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nichenarratives · 7 months

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Hurricane Heller 17

A Niche Narratives Fanficiton.

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[tw for: period typical anti-semitism; references to the 1918 influenza pandemic; graphic depictions of sickness]

17. Grippe's Grim Grip

It's 1918, America has been involved in the war for a year, but the home front is struggling; winter is clinging on even as March becomes April, forcing Mordecai to burn his last reserves of coal as the rains finally begin, heralding in spring after months of crippling cold. The damp is almost as horrid, feeding a creeping mold he struggles to keep at bay and soaking the tom on his daily commute to the casino, only compounding the resilient chill in his bones as the frost begins to abate.

With the continued economic retraction, food shortages and progressively aggressive inflation, the news of a new strain of influenza sweeping America goes mostly ignored as the tuxedo focuses on keeping his remaining businesses afloat. The customer base of his enterprises continually shrink until only the addicted or hopeless frequent the casinos, drinking establishments and dives in his care. Employees are laid off without warning or compensation, wages have to be cut and prices are raised to cover increasing expenditure, resulting in smaller net gain and general discontent across the board, Mordecai included.

His wage significantly reduced to the extent he's dipping into savings to keep his family fed and warm on a monthly basis, he can feel their new home getting further away each week, his progress draining in the wake of an impending economic collapse. As the boss, with no one to ask advice from and almost eighty employees relying on Mordecai to keep their jobs and livelihoods afloat while businesses sink all around them, work starts to monopolise his free time; every walk to his childhood home or quiet moment over tea is numbers and data, or scrambling for novel ideas to keep their customer base consistent.

Mordecai has even begun growing carrots in his window box, just to ensure there's something to eat should rationing worsen, yet he knows he won't keep them if it does; his family will be in far dire straits then he, and perhaps gifting produce would be a catalyst for reconnection, though he still hopes it does not come to such difficulties for all their sakes.

Preoccupied by these pressing matters, Mordecai pays the news of an encroaching novel influenza strain in Missouri no mind. He's had the flu before, almost everyone has. While exceptionally awful to endure, he considers it little more than an inconvenience. So despite the warning, and with renewed dedication to wearing gloves in public spaces, he ignores the hyperbole surrounding the misnomer-ed 'Spanish Flu'. There are more important things occupying his mind.

Numerous factors play into infection: he hasn't the mental reserves to prepare, nor money to purchase the suggested face coverings; his home is both inadequately heated and ventilated, permitting stale air to preserve viral particles with ease; seeking warmth at the casino due to his icy apartment greatly increase infection risk and finally; malnourishment from rationing that's compounded by kosher meat and dairy shortages, his immune system sits at substandard levels.

Mordecai feels exceptionally naive as The Grippe sweeps the city, and he is one of the first to fall ill.

The Grippe is nothing like common flu; his body aches are consistent with assault, while nauseatingly potent migraines and a wet cough - so violent it makes his ribs feel splintered - wrack Mordecai's body. For three days, he fights to remain conscious. Constantly bathed in cold sweat and weathering a raging temperature, he spends most of his time in a lukewarm bath, both in an attempt to control his fever and to eradicate the awful damp feeling across his entire body, which feels tacky under his fingers.

Despite her elderly, vulnerable state, Mrs Kovitz insists she'll look after him, leaving a bowl of fresh soup on his doorstep each night. Though only vaguely aware of the necessity, Mordecai forces the broths down before dedicating the next three hours to diligently fighting nausea, to keep them down, then falls onto the mattress in an attempt to rest. He sleeps fitfully, especially at the peak of his fever, his mind barely holding on to reality under such duress.

Standing in pinstripe pajamas, the collar open and crooked, the lapel creased, Mordecai glances around the expanse of white he's habiting. There's nothing; no ground, wall or sky, no sound or smell or sensation. He's neither cold or hot, or anything at all. He simply exists in flannel, not a clue where he is or how he materialised there. It's baffling.

"Hello?" He calls, expecting an echo in the void. Instead, it's swallowed, barely heard by his own ears, the sound visible as black sparks amongst light before they fade to nought. Mordecai cups his bare hands around his mouth and tries again. "Is anyone there? Hello?" The black condenses into wisps of emptiness, floating away on incorporeal winds, and this solitaire sensory input blindly forward.

White continues forever, yet he blinks and cobblestones are beneath bare feet, his bare claws clicking on wet stone. The overpowering light is gone, yet darkness is blinding, sucking away his words as heavy liquid pummels his fur, soaking his pajamas, weighing him down. Mordecai shivers from the sudden cold, teeth chattering as his breath mists, searching for cover. Finding an awning he approaches, yet pauses in the downpour when he notices it's already occupied.

The child hugs his knees, head bowed and body shaking with violent sobs, a wound on the back of his head oozing thick, clotting blood. A leather satchel lies beside him, open but discarded, a prayer book tucked into the open flap. He's Jewish, Mordecai realises as he glances around, though the darkness thickens, frustratingly reducing his already meager visibility. He shouldn't be out here alone.

Mordecai turns back to the child and is startled to come eye to eye with constricted emerald eyes not red with tears, but blackened, a darkness so deep it devours reflective imagery and slowly consumes the green, turning eyes into black holes. A familiar split lip has ballooned to a bruise, his chin scratched by sharp claws, all suppressed memories being dredged to the surface as the adult tuxedo recoils from his younger self.

A bolt of lighting crashes into the synagogue behind the younger tom, sending it up in flames. The community center attached is engulfed almost immediately as well, illuminating his small, disheveled form as distinct scents of fresh blood invade the adult tom's nostrils. He gags as iron engulfs his senses; the taste, the smell, the thought of spilled blood his everything as he turns, looking for the source, until another flash of lightning illuminates the truth.

Blood falls freely from the heavens, dyeing his blue pajamas crimson and coagulating in his fur, even dripping in his eyes as he frantically - yet uselessly - tries to wipe the viscous liquid off of his person.

Teenage Mordecai shifts unnaturally, drawing the panicked adult's wide eyes as he jerks his chin sharply to the sky and, with eyes deviating to the far corner of their sockets as if possessed, expels bottomless darkness from his open maw. It coagulates into thick tendrils above him that curl into the night sky, somehow visible despite the pitch black of night, moving as if conscious and celebrating its freedom.

The adult tuxedo is fixated, taking unconscious steps back as it rises and squirms in the downpour above its former host. Breaths become rapid and his heart beats faster as somehow, Mordecai is made aware that the black essence has noticed him. He can sense its desire to inhabit his body, to destroy him from within, tainting all he retains that is good or just. It's his predator and he, hapless prey, a sitting duck ripe for the picking.

He turns and flees, bare claws clattering on the cobbles as thunder finally rolls across the sky, signaling the swarm of black essence in sudden pursuit, filling the air with tendrils as it advances. Mordecai can hear them whipping in the air over the pounding pulse in his ears but dare not look back, convinced that doing so would damn him to its will.

A bare foot slips on the bloody cobbles and he falls with a cry, hands coming to protect his face.

