her life.
"Let her go." Mando's voice dipped into a growl.
"I just want to be left alone, do you understand? Whatever he thinks I stole, I don't have it." Jami started to back up, dragging Sinead further into the barn and out of sight of the house.
She wet her lips. "Let me go, and we can talk about this."
Jami dug his fingers into her shoulder where the Trandoshan bounty hunter had shot her years ago, and an echo of old pain shot down her arm. "I don't want to talk. I want you to leave."
A crash from the farmhouse made him start, and the pressure on her back disappeared for a second, but it was enough. Sinead brought down her heel on his foot and twisted out of his grasp. The blaster went off, the bolt hitting Mando's armor with a ping.
Mando pounced and ripped the blaster out of the Twi'lek's hand, kicking his legs out from under him. Jami fell back with a yell, and as he tried getting to his feet, Mando kicked him back down.
"Stay."
Sinead snatched the nearest blaster from the ground. The spot on her lower back prickled like the blaster was still there.
Jami stared up at them,red-rimmed eyes burning with anger. His blue skin stood out from his clothes that were all a dull brown or grey, speckled with dirt and dust, his cheeks hollow like he hadn't eaten in a very long time. He didn't particularly look like a pirate. "If you're gonna kill me, do it now. Just don't hurt my family, please. Don't let them see my body." He closed his eyes.
Oh, shit.
Sinead looked at Mando, trying to gauge what he wanted to do, but the helmet remained frustratingly blank, and the seconds ticked by. Usually, she could at least read something from his body language alone, but now he was betraying nothing. The thought of dragging him back to Vekkass hadn't sat well with her before, and now it felt like her body might revolt against itself if she tried.
When nothing happened, Jami opened his eyes.
"Get up," Mando ordered and took a step back, his blaster following the Twi'lek as he scrambled to his feet, lips curled over sharp teeth.
The barn creaked in the stillness. Stalls lined the walls on both sides of the big double doors, but it was clear that they'd been empty for a long time; clumps of grey straw and fossilized dung piled up on the floor. A keedee had made a nest in the rafters and was watching the situation with a disapproving glare.
"So." Jami's tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. "What happens now?"
That was a good question.
Sinead gestured over her shoulder at the house. "Is that why you left?"
Jami pressed his lips into a thin line.
"Okay." She pressed her free hand to her temple. "Where's the loot?"
Silence.
"If you don't talk, I can go-" she took a step back in the direction of the house.
"No!" Fear flashed across his face. "Keep them out of this."
Mando adjusted his grip on the blaster. "Then talk."
Jami took a shuddering breath. "I ... look, there isn't any loot."
"You mean you sold it?" Sinead said.
"I mean, there never was any loot at all."
"Explain."
His mouth moved silently as he thought and a vein popped out near his temple. Then, "Vekkass sent us out to ambush a freighter on the Triellus Trade Route, running spice from Dubrava to Nal Hutta. It would've been a suicide mission even if the Hutts hadn't been involved-" he paused, tensing up until the cords stood out on his neck- "but Vekkass didn't care. Made us go anyway. I couldn't ... I wouldn't go to my death just to please some boc'ara." He spat on the ground between them.
"Vekkass thinks you absconded with the loot."
"Of course he does. Can't fathom anyone doing anything if it's not about the money. They sent me out to die in the name of a couple of creds. How did you find me?"
"Someone saw you on Trillu."
Jami bared a row of sharp teeth. "Frang! I knew it was a bad idea …"
"What's the story with them, then?" She nodded towards the house. The earthy smell of mold and old hay tickled her nose.
"They have nothing to do with this."
"I know."
He sighed. "I met Laar shortly after I left. We ... I wasn't the only one running from something. We decided it would be safer to stay together, at least for a while." His voice softened as he spoke, and his face transformed into something more gentle for a second before morphing back into a venomous mask.
