#shitty ass fucked up corporations

[stravacious]

hi. job searching is demeaning and shitty and i’ve applied so many places for months and i thought for sure i was gonna get this one stupid job but i didn’t and i just feel like shit. i just reworked my resume for the third time this year. i don’t think i’m that undesirable??? and i shouldn’t have to keep pestering these fucking places, i’m trying to do THEM a favor by offering MY services. THEY need employees. and yes i need a job, but that doesn’t mean you’re too fucking good to email me back.

#stravacious #shitty ass fucked up corporations #ALL I WANT IS A PART TIME JOB #IM NOT GOING BACK TO FOOD SERVICE #I JUST WANNA BE HOME IN TIME FOR BEDTIME WITH MY DAUGHTER #IS THAT TOO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK?? #god i hate jobs. job searching. resumes. recommendation letters. cover letters. #what the fuck is this all for #FORMULA IS LIKE $40 A CAN AND GROCERIES ARE LIKE $300 FOR SOME REASON NOW #i want my own place #i want to make friends #i want to help my boyfriend provide #but instead it’s been months and i feel like i’ll never be good enough to do anything

[yourheartinyourmouth]

I fucking hate it here so fucking much. Should never, ever, EVER have come back. I cannot wait to leave again.

#fuck this place #I grew up here I despised it why why WHY did I think coming back here was the thing to do #we should have just moved somewhere new #not come back to this overpriced festering shit hole #fucking normie country #fucking whitewashed bland stale ass fucking suburbs #fucking stale ass people #the people are just as bland and shitty as the food #culture? what culture???????? #dunkin donuts is not a personality trait you fucking hayseed #scummy ppl in scummy cities #I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it #there’s nothing to do nowhere to go the food is AWFUL #even the immigrants cook badly here #even the Chinese food is GROSS here #fucking bland soggy ass food no matter what kind it is #casual American dining is the only thing you wanted to eat forever right??????????????????????????????? #no? TOO BAD THAT’S ALL WE GOT TIL YOU HIT THE FUCKING MIDATLANTIC #WE DON’T DO ANYTHING WELL HERE #EVERYTHING IS BLAND BEIGE CORPORATE SUBURBS OR DEPRESSING RUN DOWN SUBURBS #YOUR CHOICE #BEIGE CORPORATE DYSTOPIA OR RUN DOWN OPIOID GHETTO

[inf3ct3dd]

streamer!ellie pt.2

summary: i hated the other one of this that i made, so REMAKE TIEM!!!

warnings: miiinor sexual content, shit talking, gay people 😒

authors note: heheheh ples don’t flop this time..

- during her faceless days, she opened up a po box so ppl could send her things, and she made an amazon wishlist and she unboxed stuff on stream 😍😍

- one day she was unboxing a giant box of cat toys. string, those little feather stick things, even that weird automatic flapping fish thing (that she secretly loves and taped to her back one time)

- she was playing with this one toy that was a little fishing reel, and it had string and a little fish on the bottom. she went on and onnn about how shes a self proclaimed “fishing master” while garf chased it around, letting out little meows and growls of frustration.

- eventually, she lost her grip and let go of the pole. she bent down to pick it up, forgetting that her face would be in view. thus, the chat started blowing up.

ewwwbruh: FACE REVEAL

ewwife: EW WE CAN SEE UR FACE

ewwife: JUST THE SIDE BUT WE CAN SEE YOUU

ewssidechick: her nose looks so rideable…

- she got distracted petting garfield, and didn’t realize anything until she stood up. she was getting tagged over and over again on twitter, blurry pictures of her face (curtesy of the shitty webcam) circulating through her subreddit.

- “guys. im gonna erase this from ur memory…” and she literally held up this goofy ass hypnotizer pendelum and started fake hypnotizing everyone like “that never happenedddd” “you don’t know what i look likeeee” “that was fakeeee” “chat that was not reallll”

- and everyone literally js went along with it and pretended it never happened. like ppl were tweeting about it and everyone was like “huh??? what are u talking about bruh??”

- she did the same thing after falling off her rainbow unicorn scooter 😞

- one time she revealed that the “ew” in her username stood for her initials, and everyone was making the most horrendous guesses. elliam willace being the favorite one.

- “guys, my name is not edward wilson??? i am…not a man”

- shes gotten into so much drama…multiple notes app apologies have been issued via her instagram story.

- people would ask her opinions on other streamers, and she’d literally just be like “…i have no idea who that is.” and people would get so MADDDD but homegirl is literally just blatantly unaware

- or she would know , and would literally be like “they’re honestly super annoying and i would rather kill myself than watch them but whatever floats ur boat ig!”

- she played that “womp womp womp womppp” sound effect on her soundboard afterwards.

