#so yeah i'll boost their shit to show my appreciation for that

[thingswhatareawesome]

i generally like the xiv masto crowd, but kind of fucking annoyed at those being bitchy that boosting the *official xiv account's posts* are somehow spoilers. THEY'RE THE GODDAMNED OFFICIAL ACCOUNT. not my fault that people consider ANY breath of anything spoilers, even the literal company/devs just announcing/advertising their new shit. like fucking lighten the fuck up, or learn to take some responsibility and idk block the fucking official accounts then??

[felice-jaganshi]

Made With Love

Radioapple

Chapter 3: Venison

(The song used in this chapter: May I Have This Dance)

Many years went by, with Lucifer doing his best to care for Charlie despite his relationship with Lilith deteriorating to the point she moved out, and took majority custody of their daughter. But that was decades ago now. All the while, he'd listen to Alastor's radio shows, and keep an eye on him through his bow. Just admiring him from afar…

Today however… something went wrong. As we started up his spell to watch Alastor, he saw he was in the middle of a fight against a pair of other demons. Oh shit, Alastor was bleeding!

Luci looked around through the spell best he could to figure out the location before shape-shifting and running off in disguise to get his deer!

____________

Alastor woke up in pain, he opened his eyes to see a canopy over head. Well, certainly not his bedroom. Nore that silly picture box's tastes… so where was he?

He sat up and immediately shut his eyes, hissing in pain from his wounds. He clutched at his abdomen, only to realize his shirt was missing, and he was bandaged up.

“Careful.” The voice made him freeze, eyes shooting open and searching the room. “Move too fast and you'll rip the stitches back open and I'll have to start all over.” His eyes finally landed on Lucifer, sitting in a chair next to the bed in the same form he'd seen before in his mother's house.

“My liege… it's nice to see you again.” Honestly nicer than Alastor expected it to feel, but he'd pocket that for analysis later.  

“Yeah, nice to see you too. You've been gone for a long time Al… I was worried when you stopped summoning me, as breaking a deal with the devil has consequences.” He stood from his chair. Hands on his cane in front of him.

“But then I realized you'd just died! And decided to grant you some leniency till you got comfortable in your new home… However, it's been a hundred years, and you still haven't come to visit. So I'm gonna need something as repayment for ignoring our deal.” 

Alastor's ears drooped, even as the smile never left his face, and Lucifer found it so cute! 

“Oh, don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you, we're friends, remember? I have a very simple solution. I've done the math and basically if we have dinner together every other night, we should be caught up in about seven years. How does that sound?”

His ears slowly perked back up, “Is.. that all, Sire? I was… expecting more.”

“Do you want more?” He looked at Alastor with an intense hunger in his eyes. It reminded him of how Rosie tried to make a literal meal out of him when she invited him to her shop for lunch!

“No, no! That's quite alright! I appreciate your kindness and generosity, Sire.” He tried to bow to his king, but failed due to his injuries.

Lucifer frowned, “Ah, that's no good… here, let me help.” He then created a cane for Alastor with a radio mic at the end. He offered it over, and as soon as Alastor took it, he felt a surge of power flow through him and his wounds healed almost instantly.

He raised an eyebrow, “If you could have healed me like that, why didn't you do it from the start, rather than undressing me?” Lucifer blushed before looking away.

“Uh because…” He smiled and held up a finger as an excuse hit him, “Because I needed to make sure you couldn't run away till you had agreed to the new conditions of our deal!”

Alastor looked unconvinced, but also couldn't see any other reason for any of this… so he had to go along with it. He got up from the bed, “Well, if you'll pardon me then, I must resume my skirmish with that rude picture box with this new power boost you've granted me. Which I am ever so grateful for, my liege. I'll be back later tonight for our dinner.” He started to walk away, when a golden rope wrapped around him and dragged him into the chair Lucifer had previously been sitting in. He tried to struggle free, only to find himself completely powerless, he felt like he did before he had ever made his deal with Lucifer.

“M-my lord?! What's the meaning of this?” He felt nervous, was the previous talk all just a charade?! Was his real punishment the loss of his powers?! No, no he couldn't have that!

“Well, it's already evening, Al. So I can't let you just run off like that.”

Lucifer circled Alastor. “Honestly, you should have come straight to me when you manifested in Hell, my pet. I'm rather put off with how long you've kept me waiting.”

“M-my king, I can explain.” His smile held fear, this was The Devil , after all. And the owner of his soul.

“No need, you wanted to amass Power and become an Overlord. Now there's only three reasons I can think of for you doing that.”

He stood behind Alastor, leaning towards his right ear, whispering in a warm tone. “You desire to serve and protect me, but need to be stronger to accomplish such a feat.” He dragged the back of his gloved hand across Alastor's cheek. “Like the good boy I want you to be.”

He moved to his other ear, a hand gently closing around Alastor's throat, voice taking on a reverberating growl. 

“Or, you wish to attempt to break free of our arrangement and kill me. To take my throne.” 

Alastor swallowed around the lump in his throat, his pulse quickening, and Lucifer felt it all. That fake smile he stitched onto his face wouldn't fool The Great Deceiver. Oh no, not when his body still betrayed his every thought. 

Hm, speaking of body… Lucifer couldn't help his thoughts from wandering, gazing down Alastor's shirtless body from over his shoulder, such a nice view from this angle. Those pants were annoyingly in the way though…

“Th-the third option, Sire?” Alastor's voice was barely there, afraid to say anything that could end his existence. 

“The third option, my deer .” He chuckled at his pun and pulled his hand from his throat. Alastor took a deep breath in relief before he felt something wet on his neck. Was that Lucifer's tongue?! Alastor felt his blood run cold, and Lucifer saw the goose bumps forming.

“Is that you just can't help yourself. You're addicted to the feeling of Power, and want more, more, more. But, my pet, I can give you all the Power you could ever desire, if you'll promise to stay by my side. Or does your desire to be a ‘self made man' keep you from me? Hm?” He wrapped his arms around Alastor's shoulders and rest his chin on his shoulder. “Tell me, love. Which is it? I won't get mad, promise.” He undid the rope holding Alastor in place, but the demon didn't dare to move. Didn't dare to speak a word. He felt like prey, a rabbit being eyed down by a wolf.

“You know… I think I'm in the mood for venison tonight.” He bit Alastor's neck, sucking and ravishing his tongue over the spot.

This jolted Alastor out of his shock! He stood quickly and started running through the palace. Lucifer chuckled darkly, and the sound echoed through the silent, empty building. 

“Run all you like, my pet. I love to chase.”

Alastor ran through the labyrinth of rooms, Lucifer's magic keeping him from just teleporting out with his shadows. He could hear his dark laughter, and… Singing.

“I'll give you one, two, three, a head start~, four, five, six, your fears intoxicating.”

Alastor ducked into a side room, hiding behind the door.

“I don't know if this is a fair game, but you smell so good, so it's you to blame.” He was right outside the door, tapping his fingers on it to the melody he was singing, “You can try to run, it makes all the more fun when I finally catch up to you.” Lucifer then kept walking down the hall, humming. Alastor let out a sigh of relief 

Till he felt a breath on the back of his neck instead. 

“Say little rabbit, do you dance~?”

Alastor sprinted out of the room at full speed, fear fueling his every move. Is this how his prey felt? Being hunted so viciously? No hope of escape, just prolonging The Inevitable?

He stopped in front of a full length wall mirror, finally seeing the mark on his neck from Lucifer's earlier bite. 

“Fuck… I can't leave here like this, what would the papers say? My reputation…” He covered the mark with a hand and couldn't stop the mortification that overcame him as his cheeks turned red.

His ears laid flat as he watched Lucifer's unhurried steps in the mirror, slowly coming up behind Alastor to stand beside him.

“It's a pretty mark, isn't it?” He placed a hand on Alastor's side, making him flinch and pull away.

“I don't like touch, Sire. Especially not a man's touch.” He growled, trying to reject the devil's advances. There was no more running to be had. To the death then! He wouldn't let Lucifer have his way without a fight!

“Oh? Hm, well that's fine. I can still admire your beauty without touching you.” He smiled and leaned on his cane, giving Alastor a syrupy look.

Alastor took another step backwards, “Why? Why are you suddenly like this?!”

“Hm? Oh I've always wanted you. Ever since our first date, when you made me that beautiful lamb. If I thought you'd say yes, I could have taken you to bed right there and then!” 

Alastor felt sick to his stomach, “Not interested. I didn't realize the devil was a lecherous pervert! How disgusting.” Yet, hadn't Alastor himself found the masculine form attractive on more than one occasion? No, no! That was purely acknowledging fashion! He- he wasn't. No!

He shook his head aggressively to rid himself of his thoughts. They were a distraction when he needed to focus!

Lucifer shrugged, “I can shapeshift if you'd rather I not have a dick in bed. Y'know, if that's the real hang up here. And like, no need to worry about what's considered a ‘sin’ or ‘unnatural’ by the church, you're already in hell. And, for the record, that shit isn't what sends people here. Plus, I'm not technically a man, I'm an angel. We don't play by the same gender and sex rules as humans biologically.”

“I'm still not interested!” Alastor's antlers grew and his claws extended, feeling the need to defend himself in case Lucifer wasn't going to take his “no” seriously. 

Lucifer just held up his hands, “Hey, hey, I thought we were having fun with that little chase. I see now I misread that. Okay, I still gotta court you properly. I get it, it's okay. I'm not gonna force myself on you.” He snorted, acting jovial and light about the whole ordeal, “I'd be no better than Adam back in the garden if that were the case.”

The glint of gold on his hand caught Alastor's eyes suddenly, “Is that a wedding ring? Are you making advances on me when you already have a partner?!” He was appalled!

“Oh? Well, n- uh. Hah, that's complicated. She and I are separated, we just co-parent our daughter and act as friends! I swear, she's aware of how I feel for you, and doesn't care one bit.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, “I'll believe that when I hear it from her own mouth. Now I'd like my shirt back so I may leave.”

Lucifer sighed and snapped his fingers, Alastor's clothes reappearing on his body, cleaned and repaired. He also released the restraints he'd placed on Alastor's powers. “There, but you will be back in three days for our dinner. I'll have a fully stocked kitchen for you to surprise me with whatever you'd like to make me.” 

Alastor didn't answer as he left through the shadows as quickly as possible. 

[sburbian-sage]

hey. fuck, i dont even know why im sendin this in. i'm the last one in my session, there's still shit to do, i'll have to get off my ass and do it eventually, but, uh. yeah it's just lonely as shit out here, heheh. um. sage of void. just. saying hello i guess! might see if i can get somewhere new with the magicant. it's been good to me so far. loneliness just doing a number on me. i hope it isnt intolerable for you, out where you are.

If you're thinking of escaping your session with the Skaian Magicant, I don't imagine you will, as a heads up. Though I do have a personal interest in saying this, because if it turns out you can do that and I went into this fuck-ass lovecraft-ass black space for no reason I might actually transmogrify myself into a public art exhibition.

I appreciate the show of solidarity from a fellow Sage, but between us both I think your situation is more dire. My main threat is mind-numbing boredom, starvation, and the possibility that I collide with something and instantly depressurize, killing me before I know it. You're still IN THE GAME, and the only advantage you have over me is better food and sunlight.

Advice on how to complete the session ASAP is somewhere between "obvious" and "you might want to look up a devoted guide". But to pay it back, I'll just tell you how I deal with the solitude and keeping up my mental wellbeing in the face of adversity.

This comes naturally to us as Sages, but bust out the whiteboard and write down everything you need to do it, with a list of steps if it's particularly involved or complicated. Not only can you cross things off (or checkmark them if it's a routine), but breaking down a daunting gauntlet into a series of smaller steps builds the fortitude of mind to take it on. For you specifically, this also boosts RP.

The Replayernet isn't just valuable for all the guides, it has things and people in it. If you have friends, keep in contact with them for the moral support. If you have hobbies, indulge them so you don't explode. If you're running low on reasons to live, "what if my favorite webcomic updates" can be enough.

Uphold your routines. Only excise them definitively, NEVER shirk them because it's not that important, you can do it later, etc. Some self-discipline builds willpower, and deciding not to do something inconsequential like brushing your teeth, changing your clothes, or checking your DMs can end up being the first step in a slow suicide., where everything becomes not that important and then you die.

Prioritizing your mental health is important, but don't neglect your duties, game-mandated or otherwise. There are times where you'll face a tough puzzle or difficult boss and want to turn in for the day and watch cartoons or something. Nobody's there to put your nose to the grindstone and regulate your behavior, so that falls upon you. Treat it like a reward for a hard day's work. Do not succumb to sedentary pleasures.

Similarly, the hobbies don't all have to be mindless pleasure, and in face shouldn't be (or shouldn't entirely be). This blog is somewhere between hobby and duty. I do it because it's useful, mentally stimulating, and challenges me in a lower-stakes environment. You can get similar results from books, puzzles, or video games. That last one is especially recommended by me, get your hands on some ROMs and an emulator. Those old-school games are simple to learn, challenging to master, not to mention you get to lord your superiority over other people by listing how many games that never got an official translation/export you've beaten.

You've probably done all of this before, or are familiar with the outline of what I'm reccomending. The advice is meant to spur you to double-down and provide structure to it. You're standing alone now, but that doesn't mean you can't build guard-rails or other systems of support to keep yourself from falling over.

[vonlipvig]

Not to be another anon NFB ask or anything but I'm glad there's like one person in the fandom that appreciates Megan Wolfe. She leads most of the broadcast and developes from messing up "welcome back" to becoming news anchor through the most unexpected means and had to be brought down with Channel 1 and devolve to mindless entertainment. I don't see people talk about her enough aside from her angry bits (albeit funny) which is so criminal so thank you for your service

(nfb asks, anon or not, are always more than welcome, this game lives rent free in my mind anyway lmao)

BUT YES, IT'S ALWAYS LOVE AND APPRECIATE MEGAN O'CLOCK IN THIS BLOG, BABY

but yeah, as you said, i love joking about her as much as the next guy and i'll always find a way to mention TAKE A HIKE, BRUSH BOY--because god, she's so freaking funny--but SHE'S SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER. she starts out as this young newbie who's wildly ambitious and willing to network and align herself with the people who will boost her up that corporate ladder (advance, even sophia rymmington), but at the same time she loves what she does and understands the responsibilities she holds and she comes to regret a lot of the things that got her there in the later game, but finds that her hands are tied after all.

(and there's something to be said about how she doesn't react the same way jeremy does in that situation, not only because she has seen how much damage that did to her friend, but because she doesn't have the...freedom to do so? she owes a lot more to advance than jeremy ever did. i also think that it has something to do with her being a woman, which kinda parallels with julia's position a bit. food for thought).

and yeah, she's so flawed, and i love all those flaws in her! she's fun and friendly, she's a bit of a diva, she's hardworking, she's a bit of a kissass, it's great! we see her grow--both in her career and as a person--and you can always see how much she cares. one of my favorite scenes is in the 20 week war during the clement laments sequence, when peter is like "and you know what? you get more like him every day", and she stares him down and goes "i will take that as a compliment", like AUGH IT KILLS ME (even more so if jeremy is dead).

and of course, how the different finales affect her character can vary in such interesting ways. the jeremy dies/alan dies branch, especially if you play the tape, absolutely destroys me. when she says “We were journalists. The gatekeepers of truth. And now? Now we’re this shit-show. The great misdirection played nightly, so bright and fun and shiny that you can’t see what’s happening right in front of your face. Well, that’s on us. That’s on me.”? LIKE HELLO WHAT A CHARACTER ARC. it's great and I will never stop hyping her up.

and also, like....she's really hot. that's purely a bonus, but man, she's really hot lmao.

anyway, megan wolfe appreciation hours are 24/7 baby i love my babygirl so much.

[writing-rat]

Snow Ball

Summary: Robin doesn't have anyone to dance with, Nancy decides to change that.

It had been a good night for Nancy. She did her dancing and watched the rest of the people dance. She sat down, smiling as she looked around as she caressed the drink in her hands, it was a coke that was provided for free on the table. Her smile faded however when she saw Dustin standing alone, after being rejected. She frowned as she downed her drink in one shot before she walked over to him. The boy was crying silently and discreetly. "Hey," she said casually, startling the younger boy who wiped his tears. "Hey," he responded, wiping his tears as best he could without seeming too upset. Seeming to not notice Nancy putting her hand out, she asked, "Want to dance?" Shocked, the boy asked to confirm if it was true by saying one word. "What?" He was in disbelief as he thought back to when the door was slammed on his face before Will went missing. "Come on, let's dance," Nancy said, holding his hand and dragged the eager boy to the dance floor. As she helped Dustin learn to dance, she ignored the stares that the 2 of them got as she was smiling. She did notice one pair though, a pair of ocean blue eyes on a freckly face. Said girl had a suit on and was just sitting down in a corner, clearly regretting being there. Nancy was currently with Dustin however so she couldn't do anything just yet. She was smiling as she pulled the boy closer, who had his arms around Nancy's hips gently, and her hands on his shoulders. As she guided him along the music, he started to get the hang of it and was smiling happily. Stacy, the girl who rejected him, just watched in shock, causing Nancy to comment about it. "You know... out of all my brother's friends... you're my favourite," she said smiling as she looked at him in the eyes, showing she was sincere with him, as it was definitely true. She didn't like most of her brother's friends, Dustin had always treated her nicely though, even when she was rude. He had a grin spreading all over his face like he just learnt some good news that would change the world. "You've always been my favourite," she added on. Dustin, nervous to ask, was eager but had a question. "Really?" he asked. She nodded and did a signature smile. With a nod, she said, "yes." As she looked over at Stacy, she noticed she was still watching, disgust and shock still on her face. "You know... girls this age are dumb. Give it a few years, and they'll regret not having you," Nancy said. "You're going to drive all the ladies nuts," she added on to help boost his ego which was very much needed. "You think so?" he asked, wanting the reassurance as he kept dancing with Nancy. "Oh I know so," Nancy added on, a bigger smile coming out. As the song came to a stop, Dustin smiled as he pulled away. "You probably have someone to dance with so I'll leave you be now, but thank you," Dustin said, showing Nancy his appreciation. "Oh it's no problem," Nancy said and patted his shoulder, soon finding another person to dance with.