Shit.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek and watched him intently, trying to gauge his sincerity. Fear and anger radiated from him, but he seemed genuine enough. "Why even throw in with Vekkass' crew if you hated it so much? He didn't exactly seem like the deceitful type. What you see is what you get."
"I had no choice."
"We all have a choice." She felt the burn as his eyes met hers.
Jami scoffed. "Vekkass ... If you asked him, he'd say he rescued me from the spice pits on Nimbal."
Sudden cold hit her core as realization struck; she knew of Nimbal, had seen slave transports stop on Sriluur on their way to the planet. "And what would you say?"
Jami bit his tongue and looked away. "I'm not kidding myself. The only reason he kept me around was because I knew my way around a blaster, and the second I stopped being useful, he'd put a bolt through my brain. I did what I had to to survive. I don't expect you to understand."
It felt like a punch to the gut. She had nearly dragged a runaway slave back to his former master. This was all so wrong.
Jami's eyes roved across her face. "Look, I don't … I know I have nothing to bargain with, and you have no reason to help me, but please, I'm begging you ..."
"Go." It took a second before Sinead realized the word had come from her. "Just … go back into the house." She felt Mando's eyes fall on her.
"What do you-" Jami eyed Mando's blaster still aiming directly at him. "You're letting me go?"
Her mouth worked while her brain spun to come up with an answer. "I don't… I don't know."
Slowly, Mando lowered his blaster and nodded once towards the house.
Jami took a step towards the house, pausing for a moment before breaking into a run. The door to the farmhouse banged close behind him, and Sinead closed her eyes. It stung like she had been straining to see for too long.
"What do you want to do?"
She kept her eyes closed. "You're asking me?"
"It's your decision."
She finally turned to look at him; he was watching her intently, head cocked to the side. "We can't drag him back to Vekkass. Hunting a pirate is one thing, but I will not be a slave catcher."
Mando looked at the farmhouse. "He could be lying."
"I don't think he is." She couldn't explain why, but there was something about him that reminded her crushingly about herself. "In any case, I'm sure he's telling the truth about the loot. Look at this place." She spread her arms wide to encompass the barn. "Pure spice from Dubrava will net you more than a rundown farm on some backwater planet. More security, too." She bit her lower lip hard enough to break the skin. "Let's just go back to the ship. I'm sure the kid misses us."
Mando's voice modulator rustled as he sighed. "He'll run."
"Then I guess the decision's been made for us."
Mando shook his head, staring back at the house for a moment as he holstered his blaster. "C'mon, then."
Sinead stopped as they reached the edge of the clearing and looked back. The farmhouse sat cold and dead, a strange grey box amidst the vivid green of the forest. She wondered where they'd go. Then, stepping between the trees, the forest closed around her like a wall.
Mando led the way out of the dell and through the forest. She stared at the fabric of his cloak until her vision filled with grey. With every sodden step, she got further and further away from Kyen, but what was the alternative? How much was she willing to sacrifice to find him?
"What would you have done?"
Mando turned at the sound of her voice, nearly hidden in the perpetual dusk trapped under the canopy. "Does it matter?"
"Just answer the question, please."
His hands flexed in annoyance. "Sinead, I don't ... I don't know. My hunts don't usually end like this. Vekkass is the best lead we have."
Sinead looked down at the water slowly rising around her feet. "We should've just bonked him on the head before he had a chance to talk."
"You wouldn't have wanted that."
Her eyes met his through the helmet, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, the forest seemed so quiet. "No. I wouldn't."
A noise echoed through the forest, and Mando drew his blaster, gestured at her to get down.
"Doesn’t sound like an animal.” Sinead hissed.
“It wasn’t.”
Mando retook the lead, moving slowly between the trees, keeping low to the ground. Another sound echoed through the forest closer and louder than before. Mando crouched down behind a fallen tree and signaled her to stop. She sidled up next to him and peeked her head over the moss-covered trunk.