His childhood mattress is surprisingly springy, squeaking as he lands bodily upon it. Expecting the hard cobblestones, he lays there a moment and breathes, suddenly dry, allowing the familiar scents and sounds of home settle his pulse. It was a dream; rolling to his back as the quiet murmurings of a busy home drift through the cracks in the floorboards, tired eyes flutter closed in the safety of his bedroom.

Until wet, gasping coughs shatter Mordecai's inner peace. He sits upright immediately and anxiety thick in his throat, heads for the landing, entirely unaware of the black tendrils slowly suffocating his bedroom walls behind him.

Mordecai walks straight into the living room, unaware of the strangeness that should warrant as wide emeralds settle on his mother, bent double, loose hair obscuring her face and coughing the same, awful cough to take his youngest sister. Black tendrils seep through the ceiling and begin to spread across the popcorn plaster, though he remains unaware of encroaching evil as he approaches the struggling figure.

"Mother," he whispers, kneeling beside her, placing a hand on her leg. There's no hesitation in his comfort, concern in his twisted muzzle and furrowed brows as she continues her coughing into a lace handkerchief. He squeezes her leg, an attempt at reassurance. "I'm trying to get you all out of here, away from this death trap. I just need more time. Please, just hold on a little long-"

The figure sharply jerks to face him and Fiores' flabby face appears from beneath cascading hair. Clouded, sightless eyes lock with terrified emeralds, concave temple bloodied and oozing as the man smiles maniacally. Mordecai recoils, stumbles in his attempt to retreat and falls to his back just a moment before a heavy boot presses down on his chest, restricting airflow and taking him prisoner in one fell swoop.

He grabs at that ankle, clawing at the flesh beneath ragged suit pants desperately. Rancid flesh peels away unnoticed as the deceased underboss leers down, pressing his heel into the lad's sternum as he looms closer. The white returns around them, once again blinding and empty, benign when compared to the evil holding Mordecai at his mercy.

"Our littlest bookie, all grown up," Fiores sneers, then raises the handkerchief to show Mordecai the darkness now wriggling on its surface, the tendrils arcing off the fabric towards the tuxedo. "Your lies are getting out of hand, Katz, suffocating everyone and everything you hold dear."

"Little kike's playin' with th'big boys now," a familiar voice adds. Sharp claws dig into his scalp and yank his head back to look at Jimbo's clouded eyes, his empty gaze boring into emeralds. The bullet wound in his forehead openly bleeds down a pale face and pools at his chin, threatening to drip onto Mordecai's face as he struggles to break free. "Best t'take 'im out now, before Savage figures 'im out an' sends ol' Jack to settle his debts."

Fiores brings his hand down suddenly, pressing the tainted lace to Mordecai's mouth and nose. The tom thrashes under their hold, entire body shaking with revulsion and eyes rolling back in disgust as cold tendrils curl into his nostrils. The slimy darkness swiftly makes its way down his throat and invades his lungs, effortlessly blocking his bronchi and filling his chest with their pulsing, freezing existence, slowly suffocating him as he struggles uselessly against death.

Wide eyes slowly losing focus, chest burning and pounding heartbeat in his ears, his temples, his throat, ribs aching as he claws at Fiores' arm. The man only shifts his boot for better leverage, his fanged smile and lifeless eyes filling Mordecai's spotting vision until-

Mordecai wakes suddenly with a suffocating weight of thick mucus clogging his airways. Pain wracking his aching body with each hacking, uncontrollable cough, he blindly searches his bedside table for a handkerchief, presses it to his face and painfully expels the clumps of bloody phlegm onto formerly pristine cotton. Only then can he suck much needed air into raw lungs, each inhale burning through his intercostals and singeing his airways, entire body shaking in the throes of an almost deadly fever.

Head pounding, body and sheets coated in a freezing film of sweat, yet too exhausted to care for the unsanitary state of it all, Mordecai closes his fist on the tainted handkerchief and fades back into unconsciousness. It won't be until after his fever breaks and he's finally able to think more clearly, in a few days, that certain aspects of the nightmare will haunt his waking moments, feeding an ever present anxiety for his family's health in the wake of the pandemic, and guilt for not visiting on a Sabbath for almost eighteen months.

Wet, gasping coughs echo in his mind the weeks he spends recovering from his near death experience at the hands of the Grippe, until he's determined to return home as soon as the crisis is over. The need to check on his family - mostly his mother - is too strong to ignore.

#niche narratives #hurricane heller #mordecai heller #lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #fanfiction #lackadaisy mordecai #tracy j butler #no beta we die like atlas may #fanfic #yep we hit the pandemic chapter #pandemic #the grippe #1918 flu epidemic #mordecai #mordecai is very sick #fever dream

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d3l3t3d-deactivated · 8 days

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if i had a pathetic twinky amoral guy like mordecai who gets paid in baggies of loose change and is constantly on the verge of getting fired after me i'd be on that so fast which in retrospect i think is part of my problem

#mordecai and scott pilgrim were two early fictional character crushes of mine and to be frank very little has changed since then except for #the fact that i am a man now #im sick on a lot of day/nyquil and watching regular show nothing i say on this blog in the next few hours should be taken at face value

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 months

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(Mordecai Heller x pregnant!Reader 🙌)

(After a few months of being pregnant) Imagine in the morning, the reader needs to take pills(maybe for morning sickness?) and the reader absolutely DETESTS it, and Mordecai has to basically force them to swallow it.

Pregnant cat gone crazy lmao

(Please tell me this makes sense.. I’m not the best at writing something like this)

A/n: it makes perfect sense! Please do not worry! Also i apologize from deterring from this a little. I just think it wouldn't be something he would do 😩

"I refuse!" You snapped turning your head away, your arms crossed over your chest.

Shoulders dropping, Mordecai slipped his glasses off his face. "We are not going through this again, you need to take these. It will make you feel better, you won't feel sick."

Scoffing, you shifted your body so were now lying down on the couch. "They make me feel worse than the actual morning sickness."

Placing the pills away, Mordecai sat down next to you. "I just want you to feel better. I know....this pregnancy has been hard on you and that." He paused for a moment as he started to rub your back gently. "That I'm not very good at pregnancy..things." He muttered. "I just want you to feel better but if you wish to not take the pills then I....will not force you to take them."

Shifting your body, you let out a sigh resting your head against his chest. His heart beat was so soothing, and the scent of him was calming you down. It was one of the few things that did not make you sick. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, I am your husband. It is my duty to take care of you....I love you." Reaching over he rubbed your belly gently. Watching you closely, he sighed glancing at the pills. Part of him thought about just forcing you to take the pills.

It would be easy to do it, you were a lot weaker than he was, not to mention you were pregnant. You would fight him and he knew that would you would be upset with him.

Sighing, he shook his head pulling you closer to his chest.

No he couldn't do that, what if he ended up hurting you? Hurting his child? The thought of that just made him sick to his stomach.

