#like it’s simultaneously so good and so horrendous

[doctorsiren]

No one is safe from my robotification

[hoziersong]

life is KICKING me so bad rn

[coff-in]

Ok but big dick reluctant sex maniac andrew graves (wow I can't believe I just typed that) x reader with somnophilia. Reader waking up with Andrew apologizing, having already pumped several loads into them because he just can't help it. Reader's a deep sleeper, so he likes to keep count of just how long it takes them to wake up each time. He says he's reluctant, but he sure as hell doesn't look like it when folding a sleepy reader in half and going "Just one more time, okay?" Oh my god him doing this with baby sister reader and going "You can handle one more time for big brother, right?" He does so much for her and Ashley, the least his baby sister could do for him is to not let him suffer from his big, needy endowments nymphomania alone. I've been cackling through this entire ask I'm somehow simultaneously horny and horrendously amused.

notes from coff-in: HEHEHE >:) yes YES!!! i honestly like the idea of somnophilia (both consensual and non-consensual) like, yeah go ahead and use me while i sleep :)

[fem] reader-insert, NSFW, incest

it's honestly so hot to me imagining andrew pounding away at [reader]'s tight hole in the middle of the night. she and ashley are heavy sleepers so no one but andrew can hear the wet plaps of his hips meeting [reader]'s, his thick and throbbing cock repeatedly pushing in and out of her. the room is dark and air is heavy. his pants and groans are soft as to not wake them up, but it doesn't really matter anyway. he's came how many times now? three, four? it doesn't really matter as this next one causes [reader] to stir from her slumber.

"mm--" she gasps under andrew as she registers the insertion between her legs, "a-an--"

"shhh!" he cuts her off, sweat dripping down his nose as he keeps her caged between his arms, "shh! shh... just one more time, okay? 'm sorry, babe, 'm sorry. just one more and we'll be done." [reader] starts to moan and andrew fucking kebabs her on his dick. with every thrust, another glob of cum seeps out of her twitching hole.

he kisses her with tongue as he cums for, hopefully, the last time that night. her moans are swallowed as he overfills her insides again, his balls twitching at the release. they part with saliva connecting their lips together as he sits his cock inside of her, panting at the sight of his ruined baby sister underneath him. he huffs playfully and brushes a few strands of sweat slicked hair away from her face, "such a good baby sister, helping you big brother out."

----

coff-in

[littlemissferret]

CHRONICLES OF HOUSECATS [ part 1 , part 2 ]

sypnosis: you finally manage an uninterrupted date with isagi

no prns used (reader). established relationship with (loser bf) isagi. 2.2k wc. cw: nothing(?). made them a lot tamer for this (less chaos). kaiser & ness still cats ofc.

Do you remember the feeling of awkward cringe, when you watch third-rate actors on screen put on an act so atrociously bad? The kind of feeling that forces your skin to crawl- a chill sent down your spine while simultaneously warm blood rushes to your face from second hand embarrassment?

“MEOWWWW MRREOWWWWWWWWW”

Yeah, you’re feeling a whole hell of that right now. God, he’s so embarrassing…

You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing in much needed fresh air to cool down the horrendous headache your darling housecats are causing you right now.

“Enough, Mihya. I told you to save your little theatrics for the talent shows.” You lift up the blue cat carrier to chastise him.

Michael bats his eyes, staring up at you with the eyes of a pitiful, heartbroken widow.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that,” You deadpan at his attempt to win you over. “C’mon, it’s just a spa. You love getting pampered, don’t you? Well, they’re gonna give you lotsss of love and attention there.”

He furthers his meowing and whining at you, pretending he didn’t hear allat. Determined to not drop his act anytime soon.

Isagi walks next to you, this sweet boy has been trying to hold your hands when you were busy arguing with your rebellious cat.

He finally manages to grab onto your hand, a smile blossoming onto his face as he internally celebrates his success.

“Um, will it really be okay for us to just leave them at the spa?” He eyes the magenta cat carrier in his other hand. “I mean, we can do this another time.. It’s not that much of a hassle, really.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, and start swinging your held hands. “It’s fine. Really!” You turn to him with a smile, “I bring them to the spa every two to three months anyway. Mihya usually loves it! He’s just being whiny for attention right now.”

Ignoring the blond cat’s yowls of protests, you continue, “Besides, I’m looking forward to this date with you-” You glance down at the blue carrier, “-without them interrupting this time.”

On your previous romantic dates with Isagi, the two cats had stalked and caught up with you both. Causing a scene every single time, thanks to Michael’s dramatics and Alexis’ surprising animosity towards your sweet boyfriend.

You swear Alexis is usually a good, well-mannered kitty. He never had any problems with strangers. Maybe he just doesn’t like Yoichi’s smell? You oughta talk to him about showing up right after practice in his stinky sweat drenched jersey.

You hum, stepping into the doors of ‘Magic Whiskers Pet Spa & Hotel’. The bell chimes, alerting the workers and other pets in the building of your arrival.

It doesn’t take long until the old manager walks up to greet you. “Hello there, dearie! Michael and Alexis back for their appointment?”

“Hi, gramps. And yeah, the usual, thank you.” Placing the cat carriers onto the counter, you open the locks for them.

Michael huffs, strutting out and stretching his legs, then immediately basks in the old man’s praises at his big boy stretch.

Little bastard giving you the silent treatment.

Alexis walks up to you the moment he’s let out of the cage. Purring as he rubs his head at your waist. Finally, he thinks. Normally he’s comfortable with his carrier but god when Isagi is the one handling him does it make the experience a hundred times less enjoyable.

Oh well, at least he’s in his second favourite place now. Being in the magic themed store slash spa makes him the happiest feline alive.

Great memories were created here in this magical place, after all.

“Good boy, ‘Lexis. You watch over Michael for me, yeah? He’s being a petty prick.” You whisper to the cat. “I’ll stock up on your favourite kibbles when I come back later.”

You scratch at the spot behind his little flicky ears, sinking in his purrs as you stare at Michael’s overgrown blond fur.

“Hmm. You know what, old man? I think you can try something new with them this time.”

The cats stare up at you curiously and the manager only gives you a warm smile.

“I thought you’d never ask. Leave them to me!”

—

“Ahh, some peace and quiet..” You sigh in bliss as you hook your arm with Isagi. You’re both now walking leisurely on the sidewalk. “Soo, what’s the plan, Yoichi?”

Isagi blushes when you turn to look at him, “Ah, right.” He fumbles with his jacket, “Well, I didn’t plan an itinerary or anything. But..”

He lists off the places you both can visit together, rambling off. Occasionally stuttering and tripping over his own feet.

You admire his side profile as he continues his meandering. He’s such a cutie, still so awkward and shy this far into the relationship.

You wonder if you’d get to more sides of him as you both continue to spend more time together.

“-so i think it’s really worth a visit too. You wanna go?”

His dorky smile paired with a soft blush on the apple of his cheeks. How could anyone say no to that?

You’d go anywhere this man brings you to.

“Sure. Anything for you, pretty boy.”

—

The faint smell of clay envelopes the both of you as you step foot into the pottery studio.

“Hello, we booked a session under the name Isagi Yoichi.” You glance around the cozy studio, admiring the array of works displayed. The muted colours of each piece of art blend well in the modernly designed room, adding a spark of personality to the mundane aesthetic.

“Yes, of course. Over here, please.” The receptionist brings you two to your designated workshop.

You place a thumb to your chin as you stare at the unpainted pottery in front of you. You never really had any plans to paint on some clay. Now that you think about it, you jumped at any idea Isagi had suggested- and pottery painting just happened to sound the most romantic to your dear Yoichi right now.

Oh, well. Now that you’re here with him, might as well show-off whatever amount of talent you have for painting.

Yoichi’s hand finds yours, before he quickly releases it to wipe off the sweat that has collected onto his palm.

“Sorry! I- It’s too hot in here, aha..”

Help this poor guy. So many dates into the relationship and he can hardly tell if you’re as excited as he is. Is your heart beating as quick as his right now? Do you feel the immense urge to hold him the same way he wants to hold you?

You choose to reach out for him, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Are you nervous about pottery painting? I’m sure you’ll do great, ‘Ichi.”

Ah, that’s not.. Yoichi sweatdrops. You have trouble reading him too, it seems. At least now he feels better about being unable to read you.

A talent to be reckoned with, really. How you both have been with each other for years and still stuck in the awkward guessing stage whenever you go out together.

But weakass communication skills aside...

Uh oh. What if you think of him as a loser, one that is jittery at the notion of.. painting?

No way! He’ll save this, he thinks. Right, he was good at arts and crafts back when he was in school. He can woo you with his crazy painting skills!

With newfound confidence, Isagi picks up an unpainted mug. A blank canvas- for him to turn into one of his creative works, and sweep you off your feet. He picks up a brush, brainstorming ideas of what he can paint onto the mug.

You browse the options, settling on matching mugs with Yoichi’s. Sitting by his side, you dip your brush into the paint of your choice, and start to draw strokes of what you have in mind onto the delicate surface of the mug.

“Has your season come to an end? You’ve been more free lately,” You ask, just to start a conversation. “As in, you’ve been coming over a lot more.”

Isagi’s mouth forms an ‘o’, “Right. Yeah, it's my off-season right now.” He pauses to think, “I’ll be free until next month, I guess.”

You hum at his answer, “You still practice a lot, even on your holidays.”

“Ah, well. That’s just..” He blushes, feeling a bit shy that you’ve noticed his passionate attitude towards football.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” You laugh at his embarrassment, “You love football. That much I know of.”

Isagi feels his heart flutter at that. God, you remind him of how much he loves you every time without fail. Doing so much to him while you haven’t even started on pampering him with kisses and sweet words.

He swears you’re perfect- just for him. You fit perfectly, providing all kinds of comfort and support that he never knew he needed. All on your own accord.

You love, care and recognize his dreams. What more could a man ask for?

The world's best lover for the world's best striker. (an overkill but he's delulu like that)

He swallows hard, wanting to let all the bottled up giddy feelings burst out and embrace you. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Maybe he’s not the best with words. The peak of his creativity with verbal finesse is really just spitting flame on the field- something that he secretly hopes you’ll never get to witness.

Most he can do now is to paint what he loves the most- you, and his football of course, onto the mug.

With each delicate stroke of his brush, he carefully fills in the colours with love. Painting a simplified version of your general features, he then adds the football next to you. Ending the piece by tracing a giant frame of heart around both you and the ball.

He checks his work, scanning for any small mistakes then carefully writes ‘World’s #1 Striker’ onto the free space next to his painting.

He smirks proudly at that.

You send him a side-eye then chuckle at his satisfied look, touching up on the details and colours of your own piece of art.

Seems like you both share very similar sentiments in your paintings. You opt to paint what you love the most- your cats, with your lovely boyfriend in between.

Instead of acting up on your ego like him, though, you settled on painting mini hearts to fill out the free space.

Give it a week, and your mugs will be delivered back to you. The previously plain ceramics painted over with a sheen of love, reflecting the experience you both created and the bond you’ve both strengthened over the date.

—

“Meow”

Alexis runs up to you the moment you enter the door. Eagerly pawing up at your legs.

You notice his faded magenta is re-dyed, and his usual pressed down fur is now more fluffed up. The natural caramel brown is now more contrasting with the bright magenta.

