#chrome plaza

[1delta1408]

CRP005

EP is out for free download (pay what you want on Bandcamp).

https://chromeplaza.bandcamp.com/album/crp005

[spatulahat]

Going through my Cyberpunk 2077 Screenshots Folder Part 28 (Silence is golden)

[buryustogether]

plssss viktor vektor smut, maybe after female v got injured and had to be rushed to him?

mr doctor man

viktor vektor x f!reader (v)

wc: 5.2k

summary: an argument with your ripperdoc/friend with benefits leads to a distraction during an important street fight. luckily, he’s not going to hold it against you.

warnings/tags: friends with benefits, allusions to sex and hook ups, swearing, blood, reader gets the absolute shit beat out of them, fighting, angst, vomiting, gun violence, love confessions, allusions to smut

author’s note: ask and ye shall receive

partially inspired by mr doctor man by palaye royale

“ mr doctor man

questions his hands

lost his mind

clinically fine ”

Viktor was sure he was out of his mind.

When he’d become a ripperdoc, he did so with one goal, one job, in mind; helping the injured, making sure everyone in this city had a fair chance at facing whatever was waiting out there for them. He was supposed to protect his patients, make sure they were fit and safe from the very things he installed deep within their muscles and memories.

He was supposed to take care of his patients, not fuck them into oblivion.

You couldn’t help but admire the raised red scratches your nails had inflicted upon Viktor’s back as he sat tinkering with the new piece of chrome he was about to put into your open forearm. Sweat was still in the process of drying on the back of your neck, cooled by the hum of conditioning that eased out of the grates overhead. Sure, you’d come in this afternoon to grab some new tech - but you could have done that over in Kabuki. Corpo Plaza. Arroyo. Anywhere you passed on your way here. But those clinics didn’t have Vik, didn’t have the glint of his glasses when he glanced your way, didn’t have the ‘tats inked into his arm that you held onto for dear life when he was railing into you hard enough to make you see stars.

No, this was your favorite clinic by far. And it wasn’t just because you lived only five minutes away.

“So tell me, kid,” said Viktor as he gingerly placed the reinforced piece of chrome into the meat of your arm. You held your breath at the strange sensation as his expert hands slowly adjusted the metal. “You’ve never exactly expressed interest in physical combat gear. Thought you were more of a gun steel gray kind of girl.”

He talked to you like you weren’t a thing, like you weren’t a couple.

Because you weren’t. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t know exactly what you were. You’d been friends, of course, when Jackie had first brought you in with him to get his nose popped back into place after a bar fight tilted away from him. You would come over in the evenings with dinner after he closed the clinic and watch fights. You would help clean up when he needed the extra hands. And when friendly banter turned more and more flirtatious, you hadn’t been obliged to stop it.

When slaps on the shoulders turned into kisses, and those turned into finger fucks, and those turned into full-on poundings on his table or against the wall, you hadn’t protested one bit. You wanted there to be something more to it all, wanted him to think about you the same way you did him - when you were alone eating breakfast by yourself, when you were driving across town, when you were in bed at night, anywhere and everywhere all at once.

But you’d never said a word of it.

You didn’t want to cross a line you knew you couldn’t see, take whatever this was one step too far and lose one of your best friends. So you left everything where it was - don’t fix what’s not broken, right? Don’t meddle with things doing just fine on their own, right?

So you kept your mouth shut and your legs open.

“Oh, yeah,” you said and stared up at the ceiling above your head. Across the room, the low sounds of a match beginning to start murmured from the television. “I’ve got a fight in Heywood coming up in a couple of days. Guy’s known for being built like ‘Saka Tower, so I figured I’d steel myself up before going to get my ass handed to me.”

You expected Viktor to smile, for him to chuckle and for his bare abs to tense up like they did when he found something amusing. But he didn’t. Instead the corners of his mouth tilted downward as he pulled the machine that would hotwire your skin back together over to the table. “What’s this guy’s name?” he asked offhandedly.

His sudden change in tone irked you slightly. “I don’t know. Heard he goes by Decard. Big in the Badlands, apparently, and he came into town looking for competition that wasn’t walking on four legs or eating after the four-legs.”

“Hmm.”

Pursing your lips awkwardly, you drummed your fingers on your bare sternum - you were both still in the bare minimum after your little late afternoon romp - and pulled your focus back overhead. You took a breath and pushed it out. “Got a problem with me fighting or something?”

Viktor looked up at you over the rims of his glasses - fuck, that steely gray of his irises were something else - and fixed you with a warning stare. “Don’t bring your attitude now, kid,” he said and rotated the machine patching you up. Even as the conversation was going south, he was still intent on giving you the best treatment he was capable of.

“Well, I mean - sorry, but it suddenly seems like you’d rather be literally anywhere else than here.”

“I will be, if you keep running your tongue like that.”

Your stare turned into a glare as you looked up at the ceiling above your head. What the fuck was this? You and Viktor hardly ever fought - and if you did, it was over who was going to win the match you were streaming. Fuck all, you just sucked his dick until he whimpered, and now he was giving you some weird kind of cold shoulder?

You waited until the machine had done its job and your arm was back together before shoving off the table and gathering your clothes that had been scattered across the clinic floor. You could feel him - sitting in just his pants on his stool - watching your movements like a hawk. “You know what,” you said, bristling as you tugged your clothes back on, “if you’re going to go full blown hermit on me out of the blue for no fucking reason at all, I have no reason to be here.” You angrily yanked your shoes over your feet, not bothering to tie the laces. “Don’t bother showing up to the fight. I’ll have Jackie there if I get my spleen shot out.”

“Didn’t know there was an extended invite,” Viktor said as he pushed away from the table on his stool and rolled over to his desk.

“There would have been if your stage four terminal dickery hadn’t ruined the party.” Snatching up your holsters from his side table, you stopped for a moment while you clasped them over yourself. “What was that, anyway? What’s your deal? One minute we’re hot and heavy, and the next you’re acting like you want to be rid of me.”

Viktor rolled his eyes - you saw it in the reflection of the dirty mirror hung opposite his desk. He picked up that damned screwdriver he was always tinkering with and began to adjust the calibrations of his mechanical fingers. “Maybe if you got your head out of your ass for once, V, you’d see that it’s just the opposite. I don’t think you should be sticking your neck out more than you already do for a couple extra eddies. You and Jack already run around pulling enough shit. Street fighting when you should be resting isn’t exactly the move you’d pull if you’re playing with a full deck of cards.”

Fuck, he was good. He could roll five different insults into one and make it sound like he was actually worried about you.

“I’m sorry,” you said and cocked your head at him pointedly, “this coming from one of Night City’s greatest ring fighters?”

He shook his head in that way he did when he was getting ready to put something to rest - an argument, an idea, a patient… It made something in your gut twist. It made you feel small and childish - like you both knew he was right about this. Like he was talking to a little girl who refused to give up the fight just for the sake of fighting. “You’re stubborn, kid, and that’s a good thing most of the time. I’m not going to tell you what you can or can’t do. Go on. Kick some ass and prove me wrong.” He paused his tinkering for just a moment, and you thought he was going to rise and kiss you goodbye like he always did - but he just turned up the volume on the television. “I’ll be here either way.”

Overwhelmed with that sickening, roiling feeling in your belly, you threw up a hand and stalked toward the gates of the clinic. “Whatever, old man.”

As you stormed up the stairs leading into the alleyway between Viktor’s clinic and Misty’s shop, a coil of guilt turned itself about in the hollows of your chest. Maybe he was right - about your head being stuck up your ass. Your entire life you’d been fighting for your fair share in this city, being raised in the shadows of those who proved themselves time and time again to be bigger than you. From the time you knew how to properly hold a gun and throw a punch and speak your mind, you hadn’t let anything stop you - which hadn’t always been a good thing. A couple broken bones and black eyes had taught you that much.

But fighting - whether it was for your life or not - was all you knew. Arguing, and challenging, and defying… it felt as if it were in your blood like part of your DNA. The feeling of desperate survival never went away, no matter how much money you had or how full your belly was. Once it was there, it never went away.