- SPEAKING OF. she abuses that soundboard sooo much. its so obnoxious and annoying like I SWEARRR!!! she’ll tell a horrible pun and play the crowd laughing and cheering sound effects while literally no one laughed.

“guys. whats the best way to watch a fly fishing tournament??”

“…live streaming.”

(crowd cheering sound effect)

“nooo thank you thank you, you’re all too kind, really!!”

- meanwhile chat was dead silent.

- every time she gets to choose her own name on a game its some dumb shit like "jizzmaster" or "chris fucker"

- “it appears you have entered innapropriate content.” “OHHH LOOK AT EPISODE LOOK AT THESE CORPORATE BIGWIGS TRYING TO CONTROL THE LITTLE MAN???”

- she just ended up naming him “chris phucker”

- like when she played episode on stream and made up really annoying voices for all the characters and made her character look like an elderly man, and made the love interest look like you 😍😍

- she messes up sm on games when she streams normally, but when you're there? she is LOCKED THE FUCK IN. sitting there so focused the entire time just to show off

- whenever she randomly goes silent she just starts SINGING. it's either nicki minaj or some fucking fnaf song

"IS THIS THE THANKS THAT I GET FOR PUTTING U BITCHES ON???"

- speaking of, her favorite fnaf song is def “stay calm” cuz she loves saying “hey kids. Nice to eat ya.”

- bought one of those "i paused my game to be here" tshirts…ironically. you refuse to let her wear it in public

- beefs w kids on fortnite sm... she has definitely gotten banned for saying she was gonna bomb a kids house or fuck their mom 😞

- every time she plays a game, she'll literally sit there and watch an 8 hour long video about the lore. she'll plop down on the couch and watch it like a movie

"did you know everyone actually thought that fnaf one took place in 1993, but it was actually 1992?"

- she definitely had you sit next to her when she played through fnaf because she was lowk scared the entire time whenever she heard you walking around the house while she was playing she'd hear footsteps in the hallway and be like. WHAT THE FUCKKK

-she'd have you right next to her, laying your head on her shoulder and messing with her free hand. if you fell asleep, she would be sitting there slapping her hand over her mouth whenever she gets jumpscared bc she doesn't want you to wake up 😞

- sometimes, while she streams , she plays one handed games and lets you sit and draw on her arm for fun. even got you a whole set of those skin markers so u could go ABSOLUTELY HAM. she got one drawing you did that said “r + e 4eva” tattooed in ur handwriting…such a sap

- she loves watching fan edits of herself...AND OF YOU. she'll be on her burner account with a whole collection on tiktok of edits of you.

ewwsbiggestfan: shes so bad i want her to hit me w her car...

- speaking of. imagine her using that account to make shitty capcut edits of you like

- shes ur biggest fan ongod

-WHILE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF “fans”…what if i made a completely new origin story for streamer!ellie and reader. what if they were both streamers….

- OKAY SO BASICALLY.

- you had started streaming about a year before ellie did. butttt, you two did very different types of streaming.

- you weren’t very into like, SERIOUS video games. sure, you played some stuff, like animal crossing and roblox and the sims, but nothing more than that.

- that wasn’t what you were streaming though.

- ever since you were younger, you had been wayyyy into…literature.

-by literature i mean fanfiction. heaps of it.

- actors, anime characters, BOOK CHARACTERS, you were in DEEP

- sometimes, for fun, you used to read them out loud in stupid voices. when you were alone, or with your friends, it was very entertaining

- that’s when you got the idea to start streaming it. if it could entertain your friends, and you, whos to say it wouldn’t entertain other people.

- well, it definitely did. in your first year, you hit 10k followers. people loved you. theyd make edits of you, send in requests of fics for you to read, everything.

- a while later, ellie started gaining more and more popularity. out of all the incomes of fame, fanfiction was the most. abundant!

- one day, you got a request to read an ellie x reader fic. at the time, you barely had any idea who she was, but you decided to just go with it 🤞🏽

- “who the fuck is elliam willace???”

- the fanfic was definitely very…graphic!

- “your hips rolled onto her thigh, her slender, tattooed hand palming at your waist. ‘you’re doing so good babe, fuck.’-“ “GUYS. ISN’T SHE NOT ON MUTE RIGHT NOW???”

- you couldn’t help but giggle the rest of the fic, feeling a nagging heat in your core. you didn’t even know who the girl was, but if this fic was accurate, someone would have to sedate you.

-“im actually. gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. GUYS. who is this woman…is she real… if she is. things are about to get WICKED.”

- not very thankful to you at the moment, she was very real. apparently, you and her were streaming at the same time, and your followers raided her stream telling her she was reading about you. her curiosity was obviously piqued, and why would she NOT join the stream?