A gunship stood in a small clearing, the metal body nearly black with carbon scoring. Seven sentients filed out of the open side. A Duros tested the springy moss with a foot before stepping out on a tussock. "What a hell-hole." He spied into the darkness with narrowed eyes, and Sinead and Mando ducked down behind the tree. "Who in their right mind would willingly live here?"
“Who in their right mind would steal from Vekkass?" Another voice rang out, to an immediate reprimand from the Duros.
"Not so loud, you idiot!"
Sinead closed her eyes and fought the urge to bang her head against a tree. As if the day hadn't been hard enough already.
"What about the others?"
"We'll go on without them," the Duros said. "Heard from Lenk they've found the ship. They'll try to break through, see if the Mando’s got any neat toys."
Cold fingers of dread closed around Sinead's throat.
"It's fine. S'not like we need 'em."
"What about the Mandalorian?"
"They don't know we're coming. If they've already killed Jami, then one less energy bolt needed, right. Vekkass said he doesn't care about the woman, but he wants the armor. Was a stroke of brilliance, it was, leaving them to do all the heavy lifting.”
Sinead's hand shot out to grab Mando's shoulder a second before he launched himself over the fallen tree; fighting seven pirates would take too long. She stabbed a finger in the direction of the Razor Crest and mouthed for him to go. He looked back towards the pirates and his shoulder tensed under her hand before he nodded once, and she let her hand fall to her side.
Mando disappeared in the direction of the ship while she slunk back the way they came. Once she was out of earshot, she broke into a dead sprint. The forest turned into a green blur as she jumped from rock to tussock to avoid getting caught in the boggy ground. Lungs burned with every breath, and her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat.
She bulleted through the thicket that hid the entrance to the dell, ignoring the sting as branches snagged on her clothes and hair. The farmhouse looked small and lifeless. Maybe Jami and his family had already left. She took the steps up to the door in one jump and crashed into the house, the door bouncing off the wall. She found herself in a small kitchen barely big enough to fit a table and four chairs.
Something smashed on the ground.
Jami flew up from a chair, the rifle held in a white-knuckled grip.
"Wait!" She held up her hands. "Don't shoot!"
"What do you want?" Jami's voice shook with every word.
"Vekkass' men ... in the forest ..." a stabbing pain accompanied every word.
"What?"
"I swear they're not with us ..." she rubbed her ribs, making Laar start and reach for a blaster. "They must've followed us from the base. They know you're here." She looked over her shoulder at the wall of green—no sign of them.
"If this is a trick-"
"It's not. Do you have any defenses?"
Laar lifted a shaking hand and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "N-no. We thought we were safe."
"We were," Jami hissed and pushed his chair away with such force it clattered to the ground. "Until you showed up."
"We don't have time for-" a deep whooshing sound filled the air as something passed overhead. Sinead’s heart skipped a beat as she ran out and looked; the Razor Crest made a turn above the barn, the wind from the turbine flattening the grass and made her braid whip around her head, and it landed heavily on in the muddy pasture.
Sinead was climbing over the fence when the ramp came down, revealing Mando with a pronged rifle in his hands, the kid by his side with one little hand wrapped around the frame of the entrance.
A shout cut through the air, "what's going on?"
Sinead whirled around to see the Togruta boy running outside, the little girl attached to his leg.
"Take Elia back inside," Jami yelled, just as a blaster bolt struck the side of the ship, and all hell broke loose. The first pirate burst into the clearing.
Elia screamed as Jami grabbed her and threw her back into the house, the Togruta following close behind. Sinead jumped behind an empty watering trough just as another bolt whizzed over her head.
Shots rained through the air as more pirates appeared between the trees surrounding the farm. Sinead rolled to avoid getting hit, found her feet and ran to the ship. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a human woman take aim.
Mando ran out of the ship, vaulting over the fence in one smooth motion and sliding behind the remains of the barn door. He fired his rifle, the bolt hitting the human in the chest who disappeared in a cloud of smoldering ash; the stench of plasma and burnt flesh filled the air.
