#PanAm Lounge

[mamomi]

PanAm Lounge

[its-warm-in-here]

Grilled Cheese

In which V and Johnny grill a cheese. 1970 words!

“Grilled cheese.” 

This does not pull V from her feed. She ignores the engram, a practice she was getting pretty good at, and scrolls through the net. Silverhand was getting... a bit too familiar in her skull. Lingering where he wasn’t wanted, interjecting nasty comments about, pretty much, everything. Now, he’s lounged out on her mattress just around the corner, one leg hanging off the bed, fingers tapping to some unheard beat against the plastic frame. V turns the K-Techno song up a notch and clicks to the next page on the feed. Oooh, Panam and Mitch will be in town this weekend, good to know. 

After a moment, he speaks again. “Think you can manage that?” 

Huffing, she pulled away from the net, spinning the chair around, and peered out into the little apartment.  “Manage what?” 

“A grilled cheese,” Johnny asks again, more to the ceiling, than to her. “Even a gonk like you has a hot plate. Bread’s still a thing in NC?”

That makes her short circuit. Who the hell needed a hot plate anymore? She’d just stocked up the vendor in her apartment, there were sandwiches included in her latest package, why the hell would she need a hot plate? And where the hell would she even keep it? The little apartment in Watson wasn’t outfitted with a counter, let alone a kitchen.  “Yeah, it is. But, uh, no. I don’t.” 

Johnny leans around the little wall separating them in disbelief, before glitching in and out of existence to dwell mournfully in the doorway to her computer space. “There’s more use to a hot plate than just cooking V. Its an essential part of any grifter’s apartment. What, next you’ll tell me you don’t have a pan either? Feed me any more of that ‘sashimi’ crap and I’ll puke.” 

Her mouth goes dry. Sure, some folks in Night City knew how to cook. V would kill for a pot of Mama Wells’ pozole, and the jambalaya that River and his sister had served was preem. But cooking was reserved for those in luxury or for those too impoverished to afford the instant foods that Night City had on offer. V was neither. 

Reading her face (and mind), Johnny hung his head, “Sad, V.”

Scowling, she turns back to the screen, “Like you’ve ever cooked a single thing in your fucking life. Probably had your groupies do it. Entitled prick like you probably threw a fit if they got you wheat bread instead of rye.”  V says the words like she knows what they mean. Most of the bread Night City had on offer was the foamy tasting white stuff that either went stale immediately after opening or it lasted wayyy past the expiration date making one wonder if the bread had taken on some form of sentients before it was tossed into the bin. 

“Maybe,” he admits, disappearing from view, then glitching back so he’s partway between V and her screen, “It came with the lifestyle. But even I could handle myself with something this basic. Bread, a smear of butter and slices of pepperjack and sharp cheddar? Cooked over high heat, till the bread’s charred and cheese is molten like a volcano. Hell, mouth’s drooling just thinking about it.” 

And it is. V can't even recall when, if ever, she’d ever had a grilled cheese sandwich, but Johnny sure the hell can. She can almost taste the savory crunch, the stretch of melted cheese on the back of her tongue. Johnny’s mouth turns up at the memory. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” 

He shakes his head, grin taking hold, “It's not like I'm even asking for a smoke this time.” Johnny leans against her desk, getting in close and making her optics fragment. “Come on, V. What do you say?”

---

It's raining in Night City when she finally decides to track this down. The electrically charged sky was grey, blotting out holograms that hung in the air and for once the stench of Dogtown didn't reach her nose. On her way back from a gig from Mr. Hands, V spots a pawn shop sporting a slew of old tech. Most of its junk: tape decks, out of date processing units, instruments that needed to be tuned up, but there's a handful of kitchen gadgets. Finding a glass hot plate with the proper hook up wasn’t too hard and there was even a frying pan for a reasonable price. She hits up Tom’s Diner to bum the rest of the supplies. The ingredients are hardly anything  but he had several types of cheese on hand, so it’ll have to do. 

Shaking the water from her jacket, V shrugs it off, draping it at the entrance of her little apartment, before setting the hot plate up on her coffee table and setting it to medium heat. She then turns to the mirror, stripping off her waterlogged eyeliner before returning to the couch. Johnny was already in his normal spot, one leg crossed over the other, brown eyes hidden behind aviators to hide the judgment in his stare. It didn't work. “Couldn't even spring for the good shit?”

“It's grilled cheese. Not yellowfin tuna,” she fires back, smearing the butter on the almost stale bread. “Now walk me through this.” 

“Never had to cook for yourself?” Johnny muses, leaning forward to observe her amature technique of peeling neon orange cheese from the sleeve of plastic. 

V scowles at him and plops the bread onto the pan with a sizzle. “If I burn this shit, it’ll be your fault.” At that, Johnny scoots closer so he’s leaning over her shoulder. The engram isn't really there, but the hoops her brain jumps through to make sense of another being residing in it certainly makes him feel real. She can feel the air move to make space for the rockerboy, the brush of his chrome shoulder against hers.

“Put three slices on,” he insists, making her unwrap another. “Now the other one.” Following his instructions, she places the other buttered piece atop the cheese.

“Think I'm good to flip it?”

“Don’t rush it,” Johnny says. It shouldn't be this easy to slip into domesticity with the engram, but it feels natural. Like they fit together. He nods at her, she jiggles the pan, freeing the crisped bread from the non-stick surface then uses a wrist flick to knock the sandwich into the air. It hangs there for a moment and for a split second, a burst of panic shoots through her at the thought that it couldn't complete the turn and come crashing back down into a sloppy, burney mess. But the sandwich lands with a satisfying plop. The cooked side is a crispy golden and cheese is starting to melt out the sides. 

“Smells great.” 

There's a swell of pride in her chest at his words. “Don’t say anything till I’m done. Could still burn it.” 

“It’s better burned. Gives it some flavor. Kicks it up a notch.” 

Neither speaks for a moment, she doesn't even bother turning the TV on. Instead opting to observe the bread, just in case it burst into flames. There is a little smoke from the cheese melting but it's not ruined yet. She moved the pan again, making sure it does not stick. V knew very little about cooking, but if this came out alright, maybe it was something she could actually get good at. Using a fork, she lifts to check. 

“Well? Does the curtain match the drapes?” He is always so crass. 

V makes a face. “That does not even make sense. But, yeah, its done.” She slides the bread onto a paper plate before finally relaxing back. The  sandwich is too hot yet and V flicks on the tv. Zoning out. There’s nothing on TV, but it's kind of nice. Just chilling at home, no pressing missions, just waiting on a call from Reed. She curls her legs under her and leans her cheek against the low back of the couch. If Johnny had any real mass to him, she’d be resting against his shoulder. He’s stretched out, one arm slung over the couch, a boot resting on her coffee table as he has a pre-emptive ghost cigarette. There’s no real smoke, but the memory of the nicotine stings her nose. 

After a moment, she slides the paper plate closer, testing the heat with her fingers before biting down into the cheap meal. The bread is crunchy, the char covering any staleness, and the cheese has a salty, funky, melty flavor. Not too bad for her first pass. She hums, satisfied. 

“Any good?” Johnny presses. 

It’ll be a good few minutes before her brain relays the taste to him. She nods, wishing she could just pass him the sandwich. “Not half bad.” She takes another bite, the smell of charred sandwich mixing with the acrid smell of his cigarette. “Ask nicely and maybe I’ll make another some time.” Johnny lets a single laugh resonate in his chest. Damn, she loved that sound. Not that she’d ever tell Johnny that. 

Hell, he probably already knew. 

V is about half way through the meal and Johnny is done with his cigarette, but the smoke smell continues to hang in the air. If anything, it's getting worse. There's a haze. V glances again at the engram, nope, he hadn't lit up another. So where was---?

Above, the holo screens flash red and an alarm blares through the apartment. “FIRE. IMMEDIATELY EXIT THE APARTMENT. FIRE.” The screens show a dramatized version of her little apartment with directions on how to exit with little anime chickens on fire darting around the edges. 

She crushed her palms over her ears, eyes wildly darting around the apartment before landing on the smoldering pan on the still very hot hotplate. The residue of melted cheese and breadcrumbs had transformed into a ball of carbon and smoke, the little plastic fort she’s used in improvised spatula had begun to liquify and seal onto the pan, setting off the oversensitive fire system. “Shit, shit, shit!” Leaping to action, V grabs the pan by the handle, drops it into the bathroom sink and turns on the water. It vaporizes to steam the moment it hits the pan, ruining it, but the water stops it from smoking. If she didn't get this smoke out now, the sprinkler system would trip any second. She punches the button to open the windows and, using the pillow from her bed, she stands on her tiptoes and waves it back and forth, forcing the air to circulate. Johnny’s laughter cuts through the alarms, as he watches her scramble.  Scorn zips through her, but she does not have time to express her contempt. The air is moving through the apartment though, and after minutes of waving her arms like a gonk, the alarm finally turns off and her screens return to their stream of content. She drops back onto the couch, groaning and drapes her forearm over her eyes. V sinks low, catching her breath. 

“Smooth one, V.” 

Before he can add any more to that sentence, she cuts him off with her middle finger. “Not another fucking word, Silverhand.” He keeps his mouth shut and she risks glancing at him. If Johnny didn't look stoic or broody, he was smug. And this is the smuggest she’d ever seen the rockerboy. “What?”

Johnny’s brown eyes go between her and the half eaten grilled cheese on the table. “Gonna finish that?” 

V growles, grabs the sandwich and throws it at him. The bread phases right through, probably making a mess of her couch. He flips her off in turn, laughs then glitches away to some spot at the edge of her brain and out of sight. 

Asshole.  

[johndhu]

Black Tie (Panam x MascV)

V waits outside their tent wearing the suit from the Konpeki Plaza job. Ocasional sounds of rustling cloth and struggling come from inside.