Meanwhile, she went to the freckled girl and recognised her. Barb had told her about Robin, how they had been best friends and showed photos of her. The girl hadn't changed much. "Robin, right?" Nancy asked her. Robin jumped, looking up, a bashful look in her eyes. "Ummm... yeah. Yeah, I'm Robin. How did you know? Wait, shit, I'm dumb. You were Barbara's friend, Nancy right?" she asked and tilted her head as Nancy chuckled and was nodding. "Yep, I am Nancy. Just wondering why you aren't dancing with anyone?" She asked, looking the girl up and down who was still wearing her suit. "Oh... it's because I didn't get asked. I never do and it's probably weird because I'm a girl in a suit which is weird because a guy doesn't want to dance with a girl in a suit, but I hate dresses because of their feel and tightness. Hell I have one but it's stashed in the bathroom because my mom didn't want me to wear a suit to the dance," the girl rambled, as Nancy couldn't help but giggle and look at her. "It's fine, don't worry. I get it. Do you want to dance with me then?" she asked looking at the other girl. The taller girl was shocked as she was stiffening up and was shocked, just blinked. "Yes.. sure. Why not?" she asked and was then realising something. "Wait... you know the rumours about me being gay right? Of course, you do, you are a news reporter and would report on it. Shit, I'm sorry. That was probably rude, I won't ask again I swear. I mean, I'm also wearing a suit so..." she said rambling, as Nancy rolled her eyes but she was smiling, showing it wasn't negative. "Robin. You don't have to ramble. If you want to, we could do it in a hallway where we can still hear the music? And of course, I've heard the rumours but I don't believe them until I hear from the actual source. Anyway, I don't really care," Nancy said and shrugged as she looked at the taller girl. Stunned, Robin nodded and then stood up. "I would prefer the hallway if you don't mind?" Robin asked as Nancy nodded and did a thumbs up.

As Nancy led them to a hallway, she was making sure no one saw for her comfort before she was in the perfect hallway. The music was still clear, and the hallway was quite dark. "Is this ok?" Nancy asked Robin smiling. Robin was nodding. "Yeah, yeah. It's fine," she said and smiled shyly. "You are aware I am actually lesbian though?" she added on as she was wanting Nancy to know. Nancy nodded and smiled. "I don't mind, I still want to dance with you. Everyone deserves a dance right?" she asked as Robin beamed. She then held her arms around Nancy's shoulders as Nancy wrapped her own arms around Robin's waist as they danced to the music. They smiled and talked as they were dancing, talking about the band to newspapers to relationships and everything they could talk to. She learnt many things about Robin, like how she had a poor family, how she was destined to only ride her bike, how she loved band so much, how she was learning to speak multiple languages and also how Robin was so clumsy that she managed to run into a wall in front of her crush when she was just walking down the hallway. Nancy giggled as she danced. "You really are a klutz huh? You dance well though," Nancy joked with a smile. As if on cue, Robin stumbled and held onto Nancy, as she shifted her body to take the blow from the floor. "Damn, thought my coordination was good," Robin joked, trying to ignore the blushing girl on top of her as she was looking up at the ceiling. It did receive a giggle though. "You're fine. But are you ok?" She asked concerned and looked at her. "Yeah, are you though?" Robin asked and tilted her head like a dog. "I'm fine, you took most of the force," she stated, still smiling with a laugh bubbling up her throat. Robin was nodding as she was blushing.

Now Nancy wasn't dumb and knew what the girl was thinking. She also was blushing and was looking around before she pecked Robin's cheek testing the waters before she stood up, then reached a hand out. A stuttering, red Robin took it before she was continuing the dance. They smiled as they talked more before Nancy thought. "When did you realise you liked girls?" Nancy casually asked. She knew she liked girls already, and was just seeing how Robin would react. "Uhhh, I fell for girls and kept looking at them, like how other women would look at boys, and that's when it hit me. My butterflies would have stomachs... I mean my stomach would have butterflies, and my heart would pound so hard I thought everyone could hear it," Robin said. Nancy grinned. "I keep thinking I'm hearing a heartbeat," Nancy stated, seeing how Robin would react. "I'm... I'm sorry. I know it's probably wrong because you are the perfect girl. You probably won't even like gir-" she tried to apologise but was cut off. "Who said I didn't like girls?" Nancy asked. Robin stared, dumbfounded as she looked at Nancy to see if she was sincere. "You do?" Robin asked. Nancy smiled as she was nodding. "I wonder if you'd wanna hang out sometime soon?" Nancy offered. "As a date?" "Yes, it can be a date," Nancy said as she looked over. "I could kiss you..." Robin said aloud, not meaning to. "Then kiss me," Nancy said. That's when it hit Robin she said it aloud, becoming a stuttering mess before she was interrupted by soft lips that tasted of vanilla. Vanilla chapstick. Robin eased into the kiss as she smiled, holding onto her waist and closed her eyes. They kissed like that for a bit, until they heard footsteps. They quickly pulled away and leaned against the wall, acting casual. It was a false alarm however as they weren't coming to the hallway they were at, and didn't even look over. "Spend the night? Just to talk, get to know each other more and plan the date," she offered. "Also private dancing, cuddling and kissing," she added on with a grin. Eagerly Robin nodded and looked at her. "I'm down," she said. The rest of the night, Nancy was just speaking with Robin as they were getting along quite well and danced every now and then. Sure, there were a few stumbles and trips, but it was still fun at least. That was all it was about.

[majimasleftasscheek]

do you have any thots on dadjima👁👃👁

HOT DAMN YEAH I DO

OK OK SO I'm gonna mention Haruka a lot cuz she too is my daughter and I care her a lot

so I think it's p well established that Majima wants to be a dad. He has a lot of dialogue and whatnot implying he's very into the idea but also realizes he can't have that to a degree - either because of the whole yakuza thang™ or due to his own damage. I imagine he'd have a lot of anxiety actually being a father since his personality and lifestyle could be too much for actual family life. He has a lot of baggage and would fear the intimacy of family—fears his emotional distance would put a strain on people, even if it's to protect them at his expense. In the end he’s yakuza through and through and there’s parts of him that are rough around the edges and wouldn’t mesh with his own domestic wants. That'd be a hurdle he'd struggle to get over. 

butttttt I love love love Haruka and Majima family times because she's versed enough in the lifestyle these crime men lead. While she doesn't necessarily care for the dangers of yakuza life, she's experienced it and understands sometimes the boys gotta do what the boys gotta do. It's fucked and certainly not healthy for a child to have such involvement but to a selfish extent, Majima would appreciate it since that's the only life he knows. But, he'd dote on her, do anything to make her happy and protect her. He can't fix her trauma nor his own but he'd make the best of it. I think he'd compensate a lot to give her the perfect life and it ends up a little overbearing, just because he's trying so hard to make more good out of the bad.

speaking of which, he's defo the type to give a kid a lot of presents. Gift giving or hanging out to show he cares and how he connects. To an extent, I think he'd be too blunt about it - buying things to make up for something he did or something that can't simply be fixed with material wants. I think he'd be bad at dealing with negative emotions and short bursts of serotonin are his immediate ways of handling it. I think if he really needed to, he can break down the hard stuff and actually talk but he’d avoid it first if possible.

he's definitely jealous of Haruka and Kiryu's relationship - how easy it is for them to get along, how Kiryu can bumble through life as a square wheel and somehow exist as a makeshift dad. Majima likes to win and as a father, he'd try to be the "better" parent. Agreeing to do stuff with the kid even if it's not the greatest idea. Oh you wanna eat a whole ass cake for dinner? Sure we can and I'll even help :D and then they're sick as shit afterwards. He'd take responsibility for things the kid did wrong and the spoiling would be through the roof. He'd have to be talked down often. 

however, I do hc him as a stickler for rules so his household wouldn’t be total chaos. He has limits and standards he’d like to keep, perhaps more so to make a better life for the kid than himself. He’d like to keep his kid out of the nitty gritty, the shit he’s lived through so he knows that sometimes being a good lil boy that follows the rules is something you simply have to do. But he’d teach them resilience and resistance and following whatever code of life lets you live the fullest.

also 100% would teach his kid self defense and give them their very own knife how wholesome 🥺

Haruka things: I love the idea of him teaching her how to dance and sing. He would have the best time of his life doing something with her that not only interests him but is also something he's good at. Throw in an ego boost when she's impressed by his roller skating and he starts to think he can actually pull this dad thing off. Maybe he sings (good) just for her and it’s their little secret that he can actually do it and that makes it even more special.

Goromi stuff ohohoho—she would do up her kid’s hair, teach them makeup and let them practice on her. Playing house and having that inkling of domesticity she knows she can’t have entirely but even just a little is enough. Feels the type to think nothing is good enough for her kid and would judge anything given to them by others or romantic interests later on in life. Only the best for their special bby after all

[sleepynegress]

What is this trend of recent romance arcs that are done well being used to boost and uplift lesser predecessers? First, I noticed that w/ IWTV and all the all-white queerbait being weirdly compared... NOW, it's beeing done with Sauron/Galadriel and Reylo...*facepalm* The reason why these recent turns of good tropes in ships have worked, -the reasons why you need their lens to prop up the lessers that came before is because *they worked the tropes well* and those ones before did. not. In IWTV, the ship is not bait. It's not bland yt dudes in proximity that fandom latched onto because they are in proximity and the showrunner decided to bait you some. In ROP, Halbrand actually IS at a compelling stage...which is what made him accessible for Galadriel... He wasn't a weird incel who smashed his stuff when he got mad. He was truly trying to figure out who he was and where to go next after being at his lowest point and doing evil for thousands of years...(i.e. this isn't some spoiled teenager)... Though Galadriel ultimately made the right choice, (and we know will continue to do so)... In other words, their chemistry and maturity makes this iteration of the enemies/strangers/lovers/enemies trope so interesting and good... These are two hot adults... ULTRA-grown. Who come together for grown-ass reasons. It's also so fun to know where she ended up, and having added context for that. Girl WANTED THAT.

And he tempts her with a grown-ass reason. -I see your light...that will temper my shit choices (because he does regret!) and make our ruling over everything better. Hello, compromise. Love isn't enough... in mature relationships. You have to be looking/moving in the same direction. He tempted her with her goal, in compromise, basically. I'll go your direction, you show me... and WE'LL go. Because I appreciate what you can give us.

And then she turns him down for a grown-ass reason...."You killed my brother, you are too far gone and so am I, so far past it... i.e. I have been HUNTING YOU FOR THIS for hundreds of years!! WTF?!" They both played this brilliantly... She didn't go into a rage...She was more hurt by knowing this wasn't possible. A GROWN response. He didn't try to harm her or beg her. He stopped her from hurting him and presented his case straight out. Like this is what I want us to do now, that you're acknowledging that I'm Sauron...Then he took her no, and left... didn't hurt nobody on the way out. These are ancient beings, who are well past most of the experiences of life, jaded beauties who basically had that "oh no...this person is making me feel things..." happen (ironic in a fantasy) who'll always wonder... what if? Not two kids, one evolving idealist, the other spoiled and brash. P.S.

OH SHIT... just remembered one delicious detail. He didn't stop her blade at first, because HE. KNEW. she would stop it herself. But did the second time she did, because yeah... he read correctly that she was serious that time. But again... he never deigned to think fighting her for this was the way.

[7-ratsinatrenchcoat]

WHY I HATE HAWK

why I hate Hawk: an essay/list

I hope this will provide suitable explaination as to why I will never write Hawk into any of my fanfics. (this is /j but also /srs but also /j)

     Hawk the pig is a character many SDS fans love. They claim that he's adorable, he's relatable, he's stupid in a cute way. These people are wrong. Hawk is a stupid character who only causes inconvenience at best and tragic events at worst, and as a fan and author I cannot fucking stand him. 

     Let's start with the minor stuff. Season 1, we're introduced to this pink menace as a pig Meliodas just found in the cellar he woke up in after the Sins were framed. He eats trash within the first minute we see him onscreen, and if that's not bad enough, is fucking allergic to personal space. Good lord, the pig cannot leave Meliodas alone to save his goddamn life. He's lucky Elizabeth thinks he's cute.     

     Which he's not, by the way- his eyes are too small and beady, his ears are just weird, and if his appearance is somewhat aesthetically appealing then his attitude and personality ruins it. 

     He's arrogant and cocky, which aren't bad character traits if there's development later in the arc, but Hawk only exists for plot convenience and has zero character depth other than being a little bitch.

     If anything could have redeemed him, it would have been his sacrifice at the end of s1 to save Elizabeth and Meliodas. It was sad, he had some good last words, I was sad when he died. But now he stays dead and the moral is to appreciate the people in your life who love you unconditionally, right? Wrong. He immediately comes back to life, and the moment is lost. Okay, but he learned a valuable lesson that even he is not indestructible and everyone has their own weaknesses, right? Wrong again! Absolutely nothing has changed about him, and these events are completely blown over for the sake of Hawk continuing to be a convenient plot device, only adding to the list of reasons why he is annoying as hell.

    Another reason related to season 1, tying back to his complete disregard for personal space, is every time we see him tie up Meliodas in his own bed. I don't think I have to say much more than that. It was fucked up. I can hear the comments now- Oh, but Rat, he was just trying to protect Elizabeth! It was a wholesome intention! Yeah, and I don't give a shit! Give Elizabeth some spine and make her put her foot down about the groping situation and set some boundaries. It would honestly be a really good development to her character (going from a crybaby people pleaser to an independent and decisive member of the team). Meliodas is too much of an epic simp not to listen to her, and he pays attention to whether she's not bothered by it- but that's a rant for another day. The point is that Hawk is messing with what is objectively the best couple in the show and stealing Elizabeth's chance for character development. Just because you don't have any doesn't mean you have to steal the chance from everyone else.

     Season 2, according to Netflix, is only 4 episodes long, so that is what I'll be referencing here. The first episode in this season is focused on Hawk causing problems, derailing the Sins' entire plan for the day by freaking out over absolutely nothing. Honestly, it's just pathetic. Of course Meliodas saves the day by turning it into a game, but without his quick thinking that could have made Elizabeth upset. Gods forbid Elizabeth is anxious.

     Season 3. Oh boy. Hawk literally only serves as an introduction to power levels this season, and doesn’t even do a good job of it. He just whines about how he has a power level of 3,000 (he doesn’t) and how everyone else is beneath him. Even when he finds out two/three of the sins have higher power levels than him (they all do. Elizabeth does. He’s not special), he somehow manages to backhandedly compliment them into boosting his own ego. The best thing he does this season is make the teams even during the pre-Vaizel fights, and even then just does absolutely jack shit to help Escanor. If you really squint, I guess you can kind of understand why Hawk might be necessary to hold Merlin’s Aldan so everyone can watch Meliodas vs. the Ten Commandments, until you remember it can literally fucking float. 

All Hawk does in this scene is state the obvious and make Elizabeth sad, which is grounds for immediate execution in my book. In the undetermined amount of time it takes for Meliodas to drag his ass back from Purgatory, Hawk only exists to give Elizabeth some semblance of company, but if I was her I don’t know if I would love to have a naive, self-centered bastard pig next to me who's only capable of talking about himself while I grieved my dead soulmate. I wouldn't be surprised if he was super insensitive about it too, and spouted some shit like 'rip to Meliodas, but I'm different'.

Finally, in season four, we get an answer as to why the viewers have had to put up with this balloon-shaped fucker for so long. Aside from being just incredibly unhelpful while the curse is activated, Hawk is revealed to be an instrument of the Demon King in spying on our protagonists. Talk about helicopter parenting. But other than a brief reaction and getting Ban into purgatory (see what I mean about plot convenience??? Merlin could have done that if she wanted to, she’s the most powerful mage in Brittania. Make Merlin absolutely OP 2k22.) Hawk is just… okay with this. Goes about his day as he usually does, fully aware that our beloved bitch-ass DK is hanging out behind his eyes. Does he just not care that he could be actively compromising the plan to rescue (ie. smack some fucking sense into) Meliodas by giving a 4k view of what’s going on behind enemy lines?

With 100% honesty, I don’t understand why people love Hawk so much. He’s selfish, straight up fucking ugly, and only exists for Nabaka to use as a scape-pig for his plot holes. Have some critical thinking skills dude, you can get more creative than that. Hawk also robs Elizabeth of her much-deserved character development at every given opportunity, and generally is just a burden after the new seasons. 0/10 character, drop this fucker immediately.

[arminbitchlover]

reincarnated lovers (2)

armin arlert x f! reader

summary: after a terrible first date with armin, sasha convices reader to go out to a party but only to have an unexpected turn of events

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: mentions of drug use, alcohol use, assault is insinuated but doesn't actually happen

"YOU LOOK SOOO GOOD," Sasha squeals as you show her your outfit, making your confidence boost significantly.

"YOU TOO, YOU'RE SO HOT FOR NO REASON!" You both keep showering each other with confidence, not caring if your neighbors could hear you shouting.

You don't understand why you're suddenly filled with anticipation to go to some frat house that would be filled with strangers and smell like alcohol and weed, but you not troubled enough to even question it. All you know is that this is your first party as a freshman, and you want to make the most out of it with your best friend.

"So, who's going that you know anyways?" You glance at Sasha through your mirror as you apply lip gloss.

"Too many to count honestly and not to alarm you or anything but Jean will be there too." Sasha reluctantly spoke as you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

You completely forgot that Jean was a part of Sasha's friend group and now you're going to see him for the very first time since your breakup.

"Y/n?" Sasha waves her hand in front of your face and snaps you out of your deep thoughts.

"Sorry, but thanks for telling me." You shake your head as you try to not lose your train of thought again.

You and Sasha finish up on your final touches and make your way to the party as you feel your stomach flipping and hands slightly shake. Every time you start to tell yourself that Jean was just a friend now, you get flashbacks of everything you did as a couple, but you're going to let some guy ruin your first night out in college.

It doesn't take long to arrive and fuck, it didn't take long for the feelings of regret, nervousness, and panic to sink in. When you first arrive, people were already drunk in the front yard as couples made out the staircase leading to the front door. Immediately when opening the door, the bass from the speakers maakes your whole body vibrate with the music and your eyes strain from all the lights that were being cast across the house.

The whole place is already trashed with cups, plates, and different articles of clothing are scattered across the floor. You've always heard about how wild college parties can be, but you didn't expect something as crazed as this.

You turn to Sasha and see her talking to you but could only read her lips that make out, "I'm... drink," and walk away to the kitchen.

Well, shit.

You awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, not recognizing a single person until you feel a hand clasp your shoulder and pull you to a corner.

"Heya, gorgeousss, name's Flochhh..." A drunk man with auburn hair presses you against the wall as he tries to make conversation with you.

"S-Sorry, but I have to go." You try to get away from him only to have your arm get pulled back to the wall.

"Fucking let me go!" You fight to yank your arm away but don't have enough strength to succeed.

"Buttt I wantss to get chu know you babyyy." He leans in, trying to get your faces closer together, but luckily you dodge him quick enough to get out of his grasp.

"Watchu doinn- runninnn from me." He grasps your hand, but right when you were about to get pinned back against the wall again, you hear a stern voice.

"Get your hands off of her." You and Floch turn and see Armin, but this time with slightly smudged eyeliner with a long black sleeve that's complemented with a necklace and silver rings on both of his hands.

"Huhhh-," Floch slurs, finally letting go of you and confronting Armin.

Armin takes a step back with his hands in his pockets, not wanting to cause any issues, and lightly asserts, "This is my lovely girlfriend, so I would appreciate it if you would just back off, that's all."