Glancing at you, he watched you fall asleep. At least you weren't throwing up now. As long as you were feeling better he would be here for you.

#drabbles #drabble #mordecai x reader #mordecai x you #mordecai #lackadaisy mordecai #mordecai heller #mordecai lackadaisy #lackadaisy x you #lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy

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a-libra-writes · 1 year

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Op...can you do a romantic headcanon for Mordecai from Lackadaisy please ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Yes indeedy ♣️

Reader is GN, pardon the length haha, it got away from me... like ...really got away ............................

I will preface that this would be a ... very slow burn, we're talking the flame is barely there for a long time because that's just how Mordecai Is About Feelings. No, never mind feelings - the trust has to come first, and that's difficult for him. It'll take years, really. You might have an easier time of it if you had a similar upbringing, if you're also Jewish - but that's just slightly easier, and it's not as though he's opening up about himself. It's mostly you talking and being vulnerable first, then he'll begin to volunteer (little bits of) information once he trusts you.

How can you tell he's trusting you? At that point, you've been around him long enough to pick up on Mordecai's mannerisms. He's not as stiff around you, he isn't watching you like you might turn on him, he's calmer and actually talks. You start to pick up what certain glances or gestures mean, when he's relaxed and when someone makes him suspicious. To outsiders, it may seem like you both only tolerate each other.

In fact, you two have something of a secret language with certain looks, gestures, body language and so on. It's especially handy in a gunfight or when you're trying to communicate something across a room. It sort of just came about after years of relying on and trusting each other.

Now, onto the feelings. Mordecai literally blames the feelings on everything but what they are. Was he becoming suspicious of you? No, he trusted you - even if he couldn't say it out loud, he did - perhaps it was a sickness, then? It only alleviated when he was away from you for a long time, but then another awful feeling would replace it, and that only alleviated when you were back. He will pathologize and overthink for literal months (or LONGER if you're a man) before finally conceding that maybe, maybe ... ... it's a crush.

Horrifying. He wants to throw up. Only the thought of the mess he'd have to clean up is keeping him from doing so.

(And obviously he never, ever wants to tell you and figures if he buries it down deep enough it'll just go away)

To anyone at Lackadaisy whose familiar with him, they may notice that he allows you to touch him. It's nothing big at first, and to be fair, he reacted strongly the first few times. You might clean some lint of his coat that he insisted wasn't there, you gently nudge him away from an awkward situation, you softly nudge him and tilt your head to a person you're suspicious of. The first prolonged touch was when you two were utterly exhausted after a run and just leaned against each other in the car, too tired and hurt to move for a while. He didn't say it, but that was probably the closest he'd been to someone in a very, very long time. It almost felt intimate. Thinking back to it made his hair stand on edge for a few days... or a week.

Those who know him may also notice how unusually irritated he gets with men or women "presuming too much" and being too cozy with you. If you're really uncomfortable with the flirting, he'll just outright stand in front of you and dismiss the person with a sharp, green-eyed glare. Mordecai didn't notice he was doing it until Mitzi pointed it out, and he had plenty of excuses ready. Once you both have an "understanding", he's even less tolerant of other people invading your space and being too forward - quite interesting, considering if someone is coming onto him, he's far less aggressive and far more awkward about it.

A lot of being with Mordecai is having to accept that sometimes, you won't hear what you want. Sometimes you have to pay attention to his actions and intentions. Sometimes you won't have a clear idea what he means or wants at all, at least not for a while. Mordecai is aware of his flaws, very aware. More than once he has thought that he isn't deserving of your feelings or the things you do for him.

(you are one of the few people in this cold world who gets the rare Mordecai Approving Smile, but don't say anything! just enjoy! It'll be gone as quick as it came)

The sort of things you do that give him butterflies are as follows: Taking his glasses off the desk, cleaning them and putting them back beside him. Getting into a debate or a discussion-that-turns-into-a-debate, you two getting more and more heated until your faces are two inches apart and you're shoulder-to-shoulder because you're both so invested in the topic. When you're both in close quarters, and your tail or ears accidentally brush against his. When you gesture at something symmetrical with a little smirk on your face. When you bring him warm food while he's working at his desk, something filling and just the right temperature. When you both enter a suspicious place, guns drawn, and you go ahead but glance back with an expression that says with absolute certainty, I trust you.

If you're in physical distress or danger, Mordecai can fix that. He can jump to action and shoot and kill whatever is doing this, and he's confident in that. If it's something emotional, that's the rub, isn't it? He can linger close, he can bring you blankets and food, he can keep others from bothering you, but what else can he do? What can he say? He wasn't good at these kinds of words.

It's these times when he'll touch you first. It'll be a hand on your back after sitting next to you for a long time, listening to you talk about what upset you. If you're in danger, he'll yank you by the arm to safety. He'll sigh, take your hands and show you how to properly hold your gun because why do you keep doing it that way you're going to give him grey hairs this is the best way to handle the recoilsdjsjfjd--

It's not his choice of expressing affection, that's for sure, but that's okay. More often, he finds himself drawn to things that both interest you and could be useful to you. He'll stop by your place with ingredients for a dish you love, he'll "come across" a new coat in your size because your old one got bullet holes. You'll find your guns cleaned and your ammo replenished, you'll notice your apartment has been tidied and dusted. He really appreciates it when you keep your space clean, or at least temporarily for his sake. The first time he was in your apartment for dinner, a spider crawled on him and he FLIPPED. A chair may have been broken. You just took it outside in a cup and continued on like nothing weird happened, even when he insisted on washing the cup like four times.

Also, sometimes Mordecai will associate things so strongly with you that he can't separate them in his mind - a scent, a specific color, a flower, a book, and so on. He might find something that's one or more of those things and keep it with him. Because. Just because. No other reason.

And again! It's so difficult for him to just say and express his feelings for you. It's more likely the two of you will just fall into a sort of odd are-they-or-aren't-they unspoken "understanding", especially if you don't express your feelings and just wait on him. You'll have to make the first step in that direction. Someone would have to torture him to get any serious information about you, especially his feelings. If someone untrustworthy comes asking about you and him, someone prying for a weakness - it's easy for Mordecai to brush off. He can act aloof, or better, callous. He'll say it right in front of you, if that's what keeps you safe. He'll say you're nothing to protect you.

For once, the words come easily, but it's the action he can't do.

It's agonizing the whole time he does it, like dying over and over. Getting beaten and shot was easier than this. Mordecai wants to see you as soon as it's over, even if he has no idea what to say anymore... If you even to see him again. Perhaps he should've expected this is how things would end. You knew what this kind of life would lead to, didn't you? He did. He thought he did.

