rykerwang-blog

[rykerwang-blog]

#insp #instagram #made this a long time ago #just never posted it #queued

[rykerwang-blog]

Briefly, she forgot why she was going this to begin with. For all of one, beautiful moment, it was just this bike, the moment and the feeling, the wind, the dull hum, racing pulse -- 

It was all she ever needed. It could get her heart racing every time, made her senses sharper and amplified every color, more satisfying than any drug Ryker had ever taken (and, she had tried many). They produced effects that felt like imitations, shadows. Fake. And Ryker wouldn’t settle for fake, and why would anyone really if the real thing was so close? 

Ryker nearly stopped breathing as she cornered at 70mph with her knee just barely skimming along the pavement, shifting her gears and accelerating to catch up with Q. That opportunity comes to her as the slow build up of cars ahead gives her the edge - breathe, duck, weave - slipping in between cars and reveling in the feeling of pushing ahead and leaving behind a world that forced itself to slow down. Driving in the wrong lane always felt so good, never mind the agitated car horns that Ryker was all too glad to leave behind. She just twisted her throttle more, pushing the dial further to the right.

Up until that point, she was nearly caught up with Q, and maybe she would have had the chance to actually beat him if it weren’t for the sharp sound of sirens behind. Ryker did not anticipate Q to take the alleyway that would risk damaging his beautifully flashy car.

“Little shit.” She laughed softly, mentally mapping out a path of the alleyways to ditch the police. They weren’t always the brightest of sorts, and she knew the alleyways as well as she knew the taste of her own blood. But she doubted at this rate, there was any chance of her winning. 

A few sharp cornerings in the back streets and alleyways later, Ryker doesn’t have the goal of the intended finish line in mind. Instead, it’s a quick stop for a coffee (Starbucks, because she couldn’t help but love the name, more milk than actual coffee and lots of whipped cream) and the most diabetes-inducing muffin she could find (because god only knows how much good it could do to skinny little Q). By the time she actually gets to her original end destination, she’s a good handful of minutes behind and Q is already there, standing with a cocky smile. 

She came to a sharp stop and tugged of her helmet, an amused smile playing at her lips. “It’s useless to be a God when you’re speaking to a nonbeliever.” Reaching for her coffee, Ryker took a long sip out of it while throwing the small brown bag with the diabetes muffin in it. “Because I don’t keep thousands of dollars on hand at all times, let’s just call it an IOU. I specifically picked out that muffin for you, so be grateful.” 

鲁莽 (reckless) | q & ryker

  “Usual route, you sure ‘bout that?” He grinned, it was no secret their usual route was well suited to his outlandish car, although if even the slightest bit of traffic hit the roads she’d have the up. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t ramp it up, Q might drive out in the sticks usually but if it called for it he’d happily weave through traffic, driving on the other side of the road never hurt anyone—that was until there was oncoming traffic. He’d been lucky that thus far the worse accident he’d been in was a spin-out, screech of brakes and an incredibly pissed off local hollering at him for driving on the other side of the road. Apparently a shrug and a smirk wasn’t enough to get off the hook, but a wad of cash slipped into their back pocket was.

  The clock struck thirty, the revving paved way and his foot released the clutch, if the beast was roaring before she lurched into action with a hollering scream, a second behind Ryker but that was more down to his reflexes than the car herself. He smirked, another gear change and he was ahead, leaving her behind in his dust, or more accurately flames.

  He hit the first corner harder than he’d intended, not that he was ever overly cautious, pulled up hard on the hand-break and with a little bit of luck intermingled with skill drifted the great hulking beast round the sharp bend. Scarcely out of the corner and he was already accelerating, tuned to the teeth it only took her a little over two seconds to reach 60, he was pushing her harder than that.

  Streets blurred into nothing but streaks of light, had to swerve around slower moving traffic with a heady rush of adrenaline, sounds of their horns already off into the distance by the time he paid them notice. 

  This was better than any drug, better than the oblivion a drink might provide him, dare he say it better than even a night in the arms of a lover. It was pure, it was adrenaline soaked into his bones, soul.

  Nothing could stop him now. Not even the inevitable sounds of sirens, mismatched eyes glanced up into his mirror to see the flash of lights. “Shit just got fun.”