Armin walkes up to you and wraps his arm around your waist as Floch's face becomes filled with complete disgust.

"So if you'll excuse us, we'll be getting out of your way so you can get as shitfaced as you like." He smirks at Floch and pulls you away, his hand still clutching your waist.

As he takes you away, you immediately notice how his arm feels so natural around you, like it was meant to be there which causes your heartbeat to quicken.

You only see him as the boy you went on an awkward date with, why did he suddenly make you feel this way?

"Thank you for your help, Armin." You bring your hand to the one that was resting on your waist and squeeze it to show your gratitude.

"I was only doing the bare minimum, no need to thank me." He tenderly looks into your eyes with compassion, not aware that he never let go of your waist.

"Well, what were you doing here anyway, you didn't catch me as the party type." You playfully joke as he grabs your arm and enters a large crowd that's dancing to music.

He turns to face you and tilts his head towards your ear to answer, "I heard you were coming, and I wanted to talk to you."

He grabs you by the waist and starts moving to the beat of the song to follow along with everyone surrounding you.

You feel your face start to heat up, finding it so attractive the way he leaned in to talk to you. He's a completely different person from the guy you went out with. This time he seems so much more confident by the way he holds you, speaks to you, and his fashion did a complete 180.

"Well, what's up?" You gain enough courage to wrap your arms around his neck and move your body with his.

You both move completely in sync forgetting for a second that you weren't the only two people in the room. You feel yourself start to get more butterflies as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly pulls you closer and closer. Before you know it, you have the biggest smile on your face as you have the time of your life with Armin.

This is what you've been missing out on, while you had been locked up in your dorm, exhausting yourself with no sign of ending. While Sasha's the one who made you come out of your comfort zone, Armin's the one who making you enjoy yourself the most and you love the idea of that. You love knowing that there's a person who could actually make you a better person and still make you feel comfortable while being alone with him.

"I don't really know how to explain this, but-"

"Y/N!!" Sasha pushes her way into the crowd and finds you and Armin with your bodies only centimeters apart, but seemingly didn't notice the tension between the two of you.

"Armin, I told you to find her and come to the game room!" She scolds Armin and pulls him away from you, making you feel a bit upset that you're not able to be alone with him a bit longer.

She takes you and Armin to another room that you assume were their friends because as soon as they enter, they're greeted with open arms. You immediately notice a small blonde girl and a tall brunette with freckles sitting together on a love seat and you have to admit that they make such a great couple. Sasha introduces you to everyone in the room and while it was pretty packed, it's easy to memorize who everyone is given that Sasha has mentioned them many times before.

Before you had the chance to settle in with everyone you see Connie get out of his seat and clear his throat very loudly to make an announcement.

"I think that it's only fair, since y/n is the newbie of the group, to play a 2v2 intense game of beer pong between me and Jean." Connie widely grins as everyone agrees and starts rioting.

"I heard my name." Jean abruptly enters, at first not noticing that you're in the same room.

"Well, I don't have a partner to play with so-" You feel a bit of shame while speaking but are quickly interrupted.

"I'll play with y/n," Armin speaks up and everyone gets louder, becoming enraptured as if this is the biggest game in history.

"Let's fucking go then." Jean locks eyes with you for a split second before talking to Connie.

You have to admit, while Jean looks like he's taking good care of himself, you don't feel the butterflies and tension that you thought you would. Maybe you're just overthinking everything because he's your first love, but you figure that maybe something would be left for him. You look back at Jean making sure you don't feel anything, but when you turn to face Armin. Butterflies. Even if it was just a tiny bit, something was there.

For him.

"You guys got this, I mean no offense to the other two, but they're either high, tipsy, or a bit of both." Eren walks up to you two as he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

"I've never played this before, so we'll see." You look down, afraid that Eren or Armin would judge you in some way.

"Neither has Armin, he always watches other people play, but I'm pretty surprised he volunteered himself. So, I'm guessing that your first date went pretty well today." Eren playfully nudges Armin as his face turns into a very light pink.

"Um, yeah it was pretty alright," You reply and smile at Armin, even though you both knew that your date was anything but 'alright'.

"Okay, it's set up, you guys can start whenever," Mikasa speaks with a complete monotone voice as she takes a seat back down next to Historia and Ymir.

You and Armin walk to your side of the table as Connie and Jean do the same, while everyone stands around the two teams ready to start their ear-piercing shouts. You start to feel a bit of pressure right before the game started, anxious that you'll make yourself look like a fool if you don't at least make a single cup.

"We'll give Armin the first shot." Connie cockily smirks and bounces the ping pong ball across the table.

Armin grabs the ball with his fingertips and starts calculating the way he would throw the ball. You have to admit, he looked absolutely adorable while concentrating on making it into the cup. You figure that maybe he thinks the same as you, not wanting to embarrass himself, but he looks so relaxed at the same time. After a few more seconds of critical thinking, he carefully throws the ball and makes it perfectly into the middle cup.

Expectedly, everyone starts screaming, jumping up and down, while some people grab Armin and shake him profusely as their excitement shoots through the roof. You can't help but feel thrilled for him as well, and right when his friends get their hands off of Armin, you wrap your arm around his neck and bring him in for a tight hug. You immediately pull away, unsure if he's uncomfortable being hugged by someone he barely knows, but when you take a step back you see his eyes light up with a small smile.

"Cut it out, love birds. It's my shot," Jean shoots Armin a snarky look and chugs the shot. He wasn't concentrating as much as Armin was, probably because he's played this game many times before, and to your surprise, he recklessly tosses the ball and makes a spiral dunk into the cup at the front of the formation.

"GOOD SHIT, JEAN!" Connie aggressively smacks Jean's back, causing him to jump forward and knock down two cups in the back row.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Connie?" Jean hits the back of Connie's head and they both drink whatever liquid was left in the cup and takes them out of the formation.

You look at the cup that has the ball in and right when you're about to take the shot, Armin swiftly takes it out of your grasp and drinks it as if it's water.

At this point, everyone was making fun of Connie's fuck up and cheering on Armin for chugging the shot like nothing while you're panicking in your thoughts, begging yourself not to make a foot out of yourself.

"Here." Armin hands you the ball and you feel your anxiety kick in as everyone's focus goes directly to you.

You feel your fingertips lightly quiver as you begin to aim the ball into the last cup in the back. Predictably, the ball hits the rim of the cup and doesn't make it in, but Armin still whispers to you a few words of encouragement as Marco picks up the ball from the floor and hands it to Connie. The game continues and luckily you and Armin win because of the two cups Jean knocked down, so while you and Armin are a bit tipsy, the others are completely plastered.

"This... nngh - bullshizz..." Connie clumsily walks over to you and hooks his arm around your neck, somewhat pulling you down while speaking to you.

"Alright, enough." Armin pulls Connie's arm away from you and takes you out of the room, before getting the chance to say bye to anyone.

"Armin-" He leads you to an empty room and doesn't hesitate to lock the door behind him.

"Please, let me talk, I've been waiting all night." Armin pulls you to the edge of the bed and slowly sits down as he tries to figure out how to come out with his news. You gently place your hand on top of his and give it a gentle squeeze, reassuring him.

While you did have a feeling about what he'a going to say, you don't want to jinx anything too good to be true. Even though when you first met Armin it wasn't the greatest first impression, spending time with him at the party made you realize that he's so much more than the awkward guy you went out with. You don't understand how your feelings for him switched up so fast in a matter of a day, but you don't care. At this point, Jean's completely out of the picture and something in you is telling yourself that there's something really special about Armin.

“So, um basically I just want to apologize for everything that happened earlier at the café. I-It’s just that you’re the first girl I’ve ever taken out and I didn’t want to fuck up, but I did absolutely everything wrong. It didn’t help how Sasha was talking so highly of you and god, when I saw your pictures, I thought you were the most perfect person I ever laid my eyes on. Then when I saw you, something in me just clicked that you were meant to be mine and I’m not one to believe in that love at first sight bullshit, so I didn’t know what to do. I just nervous and I didn't know what to do. I knew you were and still are way out of my league even though I felt like you were my person, but I didn't want to mess it up, so I tried to be distant to make it go away and I realized how fucking stupid that was. I'm so sorry for wasting your time and I was hoping we could have a second chance at a first date again to make it up to you." He has such a pained but relieved look on his face when he finishes talking, not looking at you, afraid that he may have done something that he would regret.

"I would actually love that, Armin." You exchange smiles and both stare at each other for a second in comfortable silence.

"Well, let's go then."He stands up and brings out his hand to yours.

"Wait what?" You give him a confused look as you place your hand in his and get up from the bed.

"Are you tired or something?" He furrows his eyebrows with a bit of a pouty face.

"No, not at all." You intertwine your fingers with his and make your way out of the frat house, forgetting say goodbye to anyone.

"So, where are you taking me so late at night?" You ask and turn to look at him to see a small smile plaster on his face.

"I was hoping I could take you back to my apartment to make us a proper meal after all that partying." You feel your heart pounding against your chest as he has the most genuine look in his eyes.

"Absolutely."

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[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter One): I'll let you in if you say it's okay

Notes: So, I’m taking inspiration from more than one lifepath start for my V and overall, I’m not sure how I feel about this first chapter. I’m not as confident in it as I have been in some of my other works and it’s undergone some heavy rewrites. But I’m officially sick of looking at it, so lets go. Still getting a feel for writing the cyberpunk characters too, tbh.

Word Count:  13083

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Internal Feels and struggles, (Aidan/V is very conflicted and struggling), Morning after sex

If you haven’t yet, please read the prologue: link here

Four years, a million miles, and a new alias later, not Aidan but V is standing in a motel bathroom, fresh from the shower. There’s a bruise forming on her chin from what she can’t remember. She touches up the two shaved slits in her left eyebrow, a pointless aesthetic choice given she wears a mask, she knows. But, she likes it and that’s what matters most. She pulls her bleached blonde hair back into a little ponytail, before brushing her teeth and changing. 

She fastens her mask, a repurposed scav mask that she uses, not only to hide from her former family but to help her function in this world. No longer the green with red and pink faces the scavs use, it’s now black with white x-d out eyes and a wicked toothy grin. Vaguely cartoony and ominous, not her choice, but she’s far too nostalgic to ever change it. 

Data and logistics flash across her vision, optic tech coming to life now that the mask is on. Finally, she puts in her hearing aids,  the noise of the world coming back to her, the hum of a broken AC, the beat of a song coming from the radio, and a woman’s snoring drifting through the paper-thin walls. V pulls up her hood before she leaves the bathroom, ready to begin, her throat tight as she thinks of what the day holds. 

I saw in you what life was missing

You lit a flame that consumed my hate

I'm not one for reminiscing but

I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace

The radio plays an old song from Ava’s favorite band, V knows the heavy drone of them anywhere, though she never can quite recall their name or song titles, only reminded of the days she pretended to give a shit about them in hopes it’d earn her at least a pity kiss. Why the hell the radio still plays music that old is beyond her.  She turns her hearing aids volume down a little lower. 

Music brought down to a hum, V’s attention turns to the bed, a woman who’s name she can’t remember is tangled in the sheets. Sun streaming through the window to shine on a bare freckled shoulder, the woman is around V’s age, maybe a year or two older with a pixie cut of dyed lilac hair. She fits in well with V’s track record of bedmates; unable or unwilling to give even half of what she got, leaving the nomad to take care of herself. But, as much as she’d appreciate an orgasm from something other than her own hand, she gets what she wants from them in the end; a glorified body pillow that helps her sleep. 

“Mmm,  you up?” The woman asks, stirring from under the blankets, she pushes a hand into her hair. She blinks her eyes a few times, before taking in V’s outfit, “you’re leaving already?”

V’s mask optics quickly reads lips, giving the world subtitles, essential when she wants to forgo hearing aids. The tech is far more advanced than the human eye when it comes to lip reading. The only downside is the mask requires someone to be facing her as they speak. So, the hearing aids are still necessary unless people are kind enough to accommodate her; which they never are. 

“Gotta get back on the road,” V signs, a modulator translator in her mask speaks it in a monotone AI voice. 

“You don’t wanna get breakfast or…?” 

“No time,” V crouches down beside the bed, so she can properly meet the woman’s eyes and, “you remember what I told you, don’t you?” 

“About not telling anyone what you look like or whatever…?” 

“No whatever’s to it, if anyone comes around asking about me, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?” 

“Yeah yeah, crystal clear, asshole.” The woman groans, not liking the aggressive tone V’s picked up, but it’s a serious matter. Most people get it, everyone nowadays seems to have enemies, but apparently not everyone understands. More flies with honey as they say. 

“I’m sorry,” she signs, “it’s just important to me, life or death. I’ll order some room service for you before I go, sound good?” 

“Hmm…I like pancakes.” 

“Alright, I’ll put the order in then head out.” 

“Okay…I won’t tell anyone, about you, promise.” 

“I appreciate that,” V signs, putting in the room service order on the tablet provided. 

Thankfully, pancakes are enough to earn the woman’s silence on the matter. The less people who have a bone to pick with her, the better. Though, she still hopes The Herd can’t follow her where she’s going anyway. Dufflebag thrown over her shoulder, V leaves the motel, stepping out into the dry heat of California. Even in the early months of 2077, the desert is burning hot, though it will be freezing by nightfall. The joys of the Badlands. 

Yucca is a little nothing town south of Night City, surrounded by long agonizing stretches of desert. Not a place she’d give another thought to if not for her vehicle breaking down. The cargo in the trunk, locked up so the mechanic can’t get nosy, is meant for a client in Night City. The job came with forms and docs that’ll get her past the border. 

She rolls up the metal garage door to the shop, seeing the older man in a trucker hat and flannel working over her car. The old Thorton Galena “Rattler”, bought off a Bakker nomad, who thankfully had no idea who her birth family is. It’s put together with rust, duct tape, and luck, bought for fifty eddies because it’s a walking tetanus trap; but it’s hers.  

“Hey…drifter…” He greets her with a weary expression. 

There’s two kinds of folks in these small towns that are scattered across  the country like stars. Those who are weary of outsiders, know the dangers that lurk across the Badlands and have their guard up the moment someone they don’t know shows up. And for them, her refusal to show her face or speak with her own voice only adds to the suspicion. 

And then there’s the other ones, the ones like that lilac haired girl still curled up in dusty sheets, eating shitty motel pancakes. The ones who see her, the people like her, the nomads, the drifters who travel the country and they see someone who can bring a moment of excitement to their dull little lives. The ones bored to tears with watching tumbleweeds all day and will climb in bed with V and their own preconceived notions of who she is just to have a night of excitement. 

Each sees danger when they look at her, chaos in human form, someone who may just disrupt the status quo of their piss-pot of a town. An idea that terrifies or excites them. Then the realization hits that she’s just breezing through, a ghost without a trace. And for a moment they’ll be relieved or disappointed, then they’ll forget she was ever there. 

“You got my car fixed?” she signs before she rolls the garage door down a foot or two shy of the ground. 

“Not quite, electric coupling module is shot to shit.” 

“You said it was an easy fix.” 

“Guess I was wrong,” he turns to face her, arm crossed over his chest, “you could always find a new shop, find someone else who won’t question some scav lookin’ nomad why she’s hugging the border.” 

“I’m not a fuckin’ scav, move,” she signs before shoving him away from her car engine, if he can’t get this thing up and running, she’ll do it her god damn self. She needs to get to Night City, yesterday, she’s already frustrated and him acting like he’s doing her a favor by staring at her engine for an hour isn’t helping. 

“Got any idea what you’re doing?” Condescension drips from the mechanic’s words. 

“Gonna, rig a hotwire, bypass the coupling.” She switches out some plugs, trying to find something, anything that will save her heap. 

“Compressor will run on and on, could seize up.” 

“Better than standing around scratching my head.” 

She walks around her Rattler, pulling open the driver side door and climbing in. Please, any god listening right now, don’t fuck this up for her. V presses down the ignition and tries to rev the engine; sputters but doesn’t start. 

“It’s like I was telling you,” the mechanic grumbles, so she tries again and another sputter. 

“Fuck off,” she signs, wishing the tone of the AI voice would better convey her frustration as she begs her car, her baby, to start. 

Come on baby, she thinks and her hands twitch to sign, her voice catching. Her desperation nearly making her verbal. Her rattler, her baby, her beautiful heap of rust and luck has carried her through three years in the Badlands. Just a little further, into the city, and V will find her a decent mechanic to give her vehicular child the treatment she deserves. She presses the ignition and revs the gas. 

And that engine roars to life and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, her baby lives, she fucking lives! V can’t contain her smile, thankfully hidden behind the cover of her mask, she could scream. She’s starting the next chapter of her life with her baby by her side. 

“Not too shabby, question is how long will it last you,” the mechanic rains on her parade as he shuts the hood. 

“Better than whatever you were trying.” 

V rolls her eyes and gets her walkie talkie radio out, hooking it to a jack in her car to try to boost a signal; she needs to let her client know she’s coming into the city, so they can prepare to pick up the cargo. 

“Antennae on this heap don’t look like it packs much of a punch, doubt you’ll hear much.” 

There was a broadcasting comms tower outside of the town, she saw it as she made her way in, she’ll get in and boost her signal with it. Should be fairly easy. She just wants to make it into the city, her chance at a new life. Seventeen years with The Herd, under her father’s thumb. Three years running, never able to settle down, never knowing when her family would find her when she’d be put down. Years wasted, she’s ready to live, to really live on her own fucking terms. 

A flash of khaki fabric, visible through the opened gap in the garage door catches her eye and a chill runs down her spine. Trouble. Black cybernetic hands catch the bottom of the metal door and roll it up; an older man in a sheriff’s uniform with a cowboy hat comes strolling in. 

“Hey, Mike, didn’t know you had a customer…” He draws out, looking over V as if she was carrying the plague. 

“Just rolled in a few hours ago, I, uh, thought she would have told you.”

“Now, don’t you worry, we’re gonna hash this out,” the sheriff says, strolling over to her, he puts an arm up on her car roof, leaning against her open car door  and looming over her, “Don'tcha know you owe the sheriff a word when you pay his town a visit? To tell him what brought you here, maybe even over a cup of coffee.”

“You that hard up for dates?” She signs in return, catching a muscle twitch of annoyance, and she smirks behind her mask. Five seconds in and she’s getting under his skin. 

“Names Andrew Jones, you probably heard of me.” 

“Can’t say that I have.” 

“Served in special ops in the last war, silver shoguns, ring any bells?” 

“Can’t say that it does.” 

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “don’t like to get along, do you?” 

“Can’t say that I do.” 

He scowls at her as he shifts his weight off her door and moves to walk in front of her vehicle, looking it over. His foot raises up, dirty boot now on the grill of her car and she wishes nothing more than to just drive forward and run his dumbass over. She doesn’t have fucking time for this; her client is waiting. She doesn’t even want to be in his dumbass little town; she already fucked the only good thing here and found nothing but disappointment. 

“That a nomad vehicle? I might have figured. Scav mask, nomad car; what that make you?” 