#This was so enjoyable thank u anon #im so sorry for the ending sdJFDSJFS #i hope i captured him well bc hes such a very very interesting character!#mordecai heller x reader #lackadaisy x reader

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 1 year

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I'm so glad I found your account! You guys are very talented <33

I know canonically Mortdecai isn't, uh, amazing with kids but what if a Marigold members daughter started hanging around the building (like Ivy did when she was younger) and she reminded Mortdecai of one of his sisters (Esthers moodiness or Roses cheeriness)? I'd love some headcanons about the scenario^^

I wasn't going to write this until later but I absolutely had to jump ahead of schedule and write this because it nagged at my mind almost all week. You even started an AU for the other mods and I, anon. This little idea is so tasty and adfghfgferhrj

You are the biggest brain and I hope you don't mind that me and Iphiko (and maybe even Rory!) had a little taste of this drink ourselves first. Different bottle, don't worry, we haven't touched any of what's in your hand right now

Also thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying these things (as if the inbox flooding wasn't proof enough), it makes us Lackadaisy Moonshiners so happy and gives me an excuse to keep writing. You're all awesome!

At first, it almost stings. He still remembers Ivy, after all; her wandering around following Viktor or whoever caught her eye whenever she could. It was cute. Adorable, even.

But Mordecai seems to be the target of this little beast's attention. And no amount of waving her off, gently pushing her away with his foot or annoyed threats will get her to pick someone else.

The Savoys are enamored with the little bugger. Serafine started calling her "Bébé Couteau" (Baby Knife) after being allowed to teach her some knife tricks (why Asa let them put a knife in the hands of a kitten, Mordecai will never know) and Nico picked up the habit of startling the little girl by picking her up and spinning with her...Which slowly evolved into throwing her across the bloody bar into Serafine's arms after an accident that resulted in the kitten getting yeeted by a distracted Nico (apparently she loved it (and to Serafine's credit, she ran like Hell to catch her); so it's not exactly safe but it's okay??)

Several speakeasy attendees mistake her to be Mordecai's kitten since she's always hanging around him (and especially so if she's a Tuxedo cat). It probably doesn't help that he loudly objects to the twins throwing the kitten back and forth like a football and has even ripped her out of their arms once or twice

They also (correctly) assume that he calls the shots when it comes to her. If she's making trouble or is heading somewhere that she shouldn't be, someone has to work up the courage to tell that ferocious shadow of Asa's. It's him, the queen cat that looks like she's constantly considering stabbing you or the heartthrob at the bar vicious son of a bitch who always looks like he knows that he's better than you

It's an unspoken rule between the three that Mordecai's word is law when it comes to the kitten. He hates this and is sure that they just use this as another excuse to tease him.

Asa scares the Hell out of the poor little thing. He tried greeting her once and she burst into tears and ran to Mordecai so he could protect her. The twins thought this was hysterical: the kitten adores the ground Mordecai walks on, laughs at Serafine's threats and thinks Nico throwing her at a soft target as hard as he can is the bee's knees; but Asa Sweet-the big fat cat with the softest features out of all of them-scares the living daylights out of her.

Mordecai thinks the kitten has a good judge of character sometimes. If it wasn't for her love of the chaotic duo he'd say that out loud

They brought the kitten along to a "meeting" once when she were sick with a fever. She cried when Mordecai left the car and Serafine refused to leave until she was comforted or at least sleeping, so (after some arguing and sweet-talking) Mordecai went back for her. When he didn't leave the vehicle for a few minutes, the Savoys went on without him.

They came back to find him reading a book, the kitten snuggled up against his side and sound asleep tucked under his coat and arm. The soft look in Morde's eye told Nico that maybe this wasn't the time to be teasing him.

This didn't stop Serafine. Mordecai hasn't heard the end of that event. (Asa also gave him some Hell for leaving the twins to do the dirty work, but Serafine and Nico shut him down pretty quickly-they found whatever crate he wanted, no witnesses are around to tell the tale, the job was done just fine and the kitten needed him more than they did. Shut up, Mr. Sweet.)

Whoever's daughter the kitten is, they'd better learn to deal with Mordecai becoming her guardian angel of death. If she doesn't have a parent and just wandered in somehow, she's gonna end up with something better: an aunt that'll teach her to kill and how to stay strong, an uncle that'll toss her around like a hot potato and teach her to be fearless and another uncle that'll pretend to not care for her until someone looks at her the wrong way.

Mordecai, Serafine and Nico. Probably the worst-fitting cats to be any kind of parental figures, yet ones that will guard a mutually-adopted kitten until their final breaths-whether they'll admit to it or not.

#🖋 mod ille #Mordecai Heller #Serafine Savoy #Nicodeme Savoy #Headcanon Home Brew #headcanon #Lackadaisy #Feel free to ask any of us for more because I adore this concept so much you have no idea #Anyone asking for a continuation will get it on the house if I pick it up

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ntls-24722 · 2 months

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Ah, my favorite part of speculative biology... the flying Thingmajigs!!!

Instead of domesticating wolves, the Music Men's best friend is birds. "Cloes," specifically. Many of them are insectivores because they're an alliance over their crops (music men get their crops free of pests, cloes get snacking) but they do have "raptors" that help them locate and catch prey and game that I should also design.

The Debu have domesticated the Homo Mousike equivalent of bats. Nocturnal, communal, cavedwelling cloes that even sleep upside-down! Though that last part isn't special, most cloes sleep/roost upside-down - have slight prongs on the ends of their muscular tails to help them hook on to a branch they're hanging on.

Originally they were the pests but now they keep pests out, not just bugs but any small animal. They're also communal much like most domesticated cloes, and by mimicking their calls you can command an entire flock, which is an especially potent ability when the only thing stopping these guys from going after bigger prey is numbers.

The gap between their front and back teeth are especially large so they can have a gap for Grip. They use their long middle finger to stab insects.

The Zebraelves have their insectivores, but they actually have clohe mounts! Diving, powerful flyers the size of our storks that they ride. They're not as communal as most domesticated clohes, and they sleep/roost on the ground, unlike most cloes. They actually can use their tail like a fish's, and swim like one beneath the water.

They're almost a bit too water friendly, and oftentimes, if you fly over water with them, there's a half chance they'll dive for a snack... It's best to keep them extra-fed but there's no cure for impulsivity.

Behold... the cloe equivalent to a crusty white dog. This one is a basic clohe domesticated for the purpose of keeping pests off your garden but the wealthy have begun breeding fancier cloes from the already curly-furred, cute, insectivores in nature.

Wouldn't be a true "dog" without the unethical breeding for cuteness

They have a version of fetch (aka some game universally played with cloes) where they toss them up in the air and let them glide/fly down into their hands. Once they industrialize/modernize I imagine cloe movies will have someone reluctantly adopt a cloe after literally tossing it away and having it fly right back over and over.

That one picture of the zebraelf holding her laughter in inspired me to make these 3 characters - these 2 mailmen who ride their cloes to far-out cities and deliver things and their kinda uptight boss who always catches them on stupid tomfoolery. Mordecai, Rigby, and Benson dynamic.

They actually do know Sindeer, Rinkalla, and Lepit, but the first one (fanny pack) is seen as a treat to have in the house and the 2nd one is seen as a PEST by specifically Sindeer because she caught her stealing from her farm Only Once

Also, Rinkalla's petroglyphs.