This was what you told yourself two evenings later, when the stars and the moon were blocked out by the smog and the nighttime air was disrupted by thumping music and excited shouts and the wails of sirens in the distance. It was what you told yourself when you popped out the cricks in your neck and accepted pats on the back from those who had bet their monthly rents on you. And yet despite the fight about to happen in a few minutes’ time, despite the dozens of people surrounding the basketball court where it was to take place, your mind was stuck back in the clinic. Your ears still rang with the words both you and Viktor had hissed, your chest still stung with the venom laced between breaths. He had not called you, despite having a little get-together-date-night-come-over-and-let’s-fool-around-thing set up for last night. You had not called him, despite desperately needing encouragement for this fight, because you had caught a glimpse of Decard, and you’d almost choked on your own spit.

“Aye, V,” said a voice in your ear, and you were pulled back to the sidelines of the basketball court, where a crowd had gathered to watch the smackdown. You looked up at Jackie when he clasped your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing your attention up to his face. “You doin’ okay, choom? You nervous?”

Swallowing thick, you furrowed your brows and waved a feeble hand. Your knuckles had already been wrapped in bandages - something Viktor usually did before your fights, because he knew the best ways to keep them tight when you threw your punches. You had wrapped them yourself, and they were already falling loose. “M’fine,” you answered over the radio blaring across the lot. “Just… mind’s somewhere else.”

There came a look across Jackie’s face that told you he already knew exactly what you were talking about. You didn’t want to think about how he did. “Listen,” he said and grasped your other shoulder. “Worry all you want after, chica, but when you’re out there?” He used his knuckle to shove your chin in the direction of the court, where the fixer who had arranged the fight was arguing over bets with a corpo. “Your mind’s got’ta be out there, too. Otherwise you’re goin’ to get your ass handed to you and your brain won’t catch up ‘til you’re hurtin’ tomorrow.” When you looked back at him, mouth stretched into a taut line, his gaze softened a bit. He jostled you. “These kind’a things don’t last forever, choom. Trust me - Misty’s been on my ass enough times that she knows it better than I do, and we always come around. Just… let it go for a few minutes, yeah?”

Steeling your heart and sharpening your expression, you nodded your head slightly and took a breath. Just for a few minutes. Nothing but left hooks and dodges and roundhouses for just a few minutes. “Okay,” you said and shook yourself out. “Okay.”

“Atta’ girl.” Jackie clapped your hand in his own, then spun you around and shoved you in the direction of the court. “Now go and kick some ass. Drinks on you at the Afterlife to celebrate your victory, aye?”

Rounds of both cheers and taunts followed you as you walked onto the court to meet the fixer and your competition. Upon facing your opponent, you found your neck craning up. And up. And still up. Decard was fitted with an entire body of chrome and tech, more cyber than human in every sense of the word. Nearly seven feet tall. Fists of collapsable nanotech. Cybernetic eyes pixelated red that made his pupils look as though they were bleeding from the inside out. You’d be lying if you told yourself he didn’t intimidate you to the point that if you weren’t being watched by hundreds of eyes, you’d probably have pissed yourself just a little bit.

“Alright, people,” said the fixer as he tallied up a number of bets. A quick glance at the pad in his hand told you that the onlookers’ faith lay more at Decard’s steel-toed feet than yours. “Please don’t turn this into a crime scene. I’m already on a watchlist for these kinds of things, so let’s keep this quick and clean. Hopefully I don’t have to tell you both that no cybernetic advancements are allowed. Gorilla arms, thermal knuckles, mantis blades, the whole shebang. No killing - perioud. ‘Kay?”

“Sure,” you said.

Decard growled from low in his throat.

Once the fixer had left the court and motioned for the pair of you to get ready, you took a moment to assess your opponent. As you dug your toes into the dirty tarmac, you looked him over. His head, of course, was an option, throat exposed over the collar of his tank top. But you doubted you’d have much time to grab at it, even if you got past those mechanical arms of his. You were scrambling to find a weak spot, to find some way this didn’t end in you limping away with a broken arm and a shattered ego, when your gaze shifted slightly behind him and into the crowd after catching a subtle glare of glass.

Fuck - he’d shown up. There he was, standing with crossed arms and a wide stance amongst the young onlookers streaming on their phones and squealing with excitement. Viktor met your eyes across the distance.

Then an earth-shaking, rib-crushing blow landed to your sternum, sending you tumbling over yourself in a heap of flailing limbs to the feet of the crowd. Pain like thunder blossoming violently across the sky expanded from your chest where Decard struck you, but you weren’t given much time to process what had just happened before the crowd was pulling you to your feet and pushing you back onto the court.

You had barely regained your breath before Decard came charging at you, steel teeth bared like some kind of animal as he barreled in your direction. Turning on your heel, you just barely managed to miss him - then took a running leap up onto his back and sat yourself on his hulking shoulders. The crowd erupted in surprise. Clenching your jaw and fighting with everything you had to stay on top of him while he bucked and pulled at your legs with a grip that would surely leave bruises in their wake, you locked an arm around his neck and began to squeeze. It wouldn’t take more than maybe twenty seconds for him to start getting lightheaded, even with all those implants. Maybe fifteen if you were lucky.

But it turned out you weren’t lucky. Very, very, very unlucky, in fact.

Decard backed up across the court as you tried to choke him out, heading straight for the rusted old hoop on a metal pole that creaked when a breeze blew it the wrong way. With a great roar and a heave, he slammed you back into the pole. Howling, searing, thundering pain overtook you, spreading from your spine to your shoulder blades to your hips, all throughout every nerve ending and fiber inside of you. Your vision whited out for just a moment as you slipped off the man’s shoulders and dropped to the warm tarmac. Goddammit, that hurt. That hurt like a bitch. That hurt like your vertebrae had cracked and one wrong move would put you six feet under.

With a low groan that you felt echoing in your very bones, you slowly propped yourself up on an elbow. You coughed and spat out a bit of saliva mixed with blood that pooled from where you’d bitten your tongue after being slammed into the pole. You knew after a blow like that you wouldn't be able to finish. As much as you fucking hated it, you were going to have to forfeit. All those cameras on you, all those eyes and bets… all fucking wasted.

And Viktor… fuck, he wouldn’t ever let you hear the end of this. If he spoke to you again outside of emergency clinic visits and checkups.

Sucking in a shallow breath, you stretched out a hand and patted the ground once, twice, three times. Those who saw it groaned at the fight having been so short. Eddies were being passed around, deposited into accounts as you began to make your way to your feet to slink off the court with your tail between your legs. But you didn’t quite make it.

Before you could find your footing, Decard’s large cybernetic hand snatched up the vulnerable skin of your throat and lifted you off the court into the air. Panic flooded your systems as your eyes widened and you gasped, trying to pull in air around the blockage on your neck. A few people cheered, thinking the fight was still on. No matter how much you kicked and flailed, they didn’t seem to get the hint that you had forfeited. You didn’t want to fight anymore.

They said you don’t always get what you want.

“Some shitshow for a merc I’ve heard so much fuss about,” Decard said, just inches from your face as he lifted you closer to him. Up close, you were able to see his cybernetic gaze flashing back and forth between your suddenly terrified eyes. “I was hoping I’d get a run for my money.”

You gasped around his iron-knuckled grip, uselessly kicking your feet against his chest plates. “M’done!” you wheezed out, listening to your heart pound wildly in your ears. “Y’win! Let me go!”

Decard grinned a sickening smile and brought his lips to the shell of your ear, so close you swore you felt his tongue brush against your lobe. “Come on and show me what you’re really made of, mercenary.” Then he turned and threw you across the court, sending you sprawling over yourself for the second time that evening. Another roar went up from the crowd as the cameras began filming again and new bets were placed.

Vision hazy and your spine screaming in protest, you scrambled out of the way just in time to miss Decard’s boot cracking the concrete where you just lay half a moment ago. You weren’t lucky enough to evade his next blow, a backhand that had you careening to the ground once more. Smack after punch, blow after kick, you were slowly losing the ability to raise your arms to even cover your face as he followed your pathetic little parade around the court.

The crowd seemed to be loving your beatdown. They cheered for more, for you to just give up, not knowing that you already had.