“You got a problem?”

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, nothing boils my blood like a fuckin’ stray. Where your clan pitch camp?” 

“No camp, no clan, just little ole me, aren’t you lucky?” 

 “Don’t buy it, nomads always stick with their pack.” 

“Got no pack, they don’t suit me much.”

“Makes you an outcast among outcasts.” He sneers at her, looking down his nose at her, like he’s something special and she’s gum stuck on his shoe. 

“Let me guess, you’re the type of guy who believes every line of shit the corps feed you, that nomads are the world’s greatest evil.” 

“No, I’m a man who respects order, corps brought us that order-”

“The corps pay you and have you on a leash like a dog, you know that?” 

“And you don’t wanna see me bare my fangs.” 

“Try and I’ll put you down,” V’s fingers move before she can give another though, no interest in making peace with this asshole. 

“You threatening me, girl?” 

“No more than you are me, stay out of my way and I’ll get out of yours.” 

“Big talk coming from a misfit.”

She lets out a short laugh, the sound layered with her modulator, making it louder and doubled.  

“Look, I’m not scared of some shithole town’s sheriff who thinks a badge is a crown,” she signs, hands moving so quick and hurried that the sound of skin hitting skin rings out, “I want to leave your town, you want me gone, move your ass and I’ll make us both happy.” 

“Get going,” he moves out from in front of her car, “I got no mind to see you drifting around these parts.” 

“What part of this conversation made you think I want to?” She finishes signing before slamming her car door shut. 

“What was that drifter?” His voice fades away as she guns it out of the repair shop, rolling her eyes behind her mask. 

Though, maybe breaking into the communications tower is technically drifting, but she needs to radio her client. Sinclaire will need to know she’s coming into the city, so they can meet up, exchange eddies for cargo, and she can figure life out from there. She takes a road that goes north and cuts through the desert, her Rattler practically born for off roading as she takes the heavy bumps of the sand dunes and drives through cacti, pulling up to graffiti covered bumpers just outside the fenced in tower. 

It's an amalgamation of latticed rusted metal with satellites on top, graffiti decorating the buildings and chunks of the tower itself. It clearly hasn’t been used or maintained in years, but it should still boost her signal. V climbs out of her vehicle, trying to open the door to the fencing. It doesn’t budge at all and she pouts, then kicks it as hard as she can. Her steel toed boot works as well as a key, making it swing open. 

It’s a quick little journey, two little flights of stairs she jogs up with ease. Then it’s a ladder, the peeling yellow paint sticking to her palms. And then she’s as high as she can reach, transmitter box in view. But with the view around her, wind whipping through, she takes a moment to peel off her mask and breathe. Sun beating down and warming her face, the breeze cools her skin under it’s rays, wicking away sweat that sticks to her brow. 

A deep inhale of air before she forces herself to move again, the rusted front of the transmitter box breaks at the hinges when she opens it, she pays no mind and throws it aside then jacks in her walkie-talkie radio. V leans against the tower railing, radio in hand, but not ready to let go of the quiet. 

The smell of rust and paint surrounds her as she takes everything in. She’ll miss this, she realizes, the open road and the Badlands have always been her home. But it’s not safe, not really. The Herd has shown no signs of letting this go. For four years, she’s dodged her sister and Ava; the two tasked with being her trackers, repeated close calls over all this time. They’ve interrogated and demanded answers from the folks in these sleepy little towns she breezes through. The mask has helped, but every day the feeling of them nipping at her heels gets worse. Her stomach churns at the lengths they’ve gone to. V’s father wasted no time in turning her sister against her, turning Eira into a weapon to do his bidding, to put down the defected child who never should have made it past nine. 

He’ll kill her for not falling in that same line, for refusing to be his soldier. Forced to choose between death or conformity, practically one in the same, she tries to seek a third option.

Night City has its own rules, laws, restrictions; a city completely controlled by corps. It’s disgusting in its own right. But The Herd isn’t allowed in the city, border control of Night City has strict orders to keep all known or identifiable members of the Raffen Shiv clan out. Corps hate Nomads, as a general rule, but they really hate The Herd. A Nomad family with no respect for anyone else’s laws, a strong anti-consumerism, anti-cyberware, and anti-corp attitude; The Herd might as well send a personal fuck you to Night City.  Its not perfect, not even good,  a crime infested corp run cesspool, but it’s the safest option. More security, more boundaries, more faces so V can blend in.  Even if Eira and Ava make it into Night City, which she’s not naïve enough to believe impossible, they’ll have six million folks to work their way through. Nomads stay in pack because groups provide safety; a sea of city faces is just an extension of that. 

But that safety comes at a cost. It means no more open spaces, no more serenity, no more campfires with burnt marshmallows, or driving down dirt roads as fast as she can with her windows down, and screaming out in excitement as she takes on every bump and turn with reckless abandon. 

There’s no perfect choice, every decision carries a sacrifice, but if the cost of staying in the Badlands could mean her life, her freedom, her identity… the city is the better option… she thinks…

A pessimistic or perhaps realistic part of her can’t help but feel like he’ll get his way, her father will have her head on a pike, will slaughter his own daughter like cattle. And his power over The Herd will only grow. After all, if he’d go this far to put down his own child for an act of betrayal, how could anyone else ever think to be spared his wrath. The already loyal army of followers will be further forced into submission by fear. 

Maybe this is all a waste of time, she wonders, often does. Maybe it’s just dragging out the inevitable. Hell, a part of her wonders if she’d be better off begging for mercy, if he’d offer it just to maintain control. Would she be safer if she just gave in? Is she really the kind of person who needs to be half of a whole to function, to feel safe?

But, is it wrong to want something more? To be able to look back at her life, no matter how long or short it may be, and know she lived, that she gave it all she had. That she stayed true to herself, whoever that is. To prove that she doesn’t need them, that she isn’t a burden depending on others to carry her weight. She can make something of herself in Night City, can live on her own terms, even if only until the inevitable comes knocking at her door. It will be a bit of breathing room, a chance to just be, instead of constantly looking over her shoulder.

Family was meant to be her security, her safety, but were they ever really? V shakes her head, if she goes down every thought pattern, every reason, every doubt, every feeling; she’ll be here forever. 

She pulls her mask back down and radios her client after another moment of soaking in the breeze, it's odd they didn’t go through a fixer, but frankly she doesn’t care. A middleman who takes part of the cut isn’t ideal for her either. She’s looking for the past possible new start and the more eddies in her pocket, the better that’ll be. 

“V?” Sinclaire speaks her alias once she gets through. 

“Speaking,” she signs, as always thankful her mask spares her voice in moments like this. 

“Where the hell are you?” 

“Hit a snag, but I’m on my way into the city now.”

“That’s what I like to hear, once you’re through the border radio me and we’ll talk meet up.” 

“The docs you sent,” she signs, thinking to the falsified passport docs he had sent out her way, “they should get me through border check.” 

“Absolutely, border control barely checks ID on customs, but that little pamphlet will breeze you through.” 

“Okay, just checking.” 

“Don’t worry V, this is a piece of cake. You’re gonna love Night City, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah? That so?” 

“Mmhmm, once we finish the trade off, I’ll show you around. There’s a place in Wellsprings with synth steak to die for, I’ll treat you.” 

“Sounds like a plan, I’m heading out now.” She agrees easily, it’ll be better to have more connections in the city, people she gets along with well enough and know the place better than her. 

“See ya soon.” 

Her client doesn’t know her exact clan, just knows she needs papers to get into the city. There’s more than one group of Raffen Shiv that aren’t allowed in city limits; hell she’s pretty sure Wraith’s aren’t.  Though, corps make special deals to let them in when they need work done. As shitty as they are, The Herd has yet to whore themselves out to that degree, one thing she can still respect about her father. She fiddles with the leather cuff bracelet around her wrist, that hides the small crown shaped brand that he placed on her skin as a child, his way of marking his blood family. She’s considered taking a knife to it, but some part of her isn’t ready to.  

V’s steps are hurried as she leaves the comms tower, heavy boots stomping over metal as she makes the quick journey back to her Rattler, the red beast of a car waiting where she left it. She climbs into the vehicle and twists the vehicle around. She follows the dirt road back out to the highway, headed out to the city. 

She races back through the little town, picking up as much speed as she can, wind whipping through the open windows. Yucca is a blink and its gone, V having cruises right through the nothing town and continuing down the highway. Empty stretches of desert decorated with cacti as she races down the expanse of roadway. 

Then the signs warn her of border crossing, nearing the city, her heart rate picking up as she grows closer to changing her life. A border checkpoint, enclosures and offices with an overpass above the divided lanes of the highway. Each lane leads to a border control officer with holograms labeling what each lane is for based on why someone is coming into the city; whether or not they have cargo to check. She slows down, so she can pull off her mask, the less suspicious she looks the better. Border guards aren’t going to stand for being questioned by The Herd, so its minimal risk. 

She switches over to the lane for customs check, pulling up to the raised blockade, beyond it another car coming through is scanned. An armed border guard not far away and she waits as the vehicle is giving the go ahead to leave; blockade coming down and guard ushering her to drive forward. V drives that little bit forward; cement yellow blockades raise before and behind her vehicle. Locking her into place makes her uncomfortable, like she can’t escape. 

“Stay in the security check area,” a guard tells her over the intercom, like she would have tried to drive through the blockade without his warning. A beat i silence, a minute or two passes as the scanners run along her car. 

“Would the owner of the vehicle please report for further questioning.”

V grabs the falsified passport, manifest marked LOA, and the bribe chip for good measure. She keeps her head down as she gets out of the vehicle, makes her body language small as she walks into the office building. Maintaining a non-threatening demeanor in order to ease any friction that may come her way. The door automatically opens, a waiting room of people and a desk behind bulletproof glass where a worker stands. A map of the New United States across one of the walls. 

“If  you’re armed, leave your weapon here.” The worker behind the desk calls out and V unholsters her revolver, allowing him to check it and put it in a drawer, “report to room two.”

She nods, feeling naked without a weapon on her hip, but she knows this is the way of things. V turns the corner, finding the door with a two marked next to it. She opens the door and a lump forms in her throat. It's a small cramped little excuse of a room, a guard already at the rinky dink desk and a chair in front of it. She takes small timid steps to the chair, discolored with either dried blood or rust, she can’t be certain. The man is dressed in a neon vest; some sort of either goggles or optic implants over his eyes that scan her over as she sits down. He wastes not a second in lighting a cigarette and her nose wrinkles as smoke billows to fill the small room. She can already feel the stench of it clinging to her clothes and wishes she could snatch it from his hand. 

“Papers?” he asks. 

She hands over the manifest, her falsified passport, and the credit chip without a word. Metallic implant augmented fingers put the cred chip aside to look over the little blue document, then he places the paper over the cred chip, hiding it from prying eyes that may peek into the office. Meanwhile, V tries to maintain her most innocent of expression, puppy dog eyes primed if any issue arrives. Small and adorable has few benefits in this world; but she plans to take advantage where she can. Being underestimated, assumed to be weak or docile, as much as it hurts does have perks. 

“What are you transporting?” 

“It’s all in there,” she signs in response, because frankly she has no idea what she’s transporting. Some corp crap. 

“Hmmm, tell me, who do you ride with?” 

“Bakkers,” she lies through her teeth, her car was bought off one, so it seems like an easy enough excuse. 

“They stop installing personal links?” He asks, puffing out a plume of smoke, his gaze on her linkless palm. 

“Religious reasons, most of the clan has them, but my mom raised us to stay ‘ganic, god given, ya know?”  She signs, a practiced excuse for when she’s asked about her lack of implants. Same as the excuse laid out in the passport. 

“Is that so…” he takes a deep drag off his cigarette and V bites her lip not to say anything she’s hit with another face full of smoke, “you know, times like this I’m so glad not to be on the other side of that table.” 

“Feelings mutual,” she signs before she can even consider stopping, aggravated by this man’s entire existence at this point. She gave him all the documents, this should be done with by now. 

“Go on now.” 

She jumps at the chance to be excused, taking in a deep fresher breath of air when she’s released from the smoke box of an interrogation room. V runs a hand through her hair as she turns the corner. There’s another armored guard standing beside the desk now, his eyes doing a lazy look down of V’s frame.

“Don’t forget to collect your personal items.” The worker behind the desk tells her and she stops there, giving him a raised eyebrow before he goes to collect her gun, “be careful with that toy and welcome to Night City.”

As much as she’d like to gripe about the toy comment; as if she’s a child, she can’t help but find herself smiling at the greeting. She’s finally here, finally getting into the city. A life on her terms; a little breathing room between her and the clan. V holsters her gun, grin playing on her lips.

“Those little shits all imagine Night City to be some sort of paradise,” the armored guard comments about her, but not to her, looking over her to the worker behind the desk.

“What are you gonna do they’re all young, naïve, which is just another word for ignorant.” The worker replies and V’s grin has died, maybe that’s the case for others, but Night City is exactly what she needs. Her situation isn’t the same. She doubts those young ignorant kids they’re talking about were running from their own death.

She shakes her head, not worth the effort it’d take to respond, V leaves the building. Her Rattler a short distance away, she’s nearly bouncing as she rushes towards it, climbing into the driver’s seat. Even the overpass above her has words welcoming her to the city, she’s sure she won’t find paradise, but there...she’ll make this life her own.

There’s barely a blip of distance between her and the border check when she sees them. Black corporate vans coming towards her, her heart jolts into her throat and sweat edges along her skin. 

“Fuck!” V curses out loud, border fucker tipped off the corp.

“Stop the vehicle! You are transporting corporate property!” A voice rings out from the vans and V takes a sharp turn off the road, her baby is meant for off roading after all. 

“I repeat, stop the vehicle!” The corporate voice yells out again. 

“Stop the vehicle,” she murmurs in a whiny voice to herself, mocking the corpo, “give us back our stuff, stop committing crimes, wah, wah, wah.” 

 She rolls her eyes, amused by her own bullshit as she punches in the keypad of her Rattler, starting up the automated turret attached to the roof. It’s not the most high tech system, but it has a lock on function and should get the job done.  The sounds of bullets pinging off metal creates a cacophony around her as she careens through an abandoned rural area, taking sharp turns to try to shake them. V takes out her hearing aids to stop her forming headache and focus on what she’s doing. The rumble of her turret shakes the car as it fires, letting her know its still working fine. Glass break out of the back of her car, a bullet piercing through, her back sprayed with the shards. She’ll be digging a bullet out of her dashboard later, she’s sure. 

A bright flash of orange, flames enveloping a van as her turret hits a gas tank the right way. One down, two to go. She keeps the pedal to the floor, speed topping out as she races away from the approaching vans. Another sharp turn and she watches as a van crashes into a wall, one last stubborn fucker. 

There’s a slight tense to the vibration of her turret overhead, bullets hitting the top of it, aiming to disarm it, as she goes through another turn. A shot bursts through her side mirror, assholes, do they have any idea how much it’s going to cost her to repair this heap. More than it’s probably worth.  

The vibration that shakes her car settles down over her head, turret no longer firing, but the van is still chasing her. It fucking jammed, her turret fucking jammed again, of course it did. V hauls off and punches the roof of her Rattler, right beneath where the turret is, used to this issue at this point. As always, the hard punch manages to spur it back on and it fires up again, blasting at the last van at full speed. 

A bullet hits the corpo van’s front tire, knocking it off path; final one down. 

“Suck my dick, Arasaka!” She screams out for no one else to hear.

She’s grinning as she finds a collection of abandoned trailers and garages, pulling into one, she’ll need to call her client, figure out a meeting place. They may want her to lay low for a bit until Arasaka calms their tits about this. But she’s in Night City, finally, what could go wrong from here. Cut out a nice living for herself, solo work or maybe something else, who knows. Get herself a place and do whatever the fuck she wants from there. She slides on her mask, puts her hearing aids back in, and rings her client. 

“Sinclaire?” 

“V, you make it over the border yet?” 

“Yep, out just south of Pacifica according to the GPS, little run in with the corps but I shook them. When and where you wanna meet?” 

“Little China, you know where the old Club Atlantis is?” 

“Not remotely, but ping me the coordinates and I’ll find it.” 

“Sending it to you now, think you can get there by three am?” 

“Yeah, no problem, prefer to do this under cover of darkness?” 

“Much prefer, see you soon, V.” 

V hangs up the call and punches in the coordinates he sent, GPS map firing up to tell her where to go. She pulls out of the abandoned garage and gets herself back out on the road, driving further into the city. 

She doesn’t like driving in the city. V determines about a minute into being into the actual bulk of the city. There’s neon signs and adverts everywhere she looks; most displaying someones ass or tits.  She wouldn’t consider herself a prude, far from it given just how many people she’s spread her own legs for, but she does appreciate some decorum… These are sleazy, dirty… 

And there’s traffic. Even at the late hour, people are on the roads, and they’re slow. So, fucking slow. Move, your asses. A motorcycle might be a good investment, she’d be able to just ride between traffic or weave through the other cars.

She manages to reach the spot before three am, though she wants to scream by the time she arrives. The building blends in easily, just another large shuttered up structure with graffiti covering its outside; symbols for the Tyger Claws, because correct spelling is a bad look for a gang, apparently. 

V lets out a huff of air as she gets out of her car to wait;  examining the little bloody scratches on her shoulders and arms where the glass hit her. Nothing serious, a splash of rubbing alcohol to disinfect and she’ll be fine. But there is a slight sting to the injuries that make moving her arms and shoulders uncomfortable. Corpo fucks. V leans against her car, taking in her new city. 

And she shouldn’t be amazed, she knows that. The traffic drove her nuts and she’s been in landfills that smelled nicer. But despite it all, she finds herself impressed at the buildings that stretch on into the heavens. The bright lights and neon against a dark sky is gorgeous; a high vantage point and she’s sure it’d look like something out of a movie. She finds herself in awe as hope nestles its way into her chest. 

Not perfect, nothing ever is, but she can work with it. She can build something here. 

A sharp honk gets her attention, disrupting her moment of reverie. The street and road have been abandoned mostly; only her and the limousine coming to a stop next to her. She gives a slight wave to the driver, then forms a V with her fingers, as if they needed any more indication of who she is. 

The driver is not her client, instead a big bulk of a man with gorilla arms implants, black metal for fingers, he gets out of the driver’s seat and a similarly sized man steps out of the back seat. Her client’s got muscle around him it seems, maybe he just wants to make sure she doesn’t get squirrely and try to pull something. 

Both guards out, they open the backseat door close to the street and her client finally emerges. He’s not a particularly tall man, though as with most adults, he is taller than her. Sandy slicked back hair and unnaturally bright green eyes; likely optics. 

“V, darling, nice to see you in the flesh, you got the goods?” 

“Right here,” she signs before moving behind her car, opening the trunk so he can see the Arasaka cargo crate.

“Fantastic, load it up, boys.” 