“Hi, ‘Lexis. Did you have a good time?” You pick him up and start to kiss him all over his now very soft and fluffy fur. “I missed you too, baby. You look so pretty. Do you feel pretty?”

The now fluffier (re-dyed) magenta cat basks in your attention, lapping his tongue at your chin while purring happily.

The old man walks up to you with Michael strutting along next to him.

“I’ve given this one a whole makeover,” He muses, “Alexis was the one who chose that colour for him.”

Michael glances up at you proudly with his pretty blue eyes- now matching with the new dye he wears on his blond fur: on the top of his ears and the ends of his tail. His fur is noticeably shorter, and a little choppy around his head, framing his usual fluffy face.

It makes him look so silly, to be honest. But he’s so satisfied with it, you decide to not comment on the choppy part.

You do, however, comment on his new dye job.

“What a beautiful shade of blue,” You coo at him, giving into his attempt at flaunting for compliments. “Look at you, my little emperor. So royal.” His fluffy tail stands up high, and wags in approval.

Returning your attention to the old manager, you teasingly ask, “Were they on their best behaviour, old man?”

He chuckles and nods at the two cats now staring at him, “Yup. They’re good alright. I’d say they deserve some new toys and some premium kibbles.”

You smile, satisfied hearing his response. “Well, I did promise to restock Alexis’ favourite kibble.” You pick Michael up along with Alexis, then place them on the seat of a trolley nearby.

Turning to your idle boyfriend (who has been nervously eyeing a certain magenta cat), you ask, “Could you help me get the premium kibbles, ‘Ichi? I’ll bring these two around for them to pick their new toys.”

Isagi smiles crookedly, “Sure, honey.” He tries to shrug off the way the blond cat is narrowing his eyes at him, but mostly at the ominous smile the magenta one is sending him. “Take your time.”

He’ll just have to find a way to counter the two jealous kitties soon.

© littlemissferret 2024 ✦ do not repost, translate or modify .

a barking cat video made me write allat

- im ngl i feel kinda shy writing lovey dovey romance, u can tell its really stiff - probably will resort back to chaos dumping or maybe will try to put myself out there

[adventuringblind]

Medication Mishaps

Landoscar x Reader

Genre: Fluff and Crack

Summary: When a mix-up in meds leaves her without any, Lando and Oscar are there to her navigate without them.

Warnings:

Notes: for @norizznorris. Sorry I don't do male readers! Regardless, I hope this is what you wanted! :)

Side Note: This one made me laugh the entire time while writing it. My fiancé is unmedicated and very high on the ADHD spectrum. Every day is an adventure!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Ah, the joys of being neurodivergent. When somehow the world is to much and simultaneously to little. When the nagging impulsive thoughts and continues need for caffeine aren't enough, then the interests that lay dormant for years come back swinging; upset they've been neglected for so long.

Medication helps. Which - of course it does - it's engineered brain chemicals in the form of a chalky pill designed to help someone function in a world where only one kind of brain is excepted. It's better than it was, the world has come further in recent years.

yet here she is, taking her last pill from the bottle. A little piece in her cries knowing she'll have to go pick up her new meds today. The pharmacy feels like to much and she'd rather lay in bed and give into the executive dysfunction. Then she remembers she's flying with Lando and Oscar to their race tomorrow.

With that thought in mind, she groans and hauls herself out of bed. The boys are doing factory work today and won't be back until later. Plenty of time to come home and waste away the hours in bed and pray her energy comes back.

~~~~~

She lied to herself earlier. Any optimism for the day has just disappeared.

"What do you mean you don't have my meds?"

"There was a mix-up with the orders, but we'll have them in a few days." The pharmacist gives her a sheepish smile.

She just sighs and turns on the balls of her feet. How she's going to tell her boys, she has no idea yet. The insecurity of them not wanting her around the paddock because of in burns in the back of her mind.

She still has today at least. Maybe she'll just ride it out and not tell them.

That plan fails miserably the second they walk into the flat. The sight of her visibly distressed on the couch alerts them that something is wrong.

The sit down on either side of her. The question trying to escape their mouths. She beats them to it. "There was a mix-up with my meds. I won't have them until after we get back."

"And we'll help you manage, yeah? You'd do the same for us."

"Lan... she has done the same for you, like, daily."

"Rude!"

~~~~~

Sometimes, she's convinced she lives on a different planet entirely. Like the brain and body she has are simply not meant to be here and there must have been a mistake with the storks.

Lando hands her a Redbull, courtesy of Max since he has to many. "I figured this might help?" Seeing as she nearly just threw hands with whoever was chewing unnecessarily loudly, caffeine might help.

She looks at Lando and Oscar, between the three of them, there are seven drinks. Only one of which is the Aussie's. "Oscar is being boring again."

the man in question huffs. "Water is good for you."

"But it's wretched to taste sometimes."

Lando nods at her in agreement. "See Oscar, boring."

"Nothing is ever boring with you two."

~~~~~

The beginning wasn't bad. Not like it is right now with her brain only wanting to do one specific things, she hasn't remember to eat since early this morning, and the tag on her shirt makes her want to pull her skin off.

Oscar looks at her curled up in his drivers room with a horrendous amount of care and sympathy. He slots in next to her and leans his head against the wall. "Hard day?"

"I need like - five pounds of dino nuggies and a nap."

"Anything I can do to help right now? We'll work on food when Lando is done."

She curls up in Oscar's lap like a cat. The lack of regulated sleep finally catching up to her. She's on the verge of sleep when Lando busts through the door yelling about something.

She throws a pillow at him in annoyance. "You owe me food."

Lando pauses. "That sounds brilliant."

Oscar shakes his head in defeat later that night as Lando gradually sneaks food off her plate and pretends they can't see him. If he's not caught then it didn't happen and Jon can't get mad at him.

~~~~~

She hasn't stopped talking with Lando for the last two hours. What exactly they've been going on about, she has no idea at this point. Their original conversation led to rabbit trails and other distractions that got in the way. The original story now long forgotten as they discuss the possibilities for new shoes.

Her phone dings, an automated message alerting her to her refilled meds. She shows Lando in excitement. The joys of functioning like a human again are nearly in her grasp.

Lando and Oscar both look at her in amusement. The latter has been using their conversation as an excuse to read. He sets his book down, a look she hasn't seen before crossing his features.

"Have you ever thought what it would be like if you didn't have to take meds?"

Lando shoots him a nasty glare. "Oi, she can't help-"

"Not what I meant." The Aussie crashes onto the bed with them, book now tucked away. "I just mean that having a different kind of brain shouldn't be such a difficult thing for the world to cope with. But the second someone is different-" He looks at Lando. "-Like they struggle with reading or processing information." Then he turns to her. "Or they struggle to with focusing and sensory things. They are ready to create some kind of fix to make those brains work like theirs." The genuine concern and sadness from him is almost heartbreaking.

"In a perfect world, yes. For now though, I think me and Lando can both settle for having someone who cares as much as you do."

"Just wish I could do more."

Lando hums and, quite literally, rolls over onto Oscar. "Just like our best is enough, so is yours."

"However, if the world could provide me with free drinks, I wouldn't be complaining."

Oscar chuckles and drags her closer despite Lando's weight on him. "I'll make a note of it for when I become ruler of the world."

"You never said you were planning that!"

"It's been my secret plan this whole time."

"... It's always the quiet ones."

[chaimilkshake]

Carving Pumpkins - Peter Maximoff x reader

summary: exactly what it sounds like 🧡

word count: 483

warnings: none!

a/n: shorter but still cute imo, but let me know what you think!!

Fall was your and your boyfriend’s favorite season. Falling leaves, apple picking, and most importantly, pumpkin carving. Sitting on your back deck, music playing, and carving pumpkins was by far the highlight of the season.

You had just returned from the pumpkin patch, Peter insisting on carrying both of the heavy pumpkins from the car. You held the door for him, letting him set them outside while you went to search for the carving tools.

You opened the junk drawer, finding the scooper. Before you could move to grab the carving knives, Peter appeared behind you, arms snaking around your waist. “I love doing this with you, y’know?” He hums, chin on your shoulder?

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You hum, placing your hands on top of his.

“It’s just nice. Slowing down for a while and enjoying time with you,” he explains, eyes closing as he tucks into your neck.

The two of you stand there like that for a moment, just taking in each others’ presence, before you pull away. “Let’s carve some pumpkins, yeah?” You ask, kissing the tip of his nose.

He makes quick work, literally, of gathering the carving knives, bringing them outside to set up. “Knives, scooper, Sharpie for drawing. Missing anything?” He asks, hands on his hips as he looks at you.

You hum in thought. “Bowl for the seeds?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, a big, plastic, blue bowl is set in your hands. “Well, I think we’re set,” you laugh, moving to sit on the ground by your pumpkin.

You were always the more artsy of the two of you, but Peter always tried. He never rage quit activities like this, even if the product was looking horrendous. So, while you carved a beautiful image into your pumpkin, Peter had his tongue stuck out in concentration, making careful lines with his Sharpie.

After a good twenty minutes, he sat up straight. “Ha! Awesome!” He exclaimed, turning the pumpkin for you to see. A crooked, somehow simultaneously sharp and rounded lightning bolt drawn in sharpie stared back at you, causing you to laugh. “Aw, come on, it’s not that bad!” Peter said, although he knew exactly how bad it looked, a playful smile spread across his face.

“It’s…definitely something,” you reply after your fit of giggles. “I’m kidding. It’s beautiful,” you hum, leaning in to share a brief kiss before returning to your own pumpkin.

Now, every time someone strolls past your porch decorated with two pumpkins, one carefully constructed and one a bit more abstract, they would see a perfect representation of the artists behind them.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this prompt list (send me some if you'd like!) prompt #s 6, 20, and 122

pairing: steddie | word count: 544 | rated: T

Eddie Munson has been hopelessly pining after Steve Harrington for years now.

So many years that the pain of longing has scarred over.

It’s still there, don’t get him wrong; some days it hits him just as bad as the day it first started, but, in general, it’s devolved from white-hot to chronic.

And now, as he watches the man of his literal fuckin’ dreams turn to walk away from him toward what could be his actual doom and leave Eddie and Dustin to the same, he can’t take it any longer.

 “Hey, Steve?”

This is it, all he has to do is ask for it; shouldn’t be too hard, right? He’s hoping against hope that Steve will take pity on the nerdy virgin freak in front of him, and just do it.

Eddie takes a quick breath, and says “....Kiss me.”

He doesn’t even ask. By semantics, he demands it, actually. Eddie tells Steve to be his first, and possibly last, kiss.  But right now, on the precipice of whatever the fuck is about to happen, he can’t bring himself to care.

Steve doesn’t have to know it’s his first kiss, doesn’t have to know what this would mean to him.

Eddie just looks at the younger man, watches indecipherable emotions flit across his face while Henderson flips his shit beside him (it’d be funny if Eddie wasn’t about to pass out and throw up from nerves simultaneously).

Then, against all odds, against Eddie’s very own Munson Doctrine, against all things that should even be possible—as if whatever being in the sky that had been bullied back to let all the others beat down on Eddie and his luck over the last three days got a second wind enough to toss him a scrap of good—Steve Harrington strides back, cups Eddie’s face in both hands, and kisses him soundly.