The first one is set mostly in the past. shows the nigh-falling out between Sindeer and Lepit that led them searching for someone new, Lepit making his seperate burrow now that Rinkalla is there to sleep beside Sindeer, something she made to comfort Sindeer on her infertility woes, and Rinkalla offering Lepit a razor to shave off his back fur, alongside making fur extensions from them. Surprise! i forgot to mention that in their introduction post but Rinkalla and Lepit are trans and they have a sick trade deal

This one is mainly set in the now with just very domestic scenes for the most part of Rinkalla offering Sindeer handmade blades, Lepit caring for her when she got stupid sick, but that one gruesome, blood-covered scene was how this series of skirmishes with a group of Zebraelves ended, where a group of exiled, unwillingly nomadic raiders were attempting to drive the 3 out from their homes so they could take it. The first time Lepit got stabbed badly when they came, they got away and stole a big chunk of their food, but the 2nd time, Sindeer literally picked up one of them, chucked them into the air, and called their cloes to feast on the fucker midair.

That ended that issue very quickly! It was the scariest thing Rinkalla had ever seen and she commemorated it

#ntls-24722 #djmm #dj music man #music man #fnaf music man #fnaf au #speculative biology #speculative zoology #(almost) daily music man #homo mousike #music man fnaf #fnaf dj music man #fnaf djmm #security breach au #rinkalla #lepit #sindeer

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newspecies · 1 year

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HI this is my thousand word ramble about Rocky and his relationship with other characters and my thoughts in general. I'm normal about Lackadaisy I promise.

Calvin

Calvin and Rocky are cousins that grew up together, with Rocky being 5 years older. The mini comics all make it seem like he spent most of his time there and later he says “it was home more than home was.” (Lackadaisy Breakdown). The cousins wrote to each other while Rocky was traveling around and Calvin kept them all inside a box instead of throwing them away. Aunt Nina tells Rocky "[Calvin]'s the only one in all o’ creation who'd follow you" (Lackadaisy Somersault) so they're clearly extremely close. Calvin lies to his mother several times to keep Rocky out of trouble, even when it's about something illegal. Despite his moral compass and the fact that he almost went into law enforcement, he's working with Lackadaisy and regularly shooting at people presumably just because Rocky wants him to (and because Ivy's there... but in the beginning it was for Rocky). They strike me as having more of a sibling relationship than a cousin one due to growing up so close.

Aunt Nina

Nina does not have a very high opinion of Rocky and she makes this very clear. She trusts him not to get Calvin into too much trouble but she doesn't let him stick around when he stops by. He’s under no illusions that he’s welcome at her house (Lackadaisy Somersault) and he tells Ivy that “[his face]’s only abided in small doses” at Nina’s house. He starts telling Ivy there was a small family tragedy and "it had an author... and with already ink-stained hands, i signed my name on it" which means that something bad happened and he either was to blame or took the blame and that is the reason he left Missouri, "so time could dull my fresh reminder face." (Lackadaisy Breakdown). My guess is that this family tragedy had something to do with his mother because his father was alive at least a little bit after he left because he was sending letters and stopped (Lackadaisy Correspondence) his mother is only mentioned once, in Lackadaisy Breakdown, described as “chasing Red Death” Red Death is not a real sickness and its instead from Edgar Allen Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. This could mean that his mother had some sort of bloody sickness. My guess is tuberculosis. It was one of the biggest causes of death in the early 1900’s and one of its most well known symptoms is coughing up blood. Sorry this is supposed to be about Nina and I kind of went off the rails there. Anyway I don’t think Nina hates Rocky at all; she still does his laundry and lets him visit and lets him drag Calvin around. But she doesn’t trust him and makes sure he knows that.

Mitzi

Some people seem to think Rocky has a crush on Mitzi, and him threatening Wick certainly gives the impression but I heavily disagree and I think he sees her more as a mother figure. He clearly looks up to her and seeks her approval constantly; he goes out while extremely injured and hiding that injury from her (Lackadaisy Deliria) presumably because he realizes that the pig farmers' attack on Lackadaisy was his fault and he really wants to fix it. His behavior towards Wick strikes me more as a child really not wanting a step parent. As the audience, I know that Wick is basically incapable of evil (he has killed once and it was a duck and it still haunts him) and Mitzi is the one taking advantage of their relationship, but from Rocky's perspective Mitzi is just an innocent widow looking for companionship and Wick is a weird rich sleazeball. I honestly don't think Rocky is aware of Mitzi's own sleaziness, and if he is he’s ignoring it to the best of his ability. but Mitzi likes having Rocky around. Every time she's upset over something and Rocky starts joking around she immediately starts smiling more (Lackadaisy Proposition, Lackadaisy Haggersnash). She’s undeniably fond of him, despite his many shenanigans.

Mordecai

Okay this one is a little bit more out there. “But Rotten!” You may argue, “Rocky doesn’t actually know Mordecai! They only interact like once outside the mini comics!” Yes dear reader but consider this: they have so many parallels. They are opposites on the surface; Rocky is silly, Mordecai is serious. But looking closer they have a few things in common. Mainly: TRAINS!!!!!!!!! They both have recurring train motifs and it makes me insane. For Mordecai he met Atlas on a train (Lackadaisy Thaumaturgy), and for Rocky he has a drawing of one on one of the letters he sent to Calvin (Lackadaisy Correspondence) and he said his father worked on the railroad (Lackadaisy Breakdown). In relation to the trains, they both left home at a young age and wrote letters home. They also both seem to have a habit of gaining enemies; when Atlas met Mordecai he was running from people (Lackadaisy Bookkeeper) and Rocky’s… everything makes making enemies extremely easy for him. These two have PARALLELS and I need everyone to know!!!!!

Rocky

This last section is about Rocky himself! First off, to state the obvious: Rocky is extremely impulsive, he doesn’t seem to think about the consequences of his actions whatsoever and it gets him into all sorts of trouble all the time. He’s not oblivious though; in Lackadaisy Posterity he immediately jumps to the conclusion that he ruined something, he just didn’t remember it. Rocky puts on a show of being confident and sure of himself but the moment his walls are torn down in the Posterity and Breakdown pages he’s calling himself a horrible person. He is extremely aware of how other people feel about him; even though his exclamation of “they tolerate me” in Lackadaisy Palaver is framed as a joke, it feels pretty real. A lot of people don’t like Rocky and he knows this. I don’t remember where I was going with this. Just know that I’m obsessed with Rocky and I’m thinking about him always.

In conclusion

#rot.txt #lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #i probably made an extremely embarrassing spelling or grammar mistake somewhere in here. ignore it please?#im so glad im done with this i kept getting distracted and working on this instead of school work #rip my essay for ap lang you kind of suck </3 #aaaanyway. i hope this is slightly comprehensible. im normal about fictional cats i promise. come closer

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ksenia7797 · 1 year

Text

Some Hellerby headcanons

• Mordecai's favorite number is 8 because it is perfectly symmetrical in all directions. And Rocky has eight stripes on his arms, legs and tail. And they are the same size and located at the same distance from each other. There are 6 stripes on the back.