“Woah, woah,” V signs and sits on the crate before the two bodyguards can grab it, “eddies first, then you take the cargo.” 

“Oh, V, honey…” His voice drips with condescension and a chill reverberates down her spine, “you did good work, only a shame you’re so naive.” 

“The fuck do-” 

Pain cracks through her skull, knocking V off the cargo crate and onto the ground. Another sharp thwack of pain across her head and back; something blunt striking her before she can get up. She groans out as she rolls over onto her back, looking up at the bodyguard who’s holding a baseball bat, what looks like blood staining it. Her head and back hurt; her head spinning and she’s unable to get her bearings.

“Load the cargo into the car.” 

“What do you want us to do with her?” One of the guards asks Sinclaire and he looks down at her, like a cockroach. 

“Eh, no one will come looking for her. Might as well throw her away with the trash,” he kicks her side, sneering when she grunts in pain, “give her another hit for good measure.” 

“Got it,” the guard nods and starts to raise the baseball again, high above his head for a hard swing and she instinctively twists to give him the back of her head again. 

“We’ll scrap the car, ge-” 

And then the bat comes down on her, a rush of pain before consciousness slips from her grasp. 

Time loses all meaning when the world is blacked out, but eventually the light filters back in and her senses return. She can feel her hearing aids still in and its reaffirmed by the sounds she hears, the faint murmur of people. The smell around her is awful, disgusting, and she can feel stuff around her. Plastic bags scratching at her skin, something wet touching her arm. Her mask shifted and she forces herself to move, she pulls it back in place, blinking. 

Garbage bags, some intact and others shredded. He actually had her thrown into the trash, that son of a bitch. V pushes the trash bags off of her, city lights starting to glimmer through, neon against a black sky. She finds a metal edge of the dumpster and pulls herself up, body still aching in protest as she emerges from her would be grave. Cold air hits her bare arms, the city far colder in the early months than the Badlands. She’s in an alleyway dumpster and she hears gasps of shocks, turning to see civilians shocked to see someone climbing out of the trash. She’s be ashamed if she weren’t so furious.

V punches the side of the dumper, feeling it reverberate with the force, this was supposed to be her shot at a new life and now she’s in a god damn dumpster. 

She’s going to kill Sinclaire, she’s going to fucking kill him, son of a bitchfucked her over and he’s going to pay with blood. But how the hell does she even reach him? He never gave her details of where he spends his time or let alone where he lives. Hell, she doesn’t even know where she is. She needs her car back and her luggage from it, she doesn’t even have a change of fucking clothes as it stands right now. 

“What time is it? Where am I?” she signs at the civilians, still straddling the edge of the dumpster, maybe they can be some help. 

“Uhhh, like 10pm? And Heywood…?”

So, he dragged her away quite a bit, so...maybe he frequents the area. Still doesn’t tell her much, she needs to find him. And she needs to find her car, but how the fuck does she accomplish that?

“Don’t suppose you have any idea where I could find Luke Sinclaire, do you?” 

“Uh, no,” the stranger kind of raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the whole situation, “but uh, you could always talk to Padre. He’s the local fixer.” 

Of course, she’d have to get a fixer involved, not using one is probably what got her in this mess in the first place. Sinclaire knew she had no ties to her Nomad family, new to the city, and no fixer involved. He basically had license to do whatever he wanted without fearing someone would come for him or come looking for her. V touches the back of her head, fingers coming back red, dried blood matting her hair. He meant for her to die, she’s sure, but the blunt trauma wasn’t enough to do her in. 

“Where’s Padre?” she signs, she doesn’t have money to pay a fixer but maybe they can work something out. She doesn’t want to lone wolf it and end up in a dumpster again. 

“He has his own parish, but he’s usually at the El Coyote Cojo right about now, might be able to catch him if you hurry.” 

“El Coyote Cojo, which would be…where?” 

“Bar a little north of here, you really aren’t from around here, are you?” 

“Thanks for your help and stunning observational skills; I’m off.” 

She pulls her hood back up over her head, hiding her bloody matted hair as she leaves the alley way and goes vaguely north. New chapter of her life, she’s injured, alone, broke, and smells like garbage. 

Honestly, sounds about right for her luck. But, she’s far from given up. She navigates the Night City streets, stopping to ask a stranger where the bar is again before she finally finds it. She keeps expecting to get weird looks, like the ones that were usually sent her way in the small towns she’d visit on the road. But even with her mask, no one pays her much mind. And why would they?

V passes at least four more outrageous looking strangers along her way to the bar. People’s who’s entire body is made of gold cyberware, a woman with skin that looks like plastic, a cowboy with cybernetic arms and legs, and a girl with what looks like cat ear implants on top of her head. Things that make her stop and give a second glance, but no one here even minds. Night City has its own weirdness limit and her mask doesn’t even come close to hitting it. There's an anonymity she’s never known before and its kind of nice. Even bloody, mask on, trash covered; she’s just one face in a sea of millions. 

El Coyote Cujo is a lowlit bar with traditional Mexican decorations across it and as expected in the evening, it has a fair number of patrons bustling around. People shooting pool, downing tequila, and chatting amongst themselves. And for the first time, she finds eyes landing on her. Not necessarily weirded out by her masked appearance, but more so wary of a stranger. She pays them no mind, employees here should know where Padre frequents or if he’s still here. There’s two she’s able to find right away; the bartender and a busboy. She starts with the bartender, walking herself over to a stool, he’s an older man with dark hair and a golden arm. He walks over to her once she’s sat, a smile bringing out the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. 

“A new face, what can I get for you?” 

“I’m actually trying to find someone,” she signs, “someone told me the local fixer, Padre, is a regular here.”

“Ah, he’s probably at his usual table upstairs, not sure he’s interested in taking on any new clients though.” 

“I’ll see if we can figure something out.” She steps away from the bar and heads upstairs, its mostly vacant, making her task just a little bit easier. 

Her gaze is drawn to an older man with sparsely any hair and age spots along his skin, a gold cross around his neck. A few men in tacky gold jewelry around him.

“Padre?” The AI modulator voice calls out and she sees the older man’s eyes land on her. His guards around him seem to tense, prepared for if she sends up being a threat. 

“I’m not sure, I know you,” Padre comments, looking over her disheveled appearance. Being beaten and thrown in a dumpster doesn’t do much for your looks. 

“You don’t, but I’m looking for a fixer, need help if you’re interested in hearing me out.”

“Come, sit.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she signs before sliding into the booth seat across the table from him. 

“How can I assist you, child?” 

“So, a guy named Luke Sinclaire contracted me to smuggle corp cargo into the city, I go to meet up with him and he tricks me. Stole the cargo, sent my car to be scrapped, and had his gangoons drop me.  I need help finding him so I can get the cargo, my car, and my dignity back. Maybe kill him too, depending on how I feel, but we’ll see.” 

“You didn’t use a fixer, I take it?” He raises an eyebrow with the energy of a dad chiding a child for making a stupid mistake. 

“No, I was desperate and it bit me in the ass, so I’m doing what I should have done in the first place.” 

“And I’m to assume, you have no money with which to do this either?” He says, having read her like a book. 

“I’m sorry to be asking favors the first time we meet and I don’t expect you to do this for nothing, of course, but I was wondering if we could work out an arrangement instead.”

“And what sort of arrangement would that be?” 

“I’ll do a merc job for you, your choosing, I’ll take no cut of the profit; a completely free job in exchange for you helping me with this.”

“And how can I trust you to do this job well, I do not know you or your work.” 

“Well, I’d do the job for you first, so if its crap you could not help me. I fully expect to get back what I put in, if I do quality work, you do it in return, I’m desperate here.”

“Come with me, Marcus, get the car,” he tells one of the bulky men who walks off. 

Padre stands and follows behind Marcus, V follows suit as they leave down the stairs and out of the bar towards a dark little alleyway. Marcus pulls up a car and parks it for them. Once parked Marcus gets out and comes back to one of the backseat doors, Padre gets into the back on his own, Marcus opens the door for her. He silently beckons her in and she does what she’s asked, sliding onto the leather seat. Marcus shuts her door before going back around to the driver’s seat, 

“Embers, pull up to the back where the ramp is,” Padre instructs Marcus of where to go. 

And then the car pulls out onto the road. V fiddles with a curl of hair, fidgety and unsure of what to do, why they’re driving out away from the bar. Padre has a far away look in his eye. 

“You’re new to Night City, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“And what is your name, I’m afraid I didn’t catch it earlier.” 

“V.” 

“V, I’ve lived in Heywood all my life, it’s roots are strong and watered by blood. Family is what pulls us through, no one is purely independent. The city is ecosystem, each individual playing a vital role that impacts those around them. The relationship between fixers and our mercenaries is an important one, not only is it mutual beneficial, but we keep each other safe. A lesson you’ve had to learn the hard way.” 

“Can’t really argue with that…” 

“People who-“ 

Padre pauses in his words looking out of the window and through it, V can see a car coming up alongside them. The car begins honking furiously at them. Nerves alight and chills slinking up her spine; she has a bad feeling about this. It has to be someone with a bone to pick with Padre. 

“Shit!” Marcus curses, the first word she’s heard him say. 

“Stop the car,” Padre says, with a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder. 

“What’s this?” V signs, worrying speeding up her hands. 

“Business, you carrying?” 

“Yeah….” V checks her waistband and her revolver is gone because why did she think Sinclaire wouldn’t take her gun, “No.” 

Padre blinks, surprised she’s sure, because who the fuck would be unarmed in Night City. Marcus pulls to a stop, the car once beside them pulls around to park in front of them and a man comes out. He’s dressed in what appear to be green fatigues with a bullet proof vest. As he comes close to V’s window, she sees his gold implants catching the neon lights. 

“Sebastian Ibarra,” the man says in a low voice, as V’s window is rolled down by Marcus, “looks like it’s my lucky day.”

The stranger leans into the window, his left hand is carrying a gun and he casually puts it into the window. Both arms are metal in nature, but they look far from top shelf, at least from her glance. 

“What do you want?” Padre asks him. 

“To settle our biz, once and for all. Got an offer for you, Paddy, so listen up. Get the fuck out of Vista, pull your boys off the street! I’ll give you the Glenn, done deal. No more restless nights, see how generous I can be?” 

A beat of silence and V gives a glance at Padre, he seems far from amused with the man’s bullshit. 

“Well, Paddy?!” 

V lurches at his impatient yell, she doesn’t need this wannabe soldier turned gangbanger fucking up her deal. Her right hand grabs the back of his neck, below the base of his skull and her left grabs the gun. She slams his head against the car roof, his forehead gushing blood at the impact, the shock and pain makes his grip loosen and allows her to steal his pistol before letting him go. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses as he stumbles back, seeing stars and touching at his forehead. She aimed for the soft flesh just before his golden mohawked implant began, blood now steadily streaming from the wound, “you’ll fucking pay for that.” 

She points his own pistol at him, cocking the gun, asking the silent question of if he intends to be shot today. 

“It seems our conversation has come to a close,” Padre speaks calmly, but when she turns she can see the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Careful Padre, never know who’s got a barrel at your six,” he threatens with blood coating his face like paint, “you neither shitbucket!” 

“Now, I’m armed,” V signs to Padre, as she watches the man climb back into his car, defeated for the moemnt. 

“Marcus, please.” 

The driver pulls out and away, getting them back on the road, as if the exchange had never happened. There’s a moment or two of silence, as V tucks her new gun into her waistband. If Padre takes her up on her offer, she may need it, plus you can generally never have enough firepower. 

“Many people come through the city,” Padre speaks after a beat of silence, “little shits who’s spines go soft the moment they’re looking down the barrel of a gun. And sometimes you get the odd soul, one who can truly hold their own.” 

“Who was that?” She asks, unable to help but smirk behind her mask at the compliment. That she’s one of the odd souls, different from those little shits, that she can hold her own.  V is far from incompetent, even if some shitbird got the jump on her. 

“No one important, he’ll be gone in a week’s time. Another will take his place.”

“The ecosystem will take him out?” 

“People who don’t know their place, soon find themselves without one. He’ll pay for what he’s done. You… paid for your misdeeds, for your misstep, but you’re finding your place now and within it you may thrive.” 

“You got my place in the ecosystem all figured out?” 

“Here,” he hands her a screamsheet, a magazine with an animated ad for a car, high-end The Legend of Aerondight, “only four in Night City.” 

“That so?” It looks slick, she guesses, though certainly not her aesthetic. Its that weird rich person sort of design where it’s oddly shaped and proportioned, perhaps to be aerodynamic. All sleek silver and black, no character to it. She’d take her Rattler over it any day. 

“First belongs to the Rayfield regional direction, second belongs to mayor Rhyne, third to a rental service. And my client aims to be the fourth.” 

“Klep the car and you’ll help me?” 

“Yes, I have a contact who works inside the parking structure near Embers, a club the current owner likes to frequent. He’s there tonight as well. My contact will cut the security camera feed and open the security gate for you.” 

“Current owner, anyone I need to worry about?” 

“An Arasaka corpo,” Padre informs her, because apparently, she hasn’t fucked with Arasaka enough in the past day or so. 

“So, just hotwire it or?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’s hotwired a car, but fancy ones like this usually have a more complicated security system. Usually takes more than a knife and luck, which is her usual method. 

“Not quite,” Padre pulls a little gadget, a silver and black device that he hands to her, “this should work like a key for the car, matches the ones used by Rayfield tech. Should open the lock and bypass identity authorization.” 

“That sounds convenient…”  Too fucking convenient, she resists adding. 

“Kabuki has some excellent tech workers, but I won’t lie, it is a risk. I assume one you’re willing to take?” 

“Got it, I’ll get the car.” 

“Marcus, pull up here,” Padre tells the driver and they come to a stop, “you can jump down below, and before you go, take this V.” 

He hands her a card, marked with his name and phone number, golden in color with a sword surrounded by roses.  She rubs her thumb over the embossment, glad for her first contact within the city. Connections help. 

“Your number?” She points out the obvious, not sure what else to say. 

“Bring the car back to El Coyote Cujo and call me when you arrive, if all goes well, I’ll have your intel by then. And, I may just call on you for work down the line.” 

“Understood, I’m off then.” 

“Go with God, V.”  

The guardrail drags along the side of the highway but there’s a breakage where it allows her enough space to easily jump over. Peering over it leads to an alley way, a closed dumpster just below. She hops over, dropping down onto the dumpster, she intends on last night being her last trash nap, so she’s more than a little thankful for it being closed. She hears a civilian let out a little exclamation but pays no mind as she jumps down onto the pavement. A quick walk down a graffitied alleway leads her to yellow road signs cutting across an open structure. Glowing vending machines beckon her to spend ennies she doesn’t have on energy drinks and burritos, a turn past them brings her to an elevator. 

Slick glinting silver encompasses her as she steps into the alleyway; impressively clean compared to the absolute grime of the city.  Likely to impress any corpos who come this way to get their cars. A quick tap of a button and the doors shut, elevator rattling as it descends down to the garage. 

A beat of silence and the elevator opens up to a hallway; black, gunmetal gray, and teal accents. The wall declares which sector she’s in and an arrow on the far wall tells her where to turn, as if there were anywhere else to go. The turn around the corner puts her directly in front of two large black double doors; PARKING over them in clear bold lettering. 

They slide open when she gets close and open up to the large parking garage, lights coming on as she sees all the slick fancy corpo cars. Sleek blacks and eye popping reds, none with any taste for design if you ask her. But nomads and corpos have...different aesthetics. 

“Eh, something I can help you with?” A male voice rings out, bringing her attention to the little station next to the blocked off exit for cars. The contact, she presumes. She comes over to his open window, the man dressed in uniform. 

“Padre sent me…” she signs, keeping things vague just in case this person has no idea why she’s here. 

“Gotcha,” he hits a button, “cameras are blind, you got twenty minutes.” 

She nods and goes looking through the cars, it’s the glow of neon that brings her to it. A parking spot marked off in the vivid blue glowing lights, they frame the Rayfield, and spell VIP on the wall behind it. 

Time to test the tech, she holds the device next to the door and presses its button, a blue light flashing. And then the Rayfield’s door opens, sliding back and up in one fluid motion, exposing the deep burgundy leather seats. Shit may actually be going right for once. 

She climbs into the driver’s seat, feeling wholly out of place in the plush designed car. The seat automatically adjusts to accommodate her, no doubt shorter than the owner, and the blacked-out windshield and window turn to crystalline clear glass. All that’s left is bringing the baby back to the bar and then she can get her intel on Sinclaire. 

A red caution symbol flashes in the windshield and her body tenses; a bad feeling creeping in. No, her luck can’t be running out already. 

Then the door opens and there’s a gun in her face. 

“Get the fuck out!” A Mexican accented voice yells out. 

If there is a god, he personally hates her, there is no other explanation, and she will fist fight him for his shenanigans. She looks up at the man standing before her, barrel at her forehead. He’s leaning down against the car, not unlike how the sheriff did to intimidate her back in Yucca. However, unlike the sheriff, this guy has the build to pull it off. He’s easily over a foot taller than her and wider than most doorway, all pure muscle with dark hair in a top knot, gold cybernetics adoring his face. She puts her hands up in mock surrender for a moment. 

“Nothing personal, jaina, just biz.” 

V goes to gun it, to stomp her foot down on the gas, but before she can the man has the back of her hoodie and is unceremoniously ripping her out of the vehicle. 

“You fuckin’ deaf, chica, fuck out of the car, now!” He’s able to manhandle and pack her around like it’s nothing, like carrying a housecat. 

She grabs the hand on her hood and digs her fingernails in, swinging her foot out to kick him while her other hand goes for her gun. 

Then there’s a steady rev of engines, tires squealing and growing ever closer. Confusion coloring her assailant’s face and he drops her, looking around. 

“The fuck…” 

He starts to say and then there’s two police cars rushing into the parking lot, skidding to stops in front of them. And its fucking overkill, if she rang 911 because she was shot, they’d maybe send an officer out in three weeks. One fucking corpo has someone break into his car and it’s the end of the universe, need a full brigade. 

The headlights of the cruises are blindingly bright and she struggles to adjust; putting her hands up as police officers come out with guns at the ready. It’s a car for fucks sake. 

“Don’t move!” 

Her attacker carefully slides his gun across the cement, to show he’s not a threat and maybe she’d consider doing the same if she cared; but she doesn’t. 

“You’re under arrest!” 

“Stay where you are!” 

The police continue barking orders, as if the two hadn’t piece together what was happening or what was being asked of them. They’re not stupid. 

“Hands where I can see them, nice and slow!” 

He can already see them, why must they go through the rigamarole. She doesn’t have time for this shit. 

“On the ground motherfuckers, right now!” 

V is able to watch for a second, as a female cop cuffs and pushes the big guy onto the ground. Then in the next second she’s down there too, but they don’t cuff her like they do him. The officer only holds her hands down to the pavement, maybe they think because she’s smaller they don’t need the cuffs, at least not yet. 

“Jackie Welles, my old pal from the hood,” a voice rings out, “See you haven’t grown an ounce wiser.” 

“Hey,” big guy, apparently Jackie, responds and she shifts her head against the pavement to see him being held down in addition to the cuffs, “argh, Detective Stints, been a while, huh?”

“Inspector Stints,” the man responds now stepping out where he can be seen in front of the bright lights, he picks up the gun Jackie put down. 

“Same shit,” Jackie says with a laugh. 

“But you, you’re new,” Stints comments as he walks over and crouches down in front of her, looking over her face.

He waits, anticipating her to say something, but she talks with her hands and they’re currently pinned behind her back. And sure she possesses the technical ability to speak, her vocal chords do function. But she doesn’t, unless she’s alone or highly emotional. She used to talk to her mom, sister, and Ava…but those days are gone. 

“Spit it out? Cat got your tongue?” Stints taunts and she still remains silent. 

“Think her voicebox might be broken, Stints,” Jackie comments, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Pfft, probably just another piece of Heywood trash, another termite who’ll live and die here. Just like you Welles.” 

“Fuck off, just tell us what you got planned,” Jackie grumbles. 

“Gonna be booked, gonna do a stint, heh, get it?” He says with a grin. 

“C’mon Stints, cut us a break, huh? You lock us up, we’ll just jerk off till trial and then what?”

She has no intention on jerking off anywhere, but alright.

 “Worst case,” Jackie continues, “we get a few months, standing room only nowadays. In el bote. Hell, we’ll probably be out early.” 

“These the thieves? Ordinary street trash,” a heavily accented voice comments, a Japanese man in a shimmery golden colored vest comes walking over. 

“Shit, he’s here,” Inspector Stints groans before standing, “got them in custody Mr. Fujioka. We’ll be taking them, now.” 

“It’s a waste of effort, I have no time to testify or play at an investigation.” 

“Suggesting we let ‘em go, sir?” 

“I’m suggesting you throw them in the sea; cuffed, legs broken, so this trash doesn’t float.” 

And with that the man starts to walk away, making his way back to the club, she’s sure, continuing his night of debauchery as if he hadn’t ordered the murder of two strangers just because he could, because he didn’t have time for a trial. And god, she knows she probably has no room to judge anyone else’s morals, but just fuck corpos. 

“You heard him,” the inspector says, because corpo cash pays his salary, she’s sure. 

“Fuuuuck….” Jackie curses as they start to drag him up on his feet by the cuffed hands and she her own arms are wrenched back and cuffed. 

V gets her feet back under her, moving with the pull as they manhandle her off the ground, she kicks back at the officer behind her. Her foot connects with their calf, causing them grunt out in pain as they’re knocked off balance loosing their grip on her wrists. She jumps as high as she can and brings her cuffed hands under her feet to her front. 

Jackie follows suit, kicking the officer off of him, but with his size it knocks them flat on their ass. He shoulder checks another pig as V makes a dive for the Rayfield, it’s door still open amongst this chaos. She lands herself in the drivers seat and hits the ignition. 

“Stop resisting!” Officers yell, fingers on the trigger, and no, that’s not happening. 

“Wait up, chica!” Jackie yells out and she hits the button to open the passenger side door; he’s an asshole, but she’s not leaving him to be thrown in the fucking ocean. 

He throws himself down in the passenger side and she guns it, doors shutting on each side as she takes the turn out the parking exit. She watches from the corner of her eye as Jackie, who’s barely able to fit in the bougie car, brings his cuffed hands down as low as he can. He grunts and curses, not quite as flexible as she is. With effort and twisting, he’s able to get the chain of the cuffs under his foot and then he stomps down while yanking his hands up. The little chain doesn’t stand a chance, breaking into pieces and pinging about the interior as it does so. 

“Much better,” Jackie comments, looking at his wrists which now just have the manacles of the cuffs. 

She rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back on the road and she expects to see sirens chasing after them, but it never happens. Are the cops not chasing them? They should be chasing them? Is she not getting in her second high speed chase since coming here?

“Honestly,” Jackie starts to talk again, he talks a lot, “I was just gonna let Stints free us, but I like the way you think, this way we get the Rayfield too.” 

“What?” She takes a hand off the wheel to sign. 

“Oh shit, you’re actually….my bad…” He awkwardly apologizes for asking if she was deaf earlier because, yes, yes she is. 

“What do you mean, free us?” 

“Stints is a softie as far as pigs go, got Heywood in his blood, would never throw us in the fuckin’ ocean cause some corpo said. And, you can slow down, he won’t chase us, chica.”

“Oh…okay,” she signs, pulling up to a curb, something else to take care of. 

“We stopping here?” 

“You are,” she signs before pulling her gun out and pointing it at him, signing with her other hand, “get out of the car.” 

“Really, chica?” He rolls his eyes, like he didn’t pull this shit on her five minutes ago. 

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I knew Stints was a softie, I got a job to finish, get out.” 

“A fixer line this up for you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Padre?” 

“Yeah…are you gonna get out of the car or…?” 

“Listen, I was gonna klep the car and then find a fixer to sell it for me, but if you already got Padre involved, we’ll go halfsies.” 

“You pointed a gun at me!” 

“You’re pointing a gun at me, right now!” 

“You did it first!” 

And he laughs and she does too, because they sound like children bickering over who pushed who on the playground. Its dumb and ridiculous and why does she like him? His smile is warm and kind, something about him, welcoming. She drops the gun, tucking it back in her waistband. She press her hand under her mask, trying to suppress her giggles. The tension that’s been clinging to her has snapped. Her body feels lighter, like she can breathe a bit better. She closes the passenger side door, he may be chill, or she’s just easily charmed. But, she’s still going to fuck with him, just a little. 

“Okay, fine, we’ll go halfsies.” 

“See, now you’re making sense,” he grins as they pull out back onto the road, “Jackie Welles.”  

“V…it’s…nice to meet you? I think?” 

“Heh, not from around here, right?” 

“Nah, but, from the sounds of it you’re a local.” 

“Heywood in my veins, chica,  where we meeting Padre?” 

“El Coyote Cujo.” 

“Of course.” 

“You  know the place?” 

“I’ve heard of it,” he says, grinning wide, a joke she’s clearly not in on, “Ah, I got a good feeling about this.” 

“About what?” 

“Us, you and me got chemistry.” 

“Do we now?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that, you feel it too, heard that laugh.” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” she teases as she pulls into the El Coyote Cujo parking lot, pulling the slick corpo car into a spot, “got a phone on you?” 

“You don’t?” 

“I literally have lost everything I own,  alright? Call Padre and put it on speaker.” 

“Fine, fine,” Jackie gets out his phone and calls Padre, phone in one hand and the other stretched across the back of the seats. 

“Jackie? To what do I owe the pleasure.” 

“Here with your newest find, V, we got the Rayfield.” 

“You helped her out?” 

“Well…” 

“He pointed a gun at me and nearly had me thrown in the ocean.” 

“Seems like I have a car and a story waiting on me, I’ll be there shortly.” 

A pain aches in V’s head, migraine spreading across her temple as Jackie hangs up. She rolls the car window down, allowing the chill of the winter night seep in, hoping the fresh air will ease her pain.  V wants a shower, there’s still blood in her hair and she’s sure she still smells like trash. Though, no one’s been cruel enough to point it out. But, she has no idea where she could grab a shower. Why the fuck does her head hurt so much? The pain a steady throb across her entire head. She pinches the bridge of her nose, it didn’t even ache this much when she first came too in the dumpster. 

“You alright V?” 

“Head hurts,” she signs, before turning off her hearing aids, hoping that shutting out the city sounds will help. 

“When’s the last time you ate, chica?” Jackie says, making sure to stay in her eye line as he leans over the middle console, though his biceps nearly touch her even when he isn’t.  Her mask reading his lips to give him subtitles. . 

When was the last time she ate? She didn’t eat all day because she was in a dumpster passed out. The day before was the smuggle run and she didn’t eat before she left Yucca.

“Two days ago.” 

“Fuckin’ for real, no wonder your head’s wonky, once we finish the deal we’ll get some grub.” 

“What made you think that was why?” 

“Ah, my mama gets those migraines when she stops eating from stress, Vik and me keep telling her to take care of herself, but she’s too busy taking care of everyone else.” 

“You and your mom close?” V can’t help but ask, thinking about her own mother for a moment. 

“Oh yeah, family’s important, gotta have people you can turn to out here.” 

“Yeah…” 

“What-”

Headlights shine in through the back glass of the Rayfield, bring their attention to Padre pulling into the parking lot.  His arrival ending whatever question Jackie was about to ask, which may be for the best. She’s not ready to answer questions about family. Not when her head is throbbing, she’s filthy, and her stomach is empty. Padre’s driver comes to a stop and they see Padre gets out of the back. V turns her hearing aids back on, knowing it will make the conversation flow easier as her and Jackie get out of the Rayfield. Her arms collecting goosebumps from the air. 

“Jackie, it’s nice to see you again, how have you been?” He greets Jackie warmly

“Ehhh, can’t complain, same old same old, making new friends,” he says with a grin, nodding his head towards V.

“Never can have too many of those. It’s always nice to chat once business is done.” 

One of Padre’s bodyguards has already climbed into the driver’s seat of the Rayfield. Enging revving up and then fading off into the night as he leaves. Officially finishing up their business. 

“Uh,” Jackie raises an eyebrow, “you getting senile on me, Padre, this is usually the part where eddies change hands.” 

V’s smirking and trying not to laugh behind her mask. Padre gives a look at V’s direction and she looks down at the ground, pursing her lips so she doesn’t laugh. 

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean.” 

“Ah,” Jackie nods, like he gets it, “no worries, V agreed to go halfsie with me on the Rayfield gig.” 

“Halfsies?” Padre raises an eyebrow, smiling at V, he seems to find her joke at least a little funny. V can’t help the giggle that spills out.

“Am I missing the joke here?” 

“Well, I’m afraid, this was an unpaid job for V here.” 

“What?” Jackie shoots her a sharp look, disbelief coloring his expression. 

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she taunts. 

“Fuck you!” 

She bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as she cackles behind her mask, the sound echoing strangely through it. But, she can’t stop. 

“You stole a million eddie car for free!? The fuck is wrong with you!?” 

“No, no,” she furiously signs, “I needed info.” 

“Speaking of which, I have your intel here,” Padre says, handing her a shard.

“Give me a moment, my lungs hurt.” 

“I’m glad you're entertained, that info better make you a billionaire.” 

“Nah, personal shit,” she collects herself, “thanks, Padre, it means a lot.” 

“You’re a good kid, make him pay, V.”

“Oh, I will,” V confirms, slotting the shard into a little opening on her mask, info displaying across it. 

The name of a chopshop that rumors say had a nomad vehicle come in, her Rattler no doubt. Sinclaire’s address and regular hang outs, exactly what she needs. Hopefully, he hasn’t had time to sell the cargo yet. If so, she’ll axe him and klep all his shit. 

“What happened?” Jackie asks. 

“Well,” she signs, before taking the shard out, “Sinclaire contracted me to transport some cargo, no fixer, so he fucked me over the second he got a chance. Bashed me over the head, threw me in a dumpster, scrapped all my shit, and took off with the cargo.” 

“So, that’s what that smell is?” 

“I will throw you,” she threatens, but she’s rolling her eyes and smiling. 

“I’d love to see you try, chica.” 

“The chop shop won’t be open until morning and it’s late. It’s up to you, but I’d recommend resting for the night.” 

“Yeah…” She signs, but she can’t help the slight pout. She has no money, no clothes, no food, no shelter. She’ll be sleeping on a bench or something tonight, not much rest. 

“You did good work V,” Padre pats her shoulder as he leaves,” I’m sure I’ll have more jobs for you in the future, paying ones, of course.” 

“Thanks again, Padre.”  

She rubs a hand down her face, migraine still thumping around in her head. Between not eating and having her hearing aids in all day, her head feels on the verge of exploding. 

“So, what’s the plan, jaina?” 

“My plan, why do you wanna know my plan?” 

“Because, you and I both know you’re up shit creek without a paddle here, V. No home, no family, no one to turn to. Night City ain’t a place that will let you get by on your own. Need people you can turn to, if you wanna survive.” 

“And what, you wanna be my friend?” She raises an eyebrow, taken aback by just how kind and friendly he’s really been. 

“Told you already, we got chemistry,” he grins again and it makes her smile, “be a crying shame to waste it.” 

“Okay, friend, what do we do now?” 

“You like chili?

“As a concept, sure.”  

“Settled then, get you a hot meal, change of clothes, a shower ‘cause you fuckin’ need it, and crash with me tonight.”

“And tomorrow?” 

“And tomorrow, we teach that pendejo a lesson, sound good?”  

“Sounds good to me.”

They’re all grins and smiles as they leave the parking lot, knocking shoulders together as they go, walking side by side down the neon lit streets. And she can feel it returning, that little buzz of hope she had in her chest when she first came here, the one she thought was beaten out of her by Sinclaire’s goons, it’s back and brighter than ever. Though not half as bright as Jackie’s smile as they turn a corner towards his mother’s house. 

[punkscowardschampions]

Jude & Jac

Jude: [post rave] Jude: you can stop your 1 woman campaign now, freshers looks fun, I admit it Jac: That's why they give out free shit and throw these things Jac: convince people like you, good to know you've fallen for it 🎣😏 Jude: I'm convinced enough to crash Trinity's 😜✌ Jude: here on out Jac: good luck, jailbait Jac: the two years you've got left in school show 👶 Jac: you can't even grow unconvincing facial hair like the boys in my year Jude: nah they don't, why ma & da get so stressed every time I leave the house 💋👗👠 Jac: Predators enjoying the fact you think so is another issue entirely Jude: 🙄😏 Jude: can never just have a nice chat with you Jac: What do you need to chat about? Jude: what do YOU need to chat about? Jac: That was an...attempt, I'll give you that Jude: alright, here's the nudge, her name starts with S & last time she was ranked she was at like a 4 Jude: but I'm willing to bump her up in light of recent events Jac: You've reconnected and + 1 up, have you? Jac: That's nice Jude: taking a decent 📷 is good for a few points Jude: probs should lose 'em again when it's dad 👍 but whatever Jac: Very generous Jac: do appreciate you keeping your 👍 to yourself Jac: what do you wanna ask then? Jude: ikr I'm in a generous mood Jude: I'm not forcing you into a q & a Jude: I just think it's good you're mates again Jude: be a bit weird having her there & not Jude: some girl isn't gonna be there 📷 to turn her into a headless 👻 whenever shit gets awkward Jac: That your professional opinion, captain obvious? Jac: well, cheers for your blessing, like Jude: I could tell you were waiting for it so Jac: Clearly Jac: the little you think about has always been my GREATEST concern 😏 Jac: and she'll be up and over the 🌙 at her new score, of course Jude: all I REALLY wanna know is if she has a 🌾🐄 accent now, like? be honest Jude: it's still silver 🥄 yeah? Jac: Err, come on, it was NEVER Southside Jac: and even if it was, that'd count for NOTHING here Jac: so posh some of 'em it's a speech impediment Jude: so you're saying she don't fit right in with the 👸🤴 & qualifies as a bit of rough instead Jude: gutted for her Jude: her ma'd be even more 💔 wonder how she is Jac: That isn't funny, Jude Jude: not about her mum, that was well sad Jude: posh boys not thinking Sav is, is a bit though Jac: Have you ever tried engaging your brain before you speak Jac: not being completely insensitive should not be this hard for you Jude: ?? Jac: Don't ?? at me Jac: you say it's 'well sad' but you're the one that cracked a joke in the first place Jude: I didn't Jude: not about that Jac: I'm not pulling it from nowhere, it's still on my screen Jac: I don't think you realize how badly you come across half the time Jude: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come across like a massive dickhead Jude: I think Sav's alright, I'm not trying to take the piss out of her Jac: Well it's alright this time 'cos you only said it in front of me Jude: be going a bit far to check in with her Jude: not weird at all Jac: you're saying I SHOULD put it past you? Jac: you are weird Jude: I'm saying I'm not about to say it front of her as I don't talk to her, am I Jac: doesn't mean getting into the habit of saying every 'hilarious' thought that enters your head out loud is a plan Jude: yeah alright Jude: fair enough Jac: Anyway, Sav isn't interested in any boys that look like they came from 🐴s not 🐒s Jude: 🤣 Jude: you wanna be careful saying 👦🏽👦🏾👦🏿 look like 🐒 but I get you Jac: She hasn't got a boyfriend of any colour so I weren't saying that Jude: I didn't reckon so, not unless she got a lad to follow her to uni Jude: but who wants that? Jac: Her ex was holding her back hardcore but he's given that up, thankfully Jude: he sounds like a right laugh & not at all like a prick Jac: That's boys for you Jude: 😜 Jude: when do they grow up? 40s or what? Jac: Have you met our father? Jac: never Jude: oh great Jac: 🤷 Jude: it's alright for you, you can get all the 🤓 lads when you're done studying or whatever Jude: least they'll be smart Jac: smart boys are worse Jac: they want to explain everything to you Jude: really? Jude: fuck that then Jac: dumb but kind are the lofty heights you can shoot for Jude: like a 🐶 Jac: yep Jac: loyalty too, forgo the collar Jude: yeah you're right that is lofty heights Jude: maybe when I'm 40, I can find a lad that don't need one Jude: stop him going over the road & 💔 me Jac: shitting where you eat is gross but convenient, that's boys Jude: 👍 Jude: Jess is so lucky he can pick a lad or a girl Jac: Most people are undesirable Jac: gay lads will only touch him if they think he's straight and that's their type Jac: and girls are a whole different beast altogether Jude: that'll be why he's so 😒 Jac: as a rule or more than usual right now? Jude: we all know why he's 😒 right now Jude: you pissed off somewhere more fun without him Jac: I think he's just fine Jac: and he did it first, every weekend, like Jude: speaking of, his latest gig was not the one Jude: so he's probably 😒 about that Jac: like, he was shit, the crowd weren't the right one or the equipment weren't? Jude: he needs a better 🎸 but that ain't news Jude: seemed like he didn't wanna be there to me Jac: Hm, a fight with one of his girlfriend or boyfriends then Jac: meant to make him better so he's fucked up there Jude: relatable Jac: 🙄 Jac: alright Jude: don't be 🙄 @ me Jude: your dating history ain't spotless Jac: I've never dated anyone so it is Jac: 📑 definition Jude: your hook up history then, you know what I mean cos me either Jac: I don't fall in love with them like an idiot, it's entirely different Jude: I fell in love with the one, who I was dating for a bit Jude: I'm not going about falling for 'em all Jac: Still did, didn't you Jac: I can't even remember any of mine Jac: nothing came into play but proximity and timing Jude: 🏆🥇 if you want Jac: take it over your 💔 obviously Jude: yeah Jac: 🙄 I repeat Jude: whatever Jude: I was stupid, it was ages ago Jac: you brought it up Jude: it was my mistake, I can Jac: not a sounding board for your whining Jude: alright, my bad Jac: used to you Jude: you've got your own room now, get over it, like Jac: unfortunuately, that doesn't stop us sharing a family so I don't think I will, thanks Jac: unfortunuately, that doesn't stop us sharing a family so I don't think I will, thanks Jude: it's a part time one for you now, don't have to see this face til 🎄🎅☃️🎁 Jac: Unfortunately, can stay over Spring though, but there's no catering in the Xmas hol 💔 Jude: 👎 - 1 point to St Andy's Jude: is Sav going to her mum or dad for the hols? Jac: better than home, get all my meals and room cleaned for me every week so Jac: literally only just got here, who's thinking about leaving Jac: some other halls you can stay, so maybe she'll find someone there, so she only has to do actual Xmas day or whatever Jude: me now, maybe I should bother going to uni if they're gonna clean for me Jac: only if you get into a good one Jac: and pay extra, hence most people are self-cater, but what else do I need my grant, loan and scholarship for, may as well Jude: 🤔 I hear you, that's unlikely Jac: you have time Jac: two years can change everything Jude: not my 🧠 it can't Jude: my concentration ain't there unless I'm doing 🎨 Jac: you could try harder, and you know it Jude: at what? Jac: concentrating on enough subjects to get you into a decent Uni Jac: you don't need every one, just enough to boost your points Jude: sounds easy that 😤😏 Jude: if I'm only in it for the 🧹🧺 🧼🧽 & I ain't 🤓 enough for one of 'em, ain't much point Jac: It's not about being nerdy or naturally intelligent, it's about being smart with the system Jude: yeah but it's probably also about going cos you wanna learn stuff & be there not just cos you wanna leave home for a bit Jac: most people never use their degrees, so you tell me Jude: that's true Jude: what subjects then? Jac: Depends what you want to do, Art in some form, assumedly? Jac: Fuck Irish and Spanish and PE, duh, knuckle down with your rest to up your points as much as you can then absolutely ace Art Jude: Alright, I'm decent at PE anyway Jude: that'll be easy points Jac: Exactly, no need to purposely fuck them up, but focus harder on the rest, especially the ones you are less decent at without trying Jude: please tell me you've left your notes here Jac: Of course Jac: under my bed, if you haven't lit it on 🔥 Jude: it's only been a week, gimme chance Jac: well, don't reckon they'll let you get a double yet Jac: I still need a place to crash in the holidays and it certainly won't be beside you snoring your head off Jude: might do if I steer clear of lads for a bit Jude: not that I've done half as much with 'em as everyone reckons I have Jac: People find shit to chat regardless, not worth paying no mind to, no more mind to stupid lads either Jude: I don't care if people don't reckon I'm a virgin still even though I am Jude: it's not like it matters Jac: Yeah, those people will all be irrelevant before you know it Jude: loads of people are well jealous of your uni btw Jude: reckoned you'd wanna hear that Jac: Of course Jac: x2 Jude: 😏 Jac: It's more of a flex than Trinity even, and only a handful of people got in there Jude: when did you work out what you wanted? it feels like you've been going on about it forever Jude: but like actually Jac: 🤔 Jac: I can't remember a point where it wasn't my plan, honestly Jac: more abstract when I was little and didn't have the titles and disciplines to put to it but Jac: I always liked murder mysteries and shit, what makes us tick Jude: right Jude: you love a true crime podcast Jac: 😏 Jac: but I'd rather deal with the living murderers than the corpses of their victims so Jude: well yeah Jude: 🦴🦷 bit gross Jac: 🧠 are much better Jude: long as you're not cutting into it Jac: I won't be Jac: if I'd combined biology, and gone that route Jude: I won't be either, tah Jude: science is proper hard Jac: Psychology has a shit load of it involved anyway, but I can blag it Jude: you're SO excited, I can tell Jude: 🤓💕 Jac: Of course I am Jac: it's everything I've ever wanted Jude: it's weird you're so far away though, it don't feel like you are Jac: Glad my prescence and now abscence had/have such a huge impact on you Jac: we both know why though so Jude: yeah Jac: it's different now Jude: good Jac: alright then Jude: give my love to Savannah, I know she'll have missed me Jude: that's the impact I have Jac: 👌👌 Jude: 😝 Jac: Do you really have a problem with Savannah? Jude: course not, I told you I think she's alright, it's just bants Jude: why does she have a problem with me? Jac: yeah, it's a massive grudge she took all the way to Sligo and back Jac: 🙄 Jude: you know what I mean Jude: has she said that I come across as a massive dickhead too or something? Jude: I don't wanna upset her, like Jac: you haven't come up a load in conversation, like Jac: oddly enough Jac: it's that Jac: she's like my girlfriend alright so you can't be a dick about her anymore, alright Jude: alright then Jac: is that all you're gonna say Jude: I won't take the piss out of her no more, like I said, I didn't mean it anyways Jac: you can react, you know Jac: it's big news on multiple counts Jude: it makes sense Jude: I get it now, why you were like that after she left Jac: Good Jac: I want you to know that Jac: don't change how it was, but still Jude: you could've just told me you rated her 10/10 Jude: is that why she left? like her family always seemed a bit off but I didn't think they were that bad Jac: I couldn't, though Jac: no, her mum wasn't coping Jac: as we all know now, and then the Isabelle stuff went down, so their dad stepped in Jude: yeah, but I mean, that's not part of why she slit her wrists, is it? Cos Sav doesn't need that to carry Jac: it was because the dad left and then took them, to put it as bluntly and without nuance as possible Jac: but that's all on him, not the girls, her mum isn't like blaming them, their relationship is getting better Jude: at least she was alright with you too dating then, nobody needs that dark ages mentality shit Jude: she's got enough going on Jac: well, she doesn't know about that yet Jude: but you were together back then, yeah? Jac: no, it's a new development Jac: as in, like, the other night new, no one really knows, I barely do Jac: things were complicated before Jude: oh okay, soz for backtracking so hard, I just thought Jac: yeah, that was the problem Jac: shit was assumed or it wasn't Jude: what a headfuck Jude: you're okay now though, right? Like the other night went alright Jac: I guess for context, before she left, I did kiss her and it went horribly Jac: I loved her then but she didn't and then she was gone Jac: I see how it sounded like pining there but no Jac: it's good now though, things have changed, we both have Jude: I knew something happened that night when you came back early, you were like a 👻 or like you'd seen one Jac: Yeah, that was what it was Jude: it won't happen again if things are different so Jac: not as bad Jude: I'm glad Jude: that this is the ending you get, cos it's not one, it's more like a beginning or whatever Jude: you don't have to be just excited for uni Jac: I know Jac: not that there's anything wrong with just being excited for Uni, tah very much Jac: whatever happens, I think we'll be able to stay friends this time so Jude: or you'll just marry her & have all the kids she obviously wants Jac: let's not get carried away, shall we Jude: 1. you never said I couldn't have bants with you still Jude: 2. there's nowt I don't know about her life plan, she talks LOADS Jac: You only have a problem with that because you want to be the one talking Jude: course I do Jac: it cannot be overstated how much I'd rather listen to her, is the point ❤ Jude: it'd be a bit rude if you were already like nah tah 🤐 it, babe Jude: probably don't do that Jac: That's your top tip and people really think you're not a virgin? Jac: Interesting Jude: it don't work out well for the lads who TRY it with me 😏 Jude: people reckon I'm not cos I'm that 🥇 yeah Jude: & cos lads have loads to say for themselves, most of which is bollocks Jude: but you're not a sounding board for my whinging, I remember Jac: 'Bants', dear sister, 'bants' Jude: 👍 Jac: anyway, I've got to go Jac: there's this variety show that is apparently hilarious, either actually or in how bad it is so Jude: & I've got loads of 📝📚📖📏📐to do if I'm gonna have my own freshers Jude: top quality entertainment like that, literally how could I not? Jac: sure you'll want to be in it yourself 😏 Jude: you're correct Jude: 👋 then

[sagebodisattva]

The Suffering of the Sacred Cow

So I was asked by a commenter if I ever really truly had deep pain and suffering in my life. I told him that we have all experienced these things to one degree or another. Then I told him that Cash Snowden recently told me something about suffering that I thought he might appreciate., which was:

“Suffering requires a narrative. Pain can be embraced, enjoyed. Suffering and pain are not the same thing. Suffering requires a story in the mind told and believed. Without that story being told and believed, there is just phenomena. The presence of phenomena doesn't have the power to make us suffer. Only our reaction to objects and circumstances can make us suffer."

And to this, the commenter replied:

“Meta Sage. I fully understand that. But it doesn't negate it all. We simply cannot suppress the mind day to day. It's just more insensitive stoicism rhetoric. It's like Rorschach who thinks he has Dr. Manhattan's perspective, haha. You told a commenter that he doesn't have empirical experience under your rock ? video. Okay, fair enough. How can you understand someone else's experience with pain and suffering? It's not all the "same same" visages that dance along. Consciousness is the same, but points of perception have no right to point to stoicism on a soap box as a remedy. Your perspective seems to blame everything on points of perception forgetting that we are a part of the whole. There's no way of wading through this contextualization's "temporary aspects of functionality" and still remain in it.”

So, what exactly is up for this proposed negation that cannot be negated? Does it have anything to do with the actual pain and suffering, or is this just referring to a victimology?

If we can fully understand that suffering is caused by a reaction to circumstances and a narrative told to oneself, then the remedy is clear, isn't it? How isn't it not the same same visages that dance along? Because the specifics of my melodrama are different then the specifics of his melodrama? I mean,... isn't it all melodrama? How is it not all the same same? To think that one's own suffering is somehow more valuable than someone else's, is opinionated and biased.

No one is saying to repress the mind. It wouldn't really be accurate to say that anyway. The mind cannot be repressed; only emotions, feelings, impulses and reactions can be either expressed or repressed. And that isn't what's being advocated around here. I say, don't express or repress. Let it flow through you; witness it, be present, be fully aware of it, but don't feel the need to interfere, with attempts at trying to block it or boost it. Our assistance isn't required. Really.

Much of life is about pain and pleasure management. These stimuli will occur again and again, but it need not cause us to suffer or to have an orgasam... Or, to be put another way: to indulge in attachments, that is, seeking to sustain certain circumstances or seeking to avoid certain circumstances. Depression or euphoria are the psychological result of the indulgence into the narratives associated with the stimuli, it's not a state of being victimizing us. It's a self imposed state, so to speak. To say that these things are insensitive stoicism really makes me wonder about the motive of those who like to wear their suffering like some kind of red badge of courage. Like assuming a victim status affords one of some special standing. It's a little bit annoying.

I find it very unbecoming for people to revel in victimhood. They think no wisdom or activism should apply to them, feel they are above any effort to overcome obstacles, and feel they have some sort of higher ground from which they can wag their fingers at everyone, this alone being the extent of their efforts, and of which they think is duefully theirs by rights, and of which is an exercise of ample action. And if you happen to disagree with them, then all you need is a hammer to the eye, or a family member to be wracked by disease, in order for you to understand their perspective, and hence agree with their narrative.

No, that's all wrong, and it's none of that which is imagined. That is playing the victim, plain and simple. It doesn't give one any special understanding, nor does it elect one to some automatic podium of spirituality.

And besides, isn't that forgetting the relativity of our pain and suffering? Just as we try and minimize others because we feel we have endured so much more suffering then them, realize that there have been, and still are, many others who have experienced pain and suffering the likes of which makes our own pain and suffering seem like tea time at the cat pajama show. So, maybe our idea of loftiness from suffering really isn't that warranted, when there have been others who really have had it much much worse then us. Is that fair? Does it make sense? Or isn't it more realistic to understand that we all know what suffering is, but some experience it more often and to a higher degree then others. But does that fact discount anyone's suffering? Or anyone's right to speak on suffering? Or their suggestions as to the remedies for suffering?

Granted, we don't know the exact configurations of each other's experience with suffering, but that isn't saying very much. Understand, no one is trying to dismiss your suffering as invalid. No one is trying to take a shit on your suffering. No one is saying you don't have a right to feel the way you do about it. In fact, I am very compassionate and empathetic towards your suffering. I wish I could take it all away and send soothing relief over you, to wash away all your pain. But just because our experiences with suffering are not identical doesn't mean we can't speak on the issue together, and explore remedies.

It's not the same as what I told the commenter in my rock video. When referring to the illusion and nature of reality, we can't just say "I understand", because we have gathered some intellectual information on the subject. When it comes to understanding the nature of reality: study, research, gathering knowledge, and building an intellect of details, emphasizes the WRONG approach. It's not a matter of learning. It's not a matter of adding. Empirical understanding is what is required, and this entails a slow gradual deconstruction process of emptying, uncovering and the removal of mental blockades. You unlearn it and realize it. It's clear seeing. If someone doesn't realize it, it's quite clear because, despite saying they understand it with words spoken, it's apparent to anyone who has already realized it, if they really do or not. Someone who understands and realizes the nature of reality doesn't point to perceivables as having responsibility for their inner condition. Someone who is constantly externalizing and referencing the outside world as the source of their problems clearly hasn't made the hurdle. There's no faking it, or any way to grasp it through knowledge. So this is why this example is not on par with the experience of suffering. We all understand pain and suffering to different degrees, so this unites us, and we can all identify with it and share different methods of managing it.

Physical pain comes and goes. If it remains constant, soon tolerance is developed. But generally, pain is not something that sustains as such. But even if such a situation cropped up, wherein non-stop constant pain continued and no tolerance was acquired, there are still different ways to quell it, even if it means taking morphine for relief. Any pain can he healed, it's just a matter of finding the right method.

As for suffering, this is within our ability to control. And I'm not sure why anyone who is suffering would resent possible ways offered to overcome it. People that enable your suffering are not really your friends. Is that what we want? Do we want to be babied? Will it make us feel better if someone diapers and burps our suffering? Ok, maybe a moment of that is nice, but after that, it's time to lift our head up high and take a walk in the sun.

Because if not, then why are you here? If you say you have chronic pain and that there is no way to reduce it, I could either just dismiss you, and say yeah your right. Nothing I am trying to show you can help you, so just ignore my videos, OR, I am gonna keep on encouraging you with my methods.

So then, who says I have no right to point to stoicism as a remedy? It's a good remedy. It's a solid remedy. I want to offer positivity and strength to people who suffer. It's not always insensitive to slap someone out of a torpor stupor. It's actually a disservice and injurious to enable someone to maintain a victim mentality. I would argue that any true stoic is only a stoic because they have had to grapple with extraordinary suffering, and have been able to transact the maneuver I am referring to. Stoics that can laugh, joke and smile, as they are being bull whipped. You know. The ones that don't bat and eye, and wink at you, as they are being crucified. If I were someone who experienced a lot of pain and suffering, I would seek to learn from the stoic, not dismiss them out of hand as insensitive.

I'm not sure what you mean when you say that I seem to want to blame everything on individuals forgetting that they are part of the whole and that there's no way of wading through this context's temporary aspects of functionality and still remain in it. So, I'll just say that nobody is a “PART” of any whole. There is only whole. Parts are apart of the delusion. You are the clear seeing, and not the seen. And what is the seen? Anything beyond the seeing, which includes, your physical body, your psychology, your ego, your environment, other people, the world, the universe and the context of all of these things. So you see, even by me pointing that out just now is insensitive to the standard world view of what a self is.

But that's one thing you should understand about the Meta Sage. I'm a Nihilist. I commit menticide on a regular basis. I am here to undermines your values, reasons, purposes and narratives. But if you watch my videos with any regularity, you should know this already. I go after everything, not just religion and dogma. I am a reality deconstructionist, and everything is on the table. Even suffering.

Yeah, maybe I'm a little insensitive, but it comes with the territory. Spirituality is not really about happy songs and gay dances. Spirituality is about going to war. It's about destroying untruths, and tearing down false foundations. So if that's the charge, then I guess I'm insensitive. But remember, I don't twist anyone's arm and force them to my channel. If you want to be jerked around, there's plenty of fluff to be found out there. There's plenty of fare that appeals to the lowest common denominator. But if you know who I am, and keep returning here, don't bring along any sacred cows.

[cakelanguage]

Are you doing prompts? If so, can you maybe write anything Beth/Sam related? I love them and want to see more them in fandom. You wrote a bit about them in 'I'll make it right' so it would be cool to either expand on that story or maybe else? (I am such Sam/Beth trash)

ABSOLUTELY!!! Sam/Beth deserves some more love so I hope you like tooth-rotting fluff because that’s what I wrote :D

You can also read it on AO3 

They got closer through rock climbing. Well, it’s more likeHannah helped set her up to get closer to Sam through rock climbing. Not thatBeth was complaining at all, Hannah was the romantic one out of the two of themso she enjoyed matchmaking. Beth just didn’t expect Hannah to try and set herup with Hannah’s best friend.

But she and Sam were at Rock Jungle Fitness, hearing thenews that Hannah was “sick” and couldn’t make it. Good acting, sis.

“So, just us then?” Beth asked casually.

Sam smiled. “Yeah, thought it’d be fun to go rock climbingwith you both,” she said.

“Well, I’m eager to get started.”

“Hold your horses, Beth.” Beth mind when a little hazy whenshe heard Sam laugh. “You’ve got proper shoes and you can use some of my chalk,okay?”

Beth nodded her head. “If that’s okay by you, I’m fine withit.”

“Good because they charge you for chalk here.”

“Really?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s part of the gear, but it isn’t expensiveto use.” She picked up the bag of chalk and dipped one of her hands in. Pullingit out, she passed the bag to Beth before rubbing her hands together andclapping them to form a small white cloud. “You’ve got to make sure your handsare covered otherwise they’ll get sweaty and you could slip.”

“You wouldn’t catch me?”

Sam snorted and shook her head. “If I’m ahead of you, how’llI catch you?”

“But you’d just let me fall?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’d try to catch you if Icould reach you.”

“It does, thank you.”

Beth copied Sam’s chalking method and showed Sam her handsfor inspection. “Can you catch these hands, Sam?”

Sam gave her an unimpressed look. “You’ve been hangingaround Josh too much.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to take me out more.”

The other girl smiled. “Maybe I will.”

She pretended her heart didn’t skip a beat at that andwalked over to the wall. Beth took a moment to look up at the wall and thenback at Sam. “You’re going first, right?”

“Yeah, the belayers can hook us both up and I can startfirst, or you can be my belayer and you can go after me.”

Beth shook her head. “We’ll both go, if that’s okay.”

“I want to make sure this is a fun experience and I’mflexible.”

“Okay yeah, let’s do this.”

Beth and Sam both waited patiently as the belayer hookedthem up and explained the safety measures to them. Beth thought it was a littleunnecessary, but appreciated the reassurance that they weren’t going to fall totheir deaths. That would have been awful.

She popped her knuckles and sent Sam a smile. “You ready?”

“Always, are you?”

“Just get started and I’ll follow you.”

Sam didn’t waste any more time after that. Suddenly, she wasalready ten feet up the wall and Beth was scrambling to catch up. One foot onthat climbing hold and a hand on the next, and she was pulling herself up.Shit, this was harder than she thought it’d be, and she’d only made it a littleways up the wall. She looked up to ask Sam how difficult this particular climbwas when she spotted, quite possibly, the most glorious vision she’d ever seen:Sam’s ass.

Beth wasn’t one to call herself perverse, but Sam’s buttlooked really good, and even better when she was rock climbing apparently.Perfect shape for cupping with her hands and- huh, the wall didn’t seem thathard to climb now.

Thanking her boost in energy and determination, Bethcontinued to climb after Sam. As they got higher and higher, Beth started toworry a little about coming down, but tried to push those thoughts out of herhead.

“Hey Sam?” Beth asked. “Are we trying to go to the top?”

Sam looked down at her. “We don’t have to,” she saidreassuringly because Sam was always compassionate. Like a rock climbing angel. Witha great ass. Beth needed to stop hanging out with Josh.

“Uh… maybe we can go up a bit more, but I uh, I don’t thinkI want to go to the top.”

“Sounds good, you let me know when you want to stop andwe’ll go down.”

Beth sent her a nervous smile and continued up a few moreholds before she stopped again. “Okay, yep, this is my limit.”

Sam stopped. “Alright, so we’re doing a lead fall, so firstwe have to yell down ‘take.’”

“Why?”

“So they know to get a good grasp on the brake.”

Beth’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait they don’t have a good graspnow?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Stop panicking, we’re fine. A leadfall is a fall where we’re going to fall for a distance before we slow down.”

“Free fall?” Beth knew her voice was getting pitchy withanxiety, but she didn’t want to just fall and pray that those two people at thebottom would belay them correctly.

“Do you trust me, Beth?”

Beth looked at Sam wide-eyed. “What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“I wouldn’t make you do something if I didn’t know it wassafe. It isn’t really free falling, I promise you’ll be fine and I’ll give youa big hug when we get to the bottom, okay?”

Beth stared at Sam for a few seconds before nodding her headslowly. “Take!” she shouted down to her belayer. Sam shouted the same thingfrom above her.

“Okay, now Beth, you have to let go of the wall,” Saminstructed.

“Just-just let go?”

“Yeah, just lean a little back and let gravity do the rest.The belayers will make sure you don’t fall.”

She sent Sam a nervous look. “Y-you don’t want to go firstthis time?”

“They’ll want you to go first since you’re lower on the wallthan I am. It’s to prevent me from accidently hurting you.”

“Oh.” Beth was starting to regret letting Hannah set her upon this not-date. “So uh-“

“Just look at me, Beth. Just keep looking at me and let go,I’ll be down there soon.”

And as she looked up at Sam, she couldn’t help but trusther. Sam wouldn’t lie to her and Beth had to have at least some trust in thegirl she loved.

So she let go.

Beth only fell about 10 feet or so, but Beth felt the terrorclawing at her chest. But she kept looking at Sam who was looking at her soproudly that the fear seemed to seep away. Beth gave Sam a pleased grin as shecontinued being lowered to the ground.

Her belayer made sure she was okay before unhooking her.

“Hey, am I allowed to catch her?” Beth asked.

The other belayer stared at her with bewilderment but shookhis head. “You would have had to be hooked up to her at the start,” he saidslowly.

“No, I mean after you get her lowered close enough to theground, can I like, catch her in my arms?”

He stared at her for a moment with an amused look on hisface before smiling. “Sure, if you want. You two a couple?”

Beth sighed wistfully. “If only.”

“Good luck with that, now be ready to catch her okay, I’lltry to make her come down slowly after the fall, but it still might knock thewind out of you.”

“I think I can handle it.”

She watched with rapt attention as Sam fell and then waslowered closer to the ground. Sticking her arms out, she moved around until shewas sure that she’d catch Sam perfectly. And she did, thank god because thatwould have been embarrassing. Beth knew why he’d warned her, but Sam wasn’theavy at all really.

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven, Sam?” Beth askedteasingly.

“I couldn’t have fallen from Heaven, you’d still be theresilly,” Sam teased back.

Beth felt herself flush and she tucked Sam’s head in thecrook of her neck. “That’s not fair, you were the one who was supposed to beembarrassed.”

Sam pushed her head back to look at Beth. “Awe, you’readorable.”

Beth glared softly at Sam but smiled. “I could drop you, youknow.”

“Oh no, and the ground is so far away.”

Sam’s belayer cleared his throat, but the large grin on hisface reassured them he wasn’t upset.

When they were back in Sam’s car, Sam turned to her with anexpectant look. “So, what’d you think?” she asked.

“The rock climbing? It wasn’t bad once I got used to it,”Beth said. It was honestly a lot of fun after she was sure that she wasn’tgoing to die.

“No, our date. Is this a good place for dates or should wefind another place for casual dates?”

Beth’s eyes widened. “Wait- this was a date? Why didn’t youtell me?”

Sam bit her lip. “It’s stupid, Hannah reassured me but I waskind of afraid you wouldn’t agree if I said it was a date.”

She gave Sam a hard stare. “I’ve been crushing on you formonths, Sam. I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask you on a date. I choseto climb behind you because I wanted to stare at your ass.”

Sam snorted. “Was it a good view?”

“The best.”

The two sat in companionable silence before Beth broke it.“So, girlfriends?”

“Girlfriends.”

They’ve gone back to Rock Jungle Fitness at least once amonth since then.

[citycfangels]

text: charlie ⇄ raquel

Charlie: [http://68.media.tumblr.com/7dbebb4db2fe718f37b048eca14ded61/tumblr_onquqxCphs1va2efko1_500.jpg]

Charlie: here you have a post-work out good morning pic. you're welcome

Raquel: so really I get pictures just because now?

Raquel: is that your way of saying you miss me?

Charlie: i thought you'd appreciate seeing my abs after a work out session first thing in the morning

Raquel: I do appreciate it. It's like a really nice wake up call.

Raquel: Now you just have me thinking about you and post workout mode. Taking a long shower, water dripping off your muscles, you walking around in just a towel. You sending that picture was just an evil plan to get me to think about you.

Charlie: i'm an evil mastermind who wants to get you hot and bothered all the time. you caught me, babe

Charlie: how are you, besides awake and slightly horny?

Raquel: how had I not picked up on that sooner?

Raquel: I'm good. Great actually. Without you in bed with me I actually get some sleep 😜

Charlie: ooooh, it seems not having me in bed is almost as good as having me in there. nice to know you're well rested

Raquel: almost being the most important part of that sentence. I would have preferred to sleep next to you but maybe I'm just giving you enough time to miss me.

Charlie: and you needed some time to sleep and rest, and what kind of man would i be if i didn't let you rest?

Raquel: hmm technically still a good one. Especially with the ways you keep me awake.

Charlie: you have a point. if the sex wasn't that good, that's when i'd be a bad man.

Raquel: then in that case you're the best man I've ever met.

Charlie: you're good at boosting my ego in the morning, babe

Charlie: thanks, btw.

Raquel: well isn't that supposed to be a thing a girlfriend does? You know ego boost, emotional support, mind numbing orgasms. You know just to name a few.

Charlie: oh yes, that's a very girlfriend thing to do. cheerleading is also one of those too

Charlie: what are you doing now?

Raquel: and that's where you got an expert in cheerleading.

Raquel: besides texting you, I'm texting Casey because we're thinking of going out tonight. I'm still giving you time to miss me and time to be alone.

Charlie: my own personal cheerleader.

Charlie: oh good, go out with me. i have to work tonight anyways, but i think it'll be you the one missing me.

Charlie: i think you saw this question coming, but are you barely dressed by any chance?

Raquel: yup ready to bend, cheer and wear the skimpiest of outfits all for your benefit.

Raquel: me miss you? No chance.

Raquel: hmmm maybe.

Charlie: now you have to wear an uniform for me someday just because you said that

Charlie: no? well, i'm offended

Charlie: that's your answer? because my imagination is running wild right now

Raquel: You get me the uniform and I'll do whatever you want. I can show you just how flexible I really can be.

Raquel: Nope. I won't miss you at all.

Raquel: well

Raquel: [ http://68.media.tumblr.com/95bd42cd527dc67bb26bb91c59b300a1/tumblr_nur5ygPw5Z1upy1qao1_500.jpg ]

Raquel: just to stop your imagination from going too wild. Too bad you can't come over because you'd distract me from getting ready to go out.

Charlie: got it. i'm not sure where to get one for kinky purposes, but i'll figure it out. i hope they sell any at the sex shop

Charlie: boo you

Charlie: have i told you today how fucking hot you are, babe? because you look so fuckable in that pic

Charlie: i guess i have my hand to take care of myself today, but we'll make up for it tomorrow

Raquel: it really is too bad that I don't have my old one. They probably have on online or something. Unless you specifically want to wait for halloween then you'd have plenty to choose from.

Raquel: you hadn't said it but it is sort of implied. I don't think you'd be with me if I didn't at least try to be as hot as you are.

Raquel: oh so you just automatically think you get to claim me for tomorrow?

Charlie: i don't think i want to wait until halloween so i'll look for it

Charlie: being hot is a plus, but i'd be with you if you weren't

Charlie: do you have any plans for tomorrow? i had to try

Raquel: someone's impatient. You only would have had to wait four months. It's not like I'm going anywhere.

Raquel: so even if I let myself go you'd still be with me?

Raquel: I might have dinner plans with someone I don't want to have dinner plans with. Do you want to come over tomorrow during the day?

Charlie: four months to see you in a cheerleader uniform are four months. of course i'm impatient

Charlie: yes, i would.

Charlie: sure, i could use a different place to be. who are you having dinner with?

Raquel: fine then I can probably find one in a couple of days

Raquel: part of me is tempted to let myself go just to see if you would but then again that would be pointless.

Raquel: no one important.

Charlie: good

Charlie: i would still be with you, although you're perfect the way you are

Charlie: okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to

Raquel: it's thank to all the kale I eat lol 😜

Raquel: I'd just rather not think about it until tomorrow night. Just spend the day with me.

Charlie: i thought you hated kale

Charlie: okay, babe. we'll do whatever you want to make you not think about it. i can be there in the morning or whenever you want

Raquel: that doesn't mean you aren't supposed to have it.

Raquel: well chances are I'll be hungover so unless you want to end up with hungover me all night I think the morning is your best bet.

Charlie: still, it's gross babe. i don't know how that can be healthy

Charlie: then i'll bring you something for breakfast to help you, just tell me what you want. and then a bath or whatever you want to do after breakfast

Raquel: https://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-4408/Top-10-Health-Benefits-of-Eating-Kale.html

Raquel: see it's good for you. You aren't supposed to eat it like in a salad. You can have it in like a smoothie or something. You won't even taste it.

Raquel: you are literally the best boyfriend ever. Where did they make you because you are like way too perfect.

Charlie: eh, i'll think about it. i'm not too much into these diets, but i'll give it a shot at some point

Charlie: in the backseat of a car in a rainy night, babe

Raquel: you can always have some of mine.

Raquel: well shoutout to your parents for knowing how to take advantage of mood setting.

Raquel: and you know the whole raising you to be the man you are now thing.

Charlie: all i know is that they were lost in a roadtrip and they couldn't wait to get into a motel room to fuck, so

Charlie: i hope you get to tell them that someday

Raquel: sort of sounds like something we'd do. You know if we ever took a road trip.

Raquel: you want me to meet your parents?

Charlie: yeah, i can see it happening. sex in the backseat of a car and then in a motel room. so fucking nice

Charlie: not now, but if you ever want to go to canada like you've told me i guess you'll end up meeting them

Charlie: you know, when things are more serious.

Raquel: jacuzzi sex. Putting up do not disturb signs and ordering room service.

Raquel: I do want to go to Canada. I want to see where you grew up.

Raquel: I'd go anywhere with you and if that means I get to thank the people who gave me the man I am crazy about then yes. I'll go whenever things get more serious.

Charlie: i've never had jacuzzi sex, so it'd be the first time for me

Charlie: okay. we can't go now, but we'll go there someday, i promise.

Charlie: you know that things getting more serious would mean making this official, right? once you break things off with Nathan and shit

Raquel: you and me both but it has been on my bucketlist.

Raquel: then that definitely means I need to have my passport in order.

Charlie: it's a nice thing to have in our bucketlist

Charlie: you should get it in order, just in case we make that trip soon

Raquel: oh there are plenty of other things like it on that list.

Raquel: well with expediting a passport it only takes a month. Unless you're planning on getting really serious really fast.

Charlie: what's on your list? i'm curious

Charlie: nah, not that soon, but it's good to have it in order

Raquel: mile high club, on a beach but not in the sand more like on those bed hammocks they have in like cabo or something. There are more but those are just to get started.

Raquel: you're right. I'm just surprised I hadn't gotten my passport sooner.

Raquel: then again I didn't really have a reason to travel outside of the us before.

Charlie: you want to fuck in a plane? we'll fuck in a plane then. and those hammocks seems good places to have sex in

Charlie: now you have a good reason

Raquel: who doesn't want to have sex on a plane? Well except for like southwest planes where its like being trapped in a tiny linen closet.

Raquel: yeah, and honestly there isn't anyone else I'd want to travel with.

Charlie: i never thought of it until now, but that sounds hot and exciting

Raquel: really? Never? Not even when you had like a hot flight attendant on your plane?

Charlie: not really. i didn't pay a lot of attention to them when i flew here. they weren't that hot, tbh

Raquel: that's a little disappointing. You got like the wrong first impression of what the u.s should be like.

Raquel: we never really talked about it hut why did you come to the states, not that there's any complaints from me.

Charlie: yeah, i was disappointed in that plane. i was hoping they had long legs to stare at whenever they walked by

Charlie: the beach, the weather and more possibilities of working at something that doesn't require wearing at least three layers of clothes everyday

Raquel: damn you whatever airline for crushing my baby's dreams. But if I'm going to be looking at a girl legs isn't what I would be looking at.

Raquel: well thank you for wanting to escape colder weather. If not we wouldn't have met.

Charlie: hey, legs are a good physical quality to look at on a girl. legs and ass, particularly. you can't blame me.

Charlie: at least that makes bartending easier, don't you think?

Raquel: and if I were looking for a girl I'd probably look for chest more than ass.

Raquel: it does a bit. Or at least you know people aren't just drinking to stay warm.

Charlie: two more amazing qualities to look at, but you have to start somewhere, right?

Charlie: well, that could be happening if i was working in a coffee shop, but being a bartender is cooler, i think

Charlie: plus i don't want too many people benefiting from my coffee.

Raquel: i guess you do have a point that you should start from the bottom up, and lucky for you I have all three.

Raquel: no, coffee is only for me. No one else can know I have my personal barista

Charlie: you have three very good attributes and i'm so lucky i can see them very often

Charlie: i meant that, silly. i'm not making coffee for anyone else, so you're a lucky one

Raquel: just not tonight. If I drunk text you you should know that I dont mean like much of it.

Raquel: no take backs and it's forever so too bad.

Charlie: i'll keep that in mind. i'd like to see the drunk raquel in you though

Charlie: i won't take it back, you'll be the only one to taste my coffee

Raquel: you've seen me drunk before. Well maybe tipsy.

Raquel: 😘

Charlie: you were the cute drunk at that new year's eve party, i kinda loved it

Raquel: but I thought you didn't do clingy?

Charlie: depends on the person.

Charlie: i wouldn't do clingy with candice bc it was just sex, but with you? it's not only sex. i don't really mind it bc clingy isn't the only thing that describes you and i really like you

Raquel: I really like you too.

Raquel: (an hour later) they keep playing crying in the club and i don't get it because no one is crying in the club. Well maybe in the bathroom but does the dj see something I don't? I'm confused.

Charlie: :)

Charlie: they should have chosen another song. there are better ones anyways

Raquel: or

Raquel: or

Raquel: he is like one of those alien people who can see things regular humans can't and he sees people crying. He does seem like a nice dj so maybe he is like here is this song to cheer you up.

Raquel: hopefully he isnt like the aliens in signs. But it's not like there is a lot of water around here anyways.

Charlie: aliens?

Charlie: okay, how drunk are you?

Raquel: yes aliens

Raquel: they're real. Like so real

Raquel: I dont know how to answer that

Charlie: how real do you think they are? would you like to meet any?

Raquel: they're so real!

Raquel: babe, listen.

Raquel: like we can't be the only people in the universe. Like we just cant so the only answer is aliens. Thats the only way.

Raquel: if theyre nice then sure but if they like want to take o we the world and like listen to donald trump or something then no.

Charlie: okay, you may have a point. they can be out there in the universe, it makes sense

Charlie: maybe they're nice to us and they can take donald trump. that would be nice

Raquel: then they would be true mvps and we wouldnt be mad at them for taking all of our water for their spaceships.

Raquel instagram post: https://78.media.tumblr.com/7e58412d60dbd342aad477a015ac0bf0/tumblr_oriui9KiIT1w7ltgxo1_500.jpg Quellersmal #ootd just because it took Casey forever to get ready #latergram

Charlie: whoa there, all of it?

Raquel: yup. All of it.no more water for us. Only tequila shots.

Charlie: but what about the plants? wouldn't they die?

Raquel: babe. I just said we would have no more water and only tequila and you are worried about the plans? Worry about me. What am I going to do? I would be hungover forever.

Raquel: the plants can get rain water but me? I cant.

Charlie: of course i'm worried about you, but the plants deserve water too.

Charlie: well, i hope they leave a bit of water for us at least

Raquel: okay true I shouldn't be thinking just about myself.

Raquel: maybe if we ask them nicely. They'd already be doing us a huge favor by taking a demon away from us so we probably shouldn't push it

Charlie: tru

Charlie: how's your night going? are you having fun?

Raquel: so mch fun so much drinks.

Raquel: and casey smels like marshamlws

Raquel: maybe nit marshmellows but somethmg sweet and its like i want to eat her.

Raquel: and i have like fice new friends

Charlie: i wish i was there, babe. i bet it's better than working

Charlie: does she? i bet she does

Charlie: that's good, babe. remind them you're taken tho

Raquel: maybe we shoud go there

Raquel: butt then i still wouldnt be able to liss you be ause youre not ssupposed to make out with your bartender or at least thats what people tell me

Raquel: mhmm I told them that at one poknt i has 2 bfs but now i only really have one and that i love him even if i just lied and just said like really like but really he should know that i mean love.

Charlie: ... how drunk are you?

Raquel: im not drink

Raquel: dunk

Raquel: denk

Raquel: okay i am

Charlie: okay

Charlie: shit, i have to go. break is over and i have to go back to work

Charlie: i will see you tomorrow at your place. i'll bring breakfast with me, babe

Raquel: :(

Raquel: kay bye

Raquel: 😘😘😍💋💋💋💋