Steve’s lips slot between Eddie’s like they were made to be there, soft against Eddie’s chapped ones.

Steve’s face feels gross and grimy under Eddie’s nose, pressed into his cheek like it is.

And he smells.

Hell, Eddie undoubtedly smells like BO and old lake water, his breath for sure is a horrendous combination of morning breath, stale beer, and Spaghetti-o's, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Steve stinks, Eddie stinks, they’re both shaking with nerves and with the cold of this upside-down hellscape…and it’s amazing.

Eddie feels everything in him hum to life; The chill of Lover’s Lake that had clung stubbornly to his bones is just gone. Like it’d never been there. The connection to Steve is pouring everything new, beautiful, and wonderful in the world down into his toes. He could live in this moment for the rest of his life.

He feels like he’s glowing.

Eddie grabs the front of Steve’s new/old bomber jacket and tugs him as close to him as he can, his mouth chasing after Steve’s when they finally part.

Steve doesn’t go far, only pulling back enough to drop his forehead to Eddie’s.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Eddie.” he says, fanning hot, nasty breath of his own over Eddie’s nose. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “I’m not going anywhere, big boy.”

Turns out, Eddie’s a liar.

[cunttom]

i think todays comic is straight up traced from smth else eddsworld. kind of impressive. also the inconsistent linework horrendous posing/shaping/layout terrible and pointless joke & stock background are crazy. & extremely out ofcharacter for the artist of this weeks comic. what im saying is how are they simultaneously releasing zilch and apparently under so much pressure to release things. like im not saying they have to be pumping out weekly comics. im saying if they put out say a monthly comic even and it was good that would be reasonable. go eddsworld give us nothing

[my-cursed-brain]

Lilia Vanrouge the character ever.

Like . . . He's a fairy. He's vampire/bat coded. He's a single father of 2. He's a former war general. He enjoys being cute. He's simultaneously a reflection and reverse of the good fairies from Sleeping Beauty because instead of three fairies taking care of one human child, it's one fairy taking care of his adopted human son, the fairy prince, and his friend's half fae half human grandson. His design screams pink goth. He's 700 years old. Taking care of kids has changed him for the better. He's horrendously bad at cooking. Malleus says that he's mentioned in NRC's textbooks. He cuts and dyes his own hair. He plays the bagpipes. One of his birthday cards has him wearing one pink shoe and one blue shoe like how Flora and Merryweather keep arguing over what color Aurora's dress should be. He's the one who got Malleus his tamagotchi. He unknowingly games with Idia. He's good at singing lullabies.

Lilia is constantly spinning on a microwave plate in my brain and I have so many thoughts about him.

[triptychcryptid]

Time for some Saoirse content:

-She has a very deadpan way of saying things and it is VERY hard to tell when she's joking unless you know her. As it is, she has a pretty dark sense of humor too. It took Stan about a year to fully be able to tell when she's joking. Typically she looks humanoid but has 3 eyes.

-Once Stan asked her which eye was the "extra eye" and she pointed to her right eye, not the one on her forehead. Then the next time Stan brought it up, it was her left eye and she denied ever saying otherwise. Her aesthetic is what I like to call "Pink Punk Emo." XD

-Knows a LOOOOT about humans because her parents are obsessed with them. Plus tv.

-Is a well known fashion designer for intergalactic awards shows, but also makes clothing for "Space Adventurers" aka, Pirates/criminals. These clothes are functional and have added mods to them. Usually custom made and very pricy. She will often accept trades though, if they don't have money and have something she wants/needs.

-She may or may not be the one who made Stan's boots that he traded something for on the black market. She found out he traded for them and offered to just...give him new versions when his wear out. In exchange for stuff like going to lunch, hanging out to watch movies, etc. She also made Stan's jacket and gloves, and modded his boots.

-Doesn't generally like getting close to people, but when she does, you're locked in for life. XD She'll take care of you though, but she's pretty vindictive to people that have wronged you.

-For instance, if she comes through the portal with Stan, he'll set her loose on Ford. She'll say shit like "Oooh, you're still learning Quantum Physics?"

Ford: I...yes? This is very advanced physics.

Saoirse: Oh wow, I didn't realize people on Earth took so long to learn that stuff. Where I come from, our children master it by the time they're about 2 years old. Oh, I'm sure you're very smart here, I just...wow."

And it's total bullshit. None of it's true. XD Or she looks at the portal and goes "Oh, did one of the children make this? It's a little crude, but very good otherwise! Good for them!"

Or like she'll look around the house and go "Oh, what a cute little house! It would fit in my bedroom at home! Did you build it yourself?"

Ford: Yes, well mostly. I did hire a contractor to help with some of it.

Saoirse: Ooooh, that explains some things. -inspects a wall and raps it with her knuckle before scrutinizing the light fixures and clicking her tongue in disappointment-

-She cries during Titanic, but so does Stan.

-Makes little outfits for her "Niece", Stan's Archaeopteryx Stevie.

-When/if Stevie ends up on @tinfoil-jones's Anti-Ford's streaming channels, she goes the extra mile on Stevie's outfits (and may or may not make some extras for Anti as well. Like a modded version of his favorite horrendous rainboots xD) As a "thank you" for being cool to Stevie.

-Has some tech that can change her appearance and voice as well as Stan's, so they are literally different people when she hires him to be her eye-candy for shows. Her designer personality is also SUPER sweet and bubbly, which is how she gets away with doing black market stuff and stealing.

-She also uses this tech to fuck with people. Like she gets hit on at a bar, goes to the bathroom, changes her appearance and voice to a dude and denies ever seeing the woman the guy was hitting on, and tells him he's drunk and imagining things.

-Cries during videos of Soldiers returning home to their pets. Smacks Stan on the arm repeatedly while doing so, going "LOOK AT THIS LITTLE GUY! HE'S SO EXCITED!"

-Taught Stan how to fly ships

-Is not afraid to fight you for looking at her wrong. Or her friends. Is good with weapons, like...you won't even know she HAD a knife until it's in your thigh.

-Is nice to the kids and lets Mabel make her up while simultaneously talking to Dipper about Movie Monsters and Cryptids

-She gave Stan something that physically stopped his aging at 35. Mostly to piss of Ford when he gets home as Bill promised him "reclaimed youth" if Ford helped him. And here Stan is, scientifically modified to be 35. XD He can reverse it whenever he wants, but he won't until he faces Ford. She also maybe thought he deserved a second chance at his younger years since the first time around, they were pretty shit.

-Cries during THAT part of Spiderman No Way Home. Every time. Garunteed.

[werewolveswithdiaries]

how much damage and torment can someone put upon an innocent human being is appalling.

bpd is born through repetitive traumas, and traumas will manifest themselves violently or sneakily in your present.

you have been told countless times that you are worthless and a waste of space. you are now trying to take as little space as possible by starving yourself, letting your needs go unspoken, putting on a fake happy mask.

you have experienced your care giver’s instability. some days they would  be on your side, being nice. other days the hell is unleashed and you re subjected to horrendous abuses. you cannot trust anyone now. each relationship comes together with heightened anxiety, repressed anger and confusing paranoia.

you have never had a place to call home, your place. the hole it left is leaking with desperation for affection and connection. you drown yourself in alcohol and substances just to feel the warmth that s been absent for as long as you existed.

any hopes, dreams or joys you had as a kid where met with discouragement, emotional abuse. you ve been forbidden to be yourself and simultaneously forced to do what they expect of you while being called a nothing. you do not know who you are now, going through multiple identities, beliefs, jobs, hobbies. but whatever you re doing now it will never be good enough.

you fear people leaving you constantly because nobody stayed to protect you, you had nobody to tell you you re deserving of love.

you self destruct yourself because the memories and nightmares are too haunting. you neglect yourself because you do not feel like deserving care after being denied it and manipulated into believing you are unworthy of it.

you are angry all the time, angry at the world for not protecting you and interfering and rescuing you.

you are paranoid not because of distorted thoughts but because you know danger too well, you grew up amongst it. sometimes it gets so intense that you become entirely dissociated from your mind and body.

and it goes on and on. the wounds the abuse and mistreatment left are bleeding still. your personality disorder is the missed chance of a sad, frightened child of growing up safe and unconditionally loved.

[trashogram]

i’m gonna hop on the stolas hate train with you for a second. Do you know what i feel like he doesn’t get enough lashings for? His inability to see things from Blitzo’s point of view.

I’m sorry but despite being horrendously bad he is simultaneously one of most self absorbed characters ever. If he really loved Blitz to an up to par standard he’d be able to understand the HUGE power imbalance between them regardless of their feelings or time spent together. (might be a spoiler but i feel like you’ve seen it by now) but Blitz out burst to Stolas was super justified , i wouldn’t have done it personally, but i see where he’s coming from.

That moment itself was a rare vulnerable!blitz moment that stolas could’ve used to mend their relationship but instead he made it about Him AGAIN I CANT DO THIS😭😭😭 THEY SUCKKKK GOOD LORDD

I’m here to conduct this hate train, you’re more than welcome to come aboard.

Stolas has the characteristics of a Covert Narcissist (obviously he’s fictional, I can’t diagnose a fictional character or real person, but let’s tally it up shall we?):

Lack of Empathy — You hit that one

Sense of Entitlement — he thinks he’s entitled to Blitzø’s time and body, as well as Octavia’s unending patience and understanding when he fucks up and fucks around on her and their family)

Taking advantage of others for personal gain — the whole deal with the fuckdamn Grimoire

Hyper-focusing on fantasies of grandeur — Stolas is King Delusion thinking his obsession with Blitzø is at all equivalent to love, or even liking someone. He also deludes himself into thinking he knows his own child but he ignores her wants when she literally runs away from him on two separate occasions bc he’s not fucking listening to her.

Exhibit passive-aggressive behavior, arrogance, or subtle superiority — Ppl don’t clock this as much as they should but I’ve noticed and gagged at his belittling “pet names” for Blitzø (impish little plaything, itty bitty imp) and how when Moxxie and Millie try to speak to him, Stolas either treats them with disdain/like peasants or doesn’t even look at them when they speak! Not even bringing up how he uses his own imp staff as stress-relieving toys.

Highly sensitive to criticism — Can’t take being called out, has to cry and run away from the truth that Blitzø (and Stella and Octavia) are spitting

Victim Mentality — it’s everyone else in this damn bird’s life that’s to blame instead of himself. “I think so highly of you, I didn’t realize you thought so low of me.”

Fuck. You. Stolas.

I’m sorry this is a wild rant but to be fair it is the Stolas Hate Train (SHT, we should implement an I in there). Obviously I don’t hate his fans. Like what you like. Please. However, I may have some concerns over how young HB fans can get and how they don’t truly see how terribly this character is written because they accept the framing of Stolas as the poor victim in this situation at face value and don’t see it for what it really is, but I’m not their parents. And hopefully the younger audience will grow up and also think “ew”. At the very least.

I would like to know if the HB writers, and her majesty Vivienne Medrano, realize that they’re framing the Abuser in this situation as the victim but have dug this hole so deep that they just have to keep digging bc there’s no going back or if they genuinely think their targeted audience of adults don’t see through this or haven’t had to deal with abusive relationships themselves.

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 26th January ✨

I feel like I’ve listened to SO much good audio drama this week, it’s been so good! 💙

🔎 @224bbaker (16) I don’t even know where to begin here. This episode was so good I HAD to listen twice. A huuuuuge piece of the story came together and it was SO good. I don’t want to give too much away in case there are people who haven’t yet listened but, my god, even minutes in I was like: ‘oh my god, they’re so married.’ The chemistry between the actors is so natural and frankly outrageous. It’s been a while since I’ve had the feeling of my heart breaking for someone while simultaneously laughing but the ‘Fuck you, Dennis’ really got me. Tom Crowley might be my fave Watson ever and I’m not afraid to call it early. 

AND GOD, can we talk about Hampton’s immediate dislike of Fitzy? Can we talk about how Fitzy and Madge got on like a house on fire? Can we talk about how he was caught checking James out? AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT - Can we talk about how he said his name was ‘John’ can we - please can we talk about - *throat closes up* 

🦋 @remnantspod (24+25) I was so glad that I went back and listened to most of ep 24, the circumstances around that initially heartbreaking marriage were so different from this perspective. Though, it did hurt my heart just the same to know that Simeon also loved and thought of Gerald right up to the end. I wasn’t sure quite what to make of wildflowers remnant. Flora seemed to be swept along by life without doing too much obvious steering. It was very interesting to get a perspective on Martine. I do wonder if something happened to precipitate her change in mental health . . . I’m sure we’ll find out! And, god, Sir really is panicked about keeping his Apprentice . . . I can’t wait to finally work out why. 

🧋 @hinaypod (31-32) Oh, man!!! That J & Dooley special. Please. My heart can only take so much ❤️‍🩹 I really hope that they get reunited somehow, some way! And that it isn’t some horrible trick!! Honestly, the only elders I care about are gay elders so, please, let them be happy!! I feel like I want to listen to 32 again to tease out all the information I can about our fave main characters . . .  

🍾 @ameliapodcast (42) The gang are (mostly) back together!! Alvina hating the ballet is very funny to me. She and Amelia have such an easy friendship, I adore them! So excited for the fun and games of this season! 

🌨️ @thewhitevault (16) You know there’s a generally understood rule in horror that the audience will create an even more horrific scene in their head that what one could describe/show? I feel like this is definitely what’s happening a the hotel! I don’t know what you imagined, but it was horrendous in my head! I’m so scared for Dís! The whole reason they’re there is because it’s not possible for family to get hurt!! (also I’m sure no-one who is reading this will be involved by my GOD, can people stop leaving shitty comments on Spotify for this show??? I’ve never seen anything like it for anyone else’s stuff!) 

🌵 @desertskiespodcast (9-11) I feel like these episodes brought some huuuge changes to how I see the characters. Tendy was so adamant that he needed to go back, clearly he has left someone important behind! I don’t know how to feel about the fact that they’ve been tricked into staying 😣 First, though, time to save the astral plane!!!! 

💍 @forgedbondspod (6) oh, gods, Hermes is down BAD. All Hephaestus never stood a chance against someone who wants to watch her make swords, let’s be real. 

January is nearly over!!! Hope everyone has a good week! 💙

[theflikchic]

Hey, is your mind boggled by Trump's constant yapping about Hannibal Lecter? Never seen Silence of the Lambs and are invested in the trainwreck of American politics? Well have no fear. In their most political post yet, a Canadian whose special interest is The Silence of the Lambs (aka me) breaks down Trump's misunderstanding and obsession with Hannibal Lecter.

Basically, we have three major points:

1) Hannibal is coming across the border because the border is weak. Hannibal is bad.

2) Hannibal is a great actor, now dead, he eats jerks, and one time, he said he liked Trump. Hannibal is good.

3) Hannibal is currently in America. Which is bad because every mentally ill person in America could be Hannibal. Hannibal is bad.

What Trump has not mentioned is the jerks Hannibal eats (this is important). Specifically, the version of Hannibal Trump is referring to is Anthony Hopkins' Hannibal in Silence of the Lambs. However, Trump has never said Hopkins' name, just the name of the movie movie. He knows it's a movie but somehow has not ever acknowledged that Hannibal is fictional, implying that a) he thinks everyone knows the name of the actor who played the Hannibal he's talking about (only in a perfect world, D-man) or b) he thinks Anthony Hopkins is Hannibal Lecter (soooo who does he think Mads Mikkelsen is? my mother asks).

Trump is clearly trying to make a metaphor with points 1 and 3. People like Hannibal, not Hannibal himself, are stalking America: immigrants and mentally ill people, sometimes both which is the scariest of all and which Hannibal canonically is.

However, because Trump never specifies a difference between Hannibal and Hopkins, it appears that he doesn't realize Hannibal is fictional at all and really does fear that he's either in America or coming to America to eat people. And yet, he keeps praising him? Why? Especially he's so scared of him, or the ideas he represents and is meant to represent so that we actually simultaneously fear and humanize him through the film's epic protagonist Clarice's eyes while Chilton hates him.

Let's talk about Chilton. In Silence of the Lambs, if you haven't seen it, Chilton is an abuser. He's the man in power at the asylum where Hannibal is. He is intended to be perceived as ableist, self-centered, and misogynistic (something more *ahem* modern adaptations I think have forgotten). At the end of the movie, Hannibal kills Chilton off-screen as revenge and it's...fantastic. It's meant to be.

Although Hannibal is a rich, white, cis man (definitely not straight though, I headcanon bisexual) and although he does horrendous things in this film (I cannot stress enough how disgusting he is), he is still being abused for his mental state. So him killing Chilton is basically the audience being put into the shoes of a revenge fantasy while the abused never learns his lesson of what it's like to be on the other end of that ableism (Hannibal isn't kind about his own patients he had when he was a psychiatrist). Trump recognizes that the ending is meant to be great. He praised Hannibal recently for it. But here's the thing: Trump is Chilton.

He's a misogynist, a preener, and importantly: someone who fears foreign mentally ill people and uses that fear and claim that only HE has the power to control these people to win votes and attention (Chilton does this, resulting in the iconic mask scene you've probably seen pictures of). But again- explicitly- Trump praised Hannibal for killing Chilton. So this leads to two theories that lead into two more theories:

1) Trump is secretly self-aware and knows deep down he's Chilton. But he pretends not to be so he praises Hannibal for killing him because, well, Chilton effing sucks.

2) Trump has no self-awareness and just feels the undertones of that epic final pun Hannibal says (and yes it's Hannibal's final line in the film) so he quotes it because he thinks it's cool and has no friggin clue what's really happening in the scene (this is the most likely theory imo).

Trump has also taps into Chilton by referring once to the Baltimore State Hospital in the film as a "mental hospital on steroids" (which he again recently said to describe irl asylums). He uses this as fear-mongering, to explain to Americans why asylums are necessary and why they should fear the borders being open: asylums are needed to keep these dangerous mentally ill people inside and they're ALL like Hannibal so when they're released...where do they go? In your neighbourhood.

Yet, he seems to love that damn final scene.

So again, Trump is aware it's a movie. But he still doesn't seem sure that Hannibal isn't a real guy. Chilton would never praise Hannibal so why is Trump?

And why the late great stuff?

Hannibal doesn't die at the end of the film and if you consider the 2001 Sequel That Shall Not Be Named canon (I don't), he doesn't die there either! So why all the warnings and then praising? Here are my next two theories and both could be true at this point:

1) Trump seriously does think Hannibal is a real person and that he and Anthony Hopkins are the same person. So he flops back and forth because he gets scared that Hannibal will come and eat him if he criticizes him too much. Thus, he says "he's great".

2) Trump genuinely has no clue what "the late great" actually means in the English language. I'm serious. He keeps saying "late great" because it sounds good, not because he knows what it actually means.

To top it all off, Trump covered all three of those points in the exact same speech. Plus, I don't think Anthony Hopkins has really ever endorsed Trump. He did an impression of Trump on TV once back in the 90s (he's good at impressions, autistic king) and I seriously think THAT'S what Trump is thinking about.

So what does this all mean? What's the grand conclusion?

Uhhh... I dunno. Trump saw Silence of the Lambs, and it scared the everloving shit out of him but he doesn't want to admit it and now America is in hell because he thinks Hannibal's gonna kill him? He thinks everyone is Hannibal now? That's all I got. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't roped Buffalo Bill (the other villain of the movie) into this what with America's current transphobia and all (please God I'm begging, don't let him bring Buffalo Bill into this).

Uhhh...if you read this far? Thanks. This is how I cope. All I gotta say is if you have the stomach, watch The Silence of the Lambs. Seriously, do it. Watch it chunks if you have to, sound down, with the lights on, in a safe place, any way you want to. I wish it was more palatable for people because it's a very important film, for better and for worse, and criticizes a lot of bullshit happening in the West right now. It's still very relevant...even if now for the wrong reasons (Trump).

[elvenbeard]

Makes me Feel Better

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: After a truly horrendous week and tying off some loose ends, V and Kerry finally get some well-deserved downtime, including a heart-to-heart, good (and better) music, and some unexpected familiar faces showing up. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 15/?, 8923 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

The next two days were a blur. Tests and preparation, complicated diagnostics and elaborate research and planning blended the Med Center’s sterile brightness and the Afterlife’s noise and shady corners into an indistinguishable mess. Every second waiting for scans to complete V spent reading through dossiers and texting back and forth with Rogue. Between talks with clients and crews he slipped away into the bathroom for a minute to down the whole new array of meds Fuentes had prescribed him – right between all those wanna-be-mercs taking a piss and bragging about how they’d be the next Afterlife legend. V just stared his tired reflection in the eyes, harrow like a skull in the pale green light and listened to them, trying not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

The rapid whirr of the tiny electric saw chewing into his cast clashed with the bright white examination room this Friday afternoon. With a soft “click” it clipped through the last remaining connection that had kept his wrist restrained.

“There you go,” Jayda smiled, the medtech that had been taking care of him immediately after his accident as well. She pulled the cast away and V sighed with relief at being able to have his full range of motion back in his left hand. He wiggled his fingers and carefully tested if everything still moved as it should after being locked into place for a week, popped his personal link out and back in to make sure it was intact.

“Feels good, right?” Jayda said with amusement as she tossed the remains of the cast into a trashcan.

“That’s an understatement,” V said dryly.

“Just take it slow for a bit still,” she urged, “The nanites and meds did their job, but even so, it’s still a relatively fresh injury.”

V nodded.

“What about driving?” he then asked, “Riding my motorbike?”

Jayda raised her eyebrows.

“Only if you promise to not end up here again anytime soon,” she said with a wink and picked up her datapad, “Now all you gotta do is sign here and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” V said on the way out, glad that at least today’s stay at the Med Center had been a short one. He had worked his way through all his scheduled meetings at the Afterlife already, too. Simultaneously stoked yet also terrified of his further plans for the day, or rather, the night, he went on his way home.

Meanwhile, Kerry paid Lee a visit at his office. Locking the door behind him while saying “Payday’s here, Lee,” turned out to be immensely effective in reminding Lee who had the upper hand in this game now.

“K-Kerry! Listen! I told no-one anything!” Lee instantly started bumbling and sprung up from his office chair. He almost knocked over a showcase displaying awards won by talented artists that Lee hadn’t even met in person before, Kerry was pretty sure. Then he stumbled backwards against the window, a thin panel of smartglass separating him from a 30-story-fall into one of Charter Hills’s busiest shopping areas. He raised his hands in defense and whimpered, all the while Kerry still had only just set a foot into the room.