- creeperewman: im definitely real!

- the text on your screen literally made your stomach fall into your ass. you stood up and legit just walked out of the room, camera still on. was she there the whole time???

- creeperewman: aww 😞 where’d she go she’s so badddd

- you eventually returned after a minute of calming yourself down, and low and behold, she gifted you 100 subs and followed you on instagram.

- she was definitely very real!! and that fanfic was…lore accurate. to say the least 😊

- after you two started dating, the two of you would often show up on eachothers streams. ellie, teaching you how to play cod, and you, reading with her.

- she secretly loves reading the fics people write about her and making fun of them, and every time you stream with her shes “subtly” hinting that you should read about her

sitting there pulling on her collar, looking away like “gee, wonder who you’re gonna pick today” with the worst fake laugh ever.

- “ellie can barely ride a scooter, idk why she’s in the mafia rn…” “you fall off ONE TIME and all of a sudden you cant ride a scooter. bullshit.”

- she makes fun of all the dumb pet names like “babygirl” and “darling” and randomly calls you them and bursts out laughing

- you still read those fics when you’re bored sometimes. and ellie MERCILESSLY makes fun of you for it

“yknow, if you missed me that bad, you should’ve just told me.”

#streamer!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams

[wtftarot]

How can you navigate your life from here on?

Thank you, @lifeofaie for suggesting this reading, I really loved the idea.

Listen, I fuckin love a good road trip, ok? And navigating on a road trip ain't that different from navigating your life. Great music and shitty snacks. Wrong turns and detours that end up being half the fun and the whole story later. Arriving later than you planned or having plans changed entirely. How it always seems like the more you try to plan and control things the more they go off the rails. What do you need to keep in mind on this road trip called life? (yes I know how dorky that was, nope I don't care, yes all of these are gonna be heavy on road trip metaphors) Consider this reading, stopping and asking a local for directions and I promise not to lead you to the den of a serial killer. What is your inner compass saying? Is it time to make a rest stop? Let's fuck around and find out.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense, and don't be a dumbass.

Pick either the Road Stretching On, The Road to Anywhere and Nowhere, or the Road to Ol' Kentucky and head on to your reading

The Road That Stretches On

The Tower, Seven/ Swords Rx and the Magician on the bottom of the deck.

This reading is HEAVY. Some of y'all who came to this reading are dealing with some heavy mental shit. I am not a mental health professional, please seek one out. Tarot is awesome and helpful but it is not therapy.

Take a breath. I'm so fuckin serious right now. You need to breathe and clear your mind even for a second. Don't ya just love how many people come to readings and then ignore the simplest advice given? To just take a breath? ( I love y'all, but some of y'all need a lil call out every now and then) The reason why I'm pushing y'all to stop and breathe is cause y'all's mind never. fuckin. stops. does it? Never. I had to restart this reading three times, cause I just kept getting wrapped up in y'all's anxiety spiral. And, I know it's hard but if you never make a conscious decision to try and slow down and give yourself a second, it's not gonna happen. Human brains are mostly auto-pilot and if you don't try and take the reins every once in a while it'll just keep doing what it's doing. Y'all are incredibly overwhelmed by making decisions for your future. It's like you see your future like the picture you chose, a road stretching on forever that can lead to anywhere depending on the turns you make but for you there's something that could be lurking in each turn. Something you're not seeing and that is terrifying to you. Now the main contender here looks to be anxiety about the state of the world, climate change, wars, pollution, famine, natural disasters, and on and on. Like y'all seem to be thinking what's the point, everything's going to shit. Listen, I'm gonna try to be gentle but when I tell y'all I'm very passionate about this, I am downplaying so fuckin hard. A lot of people fall into this overwhelm, it's not your fault. Governments and corporations put a shit ton of effort into keeping us feeling overwhelmed, cause overwhelmed people are too drained to put up a real fight. The point of trying is you being happy. That is worth it. The point is you can spread that joy. The point is to make a difference while you can. The point is that yeah, the world may be going to hell in a handbasket and you're just one person but you are a whole ass person. Who doesn't have to take this shit lying down. You want to live your life but are terrified of what might happen if you do. You feel like the world is a scary place and it can be sometimes, but you're so scared of truly stepping into the world, you never let yourself be or do much. It's like y'all are super fuckin excited for the road trip but are so scared of what may be around any turn, you just keep going on the same road letting it take you wherever it does. To get anywhere you want to go you have to make some choices. Yea, they may not always turn out how you planned but here's the thing: You will be okay. What you need to do to navigate your life? I'm sorry, y'all are gonna hate this advice but trust yourself. Sweetie, you are so much more capable than you give yourself credit for, hell you may not have any knowledge of your full capabilities cause you've never let yourself reach them. