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xiaoluclair · 9 months

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20. clumsy attempts at flirting for lestappen pretty please?

okay confession, i have no idea what clumsy flirting even is beyond accidentally knocking over an avalanche of canned jalapeños onto you and your crush in the middle of a bend and snap. so i have a feeling this probably is not quite clumsy flirting but also i did not want to let the flow get away from me so eeeeeeenjoy!(?)

clumsy flirting attempts // lestappen // [ rating: T ] word count: 2.5k . yeah. not beta read either or checked over very well 😁

Max opens his front door and steps on a green bean. It's lying a foot away from a litre Tupperware box of... Max squints. Green beans.

He gives the hallway a cursory glance, then hefts the box into the kitchen and shuts the window his sister must've opened before she left the evening before. Something about needing more fresh air. Whatever, thinks Max, and grabs a pen to tick get green beans off the to do list on the refrigerator. He's not trading pneumonia for a tablespoon of chilled plant piss.

"Hey." Dilara gives him a smile, little Jerry stood between her legs and intently jabbing at a Samsung screen. Some garbled trumpet plays whenever he presses it. "How much were the beans?"

"Beans?" asks Dilara. "Oh, for your shopping? Around nine euros for a pack from Vie Claire."

"And you had, what, nine hundred euros to spend?" laughs Max. "Can you text me your account details for money transfer? My mum would probably shunt my d— um, dining table if I let someone spend that much on me."

At first, Max thinks he is about to get a smack for nearly cursing a three year old's ears. Then Dilara says, "I think. I am not sure what you are talking about."

So Max paints the picture from this morning and little Jerry stops trying to break his mum's phone with his thumbs to listen too. "You were the only one I talked to about it," as the elevator doors open and the three of them spill out into the little lobby.

"Someone might have overheard?" offers Dilara.

"Piano has beans," little Jerry informs Max sagely and Max.

Max snaps his fingers and says, "Of course, thanks mate."

Because piano has beans. Duh.

Max does not so much forget the bean incident as have a million other things piled on top of it. And then it gets lost somewhere. Maybe under a cupboard, or shoved between the radiator and the wall.

"It is broken, I think," says Max. "And the plumber said he is not free until the twenty second, so I guess that is me in socks and coats for the next three days."

Peter makes a delighted sound, a very different reception to Max's earlier lamentings on the lack of cat food in stock. "Did I ever tell you how my wife and I met?"

"Yeah," says Max, "on Gwyneth Paltrow's second cousins's niece's friend's friend's yacht's coach."

"Really?" say Peter. "Wow, that must have been fun. But the other time we met was — can you guess?"

"No."

"When my plumbing broke, of course! She was my neighbor, said I could take the left side of her bed for sleeping because the guest room had a fresh coat of paint. Of course," his jaw makes a quaint leer, "there was not much sleeping at all."

"Lovely," says Max, "I am going to get more gin. Happy birthday again."

Cue the next evening, and the doorbell rings. The peephole shows a slightly stretched suit, slicked back brown hair into a dramatically wide ponytail. Max sets down the last of the bean casserole, opens the lock, loops out the chain.

"Hello," he greets politely.

The woman with, actually, a normal sized ponytail gives him a grin. "Broken radiator?" She picks up the handyman's box of utensils next to her foot. G. MANNI, reads the orange block along the side. "I've got you covered."

"Are you a friend of Peter's?" asks Max.

"Who?" she says.

"Just a— never mind." Max waves her in.

What a bewildering scenario, he thinks later as he tugs off the three pairs of socks from his feet.

The radiator scenario would probably have suffered the same fate as the beans if Max did not, only the next morning, find 7kg of cat food waiting on his doorstep.

"Like angels dancing on my eardrums," Arnaav is saying when Max goes to wish them. "I asked him to record me a song as a present as a joke and he actually said I could listen to a demo."

"Wow," says Gertrude, "you lucky thing, you."

"Arnaav," says Max, "congratulations."

Arnaav beams. "Thank you."

"What was it, three years? Four?"

"Five actually. Masters with industrial placement. A dockyard up in Andora, lots of very ripped Italian men."

Max grins. "That sounds very lovely."

"Of course," continues Arnaav, "it seems like very ripped men are closer to home than I remember."

Gertrude giggles at that. Max feels his eyebrows arch together.

Arnaav gestures them both to follow into the kitchen. "Seriously," they say as they pass Frankie tying up a bright blue sausage balloon into a bright blue sausage dog to little Jerry's delight, "do you think I should shoot a shot? There is no way a guy like that is single though."

They are looking at Max imploringly. Max says, "Go for it." Then, "Who are we talking about?"

Gertrude chokes mid-chew on a bite of grape and gouda. "Gamer boys," she sighs, "always stuck in their computers."

"For once, I agree." Arnaav shakes their head. "I would point him out, but he's at his brother's for the weekend."

Dilara and Mag come laughing in then. "Mag," says Gertrude urgently, "Max does not know about the new tenant."

Which is how Max finds out, in the following five minutes, that the hottest man on the planet (Dilara's words, not his) has apparently been living two floors down from him since early November.

"Always fingering his music into late hours of the night," says Mag with a flushed sigh. "Have you ever wanted to be music so bad."

"Okay," says Max, and he takes the bottle of vodka and chugs for a little while.

The scenarios keep scenarioing. Max finds a wheel of cheese and two pounds of tomatoes in the mail. A couple days later, thirteen rolls of cat-patterned wrapping paper to replenish his dwindling stock. Then a stack of coupons for free petrol refills at any Shell in France.

It comes to an apex when he gets called down to the lobby to pick up an €800 gaming headset. Max takes it back up to his apartment and leaves it by the couch while he unlocks his phone.

Whoever keeps buying me things, it is very kind but please stop.

It is pretty late, so Max does not expect any replies. Does this have anything to do with the beans? says Gertrude barely a minute after he has sent it.

I think so, says Max.

amx is being sent things? asks Peter. *max.

Do not be jealous peter, says Dilara, I am sure we can find you your own courter.

Max blinks. Courter?

Person who courts someone else. Gives them presents to woo them that sort of thing.

I do not have a courter.

Sure you don't ;D

I don't.

HEY, Arnaav comes barrelling in, SHUTU P AND LET ME ENJPY THE MISIC.

its very lovely, agrees Peter.

Hey, has anyone added Charles? asks Mag.

Max, who does not particularly care for any person named Charles at the moment, least of all whether or not they've been added or deleted, whacks up the heating on his way to bed. He is about to turn off the light when a smack sounds from the balcony. Sassy makes a petulant expression when Max turns on the outside light.

"Idiot cat," he tells her, then slides opens the door. Immediately, the lethargic sound of piano floods into his ears. Sassy slinks inside as Max blinks.

His phone buzzes again. Mag: God I want him to play me like that.

So apparently Max's entire apartment complex spends their nights having a massive orgy to the new guy playing the piano. Charles, he gathers, playing the piano.

Charles gets added to the WhatsApp group too, renamed JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING). His profile picture is black and white and contains three people, none of whom Max has seen before. He thinks they must be brothers.

not for thirsting? is the first thing Charles says. is this an inside joke i need to beg to be updated on? 😂. Max sees Mag is typing... pop up then disappear.

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a new WhatsApp group. JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING). Charles is not in this one. I'd make him beg, says Arnaav into it.

Same, says Mag, 💧.

Max thinks the exclusion is probably for the best.

He flies back in from iRacing contract negotiations a day before the Christmas Party. In the time left, he unpacks, laments to Dilara on the lack of green beans in store (“Christmas time,” she sympathizes), streams until two in the morning. Periodically checks his doorstep just in case.

Everything is fine. Then he returns from another green–beanless escapade and on his mat, is a parcel. Inside the parcel, is a dark blue wooly sweater with an outrageously bright design of red and green animals and a manger on the front, yellow sheen emitting from the neck hole.

There is a note.

Merry Christmas x.

Max takes it in, puts it on. Stares at himself in the mirror. Takes it off, wraps it up, and leaves it on the torn parcel paper to return later. He can give the money to the New Year's party.

When he takes the elevator down to Dilara's apartment, he is immediately accosted by Gertrude and slightly less accosted by little Jerry. "Max!"

Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling. Max takes the kiss she plants on his mouth with his hands on her arms to make sure it does not turn into Human Bowling, then blows out a breath. "Do you know who keeps giving me shit?"

Gertrude's brow furrows. "The beans?"

"The same person, yeah." Max rubs his temple. "It is starting to piss me off. I asked them to stop and they have not."

"Maybe it is someone not in the building?"

"Unless they bugged the place, no." Max sighs. "It was always ridiculous but now it is even more ridiculous. The whole 'courting thing' too is just stupid."

Litter Jerry looks up, Samsung held slightly precariously in his chubby fingers. "What about—"

"Charles!" erupts Gertrude brightly, looking into the distance. Max twists on the spot but there's just empty hallway. The stairwell door swings a little. Gertrude sways on the spot slightly.

"Let's get you inside," says Max and herds her back into the celebrations. At the jerk of his head, little Jerry sighs a great sigh and ducks under his arm, back into the loud apartment.

Nothing. Max opens the door: nothing. Max enters the lobby: nothing. Max gets his mail: nothing.

Max gets on with his life. Nothing.

Max sits on the balcony at night and listens to the silence. He checks the messages on his phone. Maybe he broke his hands, muses Dilara.

both of them at the same time? says Peter.

I just saw him, reports Mag, in the elevator. His hands are fine. Really really fine.

Back in JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING), Charles simply says he has taken a break due to 'lack of inspiration'.

I will gladly inspire him, says Arnaav in JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING).

Not if I inspire him first, replies Mag.

Max keeps out of that one. Max keeps out of most of it, and: Nothing. The little Merry Christmas note stays in his nightstand and Max just. Forgets to take it out every single night. Whatever.

By the time Peter's New Year's party rolls around, life has settled and Max starts the year off drunk, happy, and listening to little Jerry toot Anaconda on the trumpet while next to him, Peter makes out with his new fiancée as of three seconds ago. Max has never seen her in his life.

The next morning is a slow one. For one, it is already eleven when Max cracks open his eyes. He rolls over. A chilled breeze stirs the hair on his arms.

He blames the alcohol for accepting that as he does. Getting out of bed, taking the wrong door to the bathroom and finding a closet instead. Taking the right door to the bathroom and the Palmolive soap has been replaced by a pot of L’Oreal Paris hair mask.

Then the cold wind comes back again and Max peers past his headache to see the window cracked wide open. He looks back to the mirror. He is naked.

“Shit,” says Max, with feeling.

A snore comes from the bedroom. Apparently Max bypassed an entire human being too. Stupid, useless alcohol. He’s going to go back to his place, take his stash of gin, chug it to forget this ever happened.

For now, he puts on his clothes. Rumpled, clearly discarded without much care. But on. Then he takes a look around. Lots of red. A centerpiece of fake roses sits atop an electric piano. The front door is the same as his. A shelf of photos over the TV contains the same three recurring men. In the corner of the kitchen, there is a large cardboard box held shut by a loaf of 50/50. Max moves it off and takes a peak. Inside is roughly two hundred bags of green beans.

The mop of brown hair forms a person eventually. Max has found an OralB tube by then and used his finger as a makeshift brush.

"Morning," says Max when they arise.

Charles takes one look at him before falling back onto his pillow. "Shit."

Max spends the first afternoon of 2024 swallowing Aspirin and slightly burnt Eggos. Suffice to say, Charles is a terrible host. And yet Max is still here. Pretty privilege. Hottest man on the planet, remembers Max. Yeah, okay.

He swallows, nods to the box in the corner and its counterpart bread loaf. “So were you the one stalking me?”

Charles chokes on his protein smoothie, glowers. “I was not— stalking, I was just. Courting.”

“Courting,” echoes Max. “Dilara’s going to have a fit.”

Charles stares at him. He was not in the WhatsApp group at that point so he wouldn’t know. Real funny, Max thinks to the universe. Great planning.

“So you, what,” he says, “bugged the building?”

“I just overheard sometimes,” says Charles. His cheeks are a vibrant, sick red. Fucking fresh air lovers.

Max thumbs his own temple. “What do I owe you?”

“What?” asks Charles, stupidly handsome and stupidly stupid. His fingers wrapped around the bottle are messing up Max’s already messed up mind.

“For all the shit you got me. If you say anything less than a thousand, I will know you’re lying so what do I owe you?”

A moment passes in which Charles blinks at him, Max realizes Jimmy and Sassy are probably upending the microwave, and Charles blinks some more. Then: “A date?”

“You are the worst flirter I have ever met in my life,” Max tells him sincerely. He slides off the stool and kisses him on the mouth. Charles drops the protein smoothie. The bottle breaks all over the floor.

Max buys him sixteen more.

#fic: mv1.cl16 #f1 rpf #xiao: writes #lestappen #this got far too out of hand im sorry #it's just SILLY #ladies and gentleladies . it is just. silly.#i think bc it has general similarities with another fic that my wife let me braindump into whatsapp so i was already feeling the vibes #god bless same sex marriage etc etc

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fanficshiddles · 2 months

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The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 31

Claire spent a big part of the evening on the phone to Louise. She explained about Ray being killed, though didn’t go into too much detail over the phone, she wanted to see her personally to tell her about the vampires.

‘What a day.’ Claire sighed as she crawled into Loki’s bed with him.

‘Indeed.’ Loki chuckled as he put his arm out for her to snuggle in against him. ‘How did she take it?’

‘Pretty well. She asked multiple times if I was sure it was really him, she’s bound to be nervous about it. I think the thought that she’s free now is going to take some time to sink in.’

‘It’s bound to be a bit of a shock for her. Are you going to go visit?’ Loki asked as he trailed his fingers up and down her arm.

‘Yeah, I was thinking of heading over there tomorrow for the day. I really want to introduce you both, but I think the first visit should be just me.’ Claire said sadly.

‘Didn’t even cross my mind to intrude, love. You need to be there for your sister, make sure she’s ok. There’s plenty of time for us to meet.’ Loki smiled.

‘I’m so excited to see her. I can’t believe it’s been so long. He really did have a hold over the whole family, really.’

‘Have you told your parents?’ Loki asked.

‘No, not yet. I’ll see what Louise says tomorrow about telling them. She might want to go and visit them, since it’s been so long.’ Claire tilted her head to look at Loki. ‘I’m going to tell her about you being a vampire, if that’s ok? So she knows the truth about how he died.’

Loki raised an eyebrow and trailed his fingers through her hair. ‘It’s ok with me. How do you think she will she take it, though?’

‘Well… put it this way. If you think I took the news pretty well, wait till you meet her. She’s totally obsessed with vampires. When we were younger, we uh, used to talk about how vampires would fall in love with us. That we’d run off together with our vampire lovers.’ Claire blushed and hid her face against Loki’s neck.

‘Oh really? I think I need to hear more about these chats you two had?’ Loki grinned and slid his hand under Claire’s chin to lift her head back up.

‘No, trust me, you really don’t.’ Claire giggled and tried hiding again. Though Loki rolled over the top of her and they had a little wrestle till he captured her hands together and pinned them above her head in one hand.

‘Trust me, I really do want to hear more.’ Loki growled. ‘I’ll tickle you till you tell me.’ He warned, then proved his point as he started to tickle her sides.

She burst out laughing and squirmed around under him for a few seconds before caving in. ‘Ok, ok! I’ll tell!’

‘That was fast… knowing your weakness is a wonderful piece of knowledge.’ Loki laughed wickedly. ‘Come on, spill.’ He stopped tickling her, but kept her hands restrained and kept his fingers against her side, under her pajama top.

‘There’s not much more to spill, really…’ Claire said with another laugh, feeling rather vulnerable with his fingers still at her side, ready to attack again at a moment’s notice. ‘We were young and would just talk about if we had vampire boyfriends. That they’d protect us and we’d provide blood, just silly little conversations and scenarios.’

‘And now, you’re living your childhood fantasy.’ Loki grinned widely and dipped his head down to kiss her. He tickled her side again for a few seconds, just for the sake of it, making her giggle against his lips.

Their kiss quickly grew heated, Loki’s free hand slowly began wandering down her body.

‘Speaking of providing blood…’ Claire trailed off when Loki removed his lips from hers. ‘Are you… hungry?’ She asked with a flutter of her eyelashes.

Loki slid a hand to the side of her neck and grinned. ‘I’m always hungry, darling… but with you driving tomorrow, it wouldn’t be a wise idea to feed from you tonight.’ He said regretfully.

‘Aww.’ Claire pouted.

Loki chuckled and kissed her pouty lips a few times, making her giggle. ‘It should be me that’s pouting about not getting to feed from you!’

Claire continued giggling. ‘True… I guess.’

‘Though there are other ways I can eat you.’ He growled at her before making his way down her body.

The following day, Claire left mid-morning to go visit her sister. She was going to hire a car or take the bus, but Loki let her borrow his car, since she didn’t have her own one but did have a license. She felt honoured that he trusted her enough with it.

Loki just lounged around his home for the day, chilling with Bat and catching up on some marking he needed to do. He’d just sat down to eat dinner in the early evening when Claire messaged him.

C: Hey. Sis wants to have a few drinks tonight, so I’m going to stay over and head back tomorrow. She’s very emotional, as expected. Relieved, happy, confused, angry. Overall, glad he’s gone and wants to have a little ‘celebration’. Xxx

L: Enjoy your time with your sister, darling. I’m sure you’ve both got lots to catch up on. I’m glad she’s ok, though am sure it will take some time to fully sink in. xxx

C: I should be back in time tomorrow for the pub lunch with the others. If I’m pushing it I’ll message you and meet you there. Xxx

L: If you’re too hungover to make it back that early, don’t worry. ;)

C: Oi. I’m never hungover. Xxx

L: Whatever you say, love. Enjoy your evening. xxx

C: Thanks vampy Xxx

Loki laughed out loud at her last message.

He just finished eating when there was a knock on the door. With a frown, he made his way through to see who it was as he wasn’t expecting anyone. Though as he reached the front door, he could smell it was his dad and Chris before he opened the door.

‘Hey, Dad… Chris… What’s wrong?’ Loki felt his stomach drop. It wasn’t like his dad to turn up unannounced.

‘Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. Chris was just informing me about what happened earlier with this Ray.’ Lucius said calmly.

‘Ah. Right.’ Loki nodded.

‘Can we come in?’ Lucius asked.

Loki glared over his dad’s shoulder at his brother, then nodded again and stepped to the side to let them in.

Of course, Bat came flying through from the kitchen to see who the visitors were. She jumped up straight into Lucius’ arms, making him chuckle as she began purring and rubbed her head against his chin.

They made their way through to the living room. On the way there, Bat clambered onto Lucius shoulder and spotted Chris behind him. She leapt from Lucius’ shoulder and straight at Chris. Who, if he didn’t have quick reflexes to catch her, would’ve ended up with a face full of fur.

‘Hi, Bat.’ He said quietly as carried the furball over to the single seat and let her sit on his lap when he sat down.

‘Traitor.’ Loki hissed under his breath, though of course the other two vampires heard it clear as day.

Loki knew that deep down Bat just loved everyone and anything that would give her attention, so he didn’t really take it to heart.

‘Is Claire not here?’ Lucius asked.

‘No, she’s away visiting her sister. Telling her the news.’ Loki replied.

‘Ah. That’s what I’ve come to find out. Are we going to get any backlash for this guy going missing? He’s not from around here, it won’t be as easy to just sweep his missing presence under the carpet.’ Lucius said, worriedly.

‘Well, I know her sister is relieved. Amongst other emotions. She wanted Claire to stay tonight so they can have some drinks and celebrate her freedom. I don’t think any of Claire’s family will be putting any thought into him going missing. She never mentioned if Ray has family himself.’ Loki shrugged.

‘If he’s been in prison, I suppose it would give the possibility of enemies from in there. Depending on his character with other inmates.’ Lucius hummed as he rubbed his chin.

‘Did he say much before you killed him?’ Loki asked Chris as he looked over at him.

Chris had been rather quiet, just stroking Bat and his eyes were locked on her, too. Till he was addressed, his eyes flitted up to Loki. ‘No. I didn’t give him the chance to say anything after he said he was looking for Claire.’

Loki rolled his eyes. ‘Why kill him though? I mean, yeah, it seems best all round now, but you didn’t know who it was!’

‘I was bored.’ Was all Chris responded with.

Loki clenched his jaw. He knew he wasn’t going to get a decent response out of him at the best of times, but more so when he was in one of his moods like this.

‘When Claire gets back, can you ask her if she thinks we need to be concerned about anyone coming to look for him?’ Lucius asked Loki.

‘Of course.’ Loki nodded.

‘I can’t fucking believe you’re dating a vampire! An actual, real life, vampire! They’re real!’ Louise laughed.

‘I know, I can’t believe it either.’ Claire laughed with her.

They were surrounded by junk food and were sharing a bottle of wine at Louise’s home.

‘It’s just like our childhood fantasies.’ Louise said fondly as she sank back into the sofa.

‘But so much better.’ Claire giggled.

‘I’m so glad that they exist. Or Ray would still be on the go… Who killed him? Was it a vampire relation of Loki’s?’ Louise asked.

‘Yeah, his brother.’ Claire said as she grabbed the wine bottle to top up both of their glasses. She noticed at that moment that they were almost finished the bottle already. Perhaps Loki would be proving right at this rate in regards to a hangover…

‘He has a brother?’ Louise sat forward again suddenly, almost spilling her drink, her eyes wide and intrigued.

‘Don’t even go there.’ Claire laughed. ‘It’s a bit complicated between them. Chris is a bit of a dick, although I do think there’s good in him somewhere that Loki just refuses to see for some reason.’ Claire shrugged.

‘Ah. That’s a shame…’ Louise sagged back against the sofa.

‘When you come to visit, I’m sure there will be a handsome vampire to sweep you off your feet somewhere in Demsdale.’ Claire assured her.

‘That would be an utter dream.’ Louise grinned. ‘I still can’t believe you’re here… That we can actually hang out again. God, I can’t wait to tell our parents.’

‘I know, me too. You’ve got your freedom back, sis. You can do whatever you want without looking over your shoulder constantly.’

‘I really do.’ Louise said as she began tearing up.

Claire shuffled closer to her and wrapped her arm around her, she tugged her in close and they hugged for a while, both with tears of relief and happiness.

‘So… Loki’s brother. Is he handsome?’ Louise asked after a pause.

‘Stop it!’ Claire laughed and playfully punched her in the arm. ‘I’ll introduce you to Matt, he’s a nice vampire and he’s good looking. I think he’s single.’

‘Ooo, deal. I’ll hold you to that.’

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #fluffy loki #loki fic #vampire Loki #chris motionless #lucius #the redbridge hunts

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badwritinghabit · 9 months

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Chef's Kiss | Carmy x fem!OC x Luca | Chapter 7

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Warnings: none this chapter! Let me know if you see anything you think I should add.

Word Count: 5,033

Summary: Luca invites Sophie to a night out with his chef friends where Carmy and Claire are surprise guests. And Sophie and Luca spend a day together as tourists.

As he dropped her off, Luca invited Sophie to join him for tapas with some of his chef friends later that night. He said he’d call her later when they were headed to the restaurant. Some part of her assumed he’d change his mind. This was a one night thing, surely. He’d return to Copenhagen and she’d never see him again. But even so, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

She spent the morning lazily reading and listening to music, feeling good. She was tempted to text her sister, she wanted to tell someone about what had happened. But Mallary was on vacation with her family and she didn’t want to interrupt.

Syd texted her in the early afternoon asking if she wanted to join her to get lunch at another restaurant on her list. She was on a mission to try as much new food as possible in the lead up to the opening of The Bear and Sophie had joined a few other times to keep her company and to expand her restaurant experience in Chicago. Sophie eagerly accepted her invite, knowing Syd also wanted to talk about what ended up happening with Luca.

They talked over pancit and lumpia. She filled Syd in on the date, no sordid details, but blushing enough when she talked about him inviting her back to his hotel that Syd grinned and Sophie felt she basically knew everything anyways.

“He invited me to come out with his friends tonight. It’s strange, right? It seems like a lot for something casual.”

“Maybe he likes you and wants more than casual?” Syd asked, taking a sip of water.

“He lives in Copenhagen. That seems unlikely.”

Syd shrugged. “So are you going to see him again tonight? Night two?” She was smirking at Sophie.

“Syd, I’m a little worried this is the best sex I will ever have. If he wants a night 2, I will be there.”

Syd laughed loudly and Sophie swatted her arm with a laugh of her own. “You said it had been a while right?” she asked at her nod, she shrugged. “Don’t build him up in your head too much. You have nothing to compare him to. College boyfriends are not the best measuring stick for sexual prowess.”

“You’re not wrong there,” she accepted. “I do feel a bit like a teenager. Honestly it is kind of embarrassing.”

“You’re down bad.” Syd nodded, faking understanding.

As if being summoned, Sophie’s phone started ringing. It was Luca.

“Hey,” she answered, motioning to Syd to be quiet. Syd shook her head with a silent laugh.

“Hello. I’m with some chef friends and we made our way to Boystown early, I thought I’d see if you wanted to join us early. We’re going to a bar.”

“I’m actually eating with Syd right now,” she said, biting her lip. “I’d still be up for joining afterwards though.”

“Yeah that sounds good. I’ll let you know when we are headed to the bar.”

“See you then,” she said, voice a little too excited. She hung up and looked at Syd’s grinning face.

“See you then.” Syd teased her. Sophie groaned and put her head in her hands. “Down bad.”

—

She was, she realized. As she walked into the bar lobby and felt her whole body light up when she saw Luca. She made herself walk over calmly and not call out to him or do anything embarrassing.

He greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek- the kiss surprising her a little- and then introduced her to his friends. Sebastian, Lyssie, and Carlo, all Chicago area chefs. They were intimidating and a little too much like the chefs she usually avoided. All eager to talk about their newest accomplishments.

She tried to make a good impression, be complementary and kind. But she ended up feeling most comfortable with Lyssie’s wife, Laura. She seemed equally uninterested in hearing the gossip about the chef who had added too much lemon juice in a reviewer’s dish and had never recovered. The two ended up by the bar chatting for a bit and then she stuck close to her when they rejoined the group. Laura was a science writer working on a book and the two bonded over writing.

Sophie picked a bit at the tapas and eventually wandering back over to the chefs who happened to be talking about Chef Thomas, the owner of the restaurant she worked at in San Diego.

“You worked with Johann Thomas, didn’t you?” Luca asked as she joined them, pulling her into the conversation.

“I did. Ivy Green. Fantastic restaurant.”

“He’s a handful. Very old school techniques.” Sebastian added, looking judgmental.

“He’s unbelievably talented,” she said with a warm smile, wanting to defend her friend but not wanting to get into a debate. She watched as recognition flashed in his eyes.

“Wait, you’re Sophie Miller?” Sebastian asked, looking shocked.

“Yeah?” she responded, more of a question.

“Of course. I didn’t put it together,” Sebastian said, eyes still wide. “He certainly speaks highly of you. I saw him last year. He said you and Carmen were the only chefs under the age of 50 that were worth seeking out for their food.” Sebastian explained.

Sophie squinted, unsure. “That doesn’t sound right. He was on my ass the whole time I was there. Said I julienned carrots like a fuckhead.” She laughed to herself. “Once Chef Thomas found out I worked with Carmy he constantly talked about how much worse I was than him.”

“That’s not what he says to other people.” Suddenly, Sebastian seemed much more interested in her. It annoyed her a little.

They were interrupted before she had to respond. Carmy and Claire walked in the restaurant. Sophie smiled at the two of them, trying to remain calm. She didn’t know Claire would be coming- didn’t think about it. But she realized this was a good way to get the introduction over with. Lots of other people around to help hide her nerves.

Carmy did the rounds, shaking hands. He seemed as uncomfortable as she was.

“Carmen Berzatto and Sophie Miller in one place. We were just talking about Chef Thomas’ favorites.” Sebastian said after a bit, seeming to want to get back to that conversation. Carmy just nodded.

“I still don’t know about this favorite thing. Whenever I talk to him he asks if I’ve learned how to sharpen my knives yet. One time he caught me slacking. Never gonna live that down.” She grinned, trying to get Sebastian off her case with a joke.

“He said your sister single handedly took out the best up and coming chef,” he said, curiously.

Sophie froze, drink pressed against her lips. She wanted to be flattered, she respected Chef Thomas’s opinion greatly. But she hadn’t been prepared to talk about her sister. And her heart started racing. “He has a flair for the dramatics, hasn’t he?” she asked with a shaky smile.

Carmy chimed in. “He does. Remember the year he wore a gold suit to the James Beard award ceremony?”

Sophie looked to Carmy gratefully as everyone changed direction and started talking about the James Beard awards. She was surprised he spoke up, he so rarely did in these types of conversations.

“Does anyone else need anything?” she asked, motioning towards the bar, wanting to escape for a second to catch her breath. Carmy volunteered to go with her and Claire followed.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching a hand out to shake Claire’s. She wasn’t going to get the break she wanted but it would be good to talk to Claire. She should get it over with.

“You too. Carmy has told me a lot about you.” Claire smiled, her hand sliding into Carmy’s. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I didn’t either,” Sophie said with a small smile as she sidled up to the bar. She looked at Carmy for a second with a grimace. “Luca invited me. I think I somehow convinced him I might fit in with the chef friends,” she said with a self deprecating sigh. She looked back to Claire with a shrug.

“You were fine,” Carmy encouraged, his gaze heavy on her. She smiled and ordered another drink. Carmy wasn’t drinking but Claire ordered wine.

“Have you been here before?” Claire asked, steering the conversation as she got her drink.

“I have not. Have you?” She turned to Claire.

“Yes, just once. The food here is really good.” She smiled. “At least, I think it is. You all are the chefs.”

“Our palettes are all fucked.” Sophie joked. “You’d be the better judge probably.” Carmy was grinning. “Oh Carm, did you see? Figs and goat cheese.” She raised her eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Height of cuisine tonight.”

At Claire’s confused look, Sophie explained. “I’m being mean. Carmy and I were working in New York when the fig and goat cheese fad swept the city. It’s delicious, don’t get me wrong. But it became a bit of a joke,” she tried to explain. Claire nodded politely but Sophie felt bad, she didn’t want to make a bad impression. She was still reeling from the question about her sister.

“I’ve heard you work in the emergency department at a hospital? That is so impressive. Are you one of those people who get super calm in tense situations?” she asked, trying to win her back over.

“Actually, yes! I feel like my brain thrives under the pressure. Like a puzzle. It’s really rewarding work.”

“That’s amazing. I feel like Carmy is similar. Obviously different –scales?” She faltered on the last word, not wanting to insult either person. “But I’m so jealous. Not my strong suit at all.”

“Really? But it sounds like you were quite good at cooking.”

“The yelling and the rush got to me. I ended up being a much better pastry chef. I like getting up early and prepping at 5am when no one is around and then being able to leave when things get heated.” She smiled.

She asked Claire more about herself and shared bits of her story in turn. She was lovely. Of course she was, she was Carmy’s girlfriend.

It wasn’t long before Luca wandered over with a small plate and handed it to Sophie. “I thought you might want to try one,” he said, handing the plate over before wrapping an arm around Sophie, hand warm against her lower back.

Carmy huffed out a laugh, looking away and putting a hand to his mouth. Sophie glanced to Carmy and then down at the plate and bit back a laugh as well. Luca had brought her the fig and cheese appetizer.

“What?” he asked, looking confused.

“Thanks! This is sweet. We were just joking before you walked over,” she said, leaning into him slightly since both hands were now taken up, one with a drink and the other with the plate. “Should we re-join the group? I was hoarding Claire’s time.”

As they walked back Carmy slyly grabbed the crostini from the plate and slid it into his mouth. She shook her head at him, grinning.

The rest of the night was calm. Luca and the other chefs shared stories. Unfortunately for Carmy, the chefs were all hounding him with questions. He always answered them briefly. He seemed to get more comfortable over time but still disliked the attention.

Eventually she snuck off to the bathroom and checked her phone, making sure her sister hadn’t contacted her. She felt a little panicky, worried she’d messed up somewhere. Particularly worried about her conversation with Claire. The other chef’s opinions didn’t matter too much but she wanted the night to go well. Wanted to leave Claire with a good impression.

Mallary hadn’t texted. She held her phone and took a breath.

She decided to text Chef Thomas, giving herself a little more time before she had to go back and face everyone again.

“Just met some Chicago chefs who told me how much you appreciate my julienning skills.”

He responded right away, “They’re lying to you.” He texted again. "Just sharpen your knives, you'll be fine." And then a third time. “How’s your sister?”

She replied quickly, letting him know Mallary was doing well. She walked out of the restroom with a smile on her face.

His reply cheered her. She could practically hear his disapproving voice in her head. Feigning annoyance with her but still always supportive. She was ready to go back. Sophie spotted Carmy at the bar as she left the restroom so she walked over to him. “Hiding at the bar, chef?” she asked.

“Getting another glass for Claire,” he responded. “And also hiding.”

She laughed. When the bartender asked if she wanted anything else, she asked for a glass of water. “How’s Luca?” he asked her, the glass of wine in his hand but he hadn’t turned to leave yet.

She bit her lip and looked at the bar. Her heart sank a little. She shrugged. “He’s lovely. Of course. But I think I messed things up.”

She met his eyes and felt the immediate pull to spill her guts to him.

“I just– fuck. I don’t know. Yesterday I pretended I could flirt and go on a date with someone and be normal. But–” she stopped, feeling selfish. “It’s stupid really. So many bigger things happening. Don’t know why I care anyways.” She forced a smile and pushed away from the bar to go back to the table but Carmy grabbed her arm. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She wished he hadn’t touched her- hadn’t reminded her what his hands felt like.

He stood in front of her. “Look, Soph. I get it. But Luca is a good guy. And it really doesn’t matter what any of them think of you anyways.”

She forced herself to smile at him, ignoring the pounding of her chest. “Yeah, thanks Carm.”

---

They said goodbyes at the end of the night. Sophie felt slightly hopeful that things went better than she had feared because Claire hugged her as she left. The chefs clearly weren’t as interested in networking with her once they found out she had no immediate plans to start cooking again, but they were all cordial and she was glad she met them at the end of it all.

She and Luca stood in front of the restaurant after everyone left and she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable,” he responded, clearly looking concerned.

“No! It was fine. I’m just in a weird place with cooking and everything I guess. But they were all very nice,” she finished, realizing she was digging herself deeper.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Find another bar or something?” He ended up asking. “I haven’t really explored much.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she agreed.

He seemed to hesitate as he looked down the street. “I’ve never actually been here before,” he admitted and she grinned at him and reached over to grab his hand in hers.

“How about we go this way? There’s a tiny park and a garden we could see. It’s not far.” He nodded and followed her lead.

“Do you not like talking about your time in San Diego?” he asked, curiously. He seemed open and curious, like he just wanted to get to know her. If this were a normal date, she’d think this was lovely. But she was getting confused. They couldn’t actually date, this had to be something casual. So why was he doing all of this? Was he just a kind person? She wished she could summon the fake confidence she had in fits and bursts the previous night. But she felt drained.

“I don’t mind talking about it! It was actually really nice. Chef Thomas has a reputation of being rude but he is really very kind once you get to know him,” she said. “And I loved San Diego. Even more than New York City. Have you been to California at all?”

“Just L.A. I’d like to see San Diego someday.” He paused. “Carmy has a lot of fans, yeah?” he said when she didn’t offer more.

“Oh yeah. Poor guy. He really isn’t in it for the fame. It throws most people that he isn’t going around bragging about it.” She grinned. “For all of the jealousy that comes with being friends with someone so talented, Carmy not particularly enjoying the accolades really helps.”

Luca grinned at her. “You seem close,” he said. “He talked about you a lot when we worked at Noma.”

She nearly tripped over an uneven sidewalk section. “That doesn’t sound like Carmy,” she said, slowly, shocked.

“He did. Said you were going to be the best pâtissière in New York. Everyone in Noma heard about Sophie Miller. I was secretly hoping to meet you, if I’m being honest. Not because I thought this would happen.” He squeezed her hand, a blush dancing across his cheeks. “But because I wanted to know who could impress Carmy. He really cleared up any notions I had about being the best chef when we worked together.”

“He sees the best in people,” she said after a bit. “I don’t think I’m particularly talented but he saw how hard I worked. He actually nudged me towards becoming a pastry chef. I think he saw how bad the stress of the dinner rush got to me.” She was lost in her thoughts again, about New York. About her friend who had helped her so much. Even in ways she didn’t know.

She had impressed on Carmy the importance of trying to make a name for himself. She had dragged him to a few events and had followed to his own James Beard award ceremony. She had made it her mission to repay all of the help he gave her by getting his name out there to everyone. She knew she could be good at it, the networking thing. And she knew Carmy hated it. And to be fair, he didn’t need the help, not really. His cooking spoke for itself. But if she could get people to go try the food, she knew it would help him in the long run. She hadn’t realized he’d done it for her too.

“He absolutely thinks you’re talented, by the way. He was so happy Marcus could learn from you,” she said, realizing she had nearly walked them past the park and turned them down another block.

“Marcus is a fantastic pastry chef. Carmy knows how to pick his people.” Sophie smiled at him and blushed as she felt him run his thumb up and down the back of her hand, still held in his.

They walked through the garden, her steps loud in her ears. She didn’t know what to say. She felt like they’d gotten quite close in only a little over 24 hours. She wasn’t excited about the prospect of him leaving. “I didn’t really want to move to Chicago, to be honest.” She found herself looking at the tiny garden, surprised at how few people were around on such a peaceful night. “I was finally finding happiness in San Diego. But it has its moments”, she said. “I do love this garden.” She remembered she hadn’t told him about her sister’s cancer. Hadn’t wanted to deal with being the sad girl, and yet here she was, being sad. She turned to him with a smile.

“Do you think you’ll stay in Copenhagen? Or are you going to return to London someday?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve found a restaurant I love and it is hard to want to leave that,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully.

“I understand that.” She smiled at him. The two had started walking again, over to the tiny corner park. “Want to go on the swings?” she asked when she saw no one was using them.

He grinned at her and agreed. She started leading him over and had an idea. “Race you there,” she said, dropping his hand and rushing forward, the sound of his laughter chasing after her.

She made it there with barely a second to spare before he reached her. She beamed up at him from her place on the swing. “I thought with those long legs you’d be a little faster,” she taunted him. He chuckled and pushed her swing before sitting on his own. She watched his feet drag across the ground on the swing until he lifted his legs.

“I think you might be too tall,” she laughed at him. He reached out and shoved her swing sideways causing her to swing away and then back, nearly bumping into him. She laughed. He reached over and dragged her to him for a kiss. She melted instantly, sighing as he pulled away, his free hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

“Tomorrow’s my last full day here,” he said, quietly. His eyes burning into hers.

She didn’t know what to say. She knew their time was limited, that this was it. But she supposed she hoped they’d somehow get away without saying goodbye. That they could just have this magical moment and walk away from it with some nice memories. She didn’t want to think about how much she’d have liked it to last longer. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“I have to go see the Bean.” She laughed at him and he released his grip on her swing causing her to swing the opposite way. She kicked her feet out to stabilize herself. “Hey don’t laugh at me! I’m a tourist. I never got to do the touristy things when I worked here.” He paused. “I also wanted to go to the art museum. I like going to museums while I’m traveling,” he said.

“Do you want company?”

"Only if you're willing to be a tourist with me," he said, teasing edge to his voice. She smiled. Being a tourist with Luca sounded like a whole lot of fun.

Realizing they were running low on time, she stood and walked over to him, standing between his obnoxiously long legs. She grabbed onto the chains of the swings and stood looking down at him. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?” she asked, pulling the swing toward her slightly.

She pressed her lips against his in what she planned as a quick peck but turned passionate, Luca leaning up into her, his mouth opening against hers causing tingles to shoot down her spine.

She forgot that she was holding the swing in place and let go to tangle her fingers in his hair. She realized a second too late what she'd done. He started swinging back and she stumbled towards him. He grabbed her around the waist and put his feet down harder, stopping the movement.

“Sorry. I forgot I was holding the swing.” She laughed breathlessly, holding herself up against his shoulders.

“I noticed.” He smirked up at her, his hands shifting from holding her up to sliding down her waist and holding her hips, taking her breath away.

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, walking him away from the park and towards her home.

---

For the second day, she awoke wrapped in Luca’s arms, head buried in his chest, feeling warm and comfortable. She felt him stir underneath her and tried to stay still, not wanting to have to wake up just yet.

“Good morning.” His grumbly morning voice sounded from above her on the bed.

“Five more minutes,” she whined, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She felt him reach over and comb his fingers through her hair.

“I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon,” he said, his grin clear in his voice. His hand grazed down her shoulder and back and slowly slid back up. Warmth spread through her, feeling too comfortable. She sighed and relaxed into him.

I don’t want you to leave. She slid her hand up his side and burrowed her face into him, eyes shut. Two days of waking up with a warm, soft, sweet man in bed with her. She didn’t want to go back to waking up alone. She took a breath and forced herself to keep moving. “I suppose we should get ready. We have tourist stuff to do.”

“Can I make you breakfast first?” he asked.

She lifted her head to look up at him for the first time that morning, a smile on her face. “You want to cook for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes warm and soft. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he grinned wider watching her react. He rolled onto his side and tilted his head at her. “You do realize we are both lying naked in your bed, yeah? Why are you blushing about breakfast?”

She matched his posture, lying opposite him. “It’s just–” She hesitated a second. “You’re so– wonderful.”

“Wonderful?” he asked, his grin softening. Then he leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on her lips, then her nose, then her forehead. “That’s it. I’m making you breakfast.”

---

Luca stood in her kitchen in his rumpled clothes from the previous day. Coffee had just finished brewing and she was leaning against the kitchen island watching him cook for her.

She sipped her coffee and found herself watching Luca, his hands as he whipped some egg mixture in a bowl to make french toast. His hair flopped over his forehead, messy and perfect. She had the sudden urge to take a picture. She tried to be quiet, reached to the end of the counter with her phone and quietly took a picture of him. She put her phone down as he turned and he smirked at her.

“Did you take a picture of me?” He grinned and stepped over to her. She blushed. “I need a picture too then,” he said, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. He patted the island and she hopped up. He took a selfie of them, his arm wrapped around her, her cheeks still pink as she held the coffee mug between her hands. “Now let me work, yeah?” he said, before kissing her on the cheek and getting back to cooking.

---

Their afternoon was the picture of perfection. They walked around the museum, commenting on pieces of art as they went. Sophie would grab Luca’s hand and pull him to look at a painting before dropping it again. After the third time he grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let go.

Sophie flexed the one Art History class she took in college, pointing out pieces and movements she recognized. They eventually turned it into a game, pretending to be art critics talking about the works. Being a tourist with Luca was fun.

They took pictures at the Bean. Sophie made sure to get a few of them together. She wished again that this wasn’t about to end. That they could have time to actually date. She pushed the thought away. They lived in different countries, after all.

As they walked around they shared pieces of their lives. Sophie told him about her nieces, how she was excited to see them since they’d been gone for the past two weeks on a family vacation. How one of them, Cecily, was in her silly joke phase. She started sharing her favorites with Luca.

“I only know 25 letters of the alphabet. I don’t know ‘Y’.” she said, with a wide grin at her own joke. Luca chuckled and returned with his own silly jokes. And the two spent a while trying to make each other laugh.

Luca also told her about his family. His sister had married recently and was living outside of London. He hadn’t visited in over a year but was hoping to go back home soon. She learned about Luca as a teenager, who to her surprise and delight had an emo phase similar to her own. Their easy conversation made it harder for Sophie to think about the upcoming goodbyes.

“Thanks for all of this,” he said, as they walked down the path towards the fountain.

She grinned at him and grabbed his hand again. Don’t leave. The thought wouldn’t stop spiraling through her head. She hadn’t felt this happy in so long.

She knew some of it was her just avoiding thinking about everything else, giving herself a vacation from her life for a bit. But there was something about being with Luca that made her feel so happy. It just felt easy, in a way so few things did. Like things would turn out okay as long as he was there. She knew she wasn’t putting a very convincing smile on her face by the look Luca was giving her. “I’m trying not to be sad,” she admitted quietly.

He squeezed her hand. “Me too,” he said and she looked at him. “If you’d like, you could come visit me. I’d show you around Copenhagen,” he offered, quietly.

“Yes. I’d love that,” she responded, perhaps too eagerly. The idea that he wanted to see her again cheered her up so much she didn’t think about how that would work. And her immediate reaction seemed to cheer him up too. He grinned at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him.

They said goodbye at the subway station. Sophie got on her tiptoes to kiss him. As they pulled away, she put a hand to his chest. “It was lovely meeting you, Luca.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, one more time. Slow and easy and perfect. “It was lovely meeting you, Sophie.” he said with a small grin. She smiled at him, knowing her cheeks were pink. Still feeling her heart jump the tiniest bit at the sound of him saying her name.

As she walked onto her train, she felt her phone buzz. He had sent her a joke. “I’m reading a book on anti-gravity.”

Her phone buzzed again. “I can’t put it down.”

She laughed and sent a text saying “loser 🤣 ”. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, sent "❤️". She put her phone back in her purse.

#chef luca x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfic #chef luca x original character #carmy berzatto x original character

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misfitclassismyfreetherapy · 11 months

Text

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #2

Dark humor again. Woooh.

⚠️ Also this post might contain triggering topics such as smoking, juuling and more. ⚠️

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #1

Agares: You know if cats slept for an entire day, people will find them adorable and cute. But if I do it "I have mental health issues" and "I need help"? Seems quite unfair.

Kerori: Agares Picero. You slept for three straight days with no eating, skipping three days of school, not even communicating with us. You gave Gaap a heart attack-

Agares: I suddenly lost my ability to hear shit.

Kerori: You bitc-

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #2

Purson: Okay what happened with Jazz-kun and Lied-kun because I heard screaming beforehand and then when I came into the room they were cuddling and sleeping with eachother.

Iruma: Oh, Jazz-kun found a JUUL in Lied-kun bag and got mad and then Lied-kun called him a hypocrite because he also smok-

Purson : To make a long story short..?

Iruma: They fought and then one of them cried then comforted eachother while joking about their trauma.

Purson: It was wholesome until you added the last detail. Why?-

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #3

Agares: This cup of coffee represents my love for myself.

Gaap: Agares-dono...it's empty..

Agares: Exactly.

Kerori: Okay, who thought you dark humor? I- Wait ...*turns her head to Lied*

Lied: *sweating while pretending not to hear*

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #4

Iruma: Hey, Azz-kun do you think I look fat?

Asmodeus: ..Why?

Iruma: I'm sorry I just..

Asmodeus: No, why would people be so stupidly blind to not see your elusive beauty? Damn demon these days..

Iruma: * raises his eyebrows then quickly smiled*

Meanwhile..

Kerori: Imagine saying you're not depressed but your favourite song is "Look who's inside again."

Agares: Is this because I didn't follow your devi-account yet? I'm sorry that I don't like to follow akudols that I don't like.

Kerori: I hate you.

Agares: Glad the feelings mutual.

⭐Kerori and Agares is totally not inspired by my friendship with my friend irl. Nope definitely not.⭐

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #5

Kalego: Okay you brats,what the fuck do you do when you want to call for emotional support?

Misfit Class: Oh we're fine, how are you?

Kalego: No, just no. I'm literally gonna fucking kill your therapist at this point.

Dantelion who just went to annoy Kalego: ...

UPDATED!

Mairuma Incorrect Quotes #6

Lied: What the devi? Hey, Agares what are you doing in the middle of the nig-

Agares: Do you know that there is over in lover.

Lied: Uh-

Agares: and end in friend.

Lied: UH-

Agares: and good in goodbye.

Lied: Isn't that kind of dark- anyways please go to sleep it's one o' clock in the morning.

Agares: Says your gaming addiction.

Lied: Says your coffee addiction.

Agares: Says-

Purson who can't sleep because of them: OH MY DEVI, WE'RE TRYING TO SLEEP! WE"LL DEAL WITH YOUR DEPRESSING BULLSHIT TOMMOROW. GO TO SLEEP YOU LITTLE SHITS! YOU"RE LUCKY I CARE ABOUT YOU OR ELSE I WOULD'VE BEATEN THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!

Claire's note:

Two hc I have showcase in this incorrect quote.

Uno, the Misfit Class sometimes sleepover at the royal one as a way of bonding.

Dos, Purson is a real bitch when he doesn't get any sleep.

ENDING

My content is turning into dog-shit ain't it? Yeah, yeah it is. Btw I'm thinking of making a misfit class hamilton play in my fanfic. The demons starring the schuyler sisters.

Lied- Angelica

Iruma- Eliza

Agares- Peggy

Them three because them crossdressing is my literal sanity.

What do you think? My hand tells me no but my brain is telling me yes. I still don't know who should be hamilton though, I'm open to suggestions. Anyways I wish you a good day or night! See ya guys, gals and non-binary pals!

#mairimashita! iruma kun #iruma suzuki #shax lied #crocell kerori #m!ik #mairuma #asmodeus alice #agares picero #welcome to demon school iruma kun #gaap goemon #naberius kalego #kalego sensei #m!ik kalego #iruma kun #wtdsik

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denimbex1986 · 3 months

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'The British director on the power of crying and how he crafted his heartbreaking new film, All of Us Strangers.

Andrew Haigh is a veteran of film and television, having directed projects including Weekend, 45 Years, Looking and The North Water. His work is defined by an expert eye for detail and profound sensitivity – in All of Us Strangers, he excavates familial and queer trauma to create a powerful, tender, ghostly romance, starring Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal, Claire Foy and Jamie Bell.

LWLies: Every person I’ve spoken to about All of Us Strangers has had quite an intense emotional reaction to it. How aware of that potential are you when you’re making a film?

Haigh: It’s funny, because I used to get emotional writing the script, and then making a film, there are moments when you feel the emotion that’s coming back at you. I’m a pretty emotional person, I’m constantly crying. But then when I watched the assembly that Jonathan [Alberts, editor] had done, I was a wreck. And I know that he’d been a wreck editing it.

The more you work on a film, for months and months, you aren’t sure. You wonder if you’ve got rid of the emotion within the piece, if you’ve ruined it. When the film was finished, I hoped that people would have a reaction to it, and that it would feel like a genuine emotional reaction rather than a manipulative one.

I wanted to unpick the pain that we all carry around, in the hope that at the end, there is some catharsis. I find crying so cathartic. Every time I cry my eyes I feel so much better. I remember when Jonathan was cutting the dailies, and it was just one of the scenes about halfway through, of Harry and Adam in bed talking. I came in and Jonathan was just in floods. I said, “What’s the matter?!” It wasn’t a big emotional scene but he was a wreck.

I think that’s representative of how grief works, too. Sometimes it’s the small things that set you off, and it’s not always the things that make sense.

It’s always the little things, and it’s the same whether it’s grief or anything in your past. I think grief is not always just about someone you’ve lost, it’s about things that you’ve lost. It’s time that you’ve lost, it’s relationships that you’ve lost, it’s love affairs that you’ve lost. Our whole lives are essentially dealing with time moving on and us losing things. I wanted the film to be about that – so the mother is just as upset that she has lost the time with her son because those things are so fragile. I’m a pretty melancholic person, and so I often think about all of those little moments in life that have been so important and are now just distant memories. They are essentially ghosts.

It’s strange, I’m currently going through a lot of video footage from when I was a kid, so I’m having a very similar experience. It brings up so many strange emotions, excavating the past. Thinking about the people that aren’t in your life now.

Yeah – and the emotion that you have for someone once they are gone, whether that’s because they’ve died or they’re just not in your life..that emotion is still there. It’s strange how that works. Fear doesn’t last the same way. No other emotion does. But love is always there. Somehow it’s both a little bit cheesy and kind of magical at the same time. Love is the thing that remains.

Were you familiar with Taichi Yamada’s novel Strangers before you were approached about the project?

No, I hadn’t heard of it – Graham [Broadbent] and Sarah [Harvey], the producers, sent it to me. They knew me, and they asked what I was interested in doing, so I said “I’m kind of interested in doing some kind of ghost story.’ Even though this isn’t that exactly. But they sent me this very traditional ghost story, and the thing that I loved was this idea in the novel of meeting your parents again. I thought that was a fascinating way to start looking into love, grief, parental responsibility, all of those things. I very quickly knew I wanted to make the love affair between two men, and I didn’t want the ghosts in the story to be malevolent, in the way they sort of are in the book.

I felt like, Oh God, I can finally talk about queerness and family in a way that I think is very complicated, and do it within a way that these two things can be interconnected and wound up together. I feel like that is a thing about being queer. It is complicated within a family dynamic. It’s getting better every day, although not for everyone. But it was certainly so complicated for me, growing up.

I’m interested to know how much you thought about the connection between All of Us Strangers and your previous work, particularly 45 Years and Weekend, because there are overlapping themes.

Yeah, and I don’t mind it being sort of repeating, because I think my interests are always my interests. So the things I’m trying to articulate, I’m often going back on myself to try and find new ways to express something I’ve looked at before. I quite like that idea. But my biggest concern, actually, in the beginning, was that people were going to think this film is just Weekend with Ghosts. But even though I don’t think the film is that, everything that you do is always in relationship to what you’ve done before. For me anyway. It’s like picking up a conversation, there’s something that you’ve already sort of talked about, but you realise you want to talk about a little bit more, and in a slightly different way.

You’ve talked a little bit about bringing your own personal experience into the film. How do you find that process of weaving your own personal experience into an adaptation?

Yes, I felt like I had to. For some reason, I felt like I didn’t want to make the film unless it was personal. There was stuff I wanted to talk about in terms of queerness and how I feel about family and its complications, what it can mean to be a child and a parent. I wrote a lot during the pandemic – I kind of threw myself into trying to make it feel as close to something I understood as possible while making sure it wasn’t autobiographical. So there’s lots of me in it, but there’s also lots of me that isn’t in it. When I gave the script to people, they’d said “I feel like you’ve written this about me. I feel like you’ve told my life story.” Whether it’s about the loss of parents or the separation from family, or whether it’s about queerness…they’re taking something from it. And that was always what I hoped that it would feel like. It’s personal to me, but I want it to feel personal to everyone.

You have such a wonderfully curated collection of 80s music in All of Us Strangers. Was this directly plucked from your own experience?

Oh yeah, those choices were definitely personal. I love The Pet Shop Boys, I’ve loved them from their first album onwards back in 1985, and Frankie Goes To Hollywood. If you open the vinyl now, it’s so gay! You pull out this bit of paper, and they’re wearing like leather underwear and you’re like “How did this exist in 1983?” Those songs were so important to me. But pop music in general is a way for especially repressed British people to express themselves – the old pop songs especially expressed the things that we can’t say in very blatant terms. I think weirdly my politics was forged by pop music. I listen to a Housemartins song now, and I can tell they’re a bunch of socialists, you can feel it. Everything was passionate in those days, especially in pop music.

The film begins with a sunrise and ends with a night sky which lingers, and I loved that parallel. How early did you have that ending in your head?

I think it was there from the beginning if I’m honest – but I’m also aware that the ending won’t work for everybody. For me, it’s like I needed the ending to transcend a sense of reality. When I was a kid growing up I genuinely thought that I would never be able to find love. I couldn’t even see spending my life with another man as a possibility. And I wanted in the end to make love have this almost cosmic importance. Like the idea that love is so fundamentally important and enormous. Someone said something to me that I hadn’t quite realised – stars die billions of years ago, and the light is still there millions of years later. It’s like we said before; love is this thing that can be long gone, but it’s still there. And you can find it again. And again. And again. It’s always there.'

#Andrew Haigh #All of Us Strangers #Taichi Yamada #Strangers #Weekend #45 Years #The North Water #Looking #Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Jonathan Alberts #Graham Broadbent #Sarah Harvey #The Housemartins #Pet Shop Boys #Frankie Goes to Hollywood

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sapphire-weapon · 3 months

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Hi again! I'm the RE6 anon. Thank you so much for providing such a lengthy and detailed explanation; I really appreciate it. And as expected you're totally right and you schooled me lol that's why I came to you anyway. I have to say I've had those thoughts for a while, Aeon giving married couple vibes in RE6 for a while now, partly due to popular opinion in the fandom and also because I watched Damnation before playing RE6 a few months back, so I do admit I went into the game with my Aeon glasses on lol BUT sth about it just felt wrong to me, like I wasn't analyzing this the right way, and you filled in the gaps perfectly.

Looking back at it, Damnation has this playful, intimate undercurrent between Leon and Ada, and it's all fun and games but then here comes that ending omg. It's so depressing. You have Ada being Ada on one side and Leon drowning his sorrows on the other. But instead of being like "ok this is the major conflict between them, he knows she's out there doing mercenary stuff but he doesnt seem to care but he's also tired of this life and Ada perpetuates it with her actions SO WHY ISN'T HE DOING STH ABT IT, WHEN IS HE GONNA STOP BEING SO FUCKING STUPID???", I went into RE6 focusing on the rest of their interactions, the flirting, that night, the game they always play. But like I said, it felt wrong. So I guess I should've listened to my gut.

Bc even when I was playing and trying to be all like uwu look how Leon's standing up for her, I always went back to the Damnation ending in my mind. Like nothing had changed since then. The conflict reached a boiling point, and Leon was even more fucking stupid. And there was another little voice in my head saying yeah of course he wants to save her, it's Leon, he wants to save everyone, and this is Ada of all people, he really cares about her... but where does it go from there? Does he trust her? like 100% trust her? He's doing the most for her but does he ever stop to wonder what she did to get into this mess? does he know her at all? And the answer was immediately fuck no. But I was so used to the fandom opinion and the Aeon dynamic, so used on focusing on the big shiny things when it came to them, that I thought those were the only things that mattered. I was honestly holding onto Aeon as hard as Leon was lmao. But when Ada sends him the message I was like oh ok she really doesn't give a fuck kfjdjd and I felt like a sense of closure bc Leon seems very resolute after that.

Still, I focused on him having her number, her calling him hun, him saving her, Helena implying he will see her again, big shiny things like that, so that's why I was unsure.

Those doubts wouldn't leave my mind tho, and I know nothing is accidental in writing, so that's why I thought I'd bring it up to you bc you just know your stuff.

Thank you so much, that was truly an eye opener 🧡

I think that part of the nuance that's lost is that, like.

Leon is also working for people who perpetuate the problem of bioterrorism. It's not like he's on one side of the fight and she's on the other. Morally, in his mind and his heart, Leon is on one side of the fight. But he can't act on that, because he's trapped by the government.

That was the whole point of his fight with Claire at the end of ID. She knows that Leon feels and thinks a certain way, and she knows that his actions are in direct opposition of those feelings and thoughts. That's the point of the "that suit doesn't suit you" line.

But there's nothing he can do about it. So when Helena gives him the opening to disappear with his legally dead status and run away with Ada, he declines not just because he realizes that he never knew Ada -- but also because nothing in his life would change if he did. He'd still be on "the wrong side" of things. That's another part of the reason he asks "Why are you helping us?"

So like. What we really see at the end of Damnation is Leon and Ada's reactions to fighting the same fight. Ada's thriving and happy to live a life on silk sheets stuffed with money. Leon can't cope with what he's doing, morally. Ada has a choice. Leon doesn't. And so, at the end of RE6, when he's given a choice, he makes sure he makes the one that actually does some good. He can still save Helena if he stays, but running off with Ada would just keep him trapped in place while stripping him of what little power he does have.

And then he won't be able to save anybody.

But when people lose sight of the broader picture of Leon's character because they're so laser-focused on Ada, they miss all of this.

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the-archangel · 5 months

Text

V for Vengeance

This took ages and is very long I'm sorry! Might be better reading it on AO3 :)

“You don’t know what I’m thinking any more Johnny, leave me alone,” spits V as he stalks down the grimy, neon-flooded street with his collar up against the rain.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” the most recently appointed Afterlife merc explains as he rushes after him, “and this is a fucking gonk idea.”

V had been brewing for days, ever since Kerry told him about the time he’d been kidnapped and held to ransom by scavs. Kerry had intended it as an amusing drunken tale, it’d been all over in less than 24 hours and he’d been that high at the time he hadn’t really noticed it happening, but V was not so green when it came to dealing with scavs, he knew what would’ve happened if the record company hadn’t coughed up the eddies and was determined to fill in the details of the hours that they held the Rockerboy, no matter how unsavoury.

“Seriously V, it was twelve years ago, they’re all either dead or they’ve moved on by now.”

Stopping in his tracks, V looks intently at the dark-haired man, “You don’t have to come with me Johnny, I never asked you to.”

“I know,” answers Johnny darkly, “maybe you should’ve. You’ve got no idea what you’re looking for.”

“Neither have you! You were a data stream living in a freezer at the time, how exactly does that make you any more qualified than me to find them?” It’s a fair point, and one that V knows Johnny is not pleased to be reminded of. “Look, if you wanna help fine, just try not to be a pain in the ass.”

“Can’t promise anything,” Johnny mutters turning to follow his friend down the street.

Kerry had just done one of the best shows of his life – or so the bassist of his backing band tells him as he gives the Rockerboy a sloppy post-gig blow job, despite the best efforts of the younger musician it’s not a relationship, just a habit that they’ve fallen into.

Later, alone again, Kerry messages his kids telling them about the show and asking about their day. He never gets a reply, but he does it every damn day anyway. Then he calls his new manager to see how the attempt to copyright his image is going, but the fucker doesn’t answer, he never fucking answers, Kerry’s beginning to think he made a mistake hiring him. There’s one more call he thinks about making, but he’s had enough rejection this evening and so puts on a jacket and heads out to the waiting car. He doesn’t make it.

“Where’re we going?” Johnny shouts after V’s retreating back.

“Pacifica.” answers the other man.

“Woah, we’re not walking to fucking Pacifica.” states Johnny breathlessly as he catches up.

“Course not, there’s someone I need to speak to first.”

Afterlife is buzzing even at this time of the early afternoon, despite it now being V’s kingdom Johnny’s heart lifts a little at the thought of Rogue maybe being there, her visits are increasingly rare, but it is possible. They make their way over to the bar where V has a quick word with Clair before heading to his usual booth at the back, Johnny makes to follow until he sees who V is meeting, he sits at the bar instead nursing a tequila and glaring over petulantly.

“You’re lucky I was in town,” Panam tells V as he takes a seat opposite her and puts beers on the table between them, “another few hours and I’d have been showing this shithole my dust.”

“I know, thanks for meeting me, and…I’m sorry.”

The woman looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, “Luckily for you I’m a big girl capable of making my own decisions. Something more than we had might’ve been nice, but as far as flings go, it was one of my favourites.” she says taking a swig of beer and sitting back in her seat, one leg resting on the other and arms spread along the back, “But you’re still part of the clan whatever other shit you’ve pulled, what do you need?”

“Info,” says V leaning forward and looking at her seriously, “about twelve years ago Kerry was taken by some scavs, prolly took him somewhere into the Badlands, wondered if there had been any rumours, if anyone knew anything about what happened?”

“Can’t Kerry tell you anything? Surely he’s not gone senile just yet?” she asks with narrowed eyes and a half-smile.

“Heh, you’re a funny girl, but no. He was pretty out of it and he’s kinda blocked it out.” V winces internally at the lie. “So do you know anything?”

Panam takes another swig from her bottle and ponders the question, “Maybe. I was a teenager at the time, a feisty one too if you can believe it, Saul would sit me down and tell me all the reasons why my behaviour was dangerous, or bad for the clan.” V nods, he’s been at the receiving end of Saul’s lectures and knows what they can be like. “Anyway, this one time he was explaining why taking a bike and riding into the town was a dumb idea, he was even more riled than usual, said if the Raffen could swipe a rock star right from outside a stadium, one little girl on a bike would not be able to stop them taking her. Never connected the dots at the time, but I guess he was talking about Kerry.”

“The Raffen huh? I guessed as much, any idea where they took him?”

“No, they had a few bases at the time, I’ll mark them on a map for you.” she says producing a map and pen from her bag, “Saul was a big fan of Kerry’s, shame they never met.”

V hums in agreement, Saul always turned the radio up when one of Kerry’s songs came on and he’d told Kerry stories about the brusque clan leader many times, they could definitely have been chooms. “Thanks Panam, you’ve been a lot of help.”

Panam looks over his shoulder, “Who’s that guy you came in with? He’s been glaring at me for the whole conversation like I should know who he is.”

V chuckles, he often forgets that even people who met Johnny never actually saw Johnny. Before he can explain, the woman interjects,

“Fuck, that’s Johnny Silverhand. I recognise him from Saul’s album covers. That’s Johnny fucking Silverhand!”

Hearing his name, Johnny smiles warily and raises his glass in Panam’s direction.

“Why didn’t he come over with you?” she asks.

Still smiling, V looks over at the dark-haired merc at the bar and lowers his voice, “He’s kinda scared of you, you were pretty angry about him trying to kill me if you remember, he thinks you might try and break his balls over it or some shit.”

“That’s fair, but if the fucker is going with you, watch your back, he’d choose his ego over his chooms any day I’m guessing.”

Once maybe, but not anymore V thinks, but he just nods and finishes up his beer, “Look after yourself Panam, I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Mhm, don’t be a stranger.” the nomad replies giving him a curt nod and walking out of the booth.

Johnny watches as she leaves the bar, “Don’t say it Johnny.” V warns.

“Say what? That she has a nice ass? I’m only human.”

V groans and grabs his jacket from the bar stool, after a last catch-up with Clair they’re ready to leave.

“Need to get the truck from the garage,” V tells Johnny, “it’s gonna get pretty bumpy out there.”

Jogging to keep up with V’s accelerating strides, Johnny is struggling to understand the urgency, unsure as to why they need to head to Pacifica now rather than the morning, it is, after all, 12 years since the attack took place so one more day is unlikely to make much difference. V, on the other hand, can’t get there fast enough, the thoughts of what they might have done to Kerry in that time have been festering in his mind and he couldn’t look the man in the face again if he didn’t do something.

As if he’s read the ex-merc’s mind, the holo rings and Kerry’s tired face fills V’s vision. “Heeey V, missed ya today, what ya been doin’?”

“Just dealing with some business Ker, like I said this morning it might take a couple of days. How’s the song coming along?”

The Rockerboy’s lip curls into a grimace, “Meh, can’t seem to get into the groove, y’know I worry about you when you go out on jobs. Throws me off.”

“I promise I’ll be careful and I’ll call you in the morning, get some sleep babe, be back before you know it.”

“Kay V, love ya.”

“You too ya gonk.” V says softy as the call disconnects and he rubs his temple with his fingertips, it’s been a long day and it’s not over yet, “Johnny, you OK to drive? If I don’t lie down, I’ll fall down.”

“Sure, where we going?”

“The stadium.”

Johnny had only been up a few hours having not got home until the early hours. He’d thrown himself into the merc work and mostly enjoyed it, but music was still his passion, so he’d been doing the rounds of the open mike nights – heavily disguised of course – just to keep his hand in. Problem was, compared to his old stuff, what he’s writing now is shit. The tunes are fine but he’s struggling to find the lyrics; before, he channelled his lust, anger and vitriol into the words, now all he feels is apathy most of the time. He hates to admit it but, he needs help, he needs Kerry, and if helping V with his gonk plan gets him back in Kerry’s good books then it’s all going to be worth it.

Pulling in at the stadium parking lot, Johnny spends a moment taking in how shitty Pacifica had become over the years. He can still remember when it was the promised land, corpos filling the hotels and beaches, not this gang run nightmare before him. It vaguely occurs to him that it’s at least partly his fault, but such thinking could lead to madness so he tucks the thought away to be chewed over another time.

“V, wake up sleeping beauty, we’re here.”

Groggily, the younger man groans and sits up in his seat, “What time is it?” he asks yawning.

“Just after midnight, not much point looking around in the dark, may as well hang here until the sun comes up in a few hours.”

“No way,” stresses V, already getting out of the truck, “this is the perfect time.”

A perplexed Johnny once more finds himself jogging to catch up to his friend, what is he possibly hoping to find after twelve years in the middle of the night?

The stadium is in darkness, the sputtering street lights only adding to the gloom. V stands, hands on hips surveying the side of the building, scanning the area and sighing. The building hadn’t changed much since it was built sixty years ago, flimsy doors, non-existent security, pretty much what he expected, but what had changed was the area. A stadium built so that high-rolling customers could watch a show or game whilst staying in one of the nearby five-star hotels was now next to a derelict shopping mall in what looked like a war zone. Sure, it could still get the big-name acts, but they would travel in from somewhere more salubrious, maybe a place in the City Centre, whilst the audience would make their weary way back to their homes, never once thinking of staying in Pacifica for the evening, no matter how convenient.

Although terrible for Pacifica, this is in fact great for V’s purposes, the same bums and low-lives have been hanging around the stadium for years and their information is cheaply bought. The nearest liquor store is not far away, Johnny follows his friend hopefully inside grimacing as he chooses two of the cheapest 6-packs available and then helps him carry the bags back to a wall near the stadium. “Now what?” he asks.

“Now, we wait,” the other man replies, popping the cap off a beer and wrinkling his nose at the first sip. They don’t need to wait long, a dishevelled, grey-haired man comes shambling towards them with a younger, twitchy-faced man at his side.

“Care for some company chooms?” he asks in a surprisingly refined voice.

“Sure thing, wanna drink?” The older man nods emphatically, while the younger sits silently crossed-legged, glaring at Johnny and V between violent tics.

The conversation is moved along from government conspiracies (probable) and the latest sightings of a mothman (unlikely but possible) to the things celebrities will do for attention, V’s attention has been wavering for a while, tiredness having caught up with him, but the mention of his mainline’s name, as well as a sharp dig in the ribs from Johnny, perks him up.

“That there Eurodyne fella, they reckon it was all for publicity, saw it with my own eyes…”

“Wait, what?” asks V suddenly wide awake, “You saw Kerry Eurodyne being kidnapped?”

“If that’s what it was, he walked out with them friendly as anything, got in the car no problem, chatting like they were best chooms.”

V is momentarily stunned into silence, processing what he’s being told, “What…what kinda car was it?”

“Nothin fancy, some sort of Thorton. Remember thinking what an odd shade of blue it was, like the sky at dusk.”

Johnny interjects, “Yeah, poetic as all shit choom, tell us everything.”

The concert goers had generally been a happy and generous bunch, the bum and his chooms had made a good few euros and scored a few beers and were sat, nicely mellow, waiting for their second chance as the crowds emerged from the stadium. Before that could happen, a side door swings open and a smiling Kerry strides out to the waiting car flanked by what looks like a couple of suited bodyguards and followed by a red-haired woman with a Valentino’s jacket and a distinctive silver leg. In his youth, the man had been a huge fan of Eurodyne’s, posters all over the walls, shelf full of his records, but he hadn’t been so keen on some of his poppy later stuff, so it’s with detached interest that he watches the Rockerboy be led out to the car and directed into the back seat. He seemed in good spirits, clearly high as a kite and slightly unsteady, but not seeming to be in any discomfort, for which V was grateful.

V and Johnny leave the men with what’s left of the beers and make their way back to their car, V is quiet and pensive which is making Johnny nervous.

“They tricked him,” V concludes, “they knew how confused he got when he’d been partying and they tricked him.”

Johnny tries to hide a smirk, the thought of Kerry being so out of it that he didn’t even know he was being kidnapped not only seemed likely, it was not even the first time it had happened. There was that time out in Miami in the 20’s when a deranged fan took him home and fed him pizza and copious amounts of wine before the rocker was found wandering the streets the next morning in a borrowed tuxedo, but V doesn’t need to hear about that just now.

The description of the red-haired woman is making V’s brain itch, there’s something familiar that he can’t quite put his finger on. Johnny drives them into the Badlands whilst V leaves a message for the Padre and falls into a disturbed slumber.

In his dreams, V’s leaning on a bar listening as Kerry tells him about his day at the studio. The Rockerboy is hyped and animated, pacing the room and drinking from a tequila bottle. He comes over placing his hand on the ex-merc’s chest and leaning into a sloppy kiss that ends with a bite on the bottom lip hard enough to raise a gasp.

“Something to remember me by.” Kerry smirks as he pulls away.

“Why, you going somewhere?”

Kerry puts his hand on the door to the exit and turns, smiling sadly. Then he’s just gone, disappeared. V searches the room frantically, calling Kerry’s name and pushing on the door, but no one answers and the door won’t budge, then Johnny’s voice is calling him,

“V, shut your whining. You woke me up from a real nice dream you fucker.”

The truck is where Johnny parked it in the early hours, shaded from the mid-morning sun by a boulder which also serves to shield them from the road. V groans and stretches, he’s had the full eight hours for the first time in weeks, but still feels like he’s been kicked in the head, and back, and kidneys. “Where are we?” he asks the grumpy ex-rocker groggily.

“’Bout five miles west of Panam’s first marker on the map.”

Nodding, V gingerly leaves the truck, rubbing life back into his legs he leans against the rock to take a much-needed piss, cursing softly as a call comes midway through. Thinking it best to leave the call on audio only for now he greets the caller as cheerily as he can manage, “Morning Padre, thanks for getting back to me.”

“Always a pleasure to be able to help out a brother in need. What can I do for you?”

“The woman I described; do you have any info on her? She rings a bell with me but I just can’t place why.”

“She is called Selene, she was a friend of your mother’s when you were very small, but she left the fold twenty years or so back, went to live with the Nomads so I heard. If you find her, tell her she is forgiven and will be welcomed back.”

“Selene, of course! Any idea which clan she went with?”

“Nothing for sure, though I think the Raffen would be her style.”

V sighs, it’s what he expected if he’s honest, but he hoped otherwise. “Any ideas where she is now?”

“None. I am expecting another call, but wish you luck in your endeavour.”

Thanking the Padre, V wanders back to the truck checking the map and planning a route for the day, he flops down next to Johnny with his back leaning on the tyre of the truck and takes the cig from the other man’s fingers. “I’m thinking if we work smart, we can cover all three camps before dark, then this time tomorrow we can be heading back.”

Johnny nods, working smart is not something he’s often accused of but he can give it a try.

V drives the truck to within a couple of miles of the first possible camp, concealing it as best he can between two ridges and makes his way to higher ground with Johnny following grumbling behind.

“Don’t know why we had to set off so fucking early, it’s not like they’re going anywhere. And what’s with all this fucking gear we’re carrying? There’s, like, an arsenal and enough water for a week, I thought we were here for the day not setting up camp.”

V gives a half-smile as he squints at the horizon, Johnny’s whining is actually quite a comfort to him, it means the world is working as it should, “You’d be surprised how much water you get through in the desert Johnny, and we don’t know what we’re up against, better to be over-prepared than under don’t’cha think?”

Johnny grunts non-committally and returns to his binoculars, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Any sign of movement, the camp should be over to the East by those rocks, looks abandoned but we don’t want to go storming in and find a cave full of scavs coming out to meet us.”

Having established that the camp at least appears to be all quiet, the boys stay low as far as possible and cover the last two miles without incident. The camp has clearly been abandoned for some time; empty crates litter the ground inside the mouth of the cave which was the main living quarters of the camp. Mildewed bunk-beds line the walls, nothing of value has been left behind, no handy clues. Sitting in the mouth of the cave sharing a bottle of water and a cig, V optimizes the route to the next camp whilst Johnny squints critically at a shard he’d found on one of the bunks,

“The Benefits and Drawbacks of Adaptive Technology and its Impact on Society at Large, huh.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothin, just some chip I found.” explains Johnny tossing it in his backpack to maybe read on the boring ride back later.

Their next destination is almost thirty miles to the north mostly over flat ground but the last few miles are a challenge even for the Mackinaw that bounces from dune to dune and jostles its passengers unrelentingly. Johnny clings onto the grab handle biting back his criticisms of V’s driving for fear of being left in the middle of nowhere to find his own way back. It’s a good choice. V had also had enough of the challenging terrain and was in no mood to deal with Johnny’s shit.

“Gonna have to park up for a while, this shitty truck is gonna work my optics loose if we carry on much longer.”

“I think there’s a gas station just up there,” Johnny points hopefully towards a fuzzy, gas-station shaped building on the horizon, “we could aim for that, regroup, grab some food.”

Food sounded good, they hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and the sun is now right overhead, there’s some jerky and trail mix in the truck, but they hadn’t got quite that desperate yet. The building is indeed a gas station, not only that but there is an outdoor seating area where they now are eating reheated burritos and sipping on mercifully chilled water. Johnny squirms uncomfortably in his seat, there are many benefits to having a flat ass, leather trousers hang well, chicks dig it, but long road journeys are just a pain in it.

“So, what’s the next plan of action?” he asks V in between bites of his disappointingly bland lunch.

“The guy in the store said there’s still some Scav action out here from time to time, so we don’t wanna go storming in, just in case. We’re still about four miles out, just over that ridge should be an old farm that they were using as a base.” V tells Johnny indicating a distant sand dune. “We get the truck to this side of the ridge, sneak around and see what we can see.”

Johnny nods, aiming his screwed up empty foil into the trash and smirking as he hears it rattle around the can and hit the bottom.

“Shit.” hisses V as he scans the farm buildings from the top of the ridge. There is clearly movement, things being loaded onto trucks. It looks like they might have caught the goons just as they’re moving on, which does not suit their purposes at all.

“Think fast Johnny, what do we do?”

Johnny looks up briefly whilst lighting his cig, the light of the match illuminating the surprised look on his face, since when does V ask his advice about merc work? “We could wait til one of them is separate from the group and bring them over for a little chat?”

“Mhm, there’s a guy over there keeps disappearing off for a smoke, we could follow the ridge around and see where he goes.”

Just as V had said, around five minutes later the man dumps a crate in the van and makes to the back of the substantial barn where the van is parked, the mercs (V is allowing himself the title back, just for a couple of days) follow along and down the ridge until the sharp smell of the man’s sweat and cheap cologne assaults their noses. Luckily for them, he is concerned only with checking his messages and not expecting to be forcibly dragged over the rocky ground with a gun to his head and a hand over his mouth.

They really should have decided what to ask him before dragging him behind the ridge, after all, he was clearly too young to have any knowledge of the kidnapping, fortunately he helps them out,

“Aw I knew you’d catch up to me sooner or later, I’ll tell you anything and I’ll run to the hills if you let me go, you’ll never hear from me again.”

Johnny and V have no idea who the guy thinks they are, but can’t pass up such an opportunity,

“We’ll think on that,” Johnny tells him, “all depends on how good the info you give us is.”

“Looks like you’ve been keeping busy,” V chips in, “what have you been doing out here these past few, er, weeks?”

As promised, the man spills everything, the camp has been here for several months though he’s only been with them for three weeks, other than a few local raids nothing of any note has happened. They are moving East to an old warehouse that was used in the 60’s as a base, to join with another faction in order to pull off some heist. The whole shebang is being run by a woman with faded red hair who’s name he didn’t catch who was here a couple of days ago but has since returned to the warehouse.

With a pistol-backed warning not to look back, they watch the man sprint into the distance and think about their next move. The warehouse seems to be the last place Panam marked on their map so they don’t need to follow the goons in order to find it, in fact it would be better to get there before them so that there’s less to deal with, but not searching the farmhouse might lead to them missing a vital clue.

“How sneaky are you feeling?” V asks Johnny.

“I can do it if I have to, but I’d rather just shoot them in the head.”

“Maybe when your aim improves, we’ll go with your plan, until then, follow me up to the back window.”

Johnny opens his mouth to say something, but for once thinks better of it and follows V up onto a dumpster, across an awning and in through a handily open window, dropping silently on the other side into what appears to be a command centre of sorts. There are tables and chairs scattered around, empty wrappers and cups, but nothing that presents as a clue.

The next room has been used as sleeping quarters, sheets are strewn around, pillows scattered, and the smell from the unwashed linen and half-eaten food left on all the available surfaces is almost unbearable, Johnny finds it almost overwhelming, he’s still getting used to having his senses back and is having to fight against the urge to pass out from the stench.

The last room on this floor is smaller but had been kept neat. There’s a cot in the corner with the sheets removed and a few bits of sparse, but clean furniture.

“Nothing in here to see,” says V rattling a drawer back into place just as a goon, who’d been hiding behind the door waiting to make his move, hits him clumsily but solidly on the shoulders and flies towards the stairs to make his escape. Johnny takes chase narrowly avoiding a door to the face as the man flees the building, he needs to bring him down before he can alert his chooms and so dives for his legs sending him heavily onto the gravel and drags him, thankfully dazed and quiet, back into the house. Meanwhile, V gingerly opens one eye staring into the painful void before him, his optics soon adjust and the bedroom floor slowly slides into focus.

A dull thud and a muffled groan later, Johnny reappears and offers his hand to help the fixer up, he grudgingly accepts and leans his weight onto the Rockerboy as they make their way gingerly down the stairs and over the battered body of the fallen goon to watch the outside activities through a grimy, cracked window.

“The way I see it,” offers V massaging life back into his left shoulder, “we can either wait here until they leave and check the place out properly, or forget about here and make our way to the warehouse while it’s still light and before it’s full of murderous Scavs.”

It’s a no-brainer, a couple of minutes later they are back in the truck putting together a route away from the roads leading from the farm and sharing a cigarette. The devil in Johnny has a question to ask, “How d’you think Kerry’s gonna feel when he finds out you’ve done all of this without asking him?”

“Well he’ll…” V realises that, in a certain light, his actions could be construed as selfish, controlling even. Although he meant well, he hadn’t really considered Kerry’s feelings in all of this, there might even be a reason he never told the whole story. “I just need to call someone…” he murmurs, leaving the truck and disappearing around the corner.

Some minutes later a red-cheeked ex-merc hops back into the truck and silently starts it up, knuckles white on the steering wheel, Johnny gives it a few minutes but has to ask,

“Kerry is pretty mad OK?”

Johnny nods, he knows how Kerry gets when he feels betrayed, he realises that, to his surprise, he feels bad for his friend.

“He said that I shouldn’t’ve gone without telling him where I was going and that I shouldn’t’ve put myself in danger for him and that we were gonna have to have a talk when I get back.”

“Aw V I’m sorry…”

“Nah, it’s fine. Think he just wants to vent at me. Had to promise to call him every couple of hours and to tell him everything we find out, he really can’t remember what happened and wants to know, even if it’s real bad.”

It’s a long and boring journey to their final destination, Johnny has been on a self-improvement kick lately and decides to look at the shard he found earlier. He was expecting a book, but opening the case he realises that The Benefits and Drawbacks of Adaptive Technology and its Impact on Society at Large is in fact a BD, possibly the dullest one ever but a BD just the same. Rummaging around in the glove compartment he finds a wreath and settles back in his seat ready to expand his mind. Twenty minutes later his mind is definitely blown, though not necessarily improved in any way.

“V, choom, you gotta see this,” he says groggily, clumsily pulling the BD wreath through his tangled hair.

“No thanks, m’driving. Not a good mix dipshit. Besides, sounds super-dull.”

“So pull over, I promise you, you REALLY need to see this.”

The scene opens with a stuffy lecturer in an office outlining how far cybernetics have come in the last hundred years, never one for schooling V can feel himself drifting off, but less than three minutes in the scene abruptly switches to a smoke-filled room, possibly a bar, with a dozen or more people sat at makeshift seats and tables. V recognises one, “That’s Selene!” he says out loud to Johnny. A commotion indicates another person entering the room, a slightly dishevelled Kerry comes stumbling in with hair flopping rakishly over one eye and his denim shirt open to expose his recently installed chrome. V adjusts himself in his seat, damn that man is hot.

“…and then later that night, “Kerry was clearly part way through a story when he had left the room, “he came over again. Can you believe it? But this time with a gun and a bag full of drugs. Security fucked him up and threw him out and the drugs made for a preem after-show party!”

The assembled ‘audience’ laugh and clap, an inhaler makes its way around the room as do various bottles, all of which Kerry happily partakes in. The next few minutes are mostly this, blurry partying and a babble of chatter, the room seems to be hanging on every word the Rockerboy says and Kerry is lapping it up. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. The recording whips around to focus on the red-haired woman who seems to be receiving a call, biting her bottom lip and nodding slightly as her eyes glow green. The room quietens, even Kerry, though he seems to be in some kind of drug and alcohol induced stupor anyway. The camera follows Selene out of the room into a gravel patch covered with parked cars and overlooked by an old wind turbine,

“Jeez, are you sure?” she asks, “I mean, of course I believe you but he’s a rock star for fucks sake, there must be somebody who’ll pay. What about the ex-wife?” Selene nods again, “What a bitch, I thought they had kids? And they say we’re the bad guys. OK, fine, it’s a shame though, he seems like a nice guy.” Her eyes dull as the call ends, she checks her revolver and strides back into the bar.

A whispered conversation later the filming cuts off as Kerry is being man-handled off the tatty sofa.

V removes the wreath and sits stunned in the driver’s seat of his truck not quite sure what to do next, Johnny gently takes it from his hands throwing it onto the rear seats and looks at his friend with concern. “You good?”

“I guess.” V replies thoughtfully, “He can’t know.”

Johnny nods in agreement, “So where next?”

“We carry on,” decides V, “still don’t know what happened next. I mean, they didn’t flatline him, why not? Gonna talk to Selene.”

Dusk is approaching when they reach their final destination, as it draws near the familiar outline of the now even more dilapidated wind turbine hovers into view. “This is the place,” Johnny erroneously announces. “We just gonna walk in and start shooting?”

“Jeez Johnny of course not, we want information don’t we, not total carnage?”

Johnny shrugs in a non-committal way.

V had just come off a holo-call with Kerry, he had told him about the bar, about the scavs hanging on his every word and about how hot he looked. He felt bad not telling him the whole truth, but just couldn’t see what good it would do. “You can stay in the truck; I’m going in to talk to them.”

The old Rockerboy was about to argue, the look on V’s face was more than enough to stop him. “Just be careful, I don’t wanna have to explain to Kerry why you’re coming home in the trunk and not the passenger seat.”

Leaving the truck and passing his half-done smoke over to Johnny, V puts his hands deep into his pockets and begins to walk towards the warehouse building, well-aware that there would have been eyes on him from the get go. Johnny has his eyes on a sniper behind an upstairs window, but for now V appears safe from their target practice.

As he nears, V puts his hands in the air and turns around then, a couple of meters from the door he stands and waits.

Up until now, the goons have not shown themselves though it’s obvious they’re around, dozens of vehicles are strewn around the gravel and a deep-thumping beat can be heard coming from inside. A hum indicates the rising of the shutters, rust rains down as they rattle open and a man of indeterminate middle-age dressed in makeshift armour appears.

“Don’t move. Who are you and whaddya want?”

“Name’s V,“ he yells across the distance cocking his head to one side, “your goons can stand down. Just want to talk to Selene.”

The name obviously means something to the other man, he raises an eyebrow and comes a little closer to the ex-merc. “And what’s your biz with Selene?” he hisses.

“No biz, she was a friend of my mom, just wanna talk to her.”

“Vincent?”

The deep, southern tones of the woman he knew in his youth are unmistakable,

“Selene, yeah, erm, hi.”

The chrome is covered in a dark blue boiler-suit and her always striking green eyes are hidden behind shades, but the red hair, less vibrant but still luxurious would have given her away anyway.

“Vincent honey, it’s been twenty years. Why you out here looking for me in the ass-end of nowhere?”

“Twenty-two, just wanted your help with something.” V says cautiously lowering his arms.

“Course sugar, come inside. How’s Martha?” The woman asks, wrapping her arm around V’s waist in a way that seems oddly familiar and leads him inside.

Small-talk exhausted, V is led down a narrow, graffitied corridor and into what seems to be a common-room of sorts. Selene clearly has some power, the assembled goons are variously reverential, sycophantic or dangerously protective, V has rarely missed the comfort of a revolver in his pocket as much as he does right now.

Back at the truck, Johnny is making bad decisions, having thankfully dismissed the idea of going in after V with all guns blazing regardless, he has now decided that since he is out of the way for a little while it’s a good time to call Kerry.

No one answers the first time, it’s early evening so Kerry could be getting ready to go out, or maybe napping, there’s even a possibility he’s just ignoring the call. Johnny tries again, this time an annoyed face fills his optics almost straight away,

“What?”

“And a good evening to you too Kerry.” Kerry rolls his eyes and waits for Johnny to continue. “Just thought we could, you know, catch up.”

The white-haired Rockerboy stares back incredulously,

“I saw you a week ago when you came bothering Vince, more’s the pity, had nothing to say to you then, even less now.”

“Ker, we’re going through some stuff to help you out here, a little bit of….”

“Whaddya mean ‘we’? Shiiiiiiit, you’re there with him aren’t you? You’re both gonna fucking get killed. If he gets hurt cause you fucked up I’m gonna personally rip off that good arm at hit you with the wet end. Sheesh. What you bothering me for anyway...has something happened?” Kerry asks in sudden alarm.

Johnny shakes his head in what he hopes is a comforting manner, “Chill choom, he’s just talking to some chick,” Johnny notices Kerry bristle slightly, “we’re nearly done, should be back in a few hours. I was thinking…maybe we could…y’know, get together for a jam when we get back?”

The other man puts the drink he is holding carefully down on the coffee table and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Say that again.”

“I just thought, we could maybe, recapture a bit of that old magic.” Johnny says awkwardly.

“You know I don’t need this right?” asks Kerry, “My last album went fucking platinum over night, I sell out stadiums choom. What’s in it for me?”

“V would like it if we got along.” Johnny wasn’t trying to score a point, merely musing, but it strikes a chord with Kerry nonetheless.

Kerry sighs, “Fine we’ll give it a try. If I hear the magic word.”

Johnny still can’t get used to Kerry having the upper hand, but he needs him on side, “OK fine, please.”

“Get that man back in one piece and we’ll talk.” The call cuts off abruptly and Johnny slumps back into his seat, that’s the scariest shit he’s done all day.

V is sat looking more confident than he feels opposite Selene at a rickety wooden table in a room reminiscent of the one on the BD. He’s hyper-aware of being watched by several pairs of distrustful eyes, even if he wanted to try something stupid, he’d never make it out alive.

“I doubt you really came all this way to talk over old times,” says the woman softly, “I’ve seen the scream sheets, the feeds, you’re seeing that Rockerboy feller, that Kerry Eurodyne. If you’re here for vengeance it’s not gonna end well for you Vincent my sweet boy.”

“No, not vengeance. We found this.” V hands the shard over to Selene who hisses through her teeth and whispers urgently to one of the assembled goons.

“Someone fucked up, that’s not for public consumption, but if not vengeance then why are you here?”

“Information. Kerry clearly didn’t get flatlined that night, made it home safe the next day, how? Why? What happened in between?”

Selene sits back in her chair staring V in the eye like she’s deciding which version of the story to tell, she decides on the truth…

The car is crowded, the two scavs are in the back with Kerry slumped between them and Selene with her bodyguard driving are in the front. “Where we taking him?” asks the burly hustle.

“Out to Biotechnica Flats, but near the highway so that he’ll be found quickly, can’t let the Corpo scum think they can take us for a joke, I think they’ll get the message when their poster boy is being brought home in a body bag.”

Around half an hour into the incredibly dull journey a deep voice pipes up from the rear seats, “Hey, erm, Selene, I don’t think he’s breathin’.”

“Shit, shit, shit. Stop the car!”

In some ways, this is ideal, saves them a messy and unpleasant job, but having him flatline from an overdose of partying rather than a gunshot isn’t exactly the message they’re trying to send. The car squeals to a halt on the deserted highway and the men in the back drag Kerry’s unresponsive body onto the scorching tarmac, where he sustains his only major injury of the night, a cracked elbow.

“Fucking Hell Clive, do something.” Selene screams at the bodyguard, but his specialty is bullets not heart attacks so he stands staring with the rest of them, until…

“Of course he’s got Trauma Team Platinum.” Sighs an exasperated Selene as the distinctive AV hovers into view. “Leave him, we need to delta. If they see us we’re fucked.”

The quartet hastily scramble back into the car and, with a screech of tyres, turn back towards the warehouse leaving the Rockerboy at the side of the road. Selene watches the action through the rear camera, as he gets lifted into the AV she reflects on how fucked they’re all going to be when the boss finds out.

“And we’re you? Fucked I mean.”

“Woo yeah, got my guys taken off of me, lost my position, my son, Charlie, got shipped to the other side of the country. It was rough. But you know what? I was glad he got away, he seemed like a good guy. Not his fault the corpos and his shitty ex fucked him over, yeah it was fine. I still smile whenever I see him on TV or hear him on the radio, and when I heard that my little Vinny was his mainline I knew it had happened for a reason.”

Selene takes V’s hand and leans forward to look into his eyes, “I’m pleased for you, of how things have turned out, but you know a lot about us now, where we live, what we do, and I can’t hold these guys back forever. You need to leave and don’t talk to anybody about what you’ve seen and heard here.”

V nods and Selene walks him to the shutters and out, “Be safe V,” she looks over to the truck, “and say Hi to Johnny, we had a lotta fun back in the day.” V hides his shock well and heads back to the truck to meet Johnny who is leaning fluidly against the passenger door.

“So, did ya find out what you wanted to know?”

V thinks for a moment lighting a cigarette and passing it to Johnny, “I can’t say that I wanted to know all that, I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”

The story does not surprise Johnny in the least, Kerry’s behaviour was pretty standard even back in the Samurai days, ‘cept back then it was a hopeful punch to the chest or a friendly ripperdoc that brought him back around. “How much you gonna tell him?”

V gives a deep sigh, “Just what he needs to know, tricked by scavs, rescued by Trauma Team, no need for the rest.”

Johnny nods, lying to save someone’s feelings doesn’t really sit well with him but it’s not his biz, and V’s right, Kerry doesn’t need to know the rest.

The ex-merc’s optics glow green as a call comes in, his favourite face fills the screen, “V, hey. I miss you, you heading back? Find anything out?”

“Not much, be home soon. I’ll tell you then…Ker?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x male v #kerry is my muse #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk v #kerry x male v #cyberpunk kerry #v cyberpunk #kerry x v #johnny and v as friends

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hannahssimblr · 4 months

Text

Chapter Eight

A much anticipated box arrives in the post one chilly November morning, and Simon attacks the brown tape with a stanley knife as soon as it hits his desk. I hover behind him vibrating with nervous anticipation as he peels open the flaps to reveal blocks of white card, vacuum packaged into individual piles. He lifts the first one out and drops it into my hands. “Have a look at those.”

I jam my thumbnail into the plastic and rip it away with a fervour to reveal my first Christmas card design. Merry Christmas is printed across the front with a jaunty, diagonal tilt. Every centimetre of space around it is taken up by stylistic holly leaves and bright red berries, and in between those are the little gold stars and dots I spent far too long drawing in with meticulous detail on the drawing tablet that I borrowed from Gabriel. Here it is, my hard word manifest. I smooth my hand over the top card and sigh with satisfaction. They look good.

“Nice.” Simon comments. “No print errors so far.”

“Yeah, great.” I say. “How are the rest?”

He shuffles through the box to pull out five more stacks. Five more designs I slaved over, and each one of them is perfect. If he thinks it’s odd that I sink to my knees onto the floor and hold the cards like they’re my children he doesn’t say so. He just starts clearing up the rubbish around me, mercifully ignoring the proud tears that have sprung to my eyes. I pull out my phone and take a picture for Claire, for Shane and for Jude.

I did it!

Their excited responses are just starting to come in when Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He has an annoying ringtone that distracts me far too much from my excitement. He picks it up.

“Hey Shell what’s up?

I bring the cards over to my desk and start unpacking them, sorting them into stacks with the correct envelopes as he has his loud conversation.

“Hang on what- really? Oh shit, what- okay but who-” Simon makes moves towards the stairs, and the urgency of his movements makes me snap to attention. “Do you know where she is exactly?” He disappears out of earshot, and I’m left staring at the staircase where he was only a moment before. I catch Izzy’s eye. She’s frowning with concern, a deep line carved between her brows. “Do you think it’s something about Jen?” she asks me, and I shrug. “I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on with her.”

“Oh.”

Simon comes back into the studio about five minutes later without saying a word. He hunches over his desk and yanks his sketchbook out in front of him. I listen to the sound of him tapping a pencil on the pages, drawing nothing, but I pretend not to notice. It’s minutes before his phone rings again, and he doesn’t move from his desk to answer it this time.

“Yeah? Oh, she did. Where did she say she was then?” A hassled sigh. “What? Like, how did she even- well no it’s not like you can just get a bus there, can you? …And your dad? …No, okay, obviously. Well, look… yeah but like, the taxi will cost a bloody fortune, I mean like a fortune. Surely you know someone with a licence?”

I continue sorting out the envelopes, trying very hard not to eavesdrop on Simon, but even with his hushed tones he’s making it impossible not to.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll ask.” He’s saying now, doubtfully. “Y-yeah I know. Fine, yeah, okay it makes sense.” He hangs up after another minute and from the side of my gaze I watch him get up from his seat and make his way across the room to where Izzy is working at the press. He speaks to her in a low voice, but I’m close enough to hear every word.

“Izzy, I’m so sorry to ask, but you’re able to drive, aren’t you?”

She hesitates. “Yeah, I can.”

“Look, there’s just this thing with Jen, Michelle is really worried about her, she’s way out in some house in Wicklow somewhere and it sounds dodgy, I-”

“I don’t own a car, Simon.”

“Right but you could borrow Michelle’s dad’s car. I hate to ask because I know you’re flat out busy this week, but-”

“I’ll do it.” I hear myself saying, and they both whirl around to stare at me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be eavesdropping or anything but I’ll do it. I have nothing important to do today,” I quickly eye the mess around Gabriel’s desk. “I can drive, and I know Jen.” There’s silence. “Seriously. I’ll do it.”

“You have a licence?”

“Do I look like I don’t have one?”

Simon looks a bit resigned, but he nods anyway. “Alright, fine, works for me.”

We take the bus across the city and into Clontarf together, not saying much despite being smushed together into the cramped seats on the upper level. I stare out over the sea as we move along the coast. It’s been years since I’ve been here, and the autumn has turned it duller, sparser than I remember it being that late summer when I visited. I can’t resist a glance up Jude’s avenue as we clamber off the bus and head down the main street towards Michelle’s house. I can’t see the beautiful Georgian house from the seafront like this, and I know he’s not there, but still, for a moment I let a shiver pass through me, briefly transported to another time.

Michelle lives in a solid, 1930s red brick house with the trees that line the edges of St Anne’s park within view of the front door. It’s an old, leafy suburb with neat piles of raked leaves on the narrow strips of lawn that separate the footpaths from the road. She’s waiting at the door when we arrive, her thumbnail lodged between her teeth.

Simon gently lifts her hand away and kisses her forehead. “All good, Shell?” She nods. “Youse took ages.”

“I know, it was just the bus.”

I raise a limp hand to wave at her from where I stand awkwardly by the bins, and she waves back. “God, thanks so much for doing this, Evie. I know it’s a bit crazy.”

“It isn’t. I don’t mind. I just hope that Jen is alright.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What happened?”

“Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and pulls the door closed behind her. “It’s Pamela again, it was hard to tell exactly what happened because Jen was so upset on the phone, but I think they had a fight while at a party at this weird house out in the back arse of Wicklow and Pamela drove off and left her there.”

“Oh my god what?”

Michelle tosses the car keys to me and I barely manage to catch them, jingling around as I scramble to pluck them out of the air. “Yeah, Pamela is a fucking bitch. It’s not the first time she’s done something like this.”

“Does Jen even know the people at the house?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t care either. I just want to go and get her, she didn’t sound good at all.”

I nod at that and we all climb into Michelle’s dad’s car. I have to adjust the seat to give myself more leg room. He must be a very small man. Simon takes the passenger seat on account of his long legs, and Michelle climbs into the back. It takes me a few minutes to get used to it, accustomed to the specific way that my dad’s car works. Where his car needed a knack to start it, this one roars to life smoothly. Where his car has a sticky gear stick, squeaky windscreen wipers and moss growing on the window rubber, this one is clean and sleek and easy. The glove compartment even has both hinges intact and there aren’t any ancient stains, but still, I struggle with the sensitivity of it, the altered position of the reverse gear, and we sputter and start all the way from the driveway to the estate exit. My face burns up, but neither Simon nor Michelle say anything in acknowledgement.

When we’re out on the open road it’s easier. I don’t mention that I’ve never driven in Dublin before, but I doubt there is a need to. It’s probably all over my face, with every wince when a cyclist wobbles into my lane, or a hassled sigh when other cars refuse to let me merge, but once we hit the motorway I relax. Still, I feel very small in this big car, like a little girl behind the wheel, doing something too big and too important to be appropriate.

Michelle has the address of the house on her phone, and she directs the whole way, as dual carriageway becomes a singular lane, and as a slip road takes us from narrow road to narrower, until the road is flanked with a canopy of rust coloured trees, dappled late morning sun on the hood of the car. We drive for an hour without the radio on. Just quiet, until eventually we reach a small town with grey buildings on both sides of the road. There is an internet café and a pizza takeaway with a cartoonish Italian man painted on the window.

“There ought to be an estate up here.” Michelle pipes up from behind me. “On the right.”

“That’s where she is?”

“I hope so. She stopped responding to my messages half an hour ago.” Her voice cracks a little there, and Simon reaches back to comfort her. “She’s fine, Shell. Don’t worry about it. Where could she have gone?”

It’s a large estate. There is a hill that rises high over the town, and I swing around a labyrinth of roundabouts and side roads, sure that without sat-nav I would never find my way out of here again. I mount the curb outside a house that looks exactly like all the others, save for the overgrown lawn. Simon gets out of the car and bangs on the door.

“Should we get out?” I say.

“Probably not” Replies Michelle. “Simon will handle it.” We both watch him wait there. There is a lump beneath my ribs that grows with every passing second, unable to take my eyes off the door, trying to ward off any unhelpful thoughts for the sake of Michelle, and then the door swings open, and Jen is there.

I can’t hear their conversation, but I can see Jen wringing her hands and nodding at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since Izzy’s gig, and she seems even smaller now than she did then, even in the way that she holds herself, hands clutched around her body, shoulders hunched forward like she’s trying to turn herself into the tiniest woman alive. Simon comes back to open up the back door for her and the moment she climbs inside Michelle has her arms around her neck and is stroking the back of her hair.

“Jen.” She says hoarsely. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry.” Jen says in a voice just above a whisper. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sniffs loudly. “It’s Pamela who should be.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Simon climbs into the passenger seat next to me, very quietly so as to not disturb them, and we sit there stoically, staring straight ahead. Jen is crying now too, swiping her face with her sleeves and whimpering. I watch Michelle in the rear view mirror, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands and helping, makeup dried onto her best friend’s face in grey streams.

“Maybe we should get going.” Simon says to me in a low voice, and I nod, staring up the engine and gingerly pulling away from the curb.

“Oh, God. Evie.” Jen says, noticing me for the first time. “You drove all the way out here? What-”

“It’s alright, nobody else has a licence. I’m happy to do it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“God, this is bonkers. I can’t believe you had to do this.” She bursts into tears again, causing Michelle to cluck over her, gently shushing her, pulling her wet face into her shoulder.

“Jen.” She’s saying softly. “This can’t keep happening. Pamela doesn’t treat you nicely. Someone who loves you like she says she does, she’d never drive away and leave you in a house full of strangers like that.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You have to think about what’s best for you, the happiness that you deserve. She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t treat you nicely.”

“I know, I know.” Jen says in a voice that makes me wonder how many times they’ve had this very conversation before. “You’re right.”

“Who are those people?”

“Her friends from somewhere. I don’t know. Or maybe not her friends, even. She buys drugs from them.”

“And what,” Michelle says carefully, calmly. “That’s what you were doing these last two days? Just partying and doing drugs?”

Jen makes a small sound of agreement.

“And then?”

“I pissed her off. I said something stupid, and she got annoyed with me. She thinks I embarrassed her in front of everyone else. We argued, and then she eventually left. I probably was annoying. I can be that way.”

My palms tighten on the steering wheel and my heart suddenly palpitates in my chest. I try to take a deep, steadying breath and focus as we pass through the grey village and back onto the country roads.

“No matter what you said, Jen, you didn’t deserve to be left alone with strangers.” Michelle continues soothingly. She’s good at this, I realise, good at hiding her true fury at Pamela and showing up as the supportive, reasonable best friend instead. “Can’t you see that? Nobody deserves that. What time did she leave you?”

“Last night, around midnight maybe.”

A pause. “So you were there all night?”

“Yeah, but it was fine. I’m sure she would have come back eventually, once she cooled down, I just got a bit overwrought, I had a panic attack, that’s why I called you. Actually, it’s not as big of a deal as I made it out to be.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and take a shuddering inhale. My hands are so tight around the wheel that they’re starting to hurt. Simon glances at me. “You alright, Evie?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I let my breath out slowly and say as quietly as I can: “It’s just… it’s hard for me to hear that.”

“What? About Pamela?”

“About how Jen explains it away.”

He stares at me, and then looks away. One small nod of understanding, and he doesn’t ask any more. “If you need to stop the car and get some air, it’s alright, you know.”

“Thanks.”

I drive on.

I don’t think about Dean if I can help it, but still, sometimes those putrid memories resurface and leave me feeling sick to my stomach. Even now, when I’m so far from that place I taste bile in my throat, remembering the dim haze I existed in when he was there, casually tearing me apart with his searing words each time I saw him, the terror that slowly grew in me like mould, insidious, worsening day by day until I was afraid to say anything at all. Afraid to do anything wrong, to even touch him in a way that he suddenly decided that he didn’t like.

“You’re no fun at all.” He said one morning as I headed for the shower. “You just lie there quietly. I’d have a better time with my hand.”

“Okay.” I said. “I’m sorry about that.” and I went to wash him off me.

The memory scorches me. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes and begin to blur the motorway ahead, and I blink them away fiercely. I can’t think about this.

I can’t think about this.

“Evie.” Simon’s voice reaches me, and to my surprise his hand is bridging the distance between us and laying on my shoulder. “We can stop. You look a bit unwell.”

I glance in the mirror at Jen, falling asleep on Michelle’s shoulder now, pale and wan and thin and worse than I am. I shake my head. “It’s fine. Let’s just… can we stick on the radio?”

“Yeah, no bother.” He flicks on some golden oldies station and we coast onwards towards the city to the sound of Neil Young’s guitar.

“If you feel like lying down, mam has your room made up.” Michelle says as we bring Jen inside. It’s only the early afternoon. Her parents are still at work and the house is empty, and neat, and ordered and the kind of place that makes me feel like taking my shoes off, but everybody else leaves them on, so I do too.

“Thanks. Maybe in a while.” Jen says, and shuffles into the living room. As she brushes past me I get the scent of her clothes. Tobacco, that strong, overpowering smell that can only be from a place where smoking is allowed indoors. I follow her and sit with her on the couch while Michelle heads for the kitchen to make something for us all to eat. Simon hovers between rooms for a few moments before deciding to follow his girlfriend, leaving Jen and I alone.

“Thanks so much for coming to get me, Evie.” She says. “Honestly, I’m so embarrassed that you had to get involved at all. I feel like a fool.”

“Don’t.” I insist. “I would have never left you there.”

“Well, I think it’s obvious enough that I shouldn’t have even been there. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t, I get it.”

She lets out a long, enervated sigh and sinks into the sofa, and her eyes flutter shut, and it’s peaceful and completely quiet save for the birds outside and the occasional sound of dry leaves scraping across the driveway. She must be utterly exhausted. As I look at her face, pale and wan, I imagine her all alone in that strange house, up all night waiting for Pamela to come back. Sure that she would, then not quite so sure anymore, realising that she was stuck, and the inevitable dread that must have accompanied her.

When I don’t think she’ll speak again she says to me gently. “I’m sorry we fell out of touch. I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Oh, God, Jen no. Please don’t even worry about that now. It doesn’t matter at all, and it was my fault anyway, I was going through a weird phase.”

“I should have been there more, but I just… I didn’t really know if I had any right to intervene.”

“I was alright, Jen. I worked it all out.”

“I always liked you a lot. You’re a nice girl.”

I smile. “I liked you a lot too.”

“We should have been friends.”

“I know.”

She tilts her head and looks at me, and her mouth curves into a humorous little smirk. “I’ve always been sorry that it wasn’t easier with us. I have this friend, you see, and he has this long habit of complicating things with the girls I want to befriend.”

I huff out a laugh. “I have no idea who you mean.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t.”

“I didn’t think you still called him your friend.” I say.

“He’s changed his tune lately, and has started complicating things with me instead, I suppose you could say, but,” A shrug. “I’d say we’re… well, it’s all a bit up in the air. Ask me again in another while. I don’t know.”

“Oh right.”

“You were talking to him at Izzy’s gig.” She says, curiosity in her eyes. “Are you back on speaking terms again?”

“Yeah, we are. A little bit.”

“Has he mentioned me?”

“Not really.”

“Ah. Is he still with Astrid?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” And she reaches for my hand to place it into her lap and turns it face up. She pulls my fingers so they’re stretched out flat and then traces the lines of my palm.

“I can’t read palms.” She says. “But if I could, yours would say, hm, unless you go out and ask for the things that you want, you can’t expect the universe to give them to you.”

I laugh. “That’s specific.”

“Wow, yeah, crazy.” She says as she pretends to examine me further. “That’s the same line that Jude has.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, his palm also tells him to cop on for once and be honest with himself, but I’d be surprised if he did. For a smart boy he’s so unbelievably stupid sometimes.”

I draw my hand away and rest it in my lap again, and this joke scenario doesn’t feel quite so funny all of a sudden. Jen knows, but she’s calm beside me, and her gaze is steady and insistent. “He doesn’t make good choices, he’s just like that, he probably won’t get his head screwed on right until he’s in his thirties. It’s nothing to do with you. He’ll keep choosing girls that are wrong for him.”

“You think Astrid is wrong for him?”

“Astrid’s completely gorgeous, but have you ever spoken to her?”

I shake my head.

“She’s not funny. She’s nice, and she’s very clever and capable and mature and all of that, but in all of the time I’ve spent with her over the last three years, not once has she ever told a joke, or a funny story or said something in an even slightly funny way. She’s dull, Evie. I honestly never got what the appeal was.”

“I’m sure there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“You mean she’s good in bed or something?”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “Well I didn’t mean that, but I suppose maybe. He must be going out with her for legitimate reasons that outweigh her non-existent sense of humour.”

“We all know, love, all of his friends know why, and it because he’s literally not able to be on his own. He hates being single, he always said that it made him feel uncomfortable to be by himself. Astrid was just there.”

“I’m sure he’s crazy in love with her too, though.” I don’t know why I’m choosing to defend a woman who was nothing short of blatantly unpleasant to me outside the café on one of the only occasions that I met her, but I simply can’t fathom the Jude that I know making a shallow choice based on convenience.

“Yeah, as much as you can be in love with a person who you’re completely incompatible with. She’s Leo.” Jen stares at me as if this proves everything, but I shrug. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means they can’t understand one another fundamentally, Leo can’t date Scorpio, it just never works out, but you, you’re Pisces. You’re both sensitive, artistic little water signs. You’re perfect for each other. It’s legitimately written in the stars.”

“I think he and I have probably moved past the possibility of anything happening.”

“Do you want it to?”

I hesitate, because I do. Of course I do, it feels like in my whole life I’ve never really wanted anyone or anything as badly as I’ve wanted him, the boy who made every other crush I’ve had in my life seem completely laughable, conjuring up feelings inside me that I only thought existed in movies, but I am terrified of my feelings for him, and terrified of finding out that he might return them.

“He’s still with her.” I say.

“I think he’ll figure out what he really wants sooner or later.”

“Well I think it’s silly to talk about this.”

“Whatever, chick.” Her eyes slide away from mine and she tilts her head to gaze out the window, through the venetian blinds out to the suburban scene, and I meet eyes with a porcelain dog on the mantelpiece, next to a dutch clock with a rotating pendulum that twists back and forth, back and forth in centrifugal motion. Jen checks her phone to find no new messages.

“I know how it feels to care a lot about a person who doesn’t treat you very nicely.” I say in sympathy, and she doesn’t move, or look at me, and her hands, with nails chewed down to the quick, tighten around her phone. “I know.” she says. “But sometimes it feels like a miracle to be wanted by anybody at all.”

A lump forms in my throat and my heart flutters. “Yeah, I get that.” I swallow convulsively. “But feeling like that doesn’t make it true.”

“But things are different when you aren’t beautiful and you can’t just have what you want.”

Something clatters loudly in the kitchen and we both snap around to look in the direction of the french doors.

“Sorry.” Michelle calls out. “Dropped a tray in the sink.” and Simon’s shadow moves across the frosted glass as he reaches for the handle.

“Evie.” Jen says suddenly, soberly, and my eyes flick to hers again. “Don’t tell Jude about what happened today. Don’t tell him where I was or what you had to do to help me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, please, just like, as a favour.”

I hesitate. “I suppose.”

“I can’t handle it if he knows. He gets too emotional. He’ll call me, and I can’t talk to him right now.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll keep it between us.”

She visibly relaxes again. “Okay, good. Thank you.”

“No problem” I’m saying, just as Michelle and Simon come back into the room with a tray laden down with our lunch.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: abuse #tw:drugs #tw: mental health

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mnstcrbnll · 8 months

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"THE FIRST ROUND IS OVER, STARDUSTS!"

"Plenty of you tried your luck, not many of you managed to get it right! In such a sad twist of fate, some of you even guessed correctly the first time, and then changed your answer in a wrong one! Sad, sad, so sad.

Now, as we usually do before explaining the rules for the second round, I'd like to first of all give a round of applause to everyone who tried their luck so far! Winners or not, I loved to see you guys at work! Secondly, I'd love to remind everyone who got their secrets revealed already, losing a special extra point, and then give you the tier list of every star so far! But first... let us see to who belonged the Secret Secret of the season: " I can't stand the Dragon-Type Gym Leader of my Region. It's not like he's bad, or mean, or evil. He's just very annoying. " And it was...

Why, our Sadie, of course! And she wasn't slick at all, most people who tried their luck with the Secret Secret got that right!"

"It's not like I can't stand him, it's just--"

"--NOW, let us see. First of all, the secrets that have been revealed!"

" I can cook just a few things, but those I can cook extremely well. I try new recipies everytime I can. ", the secret our Hau discovered, was in fact John's! We'd love to test those tasty experiments someday!

" I was adopted by a brood of dragon pokemon when I was a teenager. ", guessed by our ghastly partecipants Gold, was Rika's! Guess that little hint really helped him change his mind!

A very simple yet impactful " I am Dialga. ", sent to Viola and discovered by both her and Ree, was Akira's! And here we thought Red and May were our guest stars, this season!

Speaking of which, " Stole most of the street signs in my town. They never got replaced. ", unfortunately not guessed by our Ree but by Rika's, was in fact Red's! So scandalous!

Another big one, "Uhm, to put it bluntly... I have superpowers. I can't go into more detail than that right now, but I wanted to get it off my chest. I'm tired of hiding and being scared. So, uh, yeah, heh... ", given to Wes, was Hau's! Alola must be full of surprises!

" One Pokemon of mine evolved prematurely to protect me from an ex when I was a teen. ", the quite sad secret Giovanni recieved, was Shay's! We wish her nothing but the best!

And last but not least, " He used to collect the original pokemon cards, and at one point had the original 149 (no mew or mewtwo) ", guessed by our May, was Giovanni's! I'd argue that there are plenty of more juicy secrets from this man, but who are we to judge, eh?

And now, for the points.

With an unfortunate amount of ZERO STARS, on the very bottom of the list we find Akira ( @timeless-timepieces), John ( @soultoken ) and Shay ( @murmursdraconic ). But don't despair, you'll still have plenty of time to gain way more very soon! Our audience believes in you!

At ONE STAR, mostly gained by having a very secret secret, we find Alistair ( @orreasshole ), Colza ( @grassius ), Kane ( @haerith ), Rika ( @monterraverde ) and Yellow ( @yellowsforest )! I expect a lot from you guys, don't disappoint me!!

Let's move up to TWO STARS, where we can find Clair ( @draconscious ), Gold ( @gildead ), Grusha ( @beiowzero ), Hau ( @tapuhauko ) and Red ( @redlegend ). Not too bad, if I say so myself!

Oh here comes the good ones! Sharing the spot at THREE STARS, we've got May ( @badbirchenergy ), Ree ( @skullkxd ), Viola ( @variiavi ) and Wes ( @snagorre )! This is getting intense!

And while we don't get anyone at five stars, Giovanni ( @earth-master ) alone reached FOUR STARS! And we promise we weren't bribed or anything!!

Our second round will begin in a few minutes. For now, let's have some moment to relax with a little ad break!"

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cockasinthebird · 1 year

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So like I said earlier, I started writing the cyberpunk 2077 AU, and, well, here it is! 5 whole pages, not M nor E yet, but that will come, just you wait hehe ;)

The music of Afterlife beats like a heart, ironically enough, since the place used to be a morgue, the slaps now used as tables around the space, with a big, fancy bar in the middle. Oddly big for a morgue if you ask Billy, but he won't complain, got good booze, especially the Jackie Welles one, "with a splash of love" or some shit, whatever that is.

But tonight he's not here for the drinks or to watch the dancers in the water filled tubes, although he does give Claire a friendly nod as he passes by. No he's here to meet some fixer that gave him a short message asking to meet up and that was it.

"Come by Afterlife, got a job for you."

He's not even sure what they look like or where at the bar they'll be, so he's stuck wandering around in circles like some kind of lost gonk.

And just as he grits his teeth with annoyance, ready to delta, someone approaches him.

"So you must be the merc everyone's always talking about. Even Rogue."

Billy turns around to face the prettiest fucker he's ever seen, slightly taller than himself, especially with that poofed up hair, and a pristine suit - awfully clean, like it hasn't ever seen a day of hard work before. Same goes for his clean skin, moles dotted across it as the only blemishes, no scars, no tech on him.

"Yeah, maybe so." He licks his lips that turn into a grin. "What's it to you?"

"Might be a lot, might be a little, really depends on you." The fixer smiles with a hand on his hip.

Billy gives him a quick scan, no affiliation. "Just give me the detes, don't got all night."

The brunette sucks his teeth and gives Billy a certain look from head to toe. "Shame you're in such a hurry… don't wanna get a drink, talk it over proper?"

"Why, you paying?" Billy crosses his arms but keeps his well amused smirk.

"Sure, first round's on me - last round? We'll see."

The merc very much enjoys the tone of his new fixer, and the way he near sensually watches him as they walk to the bar.

“A Johnny Silverhand, and…” The man in the snazzy suit looks to Billy as they order from Claire.

“A Jackie Welles.”

“Haven’t heard of that one before,” he admits and leans on his elbow on the countertop, whilst Claire quietly pours them their drinks.

“Yeah, well…” Billy avoids eye contact, looks away as he tries to forget Arasaka. “Trying to get it to catch on.”

They both bottom their glasses in one go, although he doesn’t miss how the fixer stares at him even when doing just that.

“You sure you don’t want a more… private setting?” he suggests and the other man huffs a laugh.

“Why, are we chooms all of a sudden? No I know you merc types well enough to want a more public scene, besides, this won’t take long.”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“Of who? Me or the client?” The brunette grins knowingly.

“Who do ya think?”

“Stephano Harrington, but you can call me Steve.” Steve extends his hand, and Billy shakes it firmly. “Manners, nice.”

“Yeah, well, my ma taught me right.”

“And your pa?”

Again Billy has nothing to say, nothing he wants to say at least. Spilling personal details to a stranger is a danger in Night City. “So what exactly does the client want from me?”

“It’s really very simple, there’s a van with some goods in it, and I need you to klep it for my client to an address that they have chosen for you two to meet at,”

“Nothing’s ever simple in NC, and this? Sounds too easy.”

“Well maybe I’m an easy guy, maybe I needed an easy merc, who’d take on an easy job.”

Billy can’t help but ponder if there’s a double entendre there or not, but there’ll be time to figure that out later, if the way this Steve Harrington looks at him has anything to say.

“Sure then, shoot me the detes and I’ll get to it.” Billy rises from his seat.

“You don’t want to know about the payment?”

Eyes bluer than the ocean ever was looks Steve up and down. “I’m sure a guy like you will pay more than what’s fair, and besides we’ll meet after - still owe you a last round.”

It was far too easy to find, down by the docks in Watson Northside, fresh off the boat. The workers there were easily paid off, something mr Harrington will have to reimburse of course, and the doors to the container creaked open like sesame. Inside he found a teal colored van, otherwise unmarked and would probably be a bit suspicious to drive around in, but hey, a job’s a job, and Billy is a professional, takes it all very seriously. He tries to be as non-lethal as possible when going anywhere in this city, but he won’t shy down from a brawl if need be; has helped the NCPD plenty of times with their psychos and gang bangers.

The ride is smooth, not a lot of hard work required, just from point a to b, Watson to some megabuilding in downtown city center. It isn’t till there’s a bump on the road and a few voices gasping behind him that he senses something is very very wrong.

He finds the closest alleyway to back into, parks there, then rushes behind to get a look at this precious cargo he’s transporting.

Seven women and two men all whine as the harsh daylight hits their eyes where they’ve gotten used to the darkness they’re caught in.

“Oh shit.” Billy turns his back to them all, shoulders raised and tense, teeth gritting as he dials up Harrington.

“Billy,” he chimes as he picks up, “How’s it looking? Found the cargo alright?”

“Yeah I did, but you didn’t fucking tell me we were trafficking humans!”

“Oh look, a merc with a heart of gold, how quaint. So what does it matter? The client didn’t ask for a judge and jury for this job, they asked for someone to safely transport the goods.”

“This is not okay! Tell me who your client is and I’ll have a talk with them myself!”

“No that won’t do, but if you’re gonna be such a pussy about it, allow me to explain some, will you?”

Billy clenches his fists and turns to look at the very confused people who haven’t fled the scene yet for some reason. They’re not shackled or poorly dressed or anything, just… sitting there staring.

“Go on.”

“They’re fugitives.”

“What?”

“Yeah, fleeing from bad pasts all across the country, trying to come into Night City in hopes of a brighter future, all that bs that the advertisements sell us.”

“Is that the truth?”

“We may not know each other very well, Billy, but trust me, I don’t lie.”

“Excuse me, sir?” a timid and gentle voice asks as one of the women approaches Billy. “Is this where we get off?” she asks as if she’s on the bus.

“N-no, we still have a bit to go, so just sit down again, yeah?” he tries to speak as kindly as possible. “Harrington, we’re not done yet.”

“I didn’t assume so.” And without a goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

Billy stamps in past the bouncer and up to where Steve is spending another night drinking his Johnny Silverhand alone at the bar, eyeing up every piece of meat around him.

“Hello Billy-”

“Why didn’t you just fucking tell me?!” The blonde flares his nostrils and scowls at the other.

“Would it have saved us any questions and time?” Harrington asks almost politely and swirls his drink around in the square glass.

And the way he asks takes Billy off guard, making him take a step back to consider his answer. “Probably… probably not.”

“Exactly, and it was a time sensitive job clearly, so I didn’t think it prudent for you to know every single detail in the moment. Would you have said yes, then?”

The blonde sits down and waves for Claire to pour him his usual. He has calmed down considerably and a drink would take off that final edge. “I’d like to think so, yeah, again given you’re telling the truth.”

“And would you have believed me that they were willing participants if you hadn’t seen it for yourself?”

“No.”

“Then that’s that! Client was very happy, I’m happy, hopefully you’ll be happy with the payout.”

Just then, 2k eddies is transferred to Billy’s account, and he gapes. “Mr. Harrington, if you pay this well for something as simple as a transport op, this’ll be a very fruitful partnership.”

Billy gives a friendly slap to Steve’s back just as he takes a sip, making the finer man cough up a lung and spewing his drink all over the bar.

Claire pauses with her hands on her hips and a very displeased expression.

But Harrington still smiles all the same as usual, and turns to look Billy straight in the eye.

“Well Billy, I believe so too.”

Then he places his hand on Billy’s thigh.

#Harringrove #AU #CP AU

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