A large Twi’lek rounded the corner of the farmhouse directly behind Jami, who was crouched behind a water-barrel, doing his best to keep the pirates away from the front door. Without stopping, Sinead took aim and fired.
Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of her and she hit the ground with a dull thud. The Duros stood over her; a broad-brimmed hat cast a deep shadow across his face. Her eyes focused on the blaster trained directly at her head.
Sounds of the battle faded out as she stared into the hollow point of the blaster.
The Duros’ face froze in a grin, the blaster tumbled from his hand that stayed outstretched in an awkward position. He made a weak gurgling sound, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Sinead blindly grasped around for her dropped blaster, hands sinking into the soft earth.
Sinead’s ears popped as the Duros was lifted into the air by an invisible string. Whatever force had frozen him in place disappeared, and he thrashed, clawed at her as she got to her feet and looked around.
The child stood at the top of the ramp, tiny hands lifted into the air, wrinkled face contorted in concentration. His body shook like every muscle was tensed, and there was a slight pull on the world she had never felt before.
A bolt shot past her, hitting the pirate in the chest and his body collapsing into ash with a whoomph of sudden vacuum.
The kid slumped to the ground.
She got up on shaky legs. The sound of fighting faded into nothing.
A blaster bolt struck the ramp just below the child, and a current of electricity shocked her into motion; she sprinted towards the ship and scooped the kid into her arms just as another bolt grazed her leg, leaving a burnt strip of flesh across her calf. Then, they were safe inside the ship.
The kid felt weightless in her arms. He stared up at her with heavy-lidded eyes and curled a small hand around a strand of hair which had come loose from her braid.
“Sinead?” Mando stood in the opening, the strange pronged rifle clutched in one hand. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Mando left the rifle leaning against the wall and pulled the kid out of her arms.
“Wh-what was that?” Her tongue felt thick and unwieldy.
Raised voices cut through his reply, and Sinead moved numbly to the opening; Jami and Laar were in the middle of an argument, heading towards the ship. When they stopped at the bottom of ramp, Laar pointedly didn’t meet her eyes.
"Well, thanks to you, I guess Vekkass knows we're here,” Jami said between clenched teeth.
"He would've found you eventually." Mando reached inside a pouch on his belt and produced the tracking fob that went into a wild staccato beeping. "He has your chain-code. He was about to send someone else when we got there."
"And you decided to take the job."
Sinead swallowed. "He has something I need.
"And what is that?"
"I'm ... I'm looking for someone. Vekkass knew him."
Jami's eyebrows shot up. "From his crew?"
"No. This was before." She didn't know why she couldn't just tell him the truth; if anyone understood it, it would probably be him.
"What are you gonna do now? I doubt he'll welcome you back with open arms."
"You can't stay here. It's only a matter of time before he sends other bounty hunters after you," Mando said.
It dawned on Sinead what he was trying to do. "And they won't be as forgiving as us."
She watched a lot of complicated emotions flicker across Jami's face. "I know." He gave Laar a pointed look. "Unless we take the fight to Vekkass, he'll never leave us alone."
It was like Laar suddenly came back to the moment; he threw his hands into the air with a yell. "Going after him is suicide!"
"Staying here isn’t any better! You want to just keep your head down, hope that he forgets about us?" Jami swung round to face Laar, his lekku twitching with agitation.
"I want us to run!"
"I'm done with running."
Sinead looked away as an embarrassed flush crawled across her cheeks. She wished they would’ve had their argument in private.
Mando cleared his throat, and both men stopped mid yell; Laar looked like he had forgotten that they were even there.
Jami stepped back and pressed a hand to his temple. "You need Vekkass alive. I need him dead. If you help me with this, then I'll do whatever I can to help you find who you're looking for."
The sun glinted on Mando's armor as he leaned on one leg and shifted the kid further up his arm. "You know how we can get inside the station?"
"I’ve got a plan."
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#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x oc#mando x oc#din x oc#din djarin x oc#din djarin#fanfiction#ends of the earth#oc: Sinead
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