• Rocky and Mortdecai help each other heal wounds after assignments.

• Mordechai has a white birthmark on his right buttock and Rocky just loves it.

• Mordecai sometimes wears Rocky in his arms.

• Both are very fond of hugging and purr at such contact.

• Curling the tail helps them to calm down.

• Rocky loves to be kissed on the neck and patted on the head.

• Rocky feels guilty when he looks at the symbol on Mordechai's chest. He thinks he could have prevented it. And he is sorry that his beloved had to endure such pain.

• The symbol affects the dreams of Mordecai, turning them into nightmares. When he starts tossing and turning, Rocky hugs him to his chest, strokes his back, and purrs softly. This calms Mordecai.

• Rocky teaches Mordechai how to dance, and he's pretty good at it.

• Mordecai likes it when Rocky plays the violin for him.

• Rocky became a new light for Mordecai after the death of Atlas.

• Rocky loves to lie on Mordecai's lap while he reads his book aloud. Rocky doesn't understand much of the text, but he enjoys listening to his lover's voice.

• Mortdecai tries to teach Rocky to eat right and feed something other than pancakes. Heller is worried about the guy's thin physique.

• Mordecai hates to be sick, but he is very pleased when Rocky starts to take care of him. He likes to feel cared for.

• Rocky loves when Mordecai speaks German. It turns him on a lot.

• У Мордекая любимое число 8, поскольку оно идеально симметрично во всех направлениях. И у Рокки по восемь полосок на руках, ногах и хвосте. И они одинакового размера и расположены на одинаковом друг от друга расстоянии. Только на спине у него 6 полос.

• Рокки и Мордекай помогают друг другу залечивать раны после заданий.

• У Мордекая на правой ягодице есть белое родимое пятно и Рокки его просто обожает.

• Мордекай переодически носит Рокки на руках.

• Оба очень любят обниматься и мурлыкают при таком контакте.

• Переплетание хвостов помогает им успокоиться.

• Рокки любит поцелуи в шею и когда его гладят по голове.

• Рокки испытывает чувство вины, когда смотрит на символ на груди Мордекая. Ему кажется, что он мог бы это предотвратить. И ему жаль, что любимому пришлось перенести такую боль.

• Символ влияет на сны Мордекая, превращая их в кошмары. Когда он начинает ворочаться, Рокки прижимает его к груди, гладит по спине и тихо мурлычет. Это успокаивает Мордекая.

• Рокки обучает Мордекая танцевать и у него довольно неплохо получается.

• Мордекаю нравится, когда Рокки играет для него на скрипк��.

• Рокки стал для Мордекая новым светом, после смерти Атласа.

• Рокки любит лежать на коленях Мордекая, пока тот читает свою книгу в слух. Роки не понимает большую часть текста, но ему нравится слушать голос своего возлюбленного.

• Мордекай пытается приучить Рокки к правильному питанию и кормить чём-то помимо блинов. Хеллер переживает за худое телосложение парня.

• Мордекай терпеть не может болеть, но ему очень приятно, когда Рокки начинает за ним ухаживать. Ему нравится ощущать заботу.

• Рокки обожает, когда Мордекай говорит на немецком. Его это очень заводит.

#hellerby #lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #mordecai heller #rocky rickaby #mordecai x rocky #rocky x mordecai

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flimflamfandom · 4 months

Text

More Lacy Vignettes

This features my Lackasona, Arthur Keane - who you can read about here!

On Loan

Lacy sighed as she got her coat on. "Hasn't Mitzi got a maid?"

"Yes, but she's...ill, or...has a sick aunt or...something, I don't know." Sedgewick shook his head. "She wasn't clear over the phone. She just said she needed someone and-"

"I'm not doing any criminal work. Not after what happened last time."

"No, no, I made sure it isn't that." Wick said. "Just...don't let her talk you into anything like that, alright?"

Lacy made her way to Mitzi's place, a little annoyed, and very tired. She hadn't had a chance to wake up this morning before she was suddenly recruited to be in for Miss May.

She opened the door, letting herself in. "Miss May?"

"Ahh, Lacy...come in." Mitzi said, wearing a silk robe. "You're just in time."

"Miss May, I want to help as I can, but I'm not a chambermaid, I'm a-"

"Oh, hush." Mitzi scoffed. "Be a dear and help me with this, would you?"

Lacy groaned. She was not going to spend her morning putting up some aging star's hair just because she-

Huh.

Lacy stared down a pile of what appeared to be paychecks.

"I need you to make sure those are all accurate - the boys got a little holiday bonus this year and I swear I did some math wrong someplace."

"...you make your maid do payroll?"

"Nio, sweetie, the maid's a moot point. Ever since Mordecai I've been doin' it myself, but-...well. You know how a girl gets."

"I do not." Lacy wryly asserted. She sat down to work, trying to not get distracted by the fact that Mitzi was just mulling about, changing, putting on makeup...humming and hawing about dresses.

"Do you prefer Pink or blue on me?"

"I prefer clothes on you. This is indecent."

"You know, you're just like Mordecai when you talk like that." She said. "Just...turn around and look."

Lacy rolled her eyes and turned to face her. She watched as Mitzi held both over herself. Lascy thought for a moment. She blushed as she watched, blinking, and shaking her head. She rubbed her eyes.

"...Lacy?" Mitzi asked, furrowing a brow and perking her ears.

"...Blue." She said. "The pink reflects a bit off your fur, which would be fine if you were using a different stole."

"The stole's gray, it's neutra-"

"The stole is silver - blue serves it better, Miss May." Lacy got back to work.

"..." Mitzi hummed a little tune. She looked over. "Find what I did wrong yet?"

"I believe so." She said. "You'll have to sign these..." Lacy peered at the books one more time. "You forgot a 3 with Rocky, that cascaded through the rest of the results."

"Heavens! How silly of me."

"Hmm."

"...you're a little Icy, lace." Mitzi said, plainly. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you didn't like me."

"It's just early." Lacy said. She looked away. "I apologize if I came off the wrong way, I-"

"Lacy, you realize I sent for you because you would come off a little icy?"

"Beg pardon?" Lacy asked.

"Ivy normally does the books, but she never says I did anything wrong, despite me knowin' I did something off. She just fixes it - tries to hide it. And my maid, god love her, she's...concerned with keeping me in a good mood. She's too obsequious and all that. But you? You're honest. An honest woman is a fine friend." Mitzi said, holding one of Lacy's hands and patting her shoulder.

"...Thank you, Miss May." Lacy nodded slowly. She smiled a little.

"Of course, dearie...now, you do what you need to do for Wick, I'll be alright here."

"You're sure, miss May?"

"You wouldn't wanna help me with ironing, would you?"

"...no."

"That's what I thought. In a while, sugar."

Orpheus

It had been rainy and miserable all day.