This was Kovachek’s old office, and admittedly, that was one of the main reasons Kerry still avoided it like the plague. Too many bad memories of that motherfucker going on and on and on until Kerry didn’t have any coherent thoughts left in his head anymore. Even worse that Lee hadn’t changed the place up much, either – to Kerry’s disappointment but also none of his surprise.

The wall to the right was covered in platinum records, most of them Kerry’s, as well as the aforementioned display cases, three in a row. In front of them, facing into the room, stood the pretentious black marble desk with two armchairs for visitors. The left half of the office consisted mainly of a seating area with sleek but uncomfortable-as-a-pile-of-bricks sofas, as well as a small bar including a mini fridge. And, of course, more shelves displaying awards, framed posters, or special records that Lee had no personal connection to.

Kerry slowly walked over to the desk and shoved the two chairs out of the way. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, never breaking eye contact with Lee, who was sweating blood.

“Told ya you owe me for the shit with V’s pills, motherfucker,” he said, calm but stern, “And you’re gonna do exactly what I tell ya. Got it?”

Lee just nodded but didn’t move away from his spot by the window, nor did he lower his hands. Kerry scrunched his nose in annoyance.

“C’mon, sit your ass down and take notes, I’m not gonna explain this shit twice!”

Lee just nodded and stumbled back behind his desk while Kerry flopped into one of the two armchairs, fingers interlocked across his chest, one leg dangling over the armrest. Then he began to recount what he and V had discussed the previous night, making sure Lee took note of every detail, every step of the plan.

Kerry had no doubt that it would all work out. What tied his stomach into a knot though was handing so much responsibility to Lee.

“All clear?” Kerry asked at the end of his instructions. Lee was as white as a sheet, hunched over his computer as he read through his notes.

“Y-yeah… Yeah, understood.”

“Nova… then get your ass to work. V’s gonna send you all the deets you still need in a few,” he said and got up to go back to the door, “Goes without saying that you’re not gonna talk to anyone but him or me about this?”

Lee nodded hesitantly.

“What if…” he whimpered, looking back and forth between Kerry and his screen, “What if some of these things like… the contracts… what if I run into trouble with that?”

“Well, first of all… ya better don’t,” Kerry threatened, pointing a finger at Lee, “But if there is anything goin’ not as planned, you fuckin’ call me immediately. Time to show MSM that they’re just as useless without me as I’d be without ‘em.”

The last sentence he only muttered, more to himself than at Lee. But with that he unlocked the door, walked out the office, out the building as fast as he could, couldn’t wait to be back home where V likely already waited for him.

“Babe, I’m home!” Kerry called with a singsong voice as he exited the elevator and stepped into their kitchen a short while later. No response. He shivered and the good mood he had hyped himself up to all the way here dwindled.

“Vince?”

Then Nibbles perked up on the sofa and caught Kerry’s attention, big greyish pink ears pointed in his direction. She yawned and stretched, jumped down and jogged towards him with a purry meow. But Kerry’s eyes remained glued to the sofa, where V laid curled up on his side, the cat cuddled up against him until now it seemed. Kerry managed to resist the urge to sprint towards him to check on him just long enough for V to sleepily lift his head, muttering a weak “Hey! Sorry, dozed off”.

Kerry took a shaky but relieved breath.

“You good?” he called over, still worried, and placed the two cups of coffee he’d gotten on the road on the kitchen counter. Nibbles meanwhile briefly rubbed against his legs before trailing off to her bowl. Kerry took the chance to walk over to V who stretched and groaned but didn’t get up yet.

“Yeah… relatively speakin’ at least,” he said. He had turned on his back now, rubbed his eyes, and Kerry squeezed onto the sofa next to his legs.

“Headache again?” he asked carefully, reaching out to take V’s hand, delighted briefly when he noticed that the cast was gone.

“Oh, fuckin’ finally,” he laughed, entangling their fingers. V also chuckled, blinking at Kerry as if he was blinded. He didn’t look like he just woke up from a nap, more like he hadn’t slept in three days.

“You sure you’re good?” Kerry asked once more.

“Yeah, just the meds I think,” V said and slowly sat up now, almost as if trying to prove his point, “The anti-seizure ones have ‘tiredness’, ‘exhaustion’ and so on listed as common side effects. Just wanted to close my eyes for five minutes, and that turned into… almost two hours, fuck…”

He shifted around, let go of Kerry’s hand, but was too wobbly on his feet still to get up immediately.

“Woah there, easy, we still got time,” Kerry said, “Literally just got home, too. Lee’s dumb as fuck and I had to explain everythin’ twice, told ya.”

V let out one brief, hoarse laugh, but at least he let Kerry coerce him into staying on the sofa a little while longer.

“You think he’ll manage?”

“He’s literally a fuckin’ manager, so he better,” Kerry couldn’t resist and V snorted.

“New level of dad joke reached.”

Kerry gently nudged him with his elbow, eliciting a cute little grin and teasing side-eye out of V.

“Nah, but in all seriousness,” he then said, “Your plan’s pretty fuckin’ amazing, for how quickly you came up with it. Not even Lee could mess it up.”

“We came up with it,” V corrected him, “Was your idea in the first place. And you got all the inside knowledge and connections.”

“That’s why we make such a good team,” Kerry grinned, trying to catch V’s gaze, but he still seemed a little absent, looking out the window at the slowly setting sun.

“Mh-hm, yeah we do,” he said, then closed his eyes again, almost as if he was ready to fall asleep once more.

“Alright,” Kerry said, and gave V a quick kiss on the cheek to keep him alert, “Go team! Ya ready for tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” V said still tired but opened his eyes again, and Kerry helped him up from the sofa to head upstairs. Time they got ready to party.

V wore his hair differently than what Kerry was used to that evening. Slicked back and neat. His smudged eyeliner was dialed back a notch as well. Now more than ever he looked like in the photos from a few years ago that Kerry had seen, of Arasaka functions and parties. Only that V’s hair was more colorful now and his choice of clothing reflected his personality so much more than just a sleek black and red suit. In the AV that took them to the release party for Kerry’s first single in a much longer time than what he’d like to admit, V quickly sent the last messages and instructions for the day, including the intel for Lee. While he was occupied with that, instead of looking out the window across the sprawling cityscape, Kerry only had eyes for V. He wore a golden yellow shirt with an intricate, dark-blue pattern resembling suns. He had it buttoned up only halfway, so his chest tattoo of stylized wings peeked out, almost appeared like a bird flying against the sunset. Or an angel. Or Icarus. On the seat beside him rested a sleek dark purple blazer, and he wore the matching pants, dark blue shoes with gold details rounding off the look. Kerry had never noticed the shirt nor the suit before and wondered if V bought both at some point in the last few days specifically for the party. Then again, he never missed a chance to dress up nicely like this, as chances to do so were rare. Their sense of style clearly distinguished them, but Kerry endeared it so much. His own outfit was almost casual in comparison to V. He hadn’t put a lot of thought into styling his hair or accessories any differently than usual. He wore a button-down shirt, yes, but fully unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. It was plain black, like his pants, which were fancy for his standards but nothing too formal. He wanted to continue to feel like himself still, not like he was wearing a costume for an over-the-top video shoot or stadium show.

“Alright, all done,” V announced, his Kiroshis returned to their amber brown color with the transmission complete, and he turned towards Kerry and smiled.

“What?” he asked after a moment of Kerry just staring at him.

“Nothin’,” Kerry replied, “Just… really happy right now. That you’re comin’ and all.”

V continued to smile, but the longer and closer Kerry looked, the more he felt like something was off.

“You still wanna come, right?”

“I do!” V said without hesitation, cupping Kerry’s cheek briefly before slumping back into his seat again, “I guess I’m… really just a bit nervous. Excited, but nervous.”

“Aww,” Kerry put his arm around V’s shoulder to pull him closer, “Rare to see ya nervous. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Hah, ‘n here I thought plan B was me playing your bodyguard, not the other way around,” V sneered and Kerry shut him up with a kiss.

“Not today.”

Their gaze drifted out the window, Charter Hill wasn’t far anymore. They zoomed past neon high-rises as if they had the sky to themselves tonight.

“Y’know,” Kerry said quietly, “I always really hated goin’ to these kinds of parties.”

“The king of NC’s nightlife? Not a fan of fancy all-inclusive parties?” V teased, resting his head on Kerry’s shoulder. Kerry held him even closer.

“Listen, goin’ to a club to get high and go hog wild is somethin’ different…”

“Don’t need to tell me about that,” V smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice. Reminded of a time probably in which “going hog wild” every night was the only way he still felt alive. Could feel something at all still. And if Kerry didn’t relate to that.

“What I’m sayin’ is,” he continued, “Going to industry parties was always different, ‘cause there’s no choice. Everyone’s expecting you to mingle, be nice and a good advertisement for the label. A reminder that all the glamor and crap is gonna be over with the snap of some executive asshole’s fingers if you don’t do exactly as you’re told, grin and bear it.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” V said, “Felt a lot like that when I went out with my coworkers at Arasaka. You played nice and all, had a good time with them, celebrated how you’d all collectively ruined some poor assholes’ lives again somewhere on the other side of the planet. And at the same time, it always felt like there were knives behind their teeth, ready to stab you in the back to elevate their own position. Not even excluding myself from that. It’s just how it works in that world.”

“Wow,” Kerry said after a short pause, “That sounds even more depressing actually.”

V snickered and nudged his side.

“Ass.”

“Corp-ass.”

“Wow, night only just started and you’re going below the belt already,” V finally laughed and that was all that Kerry had needed to be sure he was truly on board and not too tense to still be able to enjoy himself at the party. He more than deserved some proper downtime, they both did.

The AV slowed down, circling the rooftop of the MSM studio building, waiting for clearance to land. It had been sent and paid for by MSM, so security was no issue at least.

“The plus-side of these parties though…” Kerry said as they descended, and V was finally able to get a good first glimpse and impression of the already bustling event. This was also the first time he actually saw the bar area in use, a crowd forming around the bartenders flinging drinks and bottles. There was a round DJ booth with virtual dancers at the center of the rooftop, the dancefloor surrounding it. The door to the stairwell that led down to the recording booths was hidden behind decorative black and golden tarps showcasing the MSM logo, and on one side of the venue a huge screen had been set up, currently showing a loop of footage from Kerry’s past tours and old music videos. That at least made it very clear who the party was for.

“… the food is actually quite good, the booze is free, and you can be sure at least half of the people don’t wanna be there either and are ready to fuck shit up if given the chance.”

The AV landed softly, and the door slid open, V and Kerry greeted by blue and golden party lights and booming music. Kerry, who sat on the left and was closer to the door, got up first while V quickly slipped on his blazer.

“Wanna be my partner in crime tonight?” Kerry asked with a big smile, put on his sunglasses, and held out his hand.

“Always,” V grinned and took it, his heart close to bursting. They’d never been anywhere together like this, never this publicly, never so many strangers that might or might not draw conclusions, see connections, tell wrong things to the wrong people. Or maybe it would not matter or affect anything at all. That’s what he tried to continue to tell himself when he sat a shaky foot onto the black and gold carpet rolled out for them. The rooftop lounge wasn’t small, but not sprawling either, and so the landing pad was already framed by other guests curiously turning their heads. Kerry had explained that they’d likely be some of the last to arrive, so there would already be a crowd waiting to cheer and welcome them – or rather, Kerry – as the main act of the night. It was never a good sign, he'd said, to be among the first at an industry party. Then you’d be considered only part of the décor, replaceable.

V was torn between clutching Kerry’s hand even tighter or just letting go and hiding in his shadow as he led the way down the carpet towards the now cheering and applauding crowd. But Kerry made the choice for him as he held on tight, making sure he was right there by his side for everyone to see.

“Kerry, so glad to have you here,” and older, dark-skinned man – definitely not older than Kerry, but by his voice and mannerisms alone V guessed him to be in his 60s – approached them with an outstretched hand. He wore a crème and baby-blue colored suit and excessive gold jewelry – but so did almost everyone else here, too. Kerry put on his best, fakest charming smile and shook the man’s hand, and V could’ve sworn to hear their rings clink against each other over the droning music.

“Well, ‘course I’m comin’ to my own party,” Kerry said, “Really outdid yourself from the looks of it.”

A quick scan of the man’s system revealed him to be one of the infamous studio bosses V had heard so much about. “Rich” was his ironically fitting name, or Richard. Like he had guessed it he was 62 years old, twice divorced, newly engaged, in very good shape for his job and age. Most of his cyberware was only for fashion, including the golden plates framing his cheek bones and fingertips, but like almost everyone at MSM he sported custom Kiroshis with decent scanners. Probably some self-ICE and security measures, but V decided not to linger too long and dig too deep to not get caught.

“You’re one of the top five, no, top three most important artists of our label. Of course we’re gonna throw you an according party,” Rich said, “And if anything’s not to your liking, say the word.”

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Kerry grinned, “I’d like the chocolate fountains replaced with vodka and pure gold, as a start. The rest I gotta check out first.”

Both Rich and Kerry laughed, but V didn’t miss the challenging glimmer in Kerry’s eyes, as if to say “try me”. Rich smiled a bit too brightly, a bit too politely, hiding his disdain while still playing along because without artists like Kerry he surely wouldn’t be leading the life he did. V just smiled and watched the conversation with great intrigue. But then the attention shifted to him, which he would have preferred not to happen.

“Now, where’s my manners,” Rich said and held out his hand to V, “Richard Kelley, COO MSM Records.”

V smiled, took note of his own system’s warning of unauthorized scanning that his ICE caught and prevented, and shook Rich’s hand without hesitation.

“V. Thanks for the invitation,” he said.

“V…” Rich said, as he undoubtedly read through the fake dossier V had set up to be shown to anyone trying to scan him tonight, “Feel like that should ring a bell but it doesn’t, my apologies.”

“Just a nickname. Kerry thinks ‘Vincent’ is too long,” V said nonchalantly.

“It is,” Kerry chimed in, V not even sure if he played along consciously or not, “V suits ya better.”

Rich folded his hands behind his back, as if to hide his cards.

“I think I do remember you now,” he said smiling, after a short pause, “Kerry’s right hand in the Us Cracks project.”

“Could say it like that, yeah,” V lied through his teeth, “Been trying to set foot in the music industry for years. Worked my way up from being a roadie back in ’69. Lately I’ve been organizing smaller gigs here and there. Met Kerry through one of my many connections and we hit it off quite well I’d dare to say.”

“I see,” Rich smiled, surely smelling the bullshit, even though it was very close to the truth. But there was nothing he could truly say or do against it here and now without causing a scene, and V felt like he would want to avoid that while Kerry was right next to them both.

“Well then, don’t wanna keep you away from your party any longer. Enjoy.”

He stepped aside, Kerry nodded, put his arm around V and led him further into the crowd.

“The fuck just happened? Vincent?” he asked through his smile as they passed by studio workers and celebrities and their entourage. V snickered.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve missed playing games with people like him,” he said, and really, for the first 20 minutes they spent at the party he continued to ride this wave of adrenaline. A type of rush he hadn’t had in a too long time, and which was only really achievable by moving in circles like this.

“Also,” he added, “I think it’s actually gonna help our plan that he already knows me now. Is gonna make it a bit easier for Lee to set everything up how we want to.”

“Ooohhh,” Kerry nodded, “Fuck... You’re so hot when you’re all scheming… and reading people like an open book and all that crap.”

V chuckled when Kerry pulled him closer, but simultaneously his anxiety spiked. They’d gone around to shake some more studio people’s hands, met some of Kerry’s friends, producers, and had now trailed off to the bar where Kerry ordered them drinks. Something strong and boozy for himself, just a NiCola for V. V had been trying to keep track of everyone they spoke to for a potential familiar face that would recognize him and his connections to the Afterlife. Nothing so far, and paparazzi were strictly banned from the event. By accepting the invite you signed an NDA, it was that exclusive of a night. But the nagging thoughts didn’t want to leave him alone, especially when Kerry’s hand trailed down his back towards his ass, when he leaned in to kiss V’s neck, beard brushing against exposed skin.

“Wait, not… here,” he said and inched away just slightly. Kerry paused, then moved his sunglasses down just enough to be able to peer over the frame, look at V without that security barrier between them.

“At the bar, or in general on this rooftop?”

“I… dunno.”

“Just tell me and I’ll stop,” Kerry promised, “I know you’re not big on PDA. But we’re safe here, really. Thought this would be okay…”

“I know. I…” V struggled to find the right words again, “Maybe I just need some time to warm up to it all still.”

Right on cue the bartender delivered their drinks. Kerry reached over to grab both their glasses, also to give V some space. He handed him the ice-cold coke decorated with a slice of what had to be a real lemon.

“They’re really going all out, huh,” V noted as he briefly inspected the fruit and Kerry laughed.

“If you wanna we can hit the buffet. I think even the sushi is ‘ganic by the looks of it.”

“Maybe later,” V said, taking a sip, and Kerry copied him with his martini.

“My usual suggestion would be ‘have a drink’ but that sadly doesn’t work with you,” he said, with an added, “No offense.”

“None taken,” V shook his head, “Besides, I’m pumped full of meds that shouldn’t be combined with alcohol anyway.”

“A shit, right…”

“Just… gimme a little more time, alright? I’m happy to be here, havin’ a good time. Sure it’ll get better from here.”

“Okay,” Kerry smiled, reached out and hooked his pinky finger around V’s, a tiny gesture that meant so much between them at this point. A way to connect when they were out in public, discreetly, a small reassurance of “I respect your boundaries” while also saying “glad you’re here with me”. The smallest “I love you”. It did indeed help calm V’s nerves a little bit.

Drinks in hand they continued to mingle with the crowd. Most of the time V just listened to the conversations, not minding at all to be merely embellishment to Kerry’s big night. In fact, his pride grew with every encounter. If only half of the praise Kerry received was true, Rich hadn’t been so off with calling him one of the top three of MSM’s most important artists. No way to compete against Us Cracks at the moment, obviously, but there was no need to. Though Kerry seemed glad that they were on their world tour still and somewhere in Japan at the moment. Or so he thought, at least.

At one point during the night the studio bosses gave a short speech in front of the large screen. As they indulged in the worst self-adulation V had ever heard outside of a Counterintel meeting room, Kerry whispered to him about how he’d known most of the label bosses since they were teenage brats throwing around their family’s money.

“Insane how little some things and people change,” Kerry muttered between his teeth, face so close to V’s that his breath brushed across his neck and made him shiver pleasantly. V smiled at him, and discreetly, as everyone’s eyes were glued at the screen and the bosses, took and squeezed his hand and leaned against him.

Then “Shivers” was played to the audience officially for the first time, and even though V had been there for most of its creation process, hearing the final, polished version in full length was still a special moment he was glad to be able to share with Kerry. The presentation was followed by more praise and the crowd eventually slowly dissolved again to continue partying.

Kerry led a few more conversations with other musicians and producers about the creation process of his song. He enjoyed the attention very obviously, glowing and eagerly answering any and all questions he was asked, even if often not overly detailed. V loved listening to his thought process of writing and recording the song to a young and new producer particularly though. Praise was nice and all, but talking to someone on a technical level was what Kerry was best at. All of a sudden though, in the middle of explaining something in regard to the BPM, he froze up. His eyes had darted to the AV landing pad and his words trailed off like a spilled drink when three colorfully dressed young women exited their cab.

“For fuck’s sake…” Kerry muttered, then he turned to V, “Let’s delta.”

“What?” V snickered, but Kerry took his hand, excused himself out of the conversation, and led him to the edge of the rooftop lounge. They were between a row of golden glowing fake bamboo lamps and the tarps hiding any unsightly parts of the building from the prestigious party guests. The Us Cracks girls had reached the center of the party area already and were swarmed by admirers in no time.

“Kerry, they left their tour just to be here for your big night,” V teased, but Kerry just sighed deeply, squirming and restless.

“I knooow,” he said, voice whiny, “And like… I’m cool with them ‘n all. I don’t mind them bein’ here, and it’s a big gesture and whatnot. It’s cool, they’re cool, we’re cool!”

“But?” V tilted his head.

Kerry sighed and made a face, looked away as if he was embarrassed.

“They’re fucking exhausting! There, I said it!” it then burst out of him, and he shrugged dramatically, “I don’t get half the references they’re making! Kerry-san this, Kerry-san that… All that fuckin’ kawaii-talk makes my dick shrivel up!”

V snorted.

“They make you feel old, huh?”

Kerry raised a finger in warning.

“Thin ice, Vince,” he said, not entirely serious. Then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

“But… yeah.”

“Awww,” V cupped Kerry’s face, stepped closer, quickly made sure no one was immediately nearby… then gave him a quick kiss.

“That make it better?”

Kerry pouted.

“Not yet.”

“Hmm,” V hummed, his heart beating faster now. He learned in again, lips lingering longer now, the slightest tease of tongue, and he noticed how Kerry melted into his touch a bit more this time.

“And now?” he whispered, looking Kerry in the eyes, their faces still close.

“Alright fine,” Kerry muttered, but V noted the slight curl at the corners of his mouth. For a moment he almost wondered if Kerry was the one playing him now, but he brushed the thought aside. Kerry sighed deeply, grabbed V’s hand for support once more, and V joined him to face the new arrivals to the party.

“Kerry-san!!” Blue Moon already squealed from afar, frantically waving in their direction, and Kerry groaned only loud enough for V to hear it.

The crowd cleared a path for the three pop idols as they scurried over, screeching and seemingly prepared to jump onto Kerry all at once, but just in time they slowed down and the tackle turned into a regular group hug.

“Wow, that’s a… real surprise!” Kerry exclaimed with badly feigned excitement, “You really didn’t need to come just for this one night.”

“But of course we had to!” Purple Force nodded excitedly.

“MSM organized a direct priority flight from and to Tokyo just so we could be here!” Red Menace added.

All three of them were dressed in the same style of latex-and-sequin cocktail dresses that seemed inspired by kimonos. They were decorated with enormous sparkling bows and virtual petals fell wherever the girls walked. Of course all color-coordinated in their usual red, purple, and blue, as if it was hard to tell them apart otherwise. V realized just how much pressure there had to be on them to always stay on brand like that, but at the same time, if they minded it, they were good at hiding it.

“V, OMG, you’re here too!” Blue Moon exclaimed as if she’d only just realized he was here with them, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. All night he’d been worried about someone attending the party that knew he did merc work. And here they were, squeezing him into a group hug.

“Hey, it’s great to see you again,” V said in Japanese, downplaying his newly onset bout of nervousness.

He elicited an excited squeal from the girls, and a lot of chattering and a very quick summary of all they’d been up to since their last in-person meeting.

“Oooohh, are you Kerry-san’s new bodyguard now?” Red Menace then asked as if realization struck her only now that this wasn’t V’s typical surroundings, too.

“Oooooohhh, no, wait!” Blue Moon interrupted her, mouth and eyes wide.

Before V or Kerry could even say anything, glancing back and forth between the two of them, she squealed.

“I’m so excited! Are you dating?”

The other two joined in with their cooing and noises of excitement and various onomatopoeia underlining just how excited they truly were, and even V started to feel old now.

“Alright, c’mon, dial it back,” Kerry urged them, but at the same time he smiled, a hint of pride in his voice.

“You are though! That makes me so happy!” Purple Force exclaimed, hands clutched, and Blue Moon leaned in closer to V.

“Back then, before ‘Off the Leash’, we saw how you two looked at each other. We’ve been rooting for you from the start!”

V wasn’t sure how to react to an out-of-the-blue statement like that.

“Oh, c’mon now…” Kerry groaned.

“We suggested Kerry pick his favorite venue for our concert, and we made sure that he’d invite you!” Red Menace said.

“And made sure the paparazzi would be occupied talking to us, so you’d have some time for yourselves,” Purple Force added, flicking her head as if to wink… just not being able to physically wink with her huge, bug-like Kiroshis.

“Is that so…” V said, side-eyeing Kerry, “He never mentioned that.”

“Awww, Kerry-san,” the girls said almost in unison as they went in for another group hug, this time targeting them both at once, “We’re so happy things turned out like this for you!”

Kerry though was more than happy when they finally, finally were called away by their manager to meet some other studio people, giving him and V some room to breathe again.

“I need another drink or ten,” he said, and V laughed, looking at his phone briefly. Before the girls left, he’d asked them for another selfie, all five of them together this time, and they obviously agreed. He sent it to Panam, not sure when she’d see it as contact was still somewhat sporadic. He attached a little “believe me now that I know them? :P”

Then he accompanied Kerry back to the bar.

“Did I get that right, what they said earlier?” he decided to ask, leaving no room for misunderstandings, “They wanted to set us up?”

Kerry scoffed and played with his glass, but then he took off his sunglasses and put them down on the counter. They stood facing each other, but both still had a good view of the crowd. The music was getting louder and heavier on the dance tunes as the night went on. More and more people gathered on the dancefloor surrounding the DJ.

“Maybe… Just maybe,” Kerry then said, “I had a little crush on you then. But apparently, they had to point it out to me first. Made me grow a pair to invite you and plan that whole date like that.”

“Aww,” V smiled, “You didn’t realize you had a crush? I was pretty sure I did, I just didn’t think I had a chance with you.”

Kerry finally looked up from his drink and grinned.

“I thought…” he started slowly, quietly, “You’d think I’m too old. And, y’know, all that emotional baggage and chaos my life was… and still is.”

He paused to look around at the crowd. So many people, most of them probably from similar and higher circles that V grew up in, and far far away from the small standing Kerry worked his way up from over decades. Surely, they all had their rich inner lives and demons to face as well, but V could see the disdain in Kerry’s eyes, still, even after being a part of this world for longer than he hadn’t been. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked back at V.

“You were the realest, most genuine person I’d met in years, decades maybe,” he said, voice soft, “So yeah. Once I realized that, I fell hard, and fast. And fuck yeah, maybe I asked the girls for some advice here and there, ‘cause at least you’re all born in the same fuckin’ century.”

Then he downed his drink in one go and ordered the next right away.

V let this little confession sit for a couple of moments before taking Kerry’s hands and stepping closer.

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” he said quietly, “That’s actually pretty sweet.”

Kerry scoffed but smiled.

“Didn’t know you were concerned about me potentially thinking you’re too old,” he added, “If anything, I thought ‘what would he want with a dying 20-somethin-year-old’. Let alone with one possessed by the digital ghost of his dead ex-bandmate.”

Kerry chuckled.

“Would lie if I said that the Johnny-thing didn’t matter at first. In the sense that… Man, how do I say it without soundin’ like a complete gonkhead.”

He looked down to their interlaced fingers, gently rubbing V’s knuckles with his thumb.

“Try me. Nothin’ that can really shock me anymore,” V assured him. Kerry hummed.

“At first I thought, hell yeah, another chance with Johnny,” he began slowly, “Not even in the sense of like… y’know? Really just one last gig, for old time’s sake. Maybe finally get to tell him to go fuck himself for trying to keep me in his shadow like that. For all the shit he said, stealin my songs, my ideas, playin’ with me, shittin’ on me over and over again.”

Then he looked back up at V, pensive still.

“But then I realized… fuck Johnny, he doesn’t matter. ‘Cause there was you, shinin’ through the shadows of our past… and I wanted you so badly, but you only came as a package deal. And that sucked so hard.”

“Made you hesitate to make a move?” V asked, listening intently, not moving from where he stood. None of this was news to V, it had always been there in the subtext of their love story that Johnny was a deciding factor in how it would all work out or not.

“’Cause sure as hell made me hesitate as well. That he was there ‘n all,” he decided to add, and Kerry tilted his head slightly. Not sad, but nodding, understanding.

“’Outta all the guys in NC, you gotta pick my best friend’, day in day out,” V recounted, mocking Johnny’s voice and accent, “’At least he finally gets to fuck me now by fuckin’ you’ and crap like that.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kerry sighed, “I can assure you, not fuckin’ once did I even waste a thought on him when we, like…”

“It’s okay,” V laughed, “Even if so, doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah… it really didn’t matter anymore,” Kerry reminisced again, smiling. He let go of V’s hand, fingers trailing up his arm, now cupping his cheek, caressing his jawline. V’s heart was racing, head spinning, but then he leaned into the soft touch.

“Not since you walked down the stairs by the stage at Dark Matter. Pushed your way through the crowd like none of them mattered either…” Kerry said, “And you stole me away. Made my old, half-dead heart, feel somethin’ again.”

V smiled, couldn’t really say anything at the sight of Kerry’s glistening eyes, the fine lines curling at their corners as he smiled, colorful lights dancing on, refracted from the gold on his cheeks and neck and chest.

“Love ya,” he just said quietly. It was all that he managed.

“Love ya, too, so much, V, I can’t tell you,” Kerry said, “Permission to fuckin’ kiss you now, in front of the whole damn label?”

V hesitated, but then nodded, and Kerry didn’t waste a millisecond to pull him into a heartfelt, passionate kiss. With every lick of his tongue, every nibble on his lips, a bit of V’s tension melted away, and he let himself fall into Kerry’s embrace, tasting the harshness of vodka mixed with smoke while his hands and caresses were so gentle against V’s skin.

Just slowly they pulled away from each other, and only far enough to catch their breath. V rested his hand on Kerry’s chest, fingers trailing along the golden, engraved plate decorating his sternum.

“So,” he slowly started, “Would you say I made your heart go ‘dokidoki’ when I walked down the stairs after your show back then?”

“Wow,” Kerry exclaimed with genuine disappointment, and V laughed, “Way to ruin a moment, V.”

He wasn’t truly upset though, just shook his head, and a whispered “fuckin’ gonk” was followed by another kiss.

The next song on the DJ’s tracklist let V toss the rest of his caution into the wind.

/My reflection/

/In this broken mirror/

/Is a program/

/In my head/

“Oh fuck yeah, they’re digging out the good stuff finally… no offense!” V laughed when Kerry frowned deeply.

“Yeah, just keep beating the old man down, go on! See what happens!”

“I’m sorry, babe, didn’t mean it like that,” V was still laughing, but Kerry also smiled when V took his hand and began pulling him towards the music, “Dance with me to make up for it?”

He didn’t have to ask Kerry twice and right when the first “Makes me feel better” echoed across the rooftops of Charter Hill they had become one with the glittering, glamorous crowd on the dance floor.

Not too close, but close enough so it was clear to everyone that they were here together, Kerry and V spent the rest of the DJ set dancing, letting go of anxiety and tension, until they were both thoroughly disheveled, sweaty, and out of breath. As the night progressed V was served reminder after reminder that his car accident wasn’t that far in the past, nor was the Crystal Palace gig for Blue Eyes. His ribs were hurting, and his elevated heartrate and exhaustion flushed his painkillers and other meds through his system much quicker than he would have liked. A short break was more than welcome. Kerry led him to a different corner of the lounge now, the familiar comfortable armchairs forming a cozy nook not too far off from the action of the night. They had a good view to the large video screen, this moment showing Kerry in his early 40s, still at the start of his solo career, running and jumping around on a large stadium stage.

“C’mere,” Kerry said laughing and out of breath as he pulled V down into one of the larger chairs, right onto his lap. They weren’t exactly alone, but everyone else in the lounge area was busy with their own conversations or amorous endeavors and paid them no mind.

“You good?” Kerry made sure when V slumped against his chest and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, really good,” V said, “But also really tired.”

Kerry kissed V’s forehead.

“If you wanna go home I’ll let them know and the AV’s ready in 5 minutes.”

V bit his lip.

“You gonna carry my over to the landing pad bridal style?”

Kerry snickered.

“I’ll do anything you wanna,” he purred.

“I’m listening…”

“Startin’ to think you’ve been sneakin’ some whiskey in that NiCola the whole evening,” Kerry teased but V laughed and shook his head. A distant throbbing at the base of his skull was another reminder to better take it slow for the rest of the night.

“No, I’m just… really glad I came. Didn’t realize how much I missed this. Haven’t really been out partying since…”

He had to really consider it for a moment.

“Probably since before Jackie died,” he realized and his stomach dropped, “Since then it was always just surviving, not living. Still is, most days, right now even, if you really think about it.”

Kerry hummed.

“Did I kill the mood?” V asked somewhat concerned and opened his eyes again.

“No, no, not at all,” Kerry assured him, watched him closely, “But I agree. Didn’t realize how much I missed this, too like… bein’ out partying with someone I care about, not just one of many people trying to numb themselves. It’s been a real good night. And I hope there’s many more to come.”

“For sure,” V smiled, trying to convince himself, heeding Fuentes’ words that even though it sounded unlikely, positive thinking had a measurable impact on the effectiveness of any healing process, blah, blah, blah… He decided to banish any thoughts of the Med Center or the Afterlife from his head for the rest of the night.

They just lingered in the lounge chair a bit longer, listening to the crowd and the music as the night around them grew colder, and occasionally Kerry reminisced, recalled an interesting anecdote about one of the scenes they had picked for the throwback reel still playing. V enjoyed resting in his arms now, so closely, their fingers interlocked, and barely flinched when someone looked in their direction or walked by. Kerry had grown quieter as the videos began to repeat, and instead they now watched the colorful crowd. Just moments before he almost suggested to leave, V spotted a familiar silvery head of hair among all the people and was instantly wide-awake again.

“Oh fuck,” he perked up, alerting an already half-dozed-off Kerry, “Is that Slavoj McAllister?”

Kerry followed his gaze.