  “Sorry Ryker little diversion.”

  He made a hard left, down a narrow alleyway that nearly knocked the mirrors off his car, sent a poster flying off the smart-tech wall to his right. His diversion cost him precious seconds, that he inevitably made up, but on the plus side it didn’t take much to lose the cops. Which might’ve astounded him but Q was far too busy celebrating his double win, he’d pulled up at finish line with a screech of tires and a slight plume of smoke but she was no-where in sight. He still had a smug smile plastered across his face when he slipped from the car, cigarette between his lips to sate his other dirty habit.

  “Bow to your king, wait—no scratch. Not a king, I’m a God.”

#p:q #reckless

[rykerwang-blog]

Ryker tugged at a few strands of her hair that had fallen out of her side bun, annoyed. Something as simple as punching a drunk shouldn’t have really caused her hair to fall out of place like that, but at least it wasn’t that she had done badly enough that loose strands ended up being yanked away. Now that would have made her mad, and reminded her of the time she was losing a fight, and she had watched a single strand of one of her red hairs float in the air in front of her. That had been the breaking point. 

She twirled the loose hairs and carefully tucked them behind her ear, figuring she would fix it later. “I never thought about it like that. But, then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where I’ve had to use a screwdriver for anything else but taking out screws.” His observation amused her a little, for he was more or less correct. Guns were plenty fun, but why let bullets do the work when she could do it herself? 

“Also, it’s Ryker. So, what can I call you?” 

he’s half watching, a sidelong observation, and it’s not much of a ‘fight’, the man barely able to stand on his own two feet and words barked out wholly unintelligible.  in fact, the petite woman probably did him a favour.  unconsciousness will deliver a sweet relief from the aftermath of the vast amount of alcohol so obviously imbibed - staggering, stumbling, passing out in a gutter.  perhaps he’d even be out long enough to sleep through the crippling hangover.  

perhaps there’s a flicker of a smile.  the slightest quirk of lips as the drunk hits the floor.  it’s a solid, single punch.  crisp.  exact.  clean.   regardless of the target and his current ‘state’ of inebriation, you can still make a mess swinging with a lack of skill.  and he’s seen more than enough ‘messes’.  more commonplace than anything else in night city.  exuberance, over eager, over confident and underskilled - whatever reasons.  there was always… a mess. not here though.  an unconscious drunk in a bar where barely a night would go by without another brawl breaking out wasn’t something wholly uncommon.  he’s sure that the punch was quite entertaining to others too, but when it was obvious that there would be naught to follow the first last of fist, and the bulk of the other falling like a felled tree, most seem to return to the intense ruminations to be found in the bottom of whatever glass or bottle they were clutching.

however, there’s an arch a brow at the – ‘him over there’. he does have a name, if she cares to ask for it.  but he prefers not to be referred to as an object and spatial reference.

well, he hopes the bar-tender at least feels some sense of obligation to the offer.  

“screwdriver…?  you seem to have a running theme. implements capable of stabbing people.”

a dry play on words, yes - but she doesn’t seem the type for slapstick.

#c:13

[rykerwang-blog]

Ryker looked up at Vi and had to try her hardest not to smile too much. “Aw, Vi, you wound me. But it’s probably better that you don’t remember who I am.” It probably wouldn’t be the best of things to be remembered by someone as dangerous as Vi, for it would probably mean that she had been unlucky enough to be placed on her bad side. She seemed like the type of woman who couldn’t care less about other people, and if she did ‘care,’ it was only just to hate them. 

She raised her eyebrows briefly, questioning. “No one’s invulnerable. Everyone has a weakness, and I’m sure you have one too, Vi. Makes me wonder what it could be.” A light laugh removed the potential threat of her words, because it wasn’t as if she actually cared if Vi had a weakness. But it was certainly an interesting thought to have. 

“You seem to know a thing or two about loved ones. Maybe, at one time, did even you have one too?” Now that was a thought. At one time, very long ago, Ryker had loved, once. But that was another lifetime ago, and it was a love that she had easily given up for the sake of freedom and the life she lived now. So, maybe it hadn’t meant all that much to her to begin with. 

Maybe. 

Vi shot her a sour glare but didn’t say anything.For a few moments she was standing silently. This would turn sour, Vi could tell. She was admittedly unprepared to deal with the consequences of this fateful meeting, but—she would live with her actions ( like always ).She smiled,stretching the skin around her mouth.It had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done. But she had no trouble with faking emotions. She stepped closer, close enough to be sure that she could see her superior smile. So, she raised her chin, gazing down at the other woman with vague disinterest.

Vi was not a fool; her world was not filled with joy and gratitude.Sure, on a larger scale, it was healthy to have people out there you cared about more than yourself. She knew that. But then there was the abject fear you would lose it.’’They say possessions own you. Not so. Loved ones own you. You are forever held hostage once you care so much.’’

 “A fascinating question, girl – perhaps we may even explore it more in depth soon enough.” She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head slightly as she observed her again. “It’s funny: I hardly remember you.And yet you make such observations.’’

‘’I’m not lonely.I’m perfectly happy.’’She let out a sigh heavy with disappointment.‘’Many people are afraid of being alone. But it made me feel strong, free and invulnerable.”

#c:vi #WOW this is #really late

[rykerwang-blog]

i just like drawing my trash ocs from rps… .. .. look at Ryker wearing a stupid little crown thing 

i w a n n a s e e h e r g e t b e a t u p s o m u c h 

c: 

#queued #jem draws stuff #i genuinely look forward to the day that ryker dies one day #reblogged from personal

[rykerwang-blog]

Is it wro-wrong that I think it's kinda fun When I hit you in the back of the head with a gun?

#playlist #queued

[rykerwang-blog]

It was kind of typical, actually. Ryker never understood the point of lowering your voice if you wanted to be intimidating. No one could hear you and someone would have to, almost comically, lean forward and ask, ‘Uh, mind repeating yourself? I can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.’ She never understood the point of the obvious stares that meant judgement. Of course you were being judged, everyone did it every second of their lives. But Vi was something else, had something else about her that made things that Ryker wouldn’t have considered just a little intimidating a whole different thing altogether. She always wondered what could spark something else just a little bit more than the dead cold inside Vi - but surprisingly, Ryker thought she saw it. If not just for a second. 

“I wouldn’t say friends are entirely useless. Friends are, at least, loyal. Associates can be easily swayed, and enemies? I suppose that depends on whether you want to love them or hate them.” She shrugged, smiling faintly. “What am I here for? Well, I was going to ask how you liked the new merchandise I sent over a few days ago, but you seemed awfully lonely standing around here on your own.” 

Something flashed in Vi’s eyes – the first real show that she was something not quite human,not quite whole. ’’You’re mistaken.I wasn’t threatening anyone.I was actually trying to be a good citizen.’’ She moved closer, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. Despite the deadness, the coldness, present in her gaze, something resembling mischief sparked. She glanced her over, gaze slow, steady, and above all, searching for just what use she might prove to her.’’You haven’t heard,’’ She turned away, but paused for a brief moment to continue.‘’My enemies don’t swim, they float.Friends are absolutely useless.They’ll only bring you trouble.What do you want,Ryker?And please try not to disappoint me.’’

#c:vi #haha same i love p!atd

[rykerwang-blog]

“Well, what’s been keeping you from exploring? City’s full of things to do, especially if you know where to look.” Silently she debated about whether or not she should get another drink, for she did have to drive herself back. Ryker was reckless, but not stupid. But she still waited for the day she could do whatever she wanted and fuck all to the consequences. 

Ryker raised her eyebrow at the last sentence. “Don’t, or won’t? Because it’s one thing if you actually can’t, but another if you’re trying to go for some ‘strong but silent’ thing. Doesn’t it get annoying writing everything you want to say all the time?” 

Not new, exactly, but I haven’t had a chance to look around before recent times. Grey nodded to her offer, sure he’d eventually need a new set of blades - they didn’t last forever, after all. His were still the same ones he’d hidden shortly before his trip to the hospital, and they weren’t doing all too well after a year of just sitting there. That’s correct; I don’t. Couldn’t was more accurate at this point, though there was nothing physically wrong with him, but he didn’t think that mattered much to this stranger.

#c:greyfiel #here have a gif with ryker sticking her tongue out for a sec to match

[rykerwang-blog]

#queued #drugs tw #aka a song i should have thought to put on the original playlist i made for her but didn't #playlist

[rykerwang-blog]

“Oh, aw. I thought I was doing a pretty good job.” She wasn’t actually that upset, and hadn’t really tried all that much to hide her presence. Ryker had been enjoying watching Vi pace back and forth with an expression on her face that said it all. It would be unwise to cross Vi in a mood like this, but Ryker had always wondered with it would be like just to push her buttons a little. 

Just a little. 

“You’re not going to make any friends threatening people like that. But lucky for you, I can swim.” 

 With a cold expression on her face she paced around impatiently.Her mind was still flicking through murderous thoughts.It had been a feeling more than a noise that had given the other away, but that was more than enough.( Shadows were filled with energy.Just like the darkness had a special taste.) ‘’Back away from the water or  you might drown.’’She turned her head away, gritting her teeth .

“…Oh and you aren’t as sneaky as you believe yourself to be.”

#c:vi #back away from the water babe you might drown the party isn't over tonight #sorry vi's starter made me think of a song #couldn't help it

[rykerwang-blog]

character aesthetics | the bad girl

❝She wants wreckage, she wants scorched earth, she wants broken glass.❞

#insp

[rykerwang-blog]

The entire thing is actually kind of funny to Ryker. The man who was once slumped over and she considered more or less dead was now very much alive, but from the way he was acting, she was sure it wouldn’t take all that much to send him back to being unconscious for she was sure that, while “accidental” murder was okay on the streets, a bar was another matter entirely. She really didn’t care all that much though about the knife that the drunken man was now waving around. It was cheap and so there really wasn’t any need to retrieve it, but Ryker was starting to get annoyed by the shouting. “Nah, I think I’ll take care of this. It was my fault for missing, after all.” 

In a few steps, Ryker crossed the bar and grabbed the wrist of the drunken man brandishing the knife clumsily, twisting it away from her. It only served to cause more slurred curses and a swing of a fist that Ryker easily sidestepped. “Shut up, old man, it’s just a tiny cut,” she sighed in exasperation. Sure, she was annoyed, but Ryker was more pleased than anything else. The faint smile on her face twitched in amusement as a single punch to the jaw was all that it took for the drunken man to shut down again, although she had to be just a little mindful of punching too hard. Knuckles reinforced by steel could do much more than just render a person unconscious. 

The man crumpled to the ground, and the annoying shouts immediately went quiet. Ryker is sure that more than one pair of eyes are on her at the scene that she had more or less caused, but barely gave it any notice as she picked up the knife from the ground. What had, for a second, been fun, turned out to be a little less than interesting. Taking down drunk men wasn’t much of a challenge. It was, for lack of a better word, boring. If it wasn’t a bar, maybe she would have played a little bit more instead of just going by what would be most efficient. 

Ryker leaned over the counter and slid money at the bartender. “So, let’s make that another bourbon for him over there,” jerking her head a the other man she had promised the drink to, “a screwdriver for me, and some money for you to spend on something nice, hm?” 

after seeing the previous throw, he’s not in much doubt that she couldn’t make the shot.  it had been casual, but accurate, a steady fluid motion to plant the first knife snugged up against the one he’d thrown.  barely a thought toward effort - speaking of inherent skill, rather than ‘trying too hard’.

the second throw - however - ends up slightly worse for the man at the end of the bar – and there’s a marginal ponderance of purpose there.  unless the first throw was a fluke, she didn’t - have to - miss… unless… perhaps… she wanted to?   so then, has he found a macabre little rabbit? all doe eyed and innocent - at first glance. but, perhaps, with sharper claws than padded paws might first suggest… …of course - he could be wrong.  and it could have been a genuine err…

he rather hopes it wasn’t.

apparently the ‘dead man’ isn’t quite dead.  at some point, the ‘point’ nestled and grazing against flesh musch have caused enough of a sting to rouse him.  suddenly rumbling - drunkenly - to life ( ish ) and yanking the blade from the wood ( with his injured hand, so clearly not dealing with a genius here ) and gesturing while barking out a few choice profanities…

“would you like to retrieve your knife?  or would you rather i did?”

it’s a small offer, for the entertainment provided.  but he’s not about to bluster in uninvited - like some machismo, testosterone inflated knight in… more than slightly tarnished armour.  in fact.  there’s a second hope in the offing - he’d rather like to see how she handles this.