V: ...You okay?

Panam: Shit! Working on it!

V: *Smiles and shakes head*

Panam: Uuugh...why are we doing this?

V: This job was your idea.

Panam: Yes! The job was! The method was yours!

V: The only time that corpo bastard let's go of that briefcase is at parties. Only way in is through the front door.

Panam: And we couldn't go in as staff or something!?

V: Even Staff can't get into the back lounge. VIPs only.

Panam: *incoherent grumpy noises*

The tent flap opens, Panam emerges dressed to the 9s in a black dress. V is dumbstruck.

Panam: I fucking hate dresses. *notices his look* What? What is it?

V: *steps forward, takes her hip and kisses her* You look...gorgeous.

Panam: Ahm. *brushes hair, blushing like crazy, grinning ear to ear* ...c'mon. We're gonna be late.

V: Yes ma'am!

Panam: *trying to sound serious, failing* And wipe that grin off your face. You're my heartless bodyguard and assassin tonight, remember?

V: Of course, miss Devereau.

Panam: *grabs his collar, pulls him into a kiss* And if we pull it off, mister Dufrane, I might just get a little scandalous with my loyal hired killer.

V: *grinning like the gonk he kind of is* Now thats what I call motivation.

[another-corpo-rat]

Tributary

It seems I cannot write the dear River Ward without sprinkling in some angst, that’s how you know he’s one of my favs

River Ward/Fem (Nomad) V Summary: V’s doing the rounds, saying her goodbyes. Maybe she should’ve skipped this particular one

.

V’s never been the best at goodbyes. They were awkward things, clunky in her mouth like her tongue was working over words of a foreign language. She’s not good at them; so she’s opted to hate them, avoid them where she can.

Even if it meant sitting quiet at Jackie’s ofrenda, pricking at her nails and biting her lip raw.

She’d avoid this one too, if she didn’t feel like she owed River that much. A goodbye, a final apology. And selfish as it is because she’s certain he never wants to see her again, she wants to see his face one last time; commit his handsome features, as pinched in anger as they might be, to memory. Fuel for the cold, lonely nights, or for when her thoughts veer to fanciful things of what could’ve been if she hadn’t fumbled in those final, crucial steps.

They were on time but-

“They’d consider it a miracle if he wakes up.” River’s voice wasn’t a snarl when he spoke, but there was an edge to his words, a sharpness aimed pointedly at her.

She bit her tongue in the face of it, let his anger wash over her and douse the warmth of her own boiling blood. He needed it then, he’s clinging to it now. She gets it; anger’s always easier, cleaner. The sharp pin of blame on someone else helps to take the weight off your own muddling thoughts, and she was, is still, happy to shoulder that weight for him.

‘And you say I have a complex,’ Johnny griped when she finally let herself mope over it, nursing a cheap beer in a bar she can’t remember the name of. He was hardly the best at comfort but he tried that night, and boy she must’ve been in a state if Johnny Silverhand was somehow the rational one between them.

She almost misses him. He’d be making some wise-ass comment now as she drags her feet across the dust of the trailer park, probably lounging on the steps again. It’d be a tossup if he’d be mocking or irritated about her feelings for a damn cop. Hell, maybe he might’ve shown that rare, gentler side he kept buried under the layers of insufferable asshole, and remind her that they’ve faced down Adam fucking Smasher and came out on top.

Right. She can do this.

Her knuckles rap lightly against the door. Each knock like she was pulling the cord of her own tolling bell as dread bubbles in her gut, heavier than it was when she stormed Arasaka alongside Panam and Saul.

God, she’d rather do all of that again.  

The door slides open and what little courage she had built up in her drive over soundly flees the moment she’s looking at him again. He’s broad enough that he takes up most of the doorway, lit by the soft glow of smaller lamps behind him. It suits him, that homely light, painting him warm even at the late hour.

“V.” He greets, that lone syllable pressing heavy on her chest.

V. Not Valerie.

“River,” She manages. “Can we talk?”

“We are.”

“…Right.” It wasn’t unexpected, but still she finds herself taken aback by the coldness, by the feeling that a brick wall would be a more willing participant, keener to listen. She wets her lips, swallows against the dryness of her throat. “Look, I- I’m sorry.” Something crosses his expression too quickly for her to grasp. “I fucked up and it almost cost Randy his life, and I…” She doesn’t know how to apologise either. It wasn’t a skill she honed with the Bakkers, where the only apologies to pass lips were goading mockeries. But dammit she’ll try for him. “I wanted to let you know that, before I left. That I’m not just running away from you, or the blame, or—”

“The responsibility.” She bites her tongue to kill the insult that pricks on it, unable and unwilling to argue against him. Not when she willingly shouldered it in that hunt, made it hers and then almost fucked it up.

So instead she looks him in the eye and offers him a nod as she commits his face to memory; the brown of his eye, the line of his jaw. The plush of his cupid’s bow that she knows is soft from the stolen kisses that he probably looks back on as wastes of time. And she reads his frustration as she does, obvious in the cross of his arms and how he shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Why are you leaving? Thought your whole thing was wanting to make it big in Night City.”

“Nah, that’s what Jackie wanted and I was happy to ride shotgun.” His brow furrows with that, the sound from the back of his throat a thoughtful thing, not harsh or derisive. His eye veers to her neck, to the jammed slot still killing her.

Whatever his response might be is lost as a squeal echoes from inside; Monique’s high-pitched delight drowning out her brother as he calls for River in a drawn-out whine. His expression softens at the sound, the warmth of it brewing an ache in her chest.

“I’ll let you get back to them.” Her slight smile feels heavy. “Goodbye, River.”

In the old movies she and Jackie would watch, this would be the moment of confession or revelation; where he would reach for her hand and pull her against him, whispering her name with a desperate sweetness as he holds her tightly. It’d be raining, usually.

He merely lets her go, nodding a farewell.

“Goodbye, V.”

[apoptoses]

“But now it was a concentrated exploration; they must spend the entire night in the air. [...] Armand observed everything, passengers, stewardesses; he spoke with the pilots; he lay back in the deep first-class seats listening to the engines roar. Double-decker jets particularly enchanted him. He must try longer, more daring adventures: all the way to Port-au-Prince or San Francisco, or Rome, or Madrid or Lisbon, it didn’t matter, as long as Armand was safely landed by dawn.“

From a 2023 perspective this sounds like a grim way to spend your time, but flight in the late 70′s/early 80′s was pretty cushy.

In the United States airlines were regulated until 1978. The Civil Aeronautics Board dictated flight paths, schedules, and pricing, so the only way for airlines to attract customers was via amenities. After ‘78 prices that were previously exorbitant (the average flight was around $400 by current inflation standards) suddenly dropped, and the customer base exploded.

Which means Daniel and Armand were hitting the skies at just the right time: tickets were cheap, but the race to pack as many bodies into a plane as possible was just beginning, and cushy double decker jets were still in the skies.

First class diners ate multi course meals from fine china. Once their bellies were full and they fancied a drink they could go upstairs-

...and sprawl out in the beautiful first class lounge.

These are earlier 70′s models but you could pretty much go up and treat the lounge as you would any social space.

Even if you were flying coach PanAm had you covered with a full upper deck dining area and lounge.

In the 80′s, English liner RegentAir had a full cocktail bar. Other airlines had pianos and other live music to entertain first class passengers.

The first class lounge on a Japan Airlines jet from the 80s marries Japanese tradition with modern 80s design.

When you were in your assigned seat the cabin for short domestic flights was still far more roomy than what you get now. And you were free to smoke on board for the duration of Armand and Daniel’s relationship.

So even if they had to watch their in flight movie on a projector screen with all the other passengers and there was no wifi to be found, Armand and Daniel had plenty of ways to entertain themselves on their all night flights. If you’re gonna be stuck in the air with a vampire boyfriend then this really is the way to go.

[ghoris]

The assessment of Emirates & Qatar Airlines' future, and the claim about the demise of TWA & PANAM, is naive. The collapse of these two legendary airlines was due to unions, fuel costs, and poor service. Moreover, Mr. Coby omitted Turkish Airlines, which operates 370 aircrafts & serves more countries than Emirates & Qatar. Backed by the state, Turkish Airlines operates from Istanbul Airport, one of the world's largest and most modern airports, featuring upscale restaurants, duty-free shops, unmatched business lounges, and various amenities including AI-assisted live piano music. It’s location at the crossroads of #Europe & #Asia, the major sources of airline passengers, provides it a unique strategic advantage that no one can match!

Comparing Emirates & Qatar with Indian airlines is unfair. These Gulf carriers benefit from heavily subsidized jet fuel, making it challenging for India and any other airline to compete. #RIYADHAIR, an upcoming Saudi Airline could be a formidable competitor with its advantages in fuel costs and developing tourism attractions like #NEOM, the #LINE city and world class resorts on the Red Sea coast. Additionally, #KSA attracts >10 million religious tourists annually for #Hajj & #Umrah (captive source for leveraging tourism) and plans for ~30 million by 2030. Similarly, Turkey, with its heritage sites and vibrant culture, also holds strategic advantages. #turkishairlines #Emirateairlines #qatarairways #malaysiaairlines #indiaair #StarAlliance #SkyTeam #OneWorld #IATA @cobyexplanes #GCC #KSA #UNESCO

[doo-wop-city]

Stella Star in the Clipper Lounge, Part 2

I just can't get enough of the Pan American! Visit me, once again, in the Clipper Lounge! #StellaStar #PanAm #PanAmerican #SatelliteRoom #Wildwood #WildwodNJ #NewJersey #JerseyShore

If you’re a long-time reader to my photo journal, you probably know that the Pan American is my favorite place in Doo Wop City. We visited the place several times, but I wanted to post part 2 of my 2-part visit to the Clipper Lounge before I break for the winter.. These photos were taken on October 4th, 1965. (…Or, was that 2021?) View part 1 here. This hallway to the north of the Pan…

[candycoatddalek]

Dress to Impress

Word Count: 1757

Warning/s: None

Description: A gig for Wakako involves attending a glitzy party in the city centre with a number of Tyger Claws in attendance, V need to blend in and go about her business unnoticed.

Characters: Fem!V, Johnny Silverhand, Wakako Okada, Tyger Claws.

Pairings: Faint hints of V/Johnny Silverhand.

“I have a gig for you, V”

“Lay it on me, Wakako” V shifted on the stool in her weaponry, the sniper from Panam in bits in front of her on the table.

“I need you to infiltrate a Tyger Claw den and send me the information you find on the computer of a Mr. Yuki Konako”

“Sounds easy enough, klep some info, send it on your way, nothing I haven’t done before for you”

“I had thought you might say that,” The elder woman smiled faintly. “There is a party being held at the location tonight, I have secured you an invitation”

V saw the invite pop up on her Kiroshi. “So, I guess I’m getting dressed up for this gig”

V thumbed through the items in her wardrobe; leather jackets, vests, jeans, sneakers, boots, a random assortment of crop tops and tank tops, before finally coming across one of three dresses she had. Pulling them out she held them up one by one to her frame in front of the mirror, switching back and forth trying to figure out which one would be best in a firefight or give her maximum mobility if she got into trouble.

She heard the rustle of Johnny’s jeans and caught a glimpse of him in the mirror leaning against her desk, dark gaze sweeping down the back of her body as he lounged silently with his arms crossed. She expected some sort of play by play review or some sarcastic comment from the Rockerboy but only received static as she finally chose her outfit and dropped her towel to pull it on.

“What? Got nothing to say about my outfit, Silverhand?”

“Just admiring it from the back, never realised just how much of an ass you had on you before”

She grinned softly glancing over her shoulder at him. “So you’re an ass man, are you?”

“Nah, I like a set of big bouncing titties in my face”

She laughed shaking her head as he mimicked a set of breasts in his face. “Good to know” She went to grab her shoes, simple heels that she hoped would be easy enough to kick off if she needed to run.

“You scrub up well V,” It sounded like a genuine compliment from the Rockerboy. “Your racks not too bad either”

She rolled her eyes shaking her head again as she slipped her heels on and gave one last look in the mirror before heading to the door. “Don’t wait up, Johnny”

He rolled his eyes from against the wall before glitching out of view.

~~~

“They’re all staring at you, V, thought you were supposed to blend in, not draw attention?” Johnny glitched into view at her left side, one elbow on the bar as he leaned back surveying the room beside her.

“Shut up, Johnny, no ones staring”

“Then you haven’t seen that couple over in the booth checking you out, whispering to each other about asking you back to their place for a little bit of midnight fun”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, lip caught between her teeth as her gaze swept towards said couple and then away. “Not my type, I like my men a little less Corpo and a little more filthy... same goes for my women too”

“Don’t know, they could be one of those freaky Corpo couples, like to get down and dirty with whips and chains”

She rolled her eyes taking a sip from her whiskey, the ice clinking the sides of the glass. “What about Mr. Manly Man with the triple XL biceps? He seems to be staring like he’s undressing me”

Johnny laughed. “Yeah, he’s probably fantasying about bending you over the bar top when you’ve had one to many to care whose watching”

“You seem to think this party will turn into one big orgy, something you know that I don’t?”

“Yeah, lots of people in this city are secretly freaky cunts, especially when you dangle as something as tasty as you in front of them”

“Tasty as me?”

“Long legs, short dress, and a nice tight ass being shown off”

She almost choked on her drink and he grinned. “Can we talk about something other than my nice tight ass?” She felt the heat creep up from under her collar.

“Sure, can talk about your sweet rack instead,” He motioned to the top half of her dress. “But that collar doesn’t show those puppies off, not like that Samurai tank you found”

She rolled her eyes downing the last of her drink, the bar tender moving to offer her a top up only for her to place a hand over the top of her glass and shake her head; she was on a gig, no time to get wasted.

“Need to get past the guard near the curtain, it leads up to the offices above, any suggestions?”

“Flash your ass and disappear into the crowd for him to follow”

“That tactic might have worked when Jackie was about but I don’t have a partner to slip up there while I keep him entertained”

Johnny looked over at her, mild surprise in his eyes. “You’ve used that ploy before?”

“Of course I have, what burly man doesn’t like a damsel in distress that can’t figure out how to get her engine to turn over?” An impish grin tugged at her lips. “‘specially when that damsel’s the one that unhooked a sparky” He shook his head with a laugh as she began to move through the crowd closer to the curtain, she stopped near the largest group of people she could and scanned the area for anything to use as a distraction. “Bingo” She grinned spotting a speaker to the left of the bar, a quick hack and a screech of noise drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity, the guard moving to investigate and giving her a window to slip through the beaded curtain and book it up the stairs.

“Smooth, V”

“It has been known to happen”

Creeping up the stairs she scanned the room and hacked each camera disabling them before giving the room one last sweep and standing. She made her way through the small multi-desk office, laptops, chairs, and a few vending machines scattered about but her destination was the office at the back of everything, the semi-transparent door gave her a descent view that no one was in there but unfortunately refused to budge.

“Now what?”

She rolled her eyes at Johnny’s query and forced the door to move, fingers slipping between the crack made before she put all her might into the door and wrenched it open, the gorilla arms Vik had installed for her doing wonders at breaking the lock as she forced the door back.

“Damn...” She heard Johnny’s breathless whisper as she stepped into the doorway and looked up, the camera sweeping the room hadn’t registered her yet, a quick flick of of the power switch underneath it and it deactivated.

V pulled her jack from its port on her wrist and plugged it into the computer, eyes steady on the office door as the transfer of data to Wakako began.

Data Transfer: 20%

She flinched hearing voices outside the office and willed the transfer to hurry up as they lingered, louder than before but not quite at the office door. Her heart jumped into her throat as she saw a man pass by the door talking to another, both stopping just on the other side of the door.

“Where’d Juno leave those pills?”

“Don’t know, I think Yuki had a few stashed away in his office though”

She swore dropping low and activated her scanner searching for anything she could see outside the door to cause a distraction.

Data Transfer: 50%

Fire extinguisher. No, too close.

Disabled Camera. No, reactivating it meant she was still fucked getting out.

Laptop. No, facing the wrong way.

Vending Machine. Bingo.

She grinned sweeping it with her scanner again and activating a quick hack that had it short circuit and began to toss out its contents one after the other.

Data Transfer: 70%

V drummed her fingers against the table top, the transfer was almost complete, just a little more and it was done. She heard the two Tyger Claws grumble about the machine before commenting that they’d have to have someone look at it.

“Lets find those pills and get back before Bunta notices we’re gone”

She bit her lip, the progress bar on her optics creeping along.

Data Transfer: 100%

V pulled her jack as soon as the transfer cleared and dived for the cover of a nearby couch, its curve giving her enough of a space to crawl towards the exit as the office door slid open, two Tyger Claws entering the office engrossed in their conversation.

She watched and waited before targeting the computer to give another distraction as she slipped out the door and crouched low running through the multi-desk office and back towards the stairs. Her heels slapping against the metal as she rushed down and slipped through the curtain and back into the party, thankful that the guard was distracted by a nearby patron throwing up in one of the booths.

“Sneaky bitch” Dear god, if he’d been real she would have rammed her elbow back into Johnny’s face possibly breaking his nose as he whispered into her ear from behind, instead she flinched, a few party goers giving her strange looks as she bypassed them.

“Fuck me, Johnny, don’t fucking do that” She glared at the shit eating grin on his face as she weaved her way towards the exit, heart hammering a million miles a minute against her ribcage as she tried to act natural.

Getting to the street she called for her Hella EC-D and slipped in as soon as the car slowed to a halt, she grinned in the mirror before raising Wakako on the holo.

“V, I have received the data, another job well done”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way”

“Eddies are coming your way and I will be sending another gig your way soon”

“Always a pleasure, Wakako, keep me posted”

The call ended and V tossed the phone back onto her dash. “V,” She glanced over at Johnny in the passengers seat and cocked an eyebrow when he remained facing forward, a faint redness dusting his cheeks. “Keep the dress” Her lips twisted trying to suppress the happy smile that threatened to break out and lowered her head slightly nodding.

Check out more on my other masterlists: Gaming Fanfiction Masterlist|Original Fiction Masterlist|Lovelink Masterlist|Otome Masterlist|TV/Movie Fanfiction Masterlist

[kyndaris]

Like Tears in the (Acid) Rain

When the game first released, Cyberpunk 2077 was an absolute mess on consoles. Caught in the throes of a lengthy playthrough of Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, I decided that I would wait for a few patches to come through before attempting to take on Night City with Keanu Reeves Johnny Silverhand by my side. This was not the norm for me. Often, when big budget shiny titles come out, I play it quite close to the release date. But after seeing the furor online and hearing a couple of horror stories from some of my gaming friends, in my infinite wisdom, I saw the silver lining of trying to get through some of my backlog of smaller titles that had previously escaped my notice.

Almost a year later, with a whopping 90-110GB amount of space being taken up on the hard drive of my PlayStation 4 Pro, I finally found a small gap in releases (to the disappointment of many of my friends, I decided to skip out on the remake of Pokemon Brilliant Diamond and Pokemon Shining Pearl - primarily because I had played it on my Nintendo DS and had never truly fallen in love with it. My interest waning before I’d even reached the last gym). 

Booting up my console, I finally decided to step into the shoes of V, a former corporat (although your personal background can also include being a nomad or a kid raised on the streets of Night City) turned mercenary, with a strong friend in Jackie Welles. And, of course, my first terrifying moment with the game was when I was customising my character just as my mother was pacing around the lounge that is my gaming den. Thankfully, she never glanced towards the screen as I was selecting breast size and other endearing body parts. If she had...well...it’s hard to say what she might have thought I was playing. I’m sure if developers wanted to, they could pivot games into an entirely different direction.

Yet despite the marketing of how ‘edgy’ it was to pick one’s how large one’s endowment could be, such choices had little impact in the game itself. Except, of course, when they clipped clothes back during the buggy days when the game first released.

The story of Cyberpunk 2077 is a simpler tale focused primarily on V’s dilemma of having a piece of experimental technology shoved into their head that is slowly overwriting their conscience mind and body. This isn’t a grand tale of saving the world. Nor is it truly about fighting corrupt megacorporations (no matter how much Keanu Johnny Silverhand tries to tell the players otherwise). It’s more personal. Even though a lot has clearly been put into building Night City and the futuristic world that players find themselves in.

Hints of Blade Runner and other pioneering science fiction novels permeate the world. I might not have read the likes of Hardwired or Neuromancer just yet, but I can definitely see how they might have informed the world. The aesthetics of East meets West, the neon and the chase for meaning in a world that is more concerned about consumption of goods.

But while I felt many of the characters in the main storyline were quite well written - Panam, Judy, Rogue and Johnny, I was disappointed to find that so many side quests or gigs/ NCPD hustles were very lacklustre. Yes, picking up shards to fill the character in on the complex relationships between the various gangs was a nice touch, but I couldn’t have cared less about it. V certainly wouldn’t have given a gonk’s arse about the politics that were brewing underneath the surface of Maelstrom.

It was this that disappointed me first and more about the open world nature of Night City. Everything felt very bare bones. Go to objective. Clear the camp of enemies. Watch as eddies drip into bank account. Over and over and over and over again.

Nor did it help with the sheer amount of NCPD Hustles there were scattered all over the map. As a self-regarded completionist, or, at the very least, someone who prefers to see what the side content is available as I make my incredibly slow way through main story quests, it felt like I was checking things off a list. None of it was very engaging. And what morsels of world-building that was contained in the shards I found on dead gang members and corporate guards were instantly dismissed to the back of my mind.

There are only a few sidequests that caught my eye. These were Delamain, everyone’s favourite AI taxi service, and the creepy storyline of Jefferson Peralez. These were able to weave in world-buildling with likable and charismatic characters. It gave me more to chew on than a one-and-done gig of retrieving someone’s car or assassinating someone that looked at one of the fixers funny.

Though the game is much more playable than it was at launch, Cyberpunk 2077 still has a myriad of problems. Not all of them are bugs or glitches.

First and foremost is the driving. Most of the cars handle terribly. The turning circle on bikes are far too wide. Whenever V slowed down to turn, the entire vehicle seemingly drifted on its side. After 70+ hours of gameplay, I also learned that there was a handbrake option (but even this wasn’t very effective).

The second major gripe I had was the melee combat. More specifically, the fist fights. They were probably the worst aspects of the game that I had to suffer through because all of V’s opponents had huge health pools and hit like trucks. None of it was fun and I probably should have grabbed some eddies to throw the fight against the final contender.

Still, misgivings aside, the story of Cyberpunk 2077 left me with much food for thought. When I had initially looked up the separate endings, I was of a mind to simply hand V’s body over to Johnny. The more I played, however, and the more people I met (such as Judy and Panam), the less it seemed a viable choice when I reached Mikoshi. Much like a few of my friends, it seemed right that V ally themselves with the Aldecados. They might have been amateurs compared to Rogue and Johnny, but if I was going to attack Arasaka Tower, I wanted my V to do so on their own terms. Without the old guard stepping in. In my mind, their time had come and gone. It was V’s time to step into the limelight and to do what needed to be done.

The choice to stay with the friends V had made along the way also felt right. In my playthrough, V wasn’t exactly afraid of dying, per se. They were afraid of being rewritten. After all, who isn’t afraid about their core essence being taken over? Change can be hard but seeing one’s decline so quickly and knowing that you won’t be yourself anymore can be even more terrifying than a quick and clean death.

And even though I couldn’t give everyone a happy ending (please forgive me Takemura-san and Hanako-sama), I tried to do what was best for the character that I embodied.

In fact, my playstyle was quite different from how I usually tackle these open-world behemoths. The truth was no longer such a simple thing to dole out. Looking up the epilogues and resolutions of many quests, it felt like trying to be the paragon and do-gooder would only net my clients a world of pain. This was particularly true with the end of the Peralez quest line and how best to proceed down the slippery slope of brainwashing and political puppetry. 

While Cyberpunk 2077 is no longer the disaster it was when it first released, I still felt as if the game wasn’t quite finished. As if CD Project Red bit off more than they could chew with the title. The joy and warmth I felt in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is lacking in this neon-drenched science fiction world and I’m not sure if that was because of the direction of the game or the fact that it was rushed out of the door. 

Don’t get me wrong, there are still parts of Cyberpunk 2077 that are great, but if the game was a person, they’d gone through Soulkiller and their engram was implanted into someone else’s body.

[unluckyopossum]

I Need A Place I can Rest- CH 1

Viktor Vector x Fem!V

Vik wants to fix things for V more than anything. V just needs somewhere to feel safe.

Read on AO3

The sun had long since set, the moon now rising steadily over Night City as the constant hum of the streets above the small clinic became more pervasive. Snippets of conversations and raucous shouts from Night City denizens filtering through the cracks and crevices of the old building. The cramped streets, and shadowed alleyways filling with increasing numbers of bodies going to the closest club, BD lounge, or love hotel. The daylight that filtered down the stairs into the dark clinic had been replaced by the neon glow of signs and adverts from above. It was well past time for any clients to drop by, other than a potential emergency, but there were 24hr joints for those. The esoterica was dim and Misty was likely back to her apartment by now, preferring to leave before the streets became so busy.

    Vik sat at his desk finishing up the day's paperwork and idly tinkering with his exo-glove. A habit more than a hobby at this point, since there was only so much that could be done for the gloves precision at a certain point. He had started taking his time closing up in the evenings, not because he was behind with his work, or wanted a moment of quiet time for himself after a busy day. Instead, for the small hope that a certain little merc might come and fling open the gates. V had started coming by the little clinic in the evenings frequently, shortly after they first met, and the addition of the relic to her person had only increased her visits. Vik relished in any time he was able to spend close to V, but the ripper in him hated what caused the encounters. The merc always seemed to be struggling with a new relic malfunction or scrape from one of her increasingly dangerous missions. From what little she had told him, the search for answers and how to remove the relic had her treading dangerous waters. Though it seemed even the gigs from fixers and ncpd hustles had been getting her into his clinic several times a week. Most of those visits just involved a quick bandage or cleaning a scrape; first aid she was more than capable of doing for herself now that he thought about it. The older ripper didn't think too long about it, not wanting to give himself any false hope that these visits were more to see him than to receive medical attention.

    Most of the time he felt helpless before V. Unable to save her from what the relic was doing to her, unable to find someone who could, and unable to express his feelings to her. So he instead had to trust the merc to find the answers herself, and pretend to be busy at the clinic late into the night on the off chance he could do the smallest thing to help her, trying to fight back the helpless feeling of not being able to fix this. Helplessness was not a feeling he managed well, and certainly not when it came to her. If he thought about it too much -like he did many nights- a deep feeling of self loathing would creep up for not being able to help one of the few people he considers close to him. If anyone should be helping her it should be him ...right? He should be able to keep her from dying like Jackie.

    He wasn't one to share his feelings but on the rare occasion Misty had caught him in one of these spirals she had given him one of her knowing looks and reminded him that having supportive friends and somewhere safe to go was helping V, a lot. She didn't neglect to add that V did seem to run right to him when things went wrong, so he was clearly doing something right.

    At the time it had made his heart feel like it would beat out of his chest as he tried to remind himself that of course she would see her ripper first. It wasn't like she was going to see Vik specifically or anything, he was just her ripper. Though that wouldn't explain all the times she has visited Misty to talk about some new tarot mural and always came down to see him. Often bringing him a coffee exactly as he would order without him ever asking for one first.

He shook his head letting the thought roll off of him, breaking out of his daydream with a long deep sigh.

    Not that he hadn't been paying attention to her since Jackie first introduced then, but he found himself getting stuck thinking about her more and more often. While Jackie was alive he told himself he was just thinking of her as a new choom. One who always made him laugh and could talk him into silly plans even Jack couldn't. A friend who he worried about on missions late at night and whose eyes held light in a way he had never seen even with the most advanced optics. One who probably didn't think of him as anything more than that. He had realized that he felt more than that when losing V became a reality, and he spent more time pushing those thoughts aside than he would admit... even to himself.

    Finally settling down his tools he ran a large hand through his hair, wincing towards the back of his head reminding himself that his chance at something more with her was likely long past for the aging ripper. Staying close friends and making sure to support her as she tried to survive was more than he could ask for.

    Before his thoughts began to spiral again he checked his monitor a final time. The corner of the screen let him know he had been lost in thought longer than he expected. V knew he was normally long gone by now. There was no point in him hanging around any longer if she wouldn't be dropping by, and he had long since passed any excuse that he was there to do paper work.

He rose to his feet slowly resigning himself to locking up and leaving for the day. His apartment was close by, but the idea of returning to an empty home wasn't an appealing one tonight. Normally he wouldn't mind the quiet time alone at home after a long day; to have a drink and decompress. Yet tonight being left alone with his thoughts the way they had been going was daunting.

    Bending back down to the desk he roughly snatched the keys off the surface to lock up the gate, turning to leave. It would have been clear to anyone watching his disappointment with the evening by the way his broad shoulders drooped as he made his way to the clinic exit. Heavy boots dragging across the floor, exhaustion more present in his gait than the normal reserved swagger he carried himself with. Reaching for the gates he halted in his tracks, his heart skipping, and a panicked weight formed in his stomach.

    The scuffed toe of a familiar pair of boots was just visible through the gaps in the gate grating. The leather barely peeking from the corner by the stairs leading to the alley above. Panic fully set in as Vik took a breath and time began to slowly move for him again, pushing him into action. He flung the gates open with more force than he felt he ever had before, and as he whipped around the corner was confronted with V's still form.

    Haphazardly slumped against the wall, her eyes were closed but the rise and fall off her chest was all Vik needed to breathe a sigh of relief. Her breathing was steady and deep letting him know that if she was in danger it wasn't immediate. Unconscious was a world better than what his first reaction had been, unconscious he would work with. A quick glance over showed one of her mantis blades stuck extended, metal twisted and warped where it connected to her arm. Her hands and forearms were splashed with drying blood, hers or anthers he couldn't be sure. Though based on the burgundy tint covering the entirety of her blade he could tell at least most of it wasn't from V. Kneeling next to her he placed a hand on her shoulder, and with no response, called out her name softly.

"V? Can you hear me sweetheart?... V? Valerie?" He tried at last.

Her full name was known to wake her after even the most degenerate nights out with Panam.

No response.

     In a flurry he popped back in the clinic grabbing a tarp to cover the exposed blade. Neither of them would be happy if one of the two was injured because he was rushing. Kneeling down he wrapped the blade securely and slipped one powerful arm under her knees, the other under her back. Lifting her off the ground as gently as possible the thought of how light she felt in his arms flooded through his mind for a short second before being cast aside by the hammering dread of what might have happened. As he turned to take her into the clinic she finally began to rouse. Looking up into his sharp green eyes barely visible over his shades she gave a weak smile.

"guess I didn't make it in the door huh"

she reached up her good arm, shaking slightly, and placed it gently on his cheek.

"yep not dreaming, sorry Vik" she kept speaking before he could even ask what for.

"' S’okay though, not my blood. Blade got messed up, but I'm fine" She mumbled and squeezed her eyes shut as Vik set her down in his procedure chair.

"V?"

"Sorry… it's just the relic, acted up real bad on my way over, that's why"

She gestured loosely towards the gate. A frown made its way across Viks face before he could control it. The relic, an ever present sore spot for him, a man he has never met slowly taking V away.

"I know what you're thinking Vik, but really, I'm alright... it's already passing"

She tried to comfort him, giving his forearm a delicate touch as he powered up the screens by the table, letting the touch linger as long as she could.

" Is it getting worse v, you  taking the blockers?"  A sheepish half smile creeps to her lips.

'' Well, I'm not taking them regularly..."

Which he knows means never.

" We just have a lot to do, and having him around is really helpful Vik"

“How much is he really helping sweetheart, he's the one killing you” A hint of malice laced the rippers words.

V’s face crinkled as she looked at the far side of the clinic, as if having a conversation with someone he couldn't see. Vik realized it was the dead rocker, he could help but be irritated that Silverhand was in his clinic, not that he had any say in the matter.

“It's not like he wants to” V said barely above a whisper.

”Wants what V?” He asked moving to unwrap her blade, and address the reason she was in his clinic in the first place.

“ For me to die, said he would trade in a heartbeat... well not that he has one anymore, other than mine” she shifted in the seat looking uncomfortable as if she didn't want to disappoint either of them with her response.

    She had to know how Vik felt about Johnny, it wasn't like he could hide the disdain in his voice when the parasitic rocker was brought up. Johnny was her friend now, and while they gave each other shit all the time she didn’t want Johnny to think she blamed him. She also didn’t want Vik to be disappointed in her for befriending the engram slowly killing her. V didn’t give a shit what most people in Night City thought of her but Vik was on the short list of people whose opinions mattered most. Higher on that list than she was willing to admit, and higher than Vik could know. Vik sighed, thumb and forefinger rubbing across his brow drooping his head.

“ I know you don't like him Vik, but he helped get me to you” The ripper peaked back up at her eyebrow slightly raised.

“ I know V, hard to separate him from what he’s doin to you though, don’t want to lose someone else to the relic, especially not you”.

    He hadn’t meant to remind her of Jackie but he couldn't help but think of him, dead in his clinic. Trying to clean up his best friend for his family when arasaka ripped him away. Their relic threatening to rip V away from him in a way that felt so similar. It was hard to admit but losing V terrified him more than even losing Jackie, the terror ever growing the more she wormed her way into his heart.

She had started to frown, he realized, probably thinking about Jackie. He worried that he had made what she was going through even worse, he had hurt her.

“ Sorry V, shouldn't have brought it up, tell me about your arm, what happened.” He desperately tried to change the subject. He wasn’t trying to make her feel guilty but seemed to be saying all the wrong things.

“ Ah... nah Vik, you didn't do anything wrong, didn't mean to worry you… don’t need to waste your time thinkin bout me.” But he always thought about her, worry or not.

She lifted the arm with the damaged blade shifting it inspecting the warped metal.

”This though, cyber psycho. Not the usual fair though. None of them have been like her so far, and you know I have butted heads a bunch of these guys so far.” She paused slightly, eyebrows furrowing ” Some maelstrom ritual on this girl, must not have gone well since she went psycho and all. Spooked me though, looked like a ghost or something. So she caught me off guard hence...” she flapped her arm in the air, the blade creaking in protest.

” She really did spook me for a second though Vik, I've seen a lot but that was a first.” the ripper finished gathering his tools with a chuckle settling down on his stool by her arm to get to work.

” Can’t imagine you being bothered by much out there V, quick pinch” before she knew it he had done a ring block on her arm to get to work.

” Yeah... I guess it wasn’t so much the ritual, or the dead malstromers, that's pretty much my everyday. I guess I doubted what was real for a second. Hit a bit too close to home ya know. Guess that was never something I had to think about until recently and now… well. You know.” Silence hung in the air, only the clicking of tools and metallic creaking breaking it.

    Vik wasn’t sure how to respond, to him V was still V. The only person who could brighten any day for him, who he couldn't stay mad at no matter how much trouble she brought through his door, and the person who made him feel like his heart would stop when she looked up at him. It wasn't just her though he knew, now when she clung to his arm trying to talk him into something he wouldn't want to do, Johnny was right there with her; And one day soon it might not be her at all. Johnny could take over whether he even wanted that, and Vik may never see or even hear from her again. Her reality was constantly in jeopardy and that was what frightened them both. Vik didn’t want to wallow in those feelings though, thinking of losing V made him feel like a nail was being hammered into his chest right by his heart, an oddly motivating feeling.

” V, you’re you... the same V Jackie introduced me to. You may not see it because you have to listen to Silverhand all the time, but those of us who know you, we can see it. You're still the same you.” he squeezed her hand gently before snapping a piece of blade back in place.

    The merc blushed lightly looking down uncharacteristically shy, squeezing his hand back clumsily due to the numbness from the anesthetic. Her eyes darted up to his where he was already staring at her, eyes locking with each other. With a loud click the mantis blade retracted back into place pulling them both back to reality.

” Alright sweetheart I’m all finished with ya, should be back in working order.” the ripper started to stand leaving her side to return his tools.

Her hand darted out fingers tangling in the edge of his loosely tucked shirt.

”Vik… I…” she trailed off keeping a stiff grip on his shirt as he set the tools on the table by the chair.

”It's getting worse Vik... and well, I’m not sure I have enough time anymore… to fix this” he didn't move away from her grip but a hand returned to rub his forehead the ripper looking almost frustrated.

“V you need to stop giving that thing control, I told you that would make things move faster” her voice raised, she had wanted to be comforted not lectured.

”He isn't a thing Vik you know that, he’s my friend, and it impacts both of us”

“V he isn’t even a person, just an engram of a long dead Rockstar”

“I get it Vik, I fucking do, I don't want to die that’s the point... but I’m fucking scared and at least he is there when I’m alone” The ripper continued rubbing his forehead and let out a low exasperated sigh.

“V for fuckssake you know I'm not good at stuff like this” He wanted to comfort her and hold her tight more than anything, but the words he wanted never seemed to be within his grasp.

“Well fucking aware Vik, shouldn’t have expected anything more form you” … shit, he hadn’t meant to get mad, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her it would all be alright, that he was right there and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. That all he wanted was for her to survive so she never had to leave his side. But none of that would help her, would just make her uncomfortable, and put added pressure on her. He wanted to tell her he loved her … but stopped himself like he had for months.

“V…”

“Don’t Vik, I don't need a lecture” the merc finally let go of his shirt, attempting to sit up and get out of the chair still looking a bit dizzy from the previous malfunction.

She refused to make eye contact as she stood, preparing to delta as fast as she could.

” The last thing I need is the one man whose opinion means a damn to me giving me shit”

Vik started to open his mouth to explain, he wasn't trying to do that. He never wanted to.

” Look I know you hate him and you don't get it, but I'm trying my best. Even if that means Johnny needs to take over some times, and look... I get it it may speed things up, and that scares the shit out of me but I don't know another way.”

“ you could ask for help V”

“ Vik I ask for you help so much I feel like a leach, like i'm taking advantage, I bother you all the fucking time… I can’t impose on your life more than I already do. I know you cant want a half dead gonk barging in here all the time… I just… fuck forget it”

In one swift movement she hopped up and walked quickly towards the door, purposeful strides carrying her away from the ripper.

” Vik sometimes I don't want you to try and fix me, I just want you to be with you”

    She moved faster towards the gates before she said something that couldn’t be taken back. Something that might ruin the friendship she had and make her look truly pathetic. She had already accepted the ripper was taking care of her out of friendship, guilt at not being able to save her, or some obligation to Jackie. She just used that to see his face as often as she could, spend what little time she might have with him. She knew she had to be a disappointment to him though, just some dumb streetkid who couldn’t get her shit together when it came down to the wire. She reached the gate and turned her head back to him one more time.

“Vik … I know you might not feel the same .. but when I’m here with you… fuck.” she swallowed her words.`` I’ll take better care of myself, I’ll get you the eddies for my arm soon” and she disappeared around the corner.

“V “ he shouted after her, frozen in place.

   Vik stood in stunned silence for the most excruciating minute of his life. He had never been all that great with his words and couldn't respond as quickly as he wished. Sharing his feelings was a weak point all his exes had pointed out and he hadn't learned much on that front as he got older. Feel the same about what? Be with him how? A flicker of recognition flashed through his mind. He may make a fool of himself but it felt like now or never. Chase after the girl or she may walk out of his life forever, which meant he couldn’t see much for himself to lose. Normally not one to make rash decisions the ripper bolted out of the clinic flinging the gate open not bothering to lock up. If V was telling him she just wanted him to be near her, well he was going to make sure he did that for as long as he could calling out after her again as he bounded up the stairs.

    At the top though, he didn’t see her, just the normal gonks hanging in the ally. The shadows and light in the clearing played tricks on his eyes through his dark shades. Glimpses at figures that could be the merc seemed to be at every exit as he whipped his head around frantically. A familiar meow sounded at his feet, the pale ally cat looking up at him eyes wide and piercing. The cat brushed against his calf then walked towards the elevator, meowing again at the closed doors, becoming him to follow it, the elevator panel indicating it was up at the roof. With a heavy swallow he reached out, all hesitation gone and pressed the call button.

[aband0ned-s0uls]

A Like V - Chapter 2

Read below, or on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426680/chapters/69670191#workskin

It was like deja vu, sitting in the backstage of a seedy bar, cigarette in hand, impatiently waiting for the band playing before them to finish their set.

Except this time, Johnny was impatient for a different reason. All of Samurai's previous gigs, Johnny had been impatient to get on stage and shred the fuck out of his guitar. To spread his message of vitriol for the corpo scum, to lose himself in the music, and then lose himself in whatever hot young output made their way backstage afterwards asking for an autograph from Silverhand himself. Johnny was always happy to oblige, a carefully balanced slurry of uppers and downers – a well practiced formula – ensuring his impressive cock wouldn't let him down when he was otherwise obliterated.

Shit, he didn't even remember their names, or faces. He had never cared; they were only ever a distraction, an itch that scratched at the never ending urge to feed his ego.

Except now, there was one face that was burned in his mind, etched across his retinas everytime he closed his eyes, that he couldn't forget, that he didn't want to forget.

V...

The woman who drove him fuckin' mad. The woman who's head he'd been trapped inside, who he'd grown to know inside and out, every thought, every feeling. The woman who's raucous laugh made him secretly beam with pride when he coaxed it out with a filthy innuendo, or ridiculous quip. The woman who he admired for never giving in to his stupid shit, who would glady give him a vicious fuckin' earful, tell him he was a being a selfish prick.

The woman who had smiles reserved just for him. Johnny Silverhand, who had never cared before whether he saw a woman again or not after he'd got what he wanted, or give a flyin' fuck about how they felt, had spent more time than he would ever admit to anyone thinking of ways to get the corners of V's round, full lips to upturn.

He had memorised V's face in it's entirety; every line, every freckle, every expression. The way her left eyebrow would arch when she was about to tell someone exactly how she felt about the stupid shit that was coming out of their mouth.

The way her eyes would sparkle with mischief when she told a dirty joke. The way they would turn from grey-blue to turquoise when they were swollen with tears after she'd angry cried. The way the light danced across their surface as she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, ruminating on the day's events, while Johnny pretended not to watch her.

V, the woman who was on the other side of the very building he was currently sat in, metres away, who thought he was still dead, his soul trapped in cyberspace forever.

His stomach twisted in knots and the ache in his chest returned as he wondered what expression she'd give him when he made his grand entrance.

What he'd said to her in the cyberspace, their happy ending... Would she want it? Johnny had always been arrogant and impulsive, only making decisions based on whether it would be beneficial for him alone, but now he found himself caring more about what V wanted.

And the ultimate question that burned in the back of his mind, could he give her that happy ending? It was true, he had changed, but an old thought whispered through his mind that he hadn't let escape from it's box for a very long time.

Was he good enough? Did he deserve a happy ending?

Shit... Johnny shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He finished the last half of his cigarette in one long drag, and stubbed it out underneath his boot. He felt like a fuckin' gonk.

He tried to reassure himself that Panam and the Aldecaldos wouldn't have agreed with and gone through a fuckin' insane stealth op during the initial chaos after V solo'd her way through the tower, to have Alt upload his engram to another chip, rescue his chryogenically frozen corpse from 'Saka's frozen meat library, all funded by Kerry and aided by Rogue, if V hadn't been a goddamn mess without him.

Instead of that thought reassuring him, all it did was fill him with guilt.

Fuckin' hell V, how bad did I fuck you up?

His broodings brought him back to the memory of waking up with the worst headache of his life, in a cot in the Aldecaldo camp.

To Panam glaring at him, arms crossed defensively against her chest.

Telling him that they did this for V, not him.

Panam telling him in no uncertain terms that if he used this chance at life to hurt V, she would personally remove his chip and stick it up his ass, making sure he really died this time. Then she'd cut off his cajones, just for good measure, and hang them from the bumper of her Thornton.

Mitch and Saul mirroring her pose at her side, probably trying to add some more muscle to her threat, but Johnny had experienced enough of Panam's wrath through V's eyes. He knew for a fact that the firey nomad would follow through through on her promise.

He smirked as the mental image of Panam enacting her promise flitted through his mind.

When the music stopped and the band before them exited the stage, he found himself glad to be able to busy himself with people watching. His waiting wasn't over yet though. The metal fingers of his bionic arm tapping aimlessly, impatiently, along the metal sideboard he was sat against.

He was hoping that Nancy or Denny, or hell even Kerry, would come and save him from the chaos of thoughts that wouldn't stop swirling around his head, like they had when he'd spent the latter stages of his recovery at Kerry's, drinking, smoking and reminiscing.

He knew they were busy, so he let his mind wander on the same train of thought over to more pleasant memories, reliving their reunion at Kerry's. Their disbelief at having their old friend back, and how easy it was to settle back into the same easy flow as it was before. Except this time, there was less tension. The years had eaten away at any grudges or petty arguments, and he was grateful that even if he was still stuck in this cesspit of a city, that some things hadn't changed.

Until he'd pointed out Denny's gray hairs, and the smart of Denny's slap on the back of his head made him roar with laughter.

Johnny looked up from his lounging positon as he heard Kerry barrel through the doors, and walk over to him. It was still weird, still novel, seeing his old friend from his own eyes. Kerry had changed so much, but Johnny would know his presence anywhere.

He instinctively lit another cigarette as he watched Kerry perform his restless pre-gig stretch routine. Johnny let out a low chuckle at the familiarity of it all.

"Everythin' ready to go?" Kerry asked.

Johnny took another drag. "Ready to rock and fuckin' roll."

Kerry looked down at him, his expression a mixture of amusement and empathy. He smiled wide and smacked Johnny on the shoulder.

"She's gonna fuckin' love it, Johnny. Now stop brooding, lets' go knock her dead."

Johnny scoffed and looked away, rolling his eyes, like a school boy being chastised.

"Of course she will, I'm Johnny fuckin' Silverhand." He lifted his arms up and wide, speaking around his cigarette. "What's not to love?"

Kerry laughed, Nancy catching the tail-end of the conversation as she entered from the door to the stage.

Hand on hip, she stood in front of them.

"Are we sticking to the plan, or are you gonna go 'old Johnny' and do your own thing on us?"

Johnny laughed, bringing his feet down and planting them on the floor, resting his forearms on his knees.

"Chill Nance, I know the drill." He took another long slow drag of his cigarette, smirking as he remembered some of his antics at previous Samurai shows, stealing the show with a perfectly executed guitar solo. Nevermind that it was never at the agreed time, much to his former bandmates' chagrin.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. Johnny leaned back and crossed his hands behind his neck.

"You guys start out with Chippin' In. Last chorus of A Like Supreme, I come out for the solo." Nancy's eyebrows lowered, but her hand remained firmly planted on her hip. "C'mon Nance, I'm sober for Christ's sake. Ain't skezzed, like old times."

Although, with the fury of nerves rising in his stomach, Johnny almost wished he was.

"Watchin' you, Silverhand." She said as she headed back out on stage. He caught the slight tilt of her mouth as she turned. His smirk widened. Kerry gave him one last smile and a nod before following after her.

What felt like an eternity later, Johnny heard Chippin' In begin. He rose out of his chair, and headed straight for the bottle of the tequila he'd spied earlier, tucked away behind the side of some boxes.

His mind turned to V again as he popped the top off and took a swig.

He wondered if she still looked the same, if she'd be hiding away in a booth, or standing amongst the crowd. If she was still wearing his dogtags, hand worrying them as though they'd dissapear.

He wondered about a lot of things, but Johnny wouldn't have to wonder for long.

"See you soon, Samurai."

[altcvnningham]

1, 3, 5, 15, 18 and 20 😳😳😳😳

thank you for the ask!!! (also superior url omg 👁👄👁🤲🏻)

also my answers here are suuuuper long, because i’m a rambling idiot who’s way too involved in my OC’s. so uhhhh sorry in advance,,,,,

1. what radio station(s) do you listen to?

Vana’s a Samurai stan. She wishes she wasn’t. But, y’know, Morro Rock it is. Once upon a time when she was an even angrier teen, though, she’d listen to shit just like Ritual FM.

(My music taste is all over the place, and though blues is technically my fav bc i love old music, i never listen to it in 2077. So I switch between Body Heat, the Dirge, Vexelstrom for like 2 songs, and ofc, Morro Rock. But of all stations, there’s at least one song that i HATE so I can never stick to one for a whole ride sknsksjsjs)

i think i got the names right?? Idk yall i dont have it in front of me ndndndndhjs

3. how did you feel about Johnny that first night in the apartment, and how does it differ from what you feel now after everything?

so i’m gonna cut a read-more here because i decided to just lore dump Vana x Johnny here so uhhhhhh rip also //SPOILERS//

Vana is an extremely, seriously private, guarded person. Before Johnny, Panam, Kerry- Jackie was the only person she’d ever truly let near her, to get to know her. So obviously waking up to someone else living inside her fucking head was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to her. Her past is also something she’s not particularly proud of, so Johnny getting to witness all that is traumatising. Getting Johnny out of her head was priority number one, even if digging the chip out would kill her.

But after getting fucked over by the VBs, and both of them thinking she was gonna die, Johnny takes her to that abandoned hotel in Pacifica- it’s the first time he’s given her even a sliver of kindness, and the first time she’s ever openly expressed her fears to him, even if he could already sense them before. Oaths and promises are something she holds to incredibly high importance, so obviously when Johnny gives her his dog-tags, ‘proof of my promise’, she never, ever lets them go, never takes them off. (she still doesn’t. they keep her grounded. holding them to calm herself has become a reflex, for whatever reason.)

Everything just seemed to slowly change after that. For two people who hate vulnerability, it’s the only thing that helped them actually see each other. As the Relic continues to take over, they both understand each other more, feel each other more- and eventually it becomes hard to discern where Vana ends and Johnny begins. In cliché Johnny x V fashion like yeah duh it goes further,,,, cockwhore!Vana,,,,,, but with that they also start to become extremely possessive and jealous over one another- Johnny immediately on the defensive about whoever comes close to her, Vana selfishly hiding and keeping Johnny’s existence to herself, even if it slows the hunt for a remedy to the chip- to the point of seriously toxic co-dependency. It’s full of volatile ups-and-downs, fights and make-ups, and Vana almost comes to like the fact that she never has to explain nor hide what thoughts and feelings pass through her mind, no matter how dark or vulnerable. She prefers most things to remain unsaid, but values the fact that they both have a clear, transparent understanding of each other regardless.

But there's also... softer moments. When Johnny puts aside his ego for once, he learns to like the quiet that Vana does, brief as it can be sometimes. He'll sort of just... stay around the room, even if just to procrastinate retreating back into her head, because they realise they like each other's silent, wordless company. He'll wake her up from nightmares, hold her neck and kiss her back to sleep, or until the sun comes up, if she can't. It's all tender things they often pretend doesn't even happen, out of pride, I think, but they both know deep down that those are really the best parts.

Comes to a place where she suddenly hits a wall, and realises, I don’t want him to leave.

She’s never the same again after Mikoshi.

(But uhh anyway fuck V I’m horny on main for Keanu so i was here for the whole riiiiiide yeeeeeee)

5. how do your loved ones (LI, found family, etc) feel about you being a merc? or if you’ve given up the life now that everything’s finished, what was their reaction?

Vana grew up in a rich corp family, and after all the shit she’s endured just to appease her father, don’t think anyone could hate corps more than she does (some details of her past here!!) So when Arasaka kicks her out and Jackie finally convinces her to start merc work, it’s amazing how quickly she slips into the role, almost like she was made for it- an anonymous face within the city, free to roam and drift as she wants, relying on herself and herself only.

Vana works quickly and quietly enough (though not at all with clean hands), relying on stealth and netrunning, so she doesn’t cause too much of a noise that’d have her loved ones (rare as they are) all too concerned. Judy isn’t scared Vana’d be caught in gunfire, because when Vana works, her targets rarely know she’s even there. She’s smart, cunning. Panam appreciates that these skills have helped her out, so she can’t complain. River- who is unfortunately more fond of Vana than she is of him, given that she’s not too comfortable at accepting affection- isn’t too happy about the life she leads, but hey, it’s her skills as a merc and as one of NC’s most adept netrunners that he even stood a chance of finding Randy as quick as he did, so he feels indebted to her for that. Kerry thinks it’s fuckin awesome that she gets to do as she wants and provides for herself, bestieeees

Given she isn’t all that close with many people- keeping her distance and all- the only people who seriously worry about her are folks like Vik, Misty, and Mama Welles, especially the latter two, who knew how much Jackie meant to her, and how easily she cracks under the weight of grief. The only thing, really, that concerns everybody around her, is how insatiable her bloodlust becomes, and how much she'd throw away just to try and quell it.

Johnny’s just in it for the ride. Rather she work for herself than a filthy corp, anyway.

After Mikoshi, losing Johnny, making it to the major leagues, she fuckin... just doesn't care anymore. She hates the big glass house that was practically forced onto her (reminds her too much of her stifling corp childhood), she hates that she has 20 cars that clog up her garage and not just her trusty red Yaiba Kusanagi, hates that folks keep giving her all this shiny golden shit that she doesn't want, like any of it's worth a damn. Since then she's hardly in one place- never at home if she can help it, and either wanders aimlessly around the streets and crashes over at Kerry's to sleep through grief. It isn't the merc life she wants to leave, but major leagues turned out to be a glittering pile of dogshit she wants no part in. She only really stays there because Jackie would've wanted it.

(i’m a lazy bitch like i don’t wanna be a merc. i wanna be one of those cute npc’s with the glowy earrings and bunny backpacks and skimpy plastic skirts, who picks up noodles on the way home to go watch watson whore. in my ideal life i am NOT the main character snnsmsnsks)

15. which NPC is your bff?

Kerry. Kerry is Vana’s ride or die. No fucking questions asked. Kerry’s the only person (besides Johnny, i guess) as close to her as Jackie was. He’s really the only person that ever gets her to smile, like really, stupidly, goofily smile, and despite being almost complete opposites, they just understand each other so well. Whenever they need something, they're the first person they'll call. Happens so often that just as Vana sifts through her contacts to find his, Kerry's already calling for her first. They're practically joint at the hip.

They both live loud, fast lives, but also know how to make time for silence and introspection, something they both need to stay grounded. Vana doesn't buy into his zen-wellness-yoga crap, but sure, she tries copying a couple moves while he's doing it on a lazy afternoon, before scoffing how this is fuckin' dumb and retreats back to the couch. Also, as much as she hates being reminded of the wealth that came with her corpo upbringing, she loves using up all his expensive products, and tends to klep a bottle of his shampoo when she runs out. Cute how she thinks he doesn't notice.

After what happened in Mikoshi, she practically lives at Kerry's place, just dozing away miserably as he lounges by the pool, or curl up on the couch to mindlessly watch his old Samurai tapes (he doesn't like it much, but if it helps her through whatever shit she's going through, he's not gonna take that away from her). On better days, when she actually pulls herself out of bed, he teaches her to play guitar, slipping in a couple tricks Johnny taught him. Funnily enough, the whole thing helps him find some closure too.

( me,, I need a girl like Panam in my life to endorse all of my stupid ideas )

18. what’s your dream cyberware (either something that was shown in lore that wasn’t available in game or mental creation of your own)?

I don’t have access to the tabletop lore stuff rn so i’m gonna pull this out my ass jsjsns

Anything that helps Vana become more deadly at stealth and netrunning. The most eddies she’s ever blown are on increasingly powerful cyberdecks, cooling systems, netrunning gear she can comfortably slip on under a jacket and boots- she likes convenience and functionality, but she needs it to be comfortable, too. She’d fucking kill for anything that lets her scale silently up walls and across ceilings, though- like a spider- and anything that lets her get her hands reeeeal bloody, but quietly. Guess that’s just called a knife, though.

(Me?? Fuck uhhh man i just want synth-skin that looks normal but also shimmers all pink n cute. Literally wanna be an edward cullen sparkly lookin mf. Also, i’m sorry but scanning shit w Kiroshi’s are so dope that’s literally all i want?? Idk i’m boring and mantis blades freak me out uhh)

20. is there anyone you’re crushing on that’s unavailable? (yes this is the “what romance option(s) are you foaming at the mouth for” question)

Answered here :)

(And i’ll say it again, PLACIIIIIIIDE,)

[thebandcampdiaries]

Jake Haze has announced a new album: 1985

October 2022 - Rap artist Jake Haze is back on the scene with a brand new studio album titled 1985. The title of this release speaks loud and clear. There is definitely a retro twist to the sound of this release, especially when it comes to the warmth that fuels this incredibly varied release. Still, the album is not just a way to cash in on the popular nostalgia aesthetics. There is a lot of room for Jake to fuel new ideas and add some enticing vibes to his sound. Jake’s songwriting style is laced with personality and authenticity, bringing a lot of character to the table.

The album has 17 original songs, which is quite an amazing achievement in itself. These days, most artists only have the budget and the time to actually focus on one single at a time or an EP at most. A regular album has about ten songs on it, so it’s easy to see why Jake’s 17-song tour-de-force is so impressive! He wasn’t only committed to making each song the best it could possibly be. He also wanted to give the audience a really immersive listening experience overall. There is also room for a plethora of collaborations. Many of the songs have been featured, giving the album a more diverse sound. In hip-hop, it’s always a lot of fun to have other artists have their footprint on the music, bringing a whole new twist to the mix. The opening track, “PanAm Flights,” has a boom-bap type rhythm and a unique aesthetic reminiscent of groups such as Run The Jewel. The feature with DenvaRich is awesome as well, serving as a great introduction to the album. There are so many excellent tracks throughout this release, but “Imported Everything” is perhaps one of the most memorable and punchy songs on this release. The track features Jake alongside The CNDLLGHTS, and it offers a unique feel with some funk and soul influences in the instrumental. The lyrics are also very witty and unique, complementing the album’s concept and flow to perfection. The use of acoustic instruments, such as guitars, keys, and percussion, really add to the flow of the mix, lending it a very organic vibe. The album is full of surprises, including the song “Oh Lawd!” which is a truly massive collaboration featuring Jake alongside four other artists. This is definitely one of the most modern songs on this release. The drum sound is based on a simple yet incredibly big and deep drum machine pattern with a clap and a hat ruling over the arrangement. The ghostly vocal parts in the background offer a dark mood throughout the song, which is one of the album’s most interesting and unique-sounding tracks. The following song, “Ain’t The 1 (Steady Pimpin), takes a turn-around, going for a more traditional sound. It is always amazing to hear how many styles are so seamlessly blended together on this album as Jake Haze continues to push the limits and explore with every release. The song “Cholo” is a perfect example of how different styles can merge together so seamlessly. The guitar tone might be reminiscent of some psychedelic rock from the 70s. The wah-wah effect gives it a bit of a Hendrix vibe! However, the drum machine beat has a more crisp and contemporary tone. The vocals are well-placed, perfectly fitting the mood of this instrumental. “Run and Hide” even divers deeper into tropical lounge sounds, with a very smooth drum beat and some cool vocal harmonies in the background. The last track, “Now I Gotta Go,” features some charming vintage-inspired melodies, but it’s actually not the final song on the album since there is room for not one but two bonus tracks!

This album is highly recommended to fans of artists such as Mac Miller, Lloyd Banks, A Tribe Called Quest, Wu-Tang Clan, Lloyd Banks, or Kanye West, only to mention a few!

Find out more about Jake Haze, and listen to 1985, which is currently available on Spotify, as well as many other digital streaming services.

https://open.spotify.com/album/3a7R1Hfb8Cdb7x6OA5U88z?si=6MCGi5Y1Q_KCRUIDGRGm_A

[maisouvontlespoussieres]

1996 - Les mauvais chevaux

Elle était partie accompagner son amie à la chasse au millionnaire anglais. Celle-ci avait pêché un gros poisson mais ma Dame n’avait fait craquer qu’un poivrot friqué et dû rapidement revenir à Paname pour échapper à ses dérives.

Quelques temps plus tard, nous étions jeunes parents et son destin radicalement différent.

Mais quand elle s’est retrouvée vêtue d’un tee-shirt informatique au fond d’un club de gym banlieusard à suer sur son vélo sans roue, elle s’est demandée comment elle avait fait pour en arriver là. Au même instant, sa copine sirotait des cocktails dans un bar lounge des faubourgs de Londres.

[haphazardlyparked]

(more bitter people)

“You would sacrifice our kingdom to the Empire, just for — this?” Masara demands, gesturing sharply at herself. “To see me imprisoned?” 

Masara has seen Panam’s anger, has known her throne was coveted. Foolishly, she thought her cousin at least shared her sense of duty to their kingdom. She thought it was Panam’s love for Amir that drove him to stand against Masara so often, and it was easy to forgive her cousin’s resentment when she believed he still served Amir’s best interests. 

Panam sneers at her from the couch in her tiny sitting room, one of the three rooms that make up the small apartment above the dungeons kept for criminal nobility.  “Cousin,” he all but spits at her, venomous in a way she’s never seen before — in a way he’s never let her see before. “I would claw every star from the sky, just to keep them from you.” 

The naked hatred that burns in Panam’s eyes steals the breath from Masara. She doesn’t quite flinch — she sits in her chair, straight-backed and with her chin raised because she is Amir’s queen, even now — but she feels her breath catch in her throat. She stares at Panam, at his vicious satisfaction.

“To rule is to put your kingdom before yourself,” she says eventually. “So this why your own father found you ill-suited for the crown.” 

“You would lecture me, even now?” Panam laughs, dismissive and derisive. He pushes himself to his feet. “Keep your sanctimony for the hangman’s noose, Cousin. If you even make it there. We’ve all heard the stories of imperial conquest.” 

He turns pointedly towards the foreign, blue-cloaked guards standing at the door. They stare forward, at nothing, blank and impassive in their open-faced helms, but Masara would be a fool — a greater fool than she already has been — to miss Panam’s leering implications. 

On the second day, they bring her Sulma, the youngest of her ladies-in-waiting. She attends Masara, pale and trembling, and refuses to say anything about the fighting or its conclusion. On the third day, five blue-cloaked imperial guards come to escort her to her own Great Hall. 

They flank her, two in front and three behind, as they march her down the Hall, the jewel of her palace. Bright green vines with purple flowers in constant bloom climb the white marble arches of her open air throne room. Heavy storm clouds hang over the hall, but the rain slides off the spellnet as if it were oiled cloth, keeping the hall dry. 

Perhaps half of Masara’s lords and ladies line the hall, grouped together in small clusters. Some stand tall and self-assured, carefully avoiding looking towards the throne, and others are timid and guarded by more blue-cloaked guards. Masara takes note of who is where, and with whom, but doesn’t let her eyes linger on her people. Instead, her attention is drawn by the man lounging on her tall silver throne, Panam standing triumphant by his side.

The Kassan Emperor is younger than Masara imagined, perhaps four years her junior. The style of his dress, if not the quality, is like many of his soldiers. He too wears a blue cloak. The gold crown on his brow, a heavy jeweled thing, clashes with the silver of Masara’s throne. 

When they reach the first steps of the raised dais, the guards push Masara to her knees. She goes down without resisting, but refuses to bend further; Sulma wove her dark hair into a braid she wears like a crown, and she keeps her head raised before this foreign conquerer. 

“Masara of Amir,” the young Emperor intones, voice pitched to carry throughout the hall. Masara says nothing. The Emperor seems to expect this. “We have asked you here to offer you the chance to swear yourself to our empire,” he says without preamble, direct and to the point. 

Masara doesn’t let her surprise show. “And what will happen if I give it?” she asks coolly.

The Emperor smiles. It turns his broad, tanned face into something even younger, almost boyish. “Then by our grace, you may keep your throne and your kingdom, and we ask only that you serve us as a loyally.” 

It’s not much of an offer; the lords and ladies in the hall begin murmuring urgently amongst themselves. Masara knows her court. She knows who’s already vowing never to kneel, and who thinks she should consider it, and who has already given their oaths to Panam. 

“And what will happen if I refuse?” She’s not looking at the Emperor when she asks; she’s looking at her cousin, at the angry set of his mouth – this is not what he expected. Good, Masara thinks. 

The Emperor shrugs. “Then I will find someone who won’t.” 

It’s still not much of a choice, but to rule is to put one’s kingdom before one’s self. The hall falls silent when Masara slowly rises from her knees. The guards let her. 

She swallows her pride and bows her head, spreading her skirts in a deep curtsey. “Your imperial majesty,” she says loudly, clearly.

“Rise,” the Emperor bids her almost immediately, and with surprising warmth. 

Masara straightens and raises her gaze towards the silver throne again. 

Something inside her shifts, filling her chest with sharp, hard edges, when she sees Panam’s open shock and fury next to the Emperor’s pleased smile. 

She lowers her eyes again, demure. “Your imperial majesty,” she says. That unnamed thing still expands in her chest, large and painful. She speaks past it, soft and sweet, like her mother taught her when Panam was still the Crown Prince and Masara was still meant to seal alliances. “You will have my loyalty, and that of Amir’s,” she swears. “All I ask in return is that you give me my cousin’s head.” 

idk why everyone i write is so bitter lately. WHERE IS THE HAPPY, where is the FLUFF?? 

eh, not here. 

part two 

[yachtingboat]

Editor's Note: Summer Season in Full Swing

Editor's Note: Summer Season in Full Swing

Often in the midst of the Mediterrenean summer season there is a welcome calm before the storm of the looming yacht shows. But despite the usual lull, this week, we’ve been as busy as ever in the newsroom, receiving updates thick and fast from across the globe.

Today, in fact came one of the most impressive announcements of the week from Burgess, who, just over four months after being listed on the brokerage market announced the sale of 78.4 motor yacht Eminence. With the buyer introduced by Worth Avenue Yachts she marked an ultra active market even in this size range.

Shipbuilders at CCN have also been busy this week. After updating the world on the successful in-construction process of Panam - which will travel at a speed of 31 knots -  we’re waiting eagerly in anticipation for the vessel’s launch next summer. 

In other breaking news, we also heard from shipyard, Nobiskrug. The German yard announced that longstanding Managing Director Holger Kahl is to step down from his position, however will stay within the holding company, taking an advisory role. We take a look back on his incredible time at Nobiskrug here. 

We also had the opportunity to catch up with Winch this week who shared with Superyachts.com a number of exciting updates from their design studio. Looking inside the interior of Lurssen-giant, Tis, we learned of the challenges faced when designing a yacht in the Top 100. You can read the full update in Jenna Medhi’s story here. 

By way of destinations this week, we took to the Med; currently glistening in the height of season frenzy; for updates from two fantastic marinas. First, was a new addition to your bucket list: Yalıkavak Marina. Resting on Turkey’s stunning Bodrum Peninsula, writer George Bains explored the draw to this ‘eternal blue’ destination. Meanwhile, we further heard from Porto Montenegro, who’s expansions show no signs of slowing.

And finally, in the run-up to the biggest superyacht event of the year, the team at Superyachts.com couldn’t help but bring our readers an update from the Monaco Yacht Show. Under two months away, we took a peek inside this year’s Captain and Crew lounge. You can find out more here.

So as owners and charter guests enjoy time on board, the industry wheels continue to turn, quietly planning the events of September and the new season, which is indeed approaching quicker than you might think…

Burgess Sells 78.4m Eminence

Lurssen Superyacht Tis with Interior by Winch Design

CCN's Panam, Pictured Under Construction

Yalıkavak Marina

Nobiskrug MD Holger Kahl Steps Down