“Yeah, looks like it!” he confirmed calmly, “Been wondering if he’s even here, the Duelists are on tour as well.”

V didn’t respond, just stared at McAllister, dressed in an ensemble of dark blue leather and white faux-fur, and also sporting his iconic, extra-large silver sunglasses of course.

“Want me to call him over?” Kerry asked, and V turned to look at him, not missing the teasing tone in his voice.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, playing it a little too cool after his first excitement, “I’m just. It’s neat that he’s here, is all.”

“You’re fucking star-struck, ain’t ya,” Kerry shook his head, “You weren’t nearly half as flustered when I stood in front of you in just my bathrobe, patting your cheek.”

“Oh, shut up,” V muttered but didn’t exactly make it any better this way. Kerry knew exactly that V had had a huge crush on McAllister when he was a teen, room plastered with posters of the Cartesian Duelists. And he was also more than happy to express his disdain about how his “rival’s” (they were friends, actually) music was played in their home more often than his own whenever he had the chance.

“C’mon, I’ll introduce ya. Never gonna get a chance like this again anytime soon,” Kerry said and wiggled free from under V, who continued to protest.

“No, Kerry, wait! I don’t wanna fuckin’… he’s here to party, not to entertain fans.”

“Technically he’s here to stroke my ego, so I stroke his next time he releases a new song,” Kerry brushed him off and finally managed to get up from the chair, already began to walk into McAllister’s direction, “He won’t mind.”

“Oh fuck…” V panicked but in the end Kerry was right. No time like the present.

He got up and followed with some distance.

“Heeeey, Mr. Makes-Me-Feel-Better!” Kerry called loudly to get the other musician’s attention, and V cringed just slightly.

“Aaahh, Mr. Shivers, been wondering where you’ve been hidin’ all evening,” McAllister said with his simultaneously raspy yet ethereal voice. V’s head started spinning aagin when he watched them shake hands and give each other a brief hug and pat on the back.

“Great work with that song, Kerry, gotta give ya that,” McAllister said, “The bassline leading up to the chorus? Preem detail, your idea?”

“Fuckin’ course,” Kerry nodded.

“Thought so, thought so. Vikki was probably all like ‘hm, not sure that’s gonna work darlin’, how ‘bout we keep it a bit simpler for the brainless masses payin’ our bills?’”

V was impressed how well he imitated the producer’s voice and demeanor; he was actually quite mesmerized by seeing his idol talk so casually in general. He’d been to many concerts, obviously knew all the music videos, interviews and whatnot. But a celebrity in a casual conversation with a friend was rare and uncanny, this up close and in real life, not with the barrier of a screen or braindance wreath between them.

“All that aside, I’d like to introduce ya to someone,” Kerry said and turned to V, who only just managed to not freeze up completely. He took a deep breath and swallowed down his anxiety.

“This is V,” Kerry said and with gentle force pulled V closer, “V, Slavoj McAllister.”

In person he seemed even taller than V knew he was. Briefly he only admired his outfit, some sort of one-piece body suit with a matching coat. For sure a Jinguji custom design going by the intricate seams and many sleek little details and interesting textures that accentuated the singer’s body, a half-opened zipper exposing his large chest tattoo and neck cyberware.

“Nice to meet ya, V,” McAllister said and held out his hand. This was the exact moment 16-year-old V would’ve had tragically passed away. 28-year-old V though actually managed to keep it together and took McAllister’s hand.

“Likewise! An honor, really, I’m a big fan,” he said, trying to downplay his excitement just somewhat.

“Aahh, preem,” McAllister said, “Haven’t got anything to sign with me, but just say the word, Kerry and I gotta spend a lil’ more time together anyway.”

“Do we now? What did I miss?”

“Dunno, just a feelin,” McAllister shrugged, “Feel like we could create somethin’ preem together – ain’t it weirder that we haven’t done somethin’ together yet?”

V’s thoughts trailed off in all sorts of directions at “doing something together”, but none of them had anything to do with making music anymore.

“Maybe that’s how I get him to play more of my music at home,” Kerry said, pulling V’s thoughts out of his fantasies, “Slap a ‘feat. Slavoj McAllister’ onto them.”

“I mean…” V said slowly, “I think it could work.”

There was a brief pause in which McAllister looked at them both intensely – at least V guessed he did, as he couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. Then he put two and two together.

“Aaahhh… You’re dating? Nova, happy for ya,” he just nodded, as if the whole conversation wasn’t surreal enough already, “Y’know, I’m still enjoyin’ my freedom, unbound and just vibin’, makin’ music. It’s the best damn thing.”

“Yeah, really can be,” Kerry nodded, “Happy for ya, too choom. Keep rockin’.”

“You, too. Excited already to hear the rest of the album,” McAllister said and shook Kerry’s hand again. Then he turned to V.

“V, got a favorite Duelists song?”

V was this close to asking Kerry to pinch him.

“Hard to choose just one, but with a gun to my head… gotta say ‘Kill the Messenger’.”

McAllister motioned a finger gun with his right hand at V and fired it, before shifting and just holding it out normally for a handshake. V was utterly mesmerized and hoped he wasn’t staring with his mouth open. He wouldn’t notice it anymore at this point.

“Preem, noted. One of my personal faves, too. Your boy’s got taste Kerry, just sayin’,” and with that he shook V’s hand.

“Oh, I know. That’s why he’s mine.”

McAllister laughed, nodded at them, then slowly trailed off, floated away almost, and let his gaze wander across the crowd as if he truly cared for none of them and his job here was done.

“I think I just had a fuckin’ stroke,” V said, still holding out his hand that McAllister shook, and Kerry laughed.

“C’mon, think it’s time to get you home and to bed.”

“Good plan,” V sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.

About an hour later they were finally home. They’d said goodbye to the Us Cracks girls, then Lee ran into them to almost ruin an otherwise perfect evening, but thankfully the encounter was brief.

V downed his nightly dose of meds, then plopped down onto their bed, face-first, and let out the longest, happiest sigh he was still capable of.

Kerry laughed and joined him, and V shuffled to look at him, even though he could barely keep his eyes open anymore. He reached over, ran his fingers through Kerry’s beard, the moonlight reflecting from the many little grey hairs particularly beautifully this moment.

“My pretty old man,” he said quietly and Kerry chuckled and put his hand on V’s, not to stop him, just touching, connecting with him. Then they just laid like this for a while, gently caressing and touching, but for more they were both too exhausted. But just this was just as nice.

“Thanks for convincing me to come,” V eventually whispered, when he felt like he was just about to drift to sleep.

“Thanks for letting me convince you,” Kerry smiled, “Should do that more often.”

“Yeah, I know… Will do.”

Then his eyes fell shut, and he could still feel the beat of the music, the rush and the joy. He dozed off to visions and memories of dancing and laughing with Kerry that he’d hold dear and cherish for the rest of his life.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

This was a long one but such a fun one I had also really been looking forward to writing \o/ I hope you had fun at the fancy MSM party, too. Originally the plan was to include a spicy scene as well, but that may have to wait for the next chapter 👀 otherwise I'd have probably cracked the 10,000 words mark xD

Also, thanks so much you all for reading this story and sticking around for over a year now as I keep writing and updating it at my own little pace! I hope this time next year it's gonna be finished or close to it :D Vince and Kerry mean so much to me by now, and I never stuck with a longfic, well, this long. Excited to continue and finish this!

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[cleocatrablossy]

Thinking about how there are multiple different major arteries in the human body that a vampire could potentially bite, but they always are shown going for the neck. We all know that vampires prey on people, but the fact that the depictions while usually treated as at least somewhat erotic are first and foremost hunting had me thinking. Most terrestrial predators will go for the neck because 1: faster kills and 2: real hard to do anything about it. It’s especially hard for people to do anything about considering a lack of claws and having your head tilted back fucks up your balance horrendously.

But blood is blood and arteries are arteries so vampires Could bite other places. So what if the location of a bite was indicative of how they’re feeding/their relationship with who they’re feeding on?

Like the neck is hunting. The person being bitten knows nothing of this. A more direct puncture to the artery will kill them and so is typical if the vampire has no attachment to the person(see Viago in What we do in the Shadows). But elsewhere in the neck, still near the artery but not on it so as to keep the person around are much more the sort of thing you see when the vampire… at least wants them around. Be it out of lust, companionship, possessiveness, or just wanting reliable food sources to come back to— the key is that they have not told the person. This is still an assault. Perhaps the need for blood has been more curbed but the victim is none the wiser. Especially if it’s in a place typically hidden by clothing and/or closer to the heart(see Carmilla with Laura, both hidden under Laura’s dress and seemingly around the aorta).

But what about if the person being bitten is fully in on it? Sure they could still be bitten on the neck but that can go horribly wrong and also assuming the above there would already be connotations in vampire society about bite placements. So they go for the arm(likely brachial artery but the ulnar and radial are more easily accessible). It could be anything from acquaintances to lovers but the key is that an arm can easily be wrenched away but no such action was taken. Both the vampire and the person being bitten agreed. Having the bite on the person’s non-dominant hand is probably more of a buddies thing so the vampire can feed and you can still do stuff, like read or play games with them. A bite on the dominant hand would be a lot more intimate in this case then, because that really does restrict what the person could do both while the vampire is feeding and while waiting for the wound to heal up. It’s not strictly romantic or platonic, just that the two are really really close. So it’s probably usually assumed to be romantic the same way cuddles are but that’s just people being stupid. Brachial vs ulnar/radial also probably has had some connotations in the past, but it’s probably more down to 1: does the person like wearing short sleeves(and are they cool showing the wound) 2: if they’re doing something in the meantime how much arm movement and 3: does the person’s day-to-day life require them to lift heavy things especially above their head.

But there is one more real big artery spot: thighs. The good old femoral artery. It is WAY in there, deep to everything but the damn femur. That’s one that is probably just sexual. It is so close to the crotch and unless they’re in short shorts, pants have to come off. And if your head’s already down there you may as well. Also it’s by far the hardest of any of the ones I’ve mentioned to reach, because again. It’s deep everything besides the femur. So just a lot more time, a lot more damage, and a lot more care to reach the femoral all without causing any potentially fatal wounds. Also I’d imagine sometimes someone fucks up and takes a bit of a chunk which while fucking horrifying for the person, also is considered by other vampires to simultaneously be the equivalent of both thinking you get your dick within the uterus to get someone to orgasm and saying you can do a backflip only to fall forward and break your nose. If care for their partner doesn’t get vampires to be careful down there then social stigma and embarrassment sure does.

I’d bet at parties and stuff where vampires bring along people there’s all sorts of gossip about why the humans are wearing what where and who has bites where and from whom. Like did you see Stacey at last night’s ball? She was wearing long gloves, she never does that. Do you think she isn’t getting bitten there any more? Like— are they OFFICIAL official or did she and Rebecca break up and they’re pretending they didn’t? Oh? Well— it could be fashion, apparently 3-something year cycles are a thing so maybe gloves are back in finally. Hmm, do you see her limping any? People do that when their legs get hurt you know. It’s hard to tell with the long dress and how Rebecca always has an arm around her. They are SO sleeping together, when do you think the stork’s gonna bring them their baby? That’s literally not how people work. There’s no stork and Stacey got an IUD, I ran into her while I was getting my blood bags last month. Well don’t blame me! It’s not like I was taught much about that back in the 1670s!