“and same again.  thank you.”

#c:13

[rykerwang-blog]

“Am I going to hell? Probably. Aw, come on, don’t give me that look of pity. I think Satan’ll probably welcome someone like me with open arms. Doesn’t he want people to sin? It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense why he’d want to punish people.

“And before you start calling me a Satanist – what a joke. Religion’s just not for me. Has too many rules and expectations, and there’s probably some kind of unofficial contract that you have to sign to be a part of that. Come on. No one needs that in their life, and certainly not me.  

“Honestly, everyone is so concerned now about, what is it - the eternal soul, and all that, but really you have got to be fucking kidding me. You all spend way too much time thinking about what’s going to happen long after you’re dead and rotting in the ground to remember that this here, right now, is what you’re living, so shouldn’t you make it good? Everyone seems to keep forgetting about actually enjoying the moment and life the way it is right now. I’d say that I’m sorry to not have any interest wasting my time getting gray hair trying to be a saint when I can live every waking second of my life loving being a sinner. But I’m not. I can’t imagine a single day I don’t love breaking every rule I can, and when I get that bored one day, I have plenty of weapons in my arsenal to chose which way I want to die.

“I think a knife would be more intimate, but a shotgun might be fun too. But maybe it’ll be rocket launcher some how. Hey, at least it means I’ll definitely go to hell if what you’re saying even has even an ounce of truth.

“You’re really wasting your time trying to convince anyone in this city to covert to any type of religion, so, hey, I’ll do you a favor and give you some advice: stop trying. You’re not going to have any luck here, and especially not with me. Are you telling me that you enjoy living by a moral code when you could just have the freedom to do whatever the hell you want? I swore to myself that the next time anyone tries to tell me what to do, I’ll cut out their fucking tongue. I’d hope they’d die from blood loss, but if they choke somehow on their own blood I think that would be a lot more fun. And, to let you in on a little secret, I think it might also be interesting to know what the tongue of a person who doesn’t quite know how to shut up might taste.

“…Aw, don’t worry so much, you haven’t pissed me off that much. Yet.

“You’d feel differently about living by someone else’s rules if that was all you ever grew up with, and I’m sure if you were given even the slightest sliver of a chance to escape that, you’d take it, even if it was by the hand of the devil. I don’t know why some people would run for something like that - for comfort of knowing that you’ll go you a ‘good place’ when you die, you say? You’re forgetting the point.

“I’m living life now. And if you play your cards right, you’ll get to live a pretty good life now. And that’s all I really need. You keep trying to threaten me, as if having a good time was a crime. If it is one though, I’d say I’m enjoying my life as a criminal. So, congratulations, you just wasted precious minutes of my life I could have been - I don’t know, actually enjoying something.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep walking and not waste any more of it.”

#pk.ft #blood tw #just in case #also #cannibalism tw #it's more just a suggestion than anything else but #.__. #// goes back to making dino masks or something

[rykerwang-blog]

Maybe the guy had a sore throat or something, Ryker thought as she read the words printed on the tabet. At least his handwriting as decent, a fact that made her almost annoyed. Her handwriting was neat solely for the reason that it had been forced into her, and it had been one of the few habits that she still hadn't quite yet expunged. "Ah, are you new around here? Well, if you ever need an upgrade on knives, I think I could hook you up with something good," she said, frowning slight as she saw that she had finished her screwdriver. "And, do you not speak or something?"

True, but still. I’ve been looking around Night City, that’s all. I figured I may as well go everywhere. At least that way he could meet all sorts of people, even if it wasn’t in a place he had any real reason to go to. Beyond that, there were less people in one bar than there were on the streets, and he didn’t have to deal with the crowds quite as much.

#c:greyfiel

[rykerwang-blog]

Of the few things that did stick out in Ryker’s mind about the constant lessons in history back when she was little miss Meifeng, it was that war could make countries economically successful. It was an ironic kind of cycle, but a similar kind of idea could probably be applied to herself. The more people wanted to fight, the more they wanted weapons. The more they would pay for them, and, as an added bonus, she could sit back and watch how the city fell apart. The idea of it made her grin a little as she noted the fact that, yes, Q only had one gun now. 