Lacy walked out of Wick's mansion, heading home. On the way, she saw the little shop - Boggs & Co. - the luthier. She smiled. She looked inside, and saw the cinnamon, mild faced cat behind the counter, wearing an apron and a work shirt, his sleeves rolled up, his brow twisted in thought as he stared at something on the wall. She crossed the street and entered, more than ready to use the 'in from the rain' excuse if need be.

"Hi, welcome t-...Lacy." Arthur Keane smiled that sweet, gentle smile of his. Lacy always felt like hers was a bit stilted compared to it, but she was sure that was just her brain talking. She purred a little when he said her name.

"Evening, Arthur." She said, getting a bit closer. She perked her ears up. She looked over at the wall. "...what were you staring at just now?"

"Oh, this?" Arthur grabbed something off the wall. it was a guitar, and it looked...metallic? He strumemd it, and Lacy winced a bit at the sound - moreso how loud it was.

"It's a metal resonator - nickel plated brass." He said. "I had a friend help me make it - there's a company out in California making them, and I wanted to give it a try." He leaned on the wall, and began to idly strum away at it, as quietly as he could.

"You won't get in trouble for that?" Lacy asked. "Surely they've got a patent?"

"Oh, I'm not selling it. Just want to have this one...it'll help with that band at the daisy." He said.

"...d'you mind playing something?" Lacy asked.

"Sure...I won't sing, though." He said. "And it'll have to be quick, I need to help close up." He sat down, and began to play. It must've been some sort of baroque thing - maybe Bach. Lacy recognized some of it. The soft, still air in the shop rang with the bizarre, alluring noise of the metallic thing. There was a coolness to the sound, as if it was relaxing Lacy as she listened. Arthur leaned into it as he played, his eyes closing, his head moving, his body swaying.

She began to close her eyes and just feel the sound, as she sat on one of the many stools in the shop. She lifted her eyelids as the music stopped...

She leaned over, almost to kiss him, before she realized...

The sun had come out.

#lackadaisy #flimflamuniverse #lackadaisy cats #lacy hardt #mitzi may #ivy pepper #mordecai heller #artlace #self ship

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sweetzsuprise · 5 months

Text

not art related but

my Lackadaisy plushes arrived!! They’re so cute and cuddly

First thing Rocky did was try on these sick glasses. He really likes em!

Mordecai wasn’t very fond of them so he went to bed

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #lackadaisy mordecai #lackadaisy rocky #my babies #i love them

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luminlunii · 3 months

Note

I would gladly share this AU! I already have with a few other people, but I don't think I'll ever write it. It's just for funzies while I'm on break from another fanfic. First, what this big AU is about. Long story short, humans found a way to bring 2D animated characters to life, but through very questionable means like science and making deals with a demonic entity in 2023. While, humans got greedy and didn't want to keep their end of the deal. Which was giving the Entity at least one of the 2D animated characters for him to raise as his child. They stopped doing this at the third, Entity punished them for this, by making the cartoons/anime characters sick with this life sentence ink disease and wiping their memories of them for it, leaving their names of course. The government got scared when people and characters started asking why this was happening as they slowly gained their memories back, so they made a medicine specifically for characters to forget who they are, and where they came from until they could figure out what to do, which was almost never. Although, they had the medicine, it wasn't fullproof and good humans talk. So, they kidnapped characters (Those they weren't experimented on to find a cure or corrupted means) and made them into assassins to take out creators of these characters if they could not be bribed to keep quiet, the animators that were involved, or anyone else that wouldn’t stop questioning things. Eventually, they weeded out the humans that would talk, time went on and the future generations didn’t know anything. Or if they do, they don’t quite understand it. The government also erased/destroyed anything resembling a character. Disneylands, Disneyworlds, resorts, anime studios, all left to be abandoned and anyone on the premises would be killed. They did this because that couldn’t have people finding out they practically used dark magick and science involving human sacrifices of sorts to bring characters to life and it backfired. That would be too much of an uproar.

Second, (Sorry this is long! Feel free to skim!) This was encouraged a rebellion organization called T.O.T.O. ran by Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (The mascot before Mickey Mouse.) and Mickey Mouse. They're trying to get the bottom of the truth. Rocky was with Zib the entire time of his memory loss. While both had been recruited for the cause at the very beginnings of rebellion, Oswald was more interested in Rocky. This is because Rocky heard about the rebellions suspicions on the medicine and was like, "Why don't I test it!" on a whim. And sure enough, he saw old memories from his original world. You see, when Rocky saw these things, he didn't keep quiet and was very chaotic about it, which is why Oswald recruited him. To help the organization make noise about the cause. However, it being the first time for the organization to put face out there, they didn't realize the dangers completely. Oswald grew careless and it resulted in the Incident of Nebraska. Where the government got the jump on them on their first rally, hosted by yours truly, Rocky. Half were killed while the others were taken. Rocky was taken. He was experimented on like the rest at first, but after some research on Rocky. The experimentation facilities saw the same things Oswald saw him, but in a bad way. They turned him into an assassin because they figure they could put his chaotic nature to use, just like the first one and the many other in Rocky's situation after him. The first was Husker from Hazbin Hotel. The assassins are scattered all across the globe by multiple countries.

Yes, Oswald is looking for Rocky as is Zib. Zib is mad a Oswald because it appears he's not looking for him. So, Zib is looking for him on his own. However, the truth is. Oswald hired Mordecai to track Rocky down, but doesn't want to get Zib involved to be more careful about what they do.

All of which I just read is absolutely nuts. I had to walk away from my computer several times trying to comprehend this massive wall of text that was thrown at me. I was screaming how batshit insane this concept is. My brain is imploding.

My final response

What the fuck.

#i can't think of a better response than this #i almost didn't want to respond at all #because #let me reiterate #what the fuck #please excuse my foul language but i don't have any more words that fit the way i feel currently #Trek for the Truth

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gentlelass · 10 days

Text

This is honestly the only way I can imagine and accept a domestic partnership - be it romantic or not - between Margo and Mordecai to go about. Him, militaristic discipline, order made person, a obsessive-compulsive hypochondriac.

While her…

Bringing random strays, probably sick and dirty as well, inside of the house in the dead of the night or something.

Not very original as a concept, but still.

Also, yea, it’s literally a cat holding… cats.

-GentleLass.

#lackadaisy #mordecai heller #oc #original character #artists on tumblr #oc art #lackasona #self insert #sketch #doodle #marjorie ford #strays

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cowgremlin11 · 11 months

Note

For vikdecai ideas/prompts:

Mordecai 'visits' while Viktor is still healing from a wound, maybe it's vague on whether he actually did it or not as it's from Viktors perspective who might not have a clear head at the moment

Mordecai meets Viktor after the kneecapping incident, things are very very awkward and tense and neither of them are happg about it but for whatever reason they can't fight right now (maybe both are in a position where they can't currently give their location away by yelling at each other)

anon your BRAIN.

anyways i did the first one since i could have fun fucking w viktors head :) its pretty loose cus Someone Is Having A Sick

ficlet under the cut hehe

Viktor’s stuck at home after taking a bullet to the chest. He’s lucky to be alive is what he was told. Viktor stubbornly believes that he can do his job fine, but the horse doctor Mitzi called to the scene had given him strict orders to stay home and let himself recover. He isn’t happy about the situation, but he’ll rest if it means everyone gets off his case about it.

It’s honestly awful being all alone like this. Yes, he hates the way noise incessantly chatters on, but dead silence is far more grating right now. The emptiness of it all makes him feel like he’s going to lose his mind. It leads to his thoughts running wild as Viktor desperately tries to catch them before he falls into a depressive spiral.

As of late he’s been failing at the task of wrangling his own mind. He ends up thinking of all he’s lost. He thinks of the things that were taken from him. The honourable man he once was. The family he tore from his own hands. The happiness he once felt. Everything had been ripped to pieces over the years by himself and the people he once knew.

Mordecai was the one who took the most from him that day he left a bullet in Viktor’s knee. Mordecai’s the reason he’s stuck standing behind that damned counter. Mordecai’s the reason he’s been in this downward spiral for the past few months.

It’s not like he enjoys thinking about what Mordecai did to him, but sometimes his mind has other plans. Every time his mind lands on his old partner he starts out angry, but then his thoughts begin to trickle down into the fuzzy memories of their time together.

He likes remembering how it felt to hold the smaller one close to his chest. The intimacy of when they would press their foreheads together. The smell of a warm breakfast in the morning. The sound of rain drumming against the window.

He misses his old partner every day. He can’t help it. They had a real connection that he’s never had or will ever have again. They’re completely different ends of a spectrum the way left is to right, north to south, yin to yang; both opposite but reliant on the other. That's how they worked so well in the past, after all.

He’d give anything to see Mordecai right now. He’d rather spend the awful weeks of recovery ahead with Mordecai at his side. He just wants to hear that familiar-

Ra-ta-ta.

Viktor shakes his head. He must’ve just been hallucinating that knock. But again— Ra-ta-ta. More urgently— Ra-ta-ta.

“Viktor, it’s me. Open the door.”

The voice is all too familiar to him. Smooth with no discernible accent, but so distinctly the voice of the black and white triggerman who’s running from his past. Viktor’s heart tightens with a myriad of emotions.

Viktor tries to sit up, but Mordecai’s already walked into the flat. Had the door been unlocked? Viktor rubs his remaining eye and struggles to recall what he has and hasn't done. He looks up and focuses on the image of Mordecai Heller. He looks the same as he did all those months ago: beautiful.

Mordecai stands a few feet away and gives him a once over. “I heard about your injury,” he says.

Viktor just keeps staring in awe. He doesn’t know what to say at the moment. He’s just stuck sitting in his chair with a dumb look on his face. It’s more so the fact that Mordecai’s here at all that has him so stunned. He’s dressed in what Mordecai considers casual: a nice button up, a crisp tie, silk pants, and his business shoes. Can’t forget his classic pince-nez pinching his muzzle to stay in place.

He should punch those glasses right off his face, but he can’t bring himself to it.

“Vhat are you doing here?” Viktor asks with a rasp to his voice.

Mordecai doesn’t answer him. Instead, he feels Viktor’s cheek and forehead to check his temperature.

“Have you been taking care of yourself? Ugh, you haven’t changed one bit,” he says with an annoyed tone. “Stay there, I’m sure you haven’t been eating as well as you should be. I’ll make you something.”

Viktor’s ears flick back grumpily as he watches Mordecai go to the kitchen. He can sit and sulk all he wants, but he has to admit to himself that he’s missed the fussing. He’s missed their time together. He’s missed Mordecai.

But Mordecai doesn’t come back with anything. He doesn’t come back at all; the flat is quiet once more. Viktor is alone with the painful memory of a love he once had, and the strain of a bleeding lung.

#unsure if ill post it to ao3 #im abt to go see a movie so if i do thatll be in a few hours #vikdecai #viktor vasko #lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #mordecai heller #mordecai x viktor #fanfiction #lackadaisy fanfiction

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 9 months

Text

Sanctuary part six

TW: religion, cult, threats of violence, death threats, malnutrition, starvation, menstruation issues, anxiety, blood, referenced parasitic infection, human whumpee, human caretaker, vampire caretaker, multiple caretakers, human whumper

Dear Mordecai,

I once again need to ask if you've gone nuts. As your sister, it is my responsibility to tell you when I think you are doing something stupid. And this is beyond stupid. I want to wring your neck, then kiss your forehead and tuck you into bed like I did when you were little.

I didn't catch a wink of sleep for the last two nights, sick to my stomach with anxiety over you. I'm tired of putting things nicely. You're going to die. And I'll never even know, because you can't write letters when you're dead. Your letters won't come for a week, then a month, then a year, and then I'll have to accept that I'm never going to hear from the only family I have left ever again.

You're too close. Even if you weren't living with a vampire, you are still living right next to the same swamp Rosemonda had us build this compound in. It doesn't matter how much you like loving the cottagecore dream. If Rosemonda finds you, she's going to put your head on a spike. No, she'll make me do it, since I'm your sister. It'll be her grand example. You need to leave the state at the very least.

Listen, I'm overjoyed that you're finally healthy and eating full meals and sleeping on a bed. I cried of happiness when you told me how well you were eating. I still remember when we were fasting last summer and I could count your ribs through your skin. Some of the other women and I haven't had our periods in months. Rosemonda says it's because we're pure and free of lust. But I know it's malnutrition.

That being said, I think you're letting your new health and happiness blind you to the danger you're in. Because you're being fattened up for slaughter, you think your new butcher is an angel compared to the Rosemonda, since she prefers her livestock starved. Ishtar is keeping you around to feed on your blood. He's no better than any of the leeches that latched onto you in the swamp, using you for his own benefit.

I need to say something you're really not going to like, if you're still reading this letter at all. You've been seduced, and I think deep down you know it. Ishtar doesn't just have control over your body, providing you with everything you need so you won't leave. He also has control over your mind and your heart. Eventually paying rent in life blood isn't going to be enough.

You're in love and I can't fucking believe it. Remember when you described him as, and I quote, "perfect", "kind", and "lonely". Listen up. Vampires are solitary creatures. They don't get lonely. They don't have compassion. Your new boyfriend Ishtar doesn't care about you, and it's time you face up to it. You said yourself that he spends as little time as possible around you. I know that's good for your autism and anxiety, but it's also a red flag.

It is going to be hard for you to escape now that he has you, so listen very closely. Leave at dawn so you can get as far away as possible during daylight hours. Then find a synagogue or a temple that will let you stay overnight. Most people would say a church, but vampires can't set foot on ground cultivated by a genuine faith, and too many churches are run by greedy evangelist charlatans. There's no way to tell until it's too late.

Keep going like that until you're out of the state and far away. Write when you can, but not at risk of your life. I will rest easy when you've settled down halfway across the country. Then I'll join you, no matter what it takes. Just get a place to live that isn't rooming with a vampire.

With love, Rahab

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