Upon coming to rest on your aching back from a roundhouse that had knocked you off your feet, you tilted your bloodied and bruised face to catch a glimpse of two figures arguing violently with the fixer who organized the whole event. Through the blur twinging the edges of your vision, you recognized Viktor and Jackie practically screaming at the man, gesturing wildly back and forth between you and the man approaching to possibly finish you off. Without your permission, your vision screen kicked in to read their lips and translate what they were saying.

“He’s fuckin’ killing her, idiota!” Jackie said and raised a hand to your form cowering on the ground.

“She tapped out fair and square,” snarled Viktor and poked a mechanical finger in the fixer’s chest. “Call it off before it goes any further.”

The fixer raised his hands in defense, shrugging a shoulder to prove his point. “Listen, chooms, just because you lost your bets doesn’t mean you’ve got to take it up with me.”

“She forfeited!” Viktor said. “Everyone with their eyes in their head saw her call for mercy.”

The fixer grinned sadistically. “I didn’t see anything.”

Snapping back to the court, you raised your gaze to the tall, sinewy mass of a man who towered over you with a heaving chest and a sick emotion of satisfaction sitting upon his stupid fat lips. For the second time, he raised you into the air by your throat and held you up like a trophy for all to see. You didn’t have the energy to fight back this time, couldn’t even if you thought it would do something. You simply gasped for air and gripped his forearm, hoping you’d black out sooner than later so you wouldn’t have to keep enduring this torture.

“Too bad no one’s going to remember your name,” Decard said to you over the noises of the onlookers. “V, was it?”

Through the blood spilling over your lips and the ache in every damn inch of your body, you snarled and spat, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, I will,” he replied. “To the image of you begging for mercy like a fucking dog.”

The words had barely escaped his lips when a miracle graced the old basketball court. A deafening gunshot like a firecracker went off just feet from your ear and an instant later, you were dropped from being suspended in the air. Forcing yourself to look up from the dirt digging into your cheek, you watched as Viktor, now standing on the court before a kneeling Decard as he screamed and cradled the blown-apart junction of his knee, leveled his handgun with his opposite shoulder.

“Don’t bother showing your face to any ripper in this fucking city,” Viktor warned, then cracked off another bullet into Decard’s shoulder. The man howled over the sounds of the crowd stampeding for their vehicles and the streets, then collapsed in on himself. “They won’t have any mercy on you.”

It was the last thing you saw before you rolled onto your side and vomited, allowing yourself to fall into that everlasting darkness behind your eyelids.

The first thing that hit you when your senses returned was the faint smell of cleaning alcohol, the kind that docs used to sterilize equipment before they dug deep into your chest. The second thing was the familiar sound of a television playing the sounds of a boxing match; the ringing of the bell and the commentator’s voice would have lulled you back to sleep, had it not been for the ache that thrummed like fire beneath your skin all across your body. From your toes to your scalp it hurt, pulling a low moan from the back of your throat.

Your brow scrunched, you opened your eyes and blinked a few times before recognizing the ceiling overhead as the same one you had glared at while fighting with Viktor two days ago. You were in his clinic, propped up on the operating chair with an IV stuck in your arm and bandages wrapped around your torso. Your spine bitched at you as you sat up and swept your gaze across the clinic. Viktor was nowhere to be found.

Fuck, you wanted to go home. Go home and take the longest nap in the history of time. How long had it been since the fight - since you got your ass almost literally handed to you on the internet for thousands of people to see? Your vision screen told you it had been almost twelve hours.

With a grunt, you carefully pulled the IV from your arm and swung your legs over the side of the chair - only to crumple to the floor the moment you tried to stand on your own two feet. Just a few seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you prayed it would be anyone except your doc. You couldn’t face him, not after he had to save your ass after telling you not to fight. Hell, you almost wished it would be Decard coming to finish you off.

But you recognized the bottoms of the shoes rushing toward you as Viktor’s, and you could do nothing but whimper and groan as he gingerly lifted you off the ground and back onto the chair.

“Jesus, kid,” he said as he carefully stuck the IV back into your skin. “Only just came to and you’re already trying to walk out like nothing happened.”

You said nothing as he sat back on his rolling stool beside you and brought up your vitals on his tablet. You couldn’t bare the thought of looking into those eyes of his as he chastised you for being so fucking stupid, for not heeding his advice. He probably thought you were an idiot, a naive kid so blinded by chasing glory she didn’t realize she was running straight into the sun.

But it seemed that Viktor didn’t get the this-is-supposed-to-be-awkward memo. “Hate to say it,” he said as he scrolled through his device, “but you had a close call, kid. Popped a vertebra out of place in your spine, fractured four of your ribs, dislocated a finger or two… I could go on, but I’d like to save time where I can. In other words, I’ve never had a patient come in quite as fucked up as you.”

“Gee, thanks.” You exhaled a painful breath, unable to push down the bubble forming in the bottom of your throat. Just when you thought you’d be able to ignore it, it ruptured. “Why don’t you just tell me off for being so stupid and send Misty to take me home?”

Viktor didn’t look at you. And that made you all the more furious. “I’m not doing this again, V,” he said and rolled away to deposit his tablet on his workbench. “Shut up and take a rest from it, will you? You’re fogging up the place with that hot head of yours.”

“In case you forgot,” you shot back, struggling to sit up straight in the curved operation chair, “you’re the one who started this shit. So don’t you try and pin it on me.”

He stood and remained there on his feet for a moment, hands placed firmly on his hips and nodding his head with pursed lips - like he was preparing himself to have this same spat again. A pang of guilt shot through you, but you beat it back.

“You know what?” he said and finally looked at you through his glasses. He threw out a hand and let it smack against his thigh. “Fine. I did start this. I’ll own that. But I only started it because - and this may come as a surprise to that thick skull of yours - but I actually care about you, kid. I do really give a shit if some shady bastard you decide to throw hands with over a few eddies manages to get the better of you and leave you bleeding out in a dumpster on the wrong side of Pacifica.” He ran his good hand through his hair - and over his temples, which were just beginning to show through his dark tresses with a few streaks of gray - and began to tread closer. “Maybe what we’ve got between us is a fun way to kick off a bit of stress for you, and I’ll keep myself in check if it is, but goddammit, V, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you got yourself gutted in a fucking streetfight!”

You realized he had gotten closer to your chair and raised his voice only when you flinched at his sudden outburst. He seemed to understand, too, just how close he had come, because he at once stood straight again and began to back off.

You reached out your hand and grabbed his wrist. “It’s not,” you found yourself whispering when he glanced at you over the rims of his glasses. You swallowed thick and forced the words up and out. “Just… just some outlet. I… I love you, Vik.” A wave of tears threatened to overtake your vision, turn your eyes watery and your voice wavering. “I know it doesn’t really seem like it a lot of the time, but I promise I do.”

There were a long, silent few moments in which neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. You squeezed your eyes together, suddenly afraid you had gone too far. That’s what you always did. You either went so far the line wasn’t even a line anymore, or you fell short enough that you didn’t even know there was one to begin with. You started to release his wrist, feeling as though you had fucked up yet another one of the good things in your life, when you felt his fingers angling your chin up so that he could press his lips to yours.

It was just like the millions of other times he had kissed you, when you were both in a rush to get your clothes off and climb on top of the other, and yet it was different all at the same time. This kiss was deep and genuine, relieved and thrilled. Sweet. Loving. He tasted like a faint twinge of whiskey, and when you grabbed his shirt collar to pull him closer and he grunted, a fan of breath swept across you like a ghosting whisper.

When you finally pulled apart, Viktor rested his forehead against yours and gently kissed the slope of your nose. “You better rest up quick, kid,” he murmured against your lips. “Because when you do, I’m going to spread those legs of yours and show you just how much I fucking love you.”

[punishing-eden]

Hii, Can I request a Chrome x reader fic please? It can be anything you want! :)

Hoping to Spend the Night with You…

Chrome (Archlight/Glory) x Commandant/reader

Summary:

Every night, he tries his best. Whenever he fails, he will just move on and try again.

Tags: fluff, one-shot, short fic, bittersweet, food wastage (I do not condone wasting food)

Many people do not like taking overtime because of how taxing it could be. However, to you, overtime might be the thing you need to catch up with all the paperwork on your desk.

It was a few hours before midnight, you poured yourself a cup of water.

After filling up your cup, you exited the dark pantry. The base has officially entered the after hour mode, and your colleagues, almost everyone was nowhere to be found.

The corridor was dimly lit by the emergency lights as you walk pass door after door. Tonight was special. There is a Bonfire festival happening in the Central Plaza in Babylonia. Everyone went.

Even your contructs, Lucia, Lee and Liv attedned. The three even got you a ticket. Despite so, you declined their offer, and gave it to Kamui instead.

"There are more important matters to deal with right now," you told yourself, "Maybe next year..."

There was a feeling of regret for your decision, although you were use to it.

Sometimes, sacrifices has to be made.

Gazing down at the floor, you walk a little aimlessly. Your mind wandered about, thinking about all the unnesscary stressor around you.

Instinctively, you made your way back to the door of your room.

"Commandant of Grey Raven," a familiar voice spoke up.

You jolted out from your train of thought, and saw Chrome standing in front of you. Quickly, you turned to face him, and greeted him tiredly, "Oh, Chrome! Hello..."

"I thought you were going to the Bonfire Festival with your team,"Chrome said, "I know Kamui went."

“About that," you began, "Kamui went because I have him my ticket. I am too busy with work to attend. What about you? Why didn't you join the others?"

You question seems to caught Chrome off guard. If it weren't for the lights, the tint on his cheeks would have been more apparent. Embarassed and flustered by his situtation, Chrome could only give you the gist of his predicament.

"I was invited by 'Mr Smith' to attend the festival," he continued, “but I declined.”

You gave Chrome a nodded, gesturing you understood what he meant.

“I prefer using this time to do something else I find meaningful,” Chrome confessed. Now that he has calmed, his voice spoke in a stern tone.

"Like what?" You asked him. Your face showed genuine curiousity.

There was a moment of silence between them. The construct had a stern and indiffernt look on his face. Yet, with his hands behind his back, his fingers fidgeted with a small plastic container, as well as hiding the baking stains on his sleeves.

Chrome was a little speechless. For, there was something in his M. I. N. D that he want to say. But didn't have the courage to say.

"... I prefer to use this time to spend getting tomorrow's briefs and reports ready..."He gave you a model, yet, generic answer.

Hearing his answer, you nodded and gave a small smile, "I get it. When you are too busy, you just can't seem to find time to do something else." you said understandingly.

Before Chrome had the chance to reply, you beat him to it, and walked back into your room.

"Well, I'll see you around, have a good night," you said.

The automatic door closed as soon as you entered.

Chrome was left all alone. He could only watch you leave. He could not mutter a single word of protest. He really wanted to, but his sense of duty as a construct stopped him.

Fingers continued to play the plastic container. He finally took it out from his back, and looked at the small piece of cake. The whipped cream was starting to melt.

It was a planned gift for you. A small refreshment, hoping it could lead to something more.

Without a word, Chrome head back to his room. Throwing the cake away in the bin, as he walked along the corridor.

"Next time..." He said to himself.

---------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes:

This is a long time coming... I am so sorry to the person who requested this.

This fic with Chrome has been in my mind for a very long time. Like, when I first made this blog. I originally want to make it long because.....

But after a very long pondering, and covid :'), I decided less is more.

(C) Punishing Eden

[medtech-mara]

The Shrine Maiden Returns

Music: right here - keshi || always - keshi

Sitting on the Rooftop of Misty’s, V3AH waited for Reed. Leaning against the cheap plastic chair, her dark brown shaggy bangs parted down the middle of her forehead, as cliche as it was, a single raindrop fell onto her nose on a sunny day, quickly closing her eyes, she lowered her head to see Jago’s image emitted in front of her.

“V….” 

“Jago, don’t start. We both know this is how it was going to end.” She refused to look at her virus, this was the only way she could keep from the feeling of her heart being ripped out in the moment, dehumanizing him as much as she could. Looking down at the ground, pretending to check if her triple-knotted boots strings wrapped around needed to be tied.

The Tiger moved in closer and placed his chromed hands on top of hers, though he couldn’t touch her. When his finger tucked under her chin, she lifted her head with his motion, it was as if she didn’t have a choice. 

“V.. Please don’t do this.” His thick Korean accent coupled with his soft voice, something she’d only ever heard in his memories, but finally to her, after all this time. It felt like a warm shower on this cold winter day. 

“We still have options… We have to keep fighting. The-”

“They’re going to kill you, I know. This isn’t a decision I am making…” V3AH could feel herself starting to choke up, a lump in her throat. She was talking out loud to her imaginary tumor.

 His eyes dropped for a moment in defeat, and.. She couldn’t be sure where his emotions ended and hers began but tears filled both of their eyes, much like this whole ride, where somewhere along the line, V3AH stopped being herself. What took her place after Konpeki plaza, was someone new.

His image stood and slammed into a hug to V’s body, she felt his weight wrapped around her. 

“I won’t beg for my life anymore… If this is my end. I want to say..” Letting out a sigh, it felt as if the world was starting to lift from their shoulders.

“I’m sorry…”

What came after, it didn’t matter. They both knew what he was sorry for. The past 2 months have been him kicking her while she was already low. 

The constant comparison of how Lynn was a better Solo than her

Not As Beautiful as Chae-Rin..

Or Strong & sturdy as Mara.

None of these things she could ever hope to live up to, but something occurred to Jago at that moment.. No.. Ho-Seok.

It occurred to him, that she had a different role to fill in his life.

When his emitted image faded, V3AH looked up and saw an AV heading her way.. And in a turn of events. She picked up and ran, jumping down the flight of stairs trusting her cyberware to do their jobs.

The rest of the day, V3AH went back to Kabuki, walked around the streets, picking fights with Claws, doing what they both loved doing best. Protecting their little corner of the closest either could hope for heaven. 

And just as the sun was about to start its descent to the horizon, there was a calm over V3AH, the reassurance that this was the right decision. 

“Always… I’ll be right here.” Ho-Seoks soft voice echoed in her mind.

[multi-muse-transect]

If Songbird was a romance option for male and female V, then that would mean V is falling in love with an alternate version of themselves. Like with Leon Rinder who’s an alternate Johnny, especially when his name is a scrambled version of Robert John Linder, So Mi is basically V. Think about it:

Tried to make a name for herself by doing something ambitious. (Konpeki Plaza Heist/Breaching Militech data fort.)

Even had two friends who she loses.

Is “recruited” by someone loyal to a cause and acts as her father/mentor figure. (Johnny and Reed)

Is getting screwed over by people who claim to be chill but are not. (Myers/Dex)

Chromed to ensure success and survival just like V.

Is considered the best in their field just like V.

Even shares the same hair color as default female V.

And lastly is dying to the voices in her head.

No wonder V and her have chemistry.

[hyacinthdoll1315]

The Doll of Night City

"Did you hear?" the man spoke up. "Someone's been goin' round taking out people left an' right!"

The noise of the bar stereo did well to drown out the hushed whispers of patrons as they spoke about their day-to-day, handling business, or just nursing a drink before a big op. The man sitting at the front shook with nervousness Ill-fitting a Valentino.

Beside him, his compatriot looked surprised, putting his glass down in front of him. "No, what do you mean taking out? they got a target?"

"That's the thing! No one knows. It's almost random, but the person's zeroin' gangs, corpos, street thugs! heard they even went and clipped off a whole maelstrom hideout!"

"What? Who was helping them?" the man drank the rest of his drink before slamming it on the table. his pupils dilated as his voice trembled.

"No one, went in alone. Some guy noticed someone go in the back, heard gunshots, and yelling, then silence. Didn't even see anyone leave. from what I hear, when the cops showed, the scene was a bloodbath, people cut apart like scop, with bullets through all their heads."

the man's friend had trembled with his next words, eyes tracking across the room. "y-your kiddin, how? That can't be true. no way they did that without at least a long checkup after."

"And yet, that same damn night, Militech convoy is transferring some new, top-of-the-line merch. moving from the plaza to Kabuki, seems simple. Then, out of nowhere, while moving through a less busy street, there's a quiet bang and the driver's seat is now painted red.

truck stops as the guards come out to see the problem. and the place is completely silent. Another bang, and the guard to the right drops dead. there's this quiet ticking somewhere as the militech peeps are getting antsy, looking left and right, it goes completely quiet again as the soldiers are scanning around for danger, a closer ticking and bang, another one flatlines. 6 more soldiers are there and they start talking loud, looking for their target, fingers on the trigger of their guns.

the area is silent again until they hear that ticking getting closer. before it was as quiet as the wind, now it's just above a whisper, but they're too busy talking to tell where it's coming from. A third bang and guard number three's down. this time these guards know exactly where it came from and so point all their guns in the direction of the ticking. all their eyes are on the area where the shot came from and there's still that damn ticking. suddenly, one of them just starts firing. wether they saw something is hard to tell since it's pitch dark out here, but he just starts shooting his gun out across the whole area, hitting walls, a fence, a signpost, but not a single sound of someone getting hurt.

Bang. Completely opposite of where they were looking, and the man shooting his gun drops dead. now there's only two and they're panicking. they move back to the convoy for cover and start wildly looking around, ones already pulled the old driver out and are prepping to get in when suddenly, the ticking stops as a doll steps out from the shadows."

The man's partner slams his glass down, "A doll!? what, one of those JoyToys? okay, now you're fuckin' with me."

"N-not one of those dolls!" the man yells, loud enough to make his friend pause any laughter he was about to have. the bartender gives him a wary look before continuing her work.

"Sure, we all know that kind of doll, but I ain't talkin about them. I mean literally. Body covered in porcelain, limbs moving on ball joints, the thing was borged-up, nothin but chrome. it's got nothing on hand, looks completely unarmed and is wearing some rags you'd get in an XBD.

And while those two guards are tensed up, prepping for the worst, this thing is just slowly walkin forward. The thing was moving like it was on strings, face showing no emotion as it trudged forward, slowly and methodically. finally the guard not getting in the truck has enough and tries to take it out. Except the bullet never hits as the doll is suddenly to his right, still moving forward. guy keeps trying to shoot, to make it flinch, get it to stop getting closer, but every shot misses as it moves to the side. and then it's in front of him. ripping the gun out of his hands and knocking him to the floor. It aims the gun into the truck and shoots the other guard dead, before... it's arms open into mantis blades and...a-and,"

The man stops talking as his whole body trembles and shudders, his friend just takes it all in while trying to comfort his friend. it takes a few minutes for the man to get his breathing under control, and stop the tremors that shake through his body.

Once he's got himself stable, gets another drink and drinks it all down, his friend finally questions. "What happened to the convoy?"

"I don't know," the man answers, "when people found the scene, convoy was still there, all in one piece except for the two blasted windows. only thing missing was some cyberware for camouflage."

"how do you know about this?"

The man trembles. "I got help from a netrunner, wanted to see if we could try hit a convoy ourselves so asked them to track it. thing is that it noticed the camera moving and broke it. that netrunner, after sending me the video, said something had gone wrong. I've tried contacting them but haven't heard a word from them since. I think that thing knew we were watching, and now it's coming for me."

"That's crazy though," the friend said. "there's no way that you could have been tracked. I mean, aside from the video, only other person who knows would be the netrunner and there's no way they'd say anything, right?"

"m-maybe," the man considered.

"so cheer up choom! No way you flatlining aside from having too much to drink, c'mon, lets get you home to rest."

the two got up and left the bar, the bartender making a note of putting it on their tab.

No one noticed how the door stayed open for longer than it should have. No one noticed the quiet sound of ticking that got quieter as it moved. No one noticed the way the air fizzled just slightly as the door closed behind it.

[aggravateddurian]

Durian has created yet another variation of V because I'm just messing around in-game and I had this cool idea...

I can feel the AU mania overtaking me! It is a GOOD pain!!!

I like to call this AU "The Quiet Life" and it's honestly my fave, because I get to write smaller, more intimate stories about an ex-merc just living life in NC and I can create some new OCs to be her friends :).

This one's a 'V never goes to Konpeki Plaza and someone else gets the brain parasite terrorist rockerboy instead' AU. Basically, Valerie took a bullet and fall from a bridge during a gig (James Bond Skyfall-style) sometime during Act 1, before the Heist. Her cyberware saved her life, but she suffered severe injuries.

The injury guaranteed that she would not be able to participate in the Konpeki Plaza Heist, and Dexter DeShawn filled V's spot on the crew with another rising star from the Afterlife almost the second he found out about her situation. It seemed that the city had decided V's lifepath, and it did not include becoming a legendary Solo. Valerie took the hint. She became a bartender and began working for Mama Welles.

That means that while V's met some of the characters she'd normally see, like Evelyn and Judy, she has nothing to do with them. It's kind of bittersweet, and reminiscent of The Tower. V gets to live, but she loses all her chrome (almost everything needed to be removed to save her life) and has to start basically from scratch (she could work as a merc again, but the injuries have had a permanent effect on her, and she can't really bring herself to kill for money again).

Except for some close friends and associates (like Padre, Pepe, Mama Welles, Vik and Misty), V's traditional associates are either dead (Jackie), never met (Panam, Kerry, River, or even Johnny), thought her either dead or left the city (Regina, Wakako) or forgot about her (Judy specifically, after all, V was just some merc she met for like ten minutes and promptly disappeared back out of her life).

[sapphicgarland]

karkat or Dave playing animal crossing for the first time and getting really into it please!!!!

I interpreted this as davekat as it gave me more room to work with since I could have dialogue. It was a bit hard to expand on the prompt since there's no conflict but I did my best! I hope I made it cute enough to be interesting

“Okay, so how does this thing work?” Karkat asks as if they haven't had a Nintendo Switch for a whole year now.

Dave just shakes his head and gets up from the couch, once again showing him how to set it up. “How are you this bad with electronics?”

“Listen, last time I tried to do something more complicated than open a Google Chrome window I got a computer virus so bad it killed my crab dad. I think I'm allowed to just give up and accept that I shouldn't touch this shit.”

“Maybe you're right,” Dave says with a bit of a smile. “Okay, I got it hooked up. Ready?” He asks as he sits back down on the couch. 

Karkat follows and sits next to him, grabbing his pair of controllers. “Ready!”

“Okay, so, Jade said this isn't immediately two player so I figured we'll take turns setting up our characters and stuff and then play it together?”

Karkat nods in agreement, so Dave starts up his profile first and opens up Animal Crossing for the first time. “This game better be worth the $50 plus tax or I'm making Jade pay us back.”

Karkat laughs a bit and playfully slaps Dave's arm, a gesture that Dave has gotten used to over the years. No more flinching now that he knows it's a safe affection. “Shut up, I'm sure it'll be fine. Besides, it's not like we can't afford it.”

Dave just shrugs and goes quiet as the game continues. He mumbles the dialogue and text aloud so that he's not skipping too fast or too slow for Karkat. Karkat gives a chuckle, which causes Dave to stop and look at him. “what?”

“Oh, I just like the little voices,” he says with another chuckle. Dave cracks a small smile and nods in agreement before continuing. 

“pick your style…oh yes. The two genders; short hair or ponytail,” Dave chuckles.

“Hey they say style!” Karkat chuckles. “which will you choose?”

Dave lingers for a moment before just picking the short hair, non-pony tail one with a shrug and continues on. They debate on which island to pick before finally settling on the one with the River cutting the island straight through into 3 sections, and finally moving on.

“If you could only bring one thing…huh. What do you think, babe?” Dave asks.

Karkat thinks for a moment, “well, presumably there'd be something edible on the island. I'd say a lamp? Though I'd prefer aflashlight.”

“That makes sense but there'd be no electricity. Once the battery dies you're screwed if you can't make a fire.”

“You'd have to make a fire anyway to cook a lot of the food you'd be eating.”

“Ah but if you bring food you can buy yourself time until you can make weapons and figure out what's edible or not.”

“See, this is why I always say a survival guide based on the biome and general geographical location of the island.” *karkat says with a huff,* “why isn't that an option??”

Dave rolls his eyes and picks lamp, a small smile on his face, “because they don't have your brain, I guess.” 

They move on and finally arrive on the island. Their first two villagers are Canberra and Raold. They rush through Tom Nook's dialogue a bit, Dave reading it out loud quickly. They're bored at first, too much exposition for their taste. Though, Karkat isn't complaining, and Dave knows that this is just how games work sometimes. It probably means there's very little non-skippable dialogue for the rest of the game. 

“Finally.” Dave says as they are released into the wild to explore.”okay, we've gotta put up our tent. Where are we putting this bad boy, babe?” 

“Uhhh probably pretty close to the plaza right? I'm sure we'll be doing a lot of walking back and forth.”

“Agreed. I'm sure there's a way to move it in the future.” Dave sets the tent right next to the plaza. They go back and Dave finishes the beginning missions while Karkat watches. Eventually, Karkat's Head is in Dave's lap, just quietly watching as Dave gets their island ready. It takes a bit but eventually Dave stops and looks down,* “Okay, ready to join?”

Karkat nods and sits up. They switch profiles so that Karkat can get his character ready. 

“Okay, so should I just keep going or do we wanna switch back to your profile?” Karkat asks once his character is ready and his tent is placed.

Dave shrugs, “Nah. Go ahead and do some…uh….collecting? I was about to say mining,” he chuckled, “this isn't minecraft. Whatevering. I'll watch you for a while.

Karkat nods and just continues. Eventually Dave's head is on Karkat's lap, watching Karkat play. This continues for a couple of hours actually. Before long, almost everything that can be set up in just a day with no time travel is already set up. They switch profiles so that Dave can finish up some stuff that only he had permission to do (much to Karkat’s snarky disapproval). 

“I'm not sure what else to do for right now." Dave says after about another hour of playing with Karkat's Head in his lap. His hand goes down to pet through Karkat's hair a little. "I feel like we should wait for all this stuff to open up y'know? Like the museum and stuff.”

Karkat nods, “I mean we could grind a bit and get a bunch of…what was it, bells? But I don't want to sell all the resources and find out we actually needed them. Oh, we could bug the villagers, though.

Dave smiles a bit and nods, going to talk to Raold first and then Canberra. They both smile.

“aw the villagers are kind of cute. Okay, okay, I see what Jade meant,” Karkat admits. “I really like this game. It's cozy and really relaxing.”

Dave nods in agreement, “this is fun. We should play tomorrow too.”

[get-back-homeward]

Although the last thing the red-hot Beatles needed in early 1964 was a “secret weapon,” that’s exactly what they got when George Harrison received his first Rickenbacker 12-string, in a beautiful Fireglo finish, in February of that year, during the Beatles’ first U.S. tour.

The guitar was given to him by Francis C. Hall, owner and president of the California-based Rickenbacker company, which is now celebrating its 85th anniversary.Hall spoke to Brian Epstein before the Beatles arrived in the U.S. and arranged a meeting with the group. On February 8 at the Savoy Hilton in New York City, he showed the band several different models. Lennon tried out the 360/12 but thought it would be better for Harrison, who was sick in bed at the Plaza Hotel. When Harrison finally got to see it, he loved it immediately.

“Straight away I liked that you knew exactly which string was which,” Harrison said, referring to how the guitar’s 12 tuners are grouped in top- and side-mounted pairs on the headstock. “[On some] 12-strings, you spend hours trying to tune it.”

Harrison’s first 360/12 was the second Rickenbacker 12-string ever made; its serial number—CM107—dates it to December 1963. The main difference between it and the prototype is how they are strung. The first model had a conventional 12-string setup, in which the octave string is the first to be struck in each string pair. On Harrison’s model and subsequent Rickenbacker 12-strings, the octave strings occur second in the string pairs and the lower-pitched string is struck first.

Harrison’s guitar has a trapeze tailpiece, triangle inlays, double white pickguards, black control knobs and mono and stereo (Rick-O-Sound) outputs mounted on a chrome plate on the side of the guitar.

The guitar, with its unique, chiming sound, can be heard on "You Can't Do That," the bulk of the A Hard Day’s Night album, “I Call Your Name,” “What You’re Doing”—and several other songs, up to and including “Ticket to Ride.” His second 360/12, a 1965 model with rounded cutaways, is heard on “If I Needed Someone.”

[mail-me-a-snail]

i need vance to finally tip over the edge and into cyberpsychosis. i need him to hover in and out of the real world and the memories he has of the cold, harshly lit arasaka chop shop and the lonely basement and his spartan corpo plaza apartment. i need johnny to actually feel what it's like to be in a cyberpsycho's head while their chrome starts getting to their brain, feel all of vance's implants start to revolt against him

and i need him to be completely powerless to do anything.

and i need everyone around vance to be none the wiser.

[amphtaminedreams]

Currently Obsessing Over, Debrief No.4: EAT THE RICH (...But, like...After the Met Gala!)

-Anne Hathaway in custom Versace-

-L-R, top row: Olivia Rodrigo, Jenna Ortega, Sora Choi all in Thom Browne, bottom row: Conan Gray in Balmain-

-L-R, top row: Yung Miami in ACT N°1, Rihanna in Valentino Couture, bottom row: Tems in Robert Wun, Cardi B in Chenpeng Studio, Kim Kardashian in Schiaparelli-

-Emily Ratajkowski’s custom Dilara Fındıkoğlu dress, details-

-look, I hate exorbitant displays of wealth as much as the next perennially broke person (whose martyr of a landlord apparently has no choice but to raise the rent astronomically again! does the poor man’s suffering ever end!?)...But in the interest of FASHUN, I like to take a night off, anddd if the purpose of the Met Gala and all its afterparties isn’t to give a voice to the voiceless, i.e the amateur fashion girlies, then that would make this year all about Karl Lagerfeld and it is each and every one of our civilian duties to prevent that from happening! Monday 1st May 2023 was a celebration of three things, 1). Choupette the cat, 2). Anne Hathaway in custom Versace, 3). Emily Ratajkowski in custom Dilara Fındıkoğlu..and all the following fashion moments too-

-L-R, top row: Anok Yai in Atelier Prabal Gurung, Gwendoline Christie in Fendi, bottom row: Sydney Sweeney in Miu Miu, Rita Oran in Prabal Gurung, Nicole Kidman in Chanel-

-L-R: Aubrey Plaza in Stella McCartney, Vanessa Hudgens in Michael Kors, Olivia Rodrigo in Chanel, Keke Palmer in Sergio Hudson-

-Michaela Coel in custom Schiaparelli-

-L-R, top row: Margot Robbie in Chanel, Kate and Lila Moss in Fendi, Ashley Graham in Harris Reed, bottom row: Halle Bailey in Gucci, Emily Ratajkowski in Tory Burch, Penélope Cruz in Chanel, Chloe Fineman in Wiederhoeft-

-Anok Yai in 16Arlington-

-L-R, top row: Jeremy Pope in Balmain, Anne Hathaway in Versace, Jennie Kim in Chanel with Maude Apatow in Chloe & Sidney Sweeney, bottom row: Margot Robbie in Chanel, Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Whitney Peak in Chanel, Lizzo in Paco Rabanne-

-L-R, top row: Gabrielle Union & Dwayne Wade in Prada, Priyanka Chopra-Jonas in Valentino, Amanda Seyfried in Oscar de La Renta, Nicola Peltz in Valentino, bottom row: Yara Shahidi in Jean Paul Gaultier, Paris Hilton in Marc Jacobs, Palomo Essar in Luar, Lily James in Tamara Ralph Couture-

-Anok Yai-

-L-R, top row: Nicole Kidman, Florence Pugh in Valentino, bottom row: Phoebe Bridgers in Tory Burch, J-Lo in Ralph Lauren, Olivia Wilde in Chloe-

-L-R, top row: Dua Lipa in Chanel & Rihanna in Chrome Hearts, Chloe Fineman, Kerry Washington in Michael Kors, bottom row: Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, Jeremy Pope, LaLa Anthony, Lea Michele in Michael Kors-

-Emma Chamberlain in Miu Miu-

-L-R, top row: Cai Xukun, Iman Hammam & Joan Smalls, Emily Ratajowski in Versace, bottom row: Lil Nas, Shai Gilgeous-Alexander in Thom Browne, Ella Emhoff in Vaquera, Kate Moss in Fendi-

-L-R, top row: Lily James in Versace, Jennie Kim, Olivia Wilde, Paris Hilton, bottom row: Teyana Taylor, Elena Azzaro, Busta Rhymes, Georgia Fowler-

-Ava Max in Christian Siriano-

-L-R, top row: Aurora James in Bode, Whitney Peak, Yara Shahidi, Alia Bhatt in Prabal Gurung, bottom row: Quannah Chasinghorse in Prabal Gurung, Hannah Bagshawe and Eddie Redmayne in Alexander McQueen, Song Hye-kyo in Fendi, Kaitlyn Dever in Michael Kors-

-L-R, top row: Emilia Silberg and Jared Leto, Miranda Kerr in Dior, Kelsey Absille in Prabal Gurung, Adut Akech, bottom row: Kylie Jenner in Haider Ackermann for Jean Paul Gaultier, Cardi B in Richard Quinn, Dua Lipa in Chanel, Phillipa Soo in Richard Quinn-

-L-R: Rita Ora in a mix of vintage Fendi & Chanel, Kylie Jenner in Jean Paul Gaultier, Precious Lee in Fendi-

-Elle Fanning in Vivienne Westwood & Andreas Kronlather for Vivienne Westwood, details-

-L-R, top row: Keke Palmer in Sergio Hudson, Imaan Hammam in Standing Ground, Adut Akech in Carolina Herrera, Vitoria Ceretti in Balenciaga, bottom row: Liu Wen in Tory Burch, Irina Shayk in Yohji Yamamoto, Lily Aldridge in Oscar de La Renta-

-L-R: Yara Shahidi in Jean Paul Gaultier, Janelle Monae in Thom Browne, Devon Aoki in Jeremy Scott-

-L-R, top row: Gustav Witzøe in Palomo Spain, Precious Lee in Fendi, bottom row: Brian Tyree Henry in Karl Lagerfeld, Eva Chen in Fendi, Karen Elson in Christian Siriano-

-L-R, top row: Jordan Roth in Schiaparelli, Camila Morrone in Rodarte, Lily Collins in Vera Wang, bottom row: Daisy Edgar-Jones in Gucci, Pasha Harulia in Bevza, Margaret Qualley in Chanel, FKA Twigs in Maison Margiela-

-L-R, top row: Madelyn Cline in Stella McCartney, Alex Newell in Christian Siriano, Conan Gray, Isabelle Boemke in Bode, bottom row: Vanessa Hudgens in Michael Kors, Finneas O’Connell in Vivienne Westwood, Brooklyn Beckham and Nicola Peltz in Valentino, Liberty Ross in Burberry-

-L-R: Micaela Coel in Schiaparelli, Rita Ora, Ava Max in Christian Siriano-

-L-R, top row: LaLa Anthony in Sergio Hudson, Rihanna, Bad Bunny in Jacquemus, bottom row: Doja Cat in Oscar de La Renta, Ice Spice in archive Emilio Pucci, Cardi B in Miss Sohee-

-middle, far right: Emily Ratajkowski in Versace-

-Gigi Hadid in custom Givenchy, details-

-L-R, top row: Doja Cat in Oscar de La Renta, Alton Mason in Karl Lagerfeld Couture, Devon Aoki in Jeremy Scott, Lizzo in Chanel, bottom row: Michelle Yeoh in Karl Lagerfeld, Jodie Comer in Burberry, Chi Ossé in Advisry, Lea Michele in Michael Kors-

-L-R, top row: Salma Hayek in Gucci, Donatella Versace in Versace, Kylie Jenner, Lil Nas in Dior, bottom row: Aubrey Plaza in Stella McCartney, Mindy Kaling in Simkhai, Naomi Campbell in Chanel, Burna Boy in Burberry-

-Billie Eilish in Simone Rocha, details-

-L-R, top row: Micaela Diamond in Carolina Herrera, Kerry Washington in Michael Kors, Alexa Chung in Róisín Pierce, Anitta in Marc Jacobs, bottom row: Angèle in Chanel, Huma Abedin in Fendi, Julia Garner in Gucci, Svitlana Bevza in Bevza-

-Dua Lipa in Chanel-

-L-R, clockwise: Jenna Ortega in Thom Browne, Nicola Petz, Irina Shayk & Karlie Kloss, Emily Ratajkowski-

I have no time for the accompanying men in bland suits. Sorry bout it.

[merge-conflict]

the best part about writing a lot of divergent stuff and backstory is you get to remix shit because the same people are usually thinking about the same things...

“How do you expect to do your job well, with no plan?” “Well you know how it is,” she said, bending to rest her forehead gently against his, so that their lips were only an inch apart. He lifted his chin to kiss her but she turned away, letting her hand trail down over his bound chest. When her fingers skimmed over the outline of his cock he exhaled, breath warm against her cheek. “No plan survives contact with the enemy.” Goro pretended to be offended. “Am I supposed to be your enemy?” He leaned in closer, spreading his knees to remain stable, mouthing gently at her neck. “Or are you only suggesting some sort of…game?” “Like you don’t enjoy the competition,” she accused, before she could stop herself. His low chuckle gave her goosebumps. “What competition?”

(smut wip)

Which is a callback of the following:

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “But we must consider our options carefully. You are too impulsive.” “No plan is perfect,” she reminded him, annoyed. “No plan is perfect?” He repeated, contemptuous, dismissive. A man unaccustomed to being challenged by his inferiors. “Is this what you told yourself before Konpeki plaza?”

(the damn things overlap, ch.5)

Her chrome fingertips glide over the back of his hand and he releases her, feeling like he’s been burned. “Should I have lived like you? In total denial?” “At least I did not consort with the enemy.” She tilts her head, frowning almost imperceptibly. “Am I your enemy?”

(thread-safe, ch.1)

“Only teasing.” “You are?” He turned his attention to her again. “It is difficult to tell.” “That’s part of the game,” she replied calmly, as though her heart were not hammering its way out of her chest. It was her turn to look away. “Why, are you interested?” “In playing a game?” He was choosing his words carefully. “No.”

(the damn things overlap, ch. 5)

[realgirlonline]

realgirl1.4: the sanrio store

2020.7.8. remembering the sanrio store they used to have at horton plaza mall in san diego... the mall is being demolished and replaced with an ugly shiny chrome hell, just like all the ugly shiny chrome hells throughout the world. i think this mall was really fundamental to the formatting of my psyche. it’s a shame it’s being destroyed, i suppose it’s an important piece of postmodern architecture, and yet it itself was a sudden replacement for the old cabrillo theater. capitalism builds new buildings and then quickly tears them down without thinking, over and over again until finally it is 2020 and every surface of the earth is clear reflective glass, plain concrete, police batons, barbed wire. the end of capitalist spacetime cannot come soon enough.

[steelajeeg]

Strange Crew

Super7 ReAction and 5POA Finds

More Super7 ReAction pickups - and a Star Wars Retro Collection figure I couldn't resist.

Neon Frankenstein was the first Luminators/Bootleg inspired ReAction figure I saw, but I was never able to find him in person until now. Absolutely incredible colors. Gorgeous box art.

I might pick up another to display in package.

The McBain Simpsons figure was a big surprise. I've never seen these in the wild. Then they suddenly show up at the store near my office - on clearance - to make room for the new Troy McClure line.

Fun packaging, but I wish they did more on the back to homage Kenner's run of toys from R-rated properties.

Prototype Luke Skywalker speaks for itself. An esoteric extremely niche release in initially-repellant colors with a chrome foil package? Sign me up immediately. This one is going up on the wall as-is. Stunning presentation from a company known for lackluster packaging (I still had to peel off that awful Retro sticker)

And lastly, the Parks and Rec figures. Fun, but ultimately very plain.

My partner is a huge fan of the show, and these were on deep discount to make room for wave 2.

Accessories are very neat - but the packaging is not. I didn't even take photos of the back, they were so painfully boring.

On another note, the figures of Aubrey Plaza and Rashida Jones (not pictured) are very pale compared to their actual actresses. Which is especially noticeable when packaged next to a photo of them. Pretty lame.

[Instagram link for this post]

[orangemoonxworks]

COR REGNUM // DIVERGE, VOL. 0 MARCH OF THE FOOLS, PART I — XIII WRITTEN BY: Naude Lucem ------------------------------------------------

One of the common places for USF officers to slack off during their patrols were the rooftops though that meant everyone always knew where they were. So, they found blind spots like smaller buildings that were hidden in the cut, balconies with wide archways, back alleys where sunlight normally didn’t reach, and anywhere they could stay out of sight and out of my mind. Gula was in one of those spots. He was on the balcony of a vacant building near the Argentum Tower with a deep archway leaning over the thick stone railing around it. He quietly hummed and bobbed his head side to side while skimming surveillance footage through the monocle over his right eye. It was connected to the Oculi; small chrome orbs that were made to keep tabs on the goings on around the realm. These were created by Gula himself which wasn’t the least bit surprising. Along with the World Athenaeum, he presided over the Ars Inventorum Guild as well.

As he watched the footage, he thought about the events of the day. (“A scourge suddenly pops up in the heart of the Union Cross of all places. And not only that, it didn’t progress much beyond its inception point. There was a clear boundary this time, and none of the Shadows passed over it from what I could see. Hmm. And then there’s the Shadow Titan at the Fountain of Knowledge. Now why would it spawn there? And why was it so hell bent on destroying the area?”)

He nodded then quietly said to himself “Ah, questions, questions…”

(“As intriguing is this is, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. This could just be another coincidence in the sea of probabilities. But when all the chips fall and suspiciously line up somewhat perfectly, how can I not?”)

He skimmed through more recent footage, some of which was timed back about an hour before the Scourge struck Fountain Plaza. Most of the feed was from that area. Compared to what was left of it after the Shadow Titan’s rampage, one could hardly tell that was the same place.

(“The Fountain of Knowledge is at the heart of Union Cross after all. And it’s not like I haven’t had my eyes on the academy all this time, so I’m not that surprised. Still though, it’s a little too convenient”.)

He fiddled with his fingers, sliding them along the rough stone railing’s surface.

(“The Book of Prophecies being somewhere near the Fountain of Knowledge is something any chump could predict. That’s too on-the-nose. The Master was a lot of things but simple and transparent wasn’t one of them. He was always meticulous about what he said, what he did, how he did it, and how it’d be perceived by people. There’s no way it’d be that obvious.”)

Gula shook his head a bit and sighed.

(“A lead is a lead and that’s all that counts. It’s been years since I started this mission, and I haven’t gotten any closer to finding the traitor. Let’s hope that this isn’t a simple coincidence this time.”)

Gula eyes quickly blinked. “Hmm? What’s that?”

He stopped on a short clip of footage that was timed right after the Scourge’s inception when Shadows descended from the torn spatial rifts in the sky to wreak havoc. There, obscured by the dozens of students scrambling in every which way in panic, was a strange shadowy figure that upon zooming in appeared to have a humanoid silhouette. The limb extending from its body – likely an arm though hard to make out due to the students running by it was raised at an upward angle – possibly pointing toward to the sky.

Gula’s eyes slowly narrowed. “Huh. Now that can’t be normal.”

“What isn’t normal?”

Gula turned and looked over his shoulder. He wasn’t the least bit surprised by that someone managed to find him much less overhear what he’d said. In fact, given the smug smirk on his face as the person to whom the voice belonged to emerged from lightless room behind him, he was well aware that someone would find him. Once they stepped into the small light path cast from the nearby street lamps, Gula’s smirk slightly grew. He knew who they were before they even had a chance to catch him off-guard.

Ira, Mask-less with his white robe shinning in the orange street light path, stood sternly with his arms folded. “Please tell, if you will.”

“Oooh, Grandmaster Ira. Didn’t think I’d be getting a visit from you this evening. What’s got you out this late looking for little ole me?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

Ira opened his left hand. One of Gula’s oculi lay in his palm. “I found this snooping around.”

“Oh? And where did you find that?”

“Outside the window of the Council Hall — after our assembly earlier.”

Gula’s lack of a response and unwavering smirk annoyed Ira. He closed his hand, clenched it into a fist, then squeezed until the oculi popped. He opened his hand and let the crushed remnants sprinkle down like dirt. Gula remained silent.

“I told you before to cease production of these things. Not only do they infringe upon the trust of the people of this realm and your comrades, but they’re a violation of several laws the Master put in place. As a Grandmaster and Foreteller who’s sworn to protect this realm, I can’t believe you’ve willingly disregarded that.”

“Sure. That’s one way you can look at it — if it was that black and white.” Gula fully turned to face him with his back against the balcony’s stone railing. He pulled an oculi from his pocket then held it close to his eye between his thumb and middle finger. “But the way I see it, the oculi are nothing but insurance.”

“Insurance? For what?”

Gula tossed the oculi up. It stopped and hovered in the air above them.

“Do you honestly believe we can trust everyone around us? I mean, the fact that you still think of us as comrades after all this time pretty much says it all. Heh. That couldn’t be further from the truth. And you’re too afraid to accept that.”

“You can believe what you want, but that doesn’t change what we are to each other.” Ira told him.

Gula grabbed his stomach and chuckled. “Oh, really? Then why is that the snake, the bear, the leopard, and the fox all hate each other? I mean, do you see us when we’re all together? We’re a pin drop away from snapping each other’s necks. You could literally cut through the tension between us with a knife. And yet we put on our masks and pretend everything is okay for the sake of this realm.”

Gula tilted his head. “Tell me; does that sound like comrades to you?”

Ira started to say something but stopped. A quiet breathy groan was all the left his mouth.

Gula continued, “I don’t care if you believe me or not, but everything I do is always for the sake of this realm and everyone here. I’ve never been one to trust everything I see, hear, and feel. Our perception often lies and shields us from what’s really there. I’d rather know what lies beyond the wall than stay comfortably behind it.”

Ira replied, barely masking his irritation, “At the expense of the people?”

“Again, you can look at it that way of you want. But all I’m doing is making sure we don’t have any blemishes on our canvas. I mean, we have a beautiful portrait here, don’t we?” Gula said. His eyes narrowed into a piercing smug glare. “It’d be a shame if some ink ran from the brush.”

Ira sighed. “You too, huh.”

“Don’t go lumping me in with that moronic bear. I’m not paranoid enough to suspect any of us as a traitor, but I’m also not stupid enough to trust anyone either.” Gula snapped his fingers. The oculi descended from above and stopped just over his shoulder. He continued, “People are about as fickle as the weather, and loyalty is a lie peddled by the weak who are deathly afraid of themselves, and seek validation to soothe their egos. Trust is worthless.”

Unable to mask his anger any longer, Ira stepped to Gula then smacked the Oculi away with his backhand. It fell down to the street below. Even with that, Gula didn’t bother to flinch.

Ira spoke with all seriousness as he stared him down. “Feel however you want Gula, but you will cease production of the Oculi and destroy every single one of them. This is the final warning. If I find any of Oculi floating around the realm after today, then you will face the consequences – by my own hands.”

“Oh? Is that right?”

They stared each other down.

After about a minute of dead silence, Gula raised and waved his hand. “All right, fine. I’ll do as you say, O’ fearless leader. Nice display of power there by the way. The Master would be smiling ear to ear if he could see you now.”

Gula pushed himself off the railing and tapped Ira in the shoulder as he walked pass. Just as he was about to go inside, having stepped out of the street lights path, he stopped. He turned to the side and looked back at Ira.

“Hey, do you know why the unicorn is such a fascinating creature? It’s because it only exists if you believe in it. Crazy, huh? Your whole existence could be snuffed out at any moment and there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s gotta be terrifying, right? Personally I never believed in myths or fairy tales and there’s nothing that can change that.”

Another air of silence swept between them.

Ira clenched his fists then took a quiet, small breath before he spoke. “Try as you may but you will never be him.”

“Same goes for you, leader.” Gula shot back.

After that, he vanished into the darkness.

Gula reappeared on a nearby rooftop with a clear view of the Argentum Tower. He flicked the monocle over his right eye back on with a finger tap, then brought back the paused footage with the mysterious shadowy figure.

“Now then, what are you…” ------------------------------------------------