She was actually kind of fond about those guns, as they had been a set of custom ones that had taken a bit of work to get right. They were alright, as far as guns went, and considering how good technology had gotten, those Uzis were more or less behind all the better things that were more capable of killing. But was always under the impression that Q would never part with those guns, and found herself actually surprised by the news. “Passed on, huh? Hope they’re in good hands. I always did like the little Lady. Talk to me after you lose, I think I can hook you up with something good. Just probably nothing too big, as your skinny twig of a body probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

With a grin, Ryker walked back over to her bike, adjusting her gloves. This was what she needed, something that could at least get her blood rushing again, even if for a few seconds. “Fucking born ready,” she said with a laugh. She pulled the bike off its kickstand and slid slid onto her bike with comfortable ease. A glance at the time. 

2 minutes to the half hour. 

"Let’s say ‘go’ at the 30, alright? The usual route. See you on the other side.” With a smirk, she shoved on her helmet and started up her bike as naturally as breathing. A flip of a switch, ignition, button - god yes the hum of the engine.

1 minute. 

She had to breathe just to take the sensation in, and keep her excitement just under control enough. It had been far too long. 

As her clock changed from 29 to 30 --  a flash of adrenaline, turn of lever, pedal, throttle -- and she was off. 

鲁莽 (reckless) | q & ryker

  “Yeah, been racing out in the sticks. Clearer out there.” Easier to dodge the police if it came down to it, which Q was partially thankful for given he’d go down for more than just reckless driving if caught. He was a fugitive, not quite a cell-break, that hadn’t hidden himself all that well. Gone back to the same old life he’d always had, same places, same people, to an extent of course. The police might have their hands full with bigger matters than a fixer breaking his parole but undoubtedly they’d catch up to him eventually. Especially if he kept up his habit of shouting from the roof-tops who he was and what he was doing. For an information broker he’d long forgotten the art of secrecy.

  Q snorted, “I ain’t dooms daying about jack, the worse the city gets easier it is for me,” there was a pause as he contemplated what might’ve appeared to be a deep matter, brows pulled downwards. In reality Q’s mind was largely devoid of any deep meaningful debates, though he was passionate when it came to cars and there his knowledge for once blossomed. “Hey, I might need ‘nother beauty,” to which he was referring to the gun pressed to his hip, singular now that he’d passed on one to John.

  “Lady has been passed on, need something to replace her, I’m thinking something big.” Which, in Q’s mind translated to a rocket launcher. Such a weapon in the hands of a fixer was a disaster waiting to happen. If Ryker allowed him to get his grubby hands on one, or encouraged it, then she’d be partially accountable for the city going up in flames. So much for the city getting a new start of the new year. Mismatched eyes were wide in his excitement as he jumped from weapon to weapon, getting progressively more outlandish as he went, no longer was he dwelling on rocker launchers. Instead he was envisioning giant fantasy weapons that belonged firmly behind the TV screen.

  “I ain’t gonna be upset, gonna be two-fucking-thousand up,” and no doubt smug beyond belief. That was if he won of course, he was a better driver than most in the city and had winnings to prove it. But Ryker was just as fast on her bike, if not better skilled, Q was quite simply reckless and unafraid to push the limits.

  “C’mon, so we gonna do this or not?”

  He’d already turned away from her, slipping back into his car and pulling the door shut behind him. Left the window down half way so he could flash her a conceited little smile, it wasn’t all that little in reality. He tapped the gas lightly, enough that the beast of an engine revved, not quite enough for the flames to spark again.

  “Ready?”

#p:q #reckless #i know how motorcycles work #/c oughs

[rykerwang-blog]

B-E-H-A-V-E never more You gave up being good when you declared a state of war

#playlist #this whole album though tbh #body horror tw #blood tw #kinda?

[rykerwang-blog]

“A glass of water that you could pretty much have gotten for free either way - knife thrown or not. Alright, whatever floats your boat.” Ryker shrugged watching as the bartender slid a simple glass of water to the man. “What’s the point of being at a bar if you’re only going to drink water?

Just a glass of water - like I said, I don’t drink. His smile was tentative, unused to this sort of ordeal. The thought that a display of what he took to be a survival skill was enough to garner a free drink on any occasion was surprising.

#c:greyfiel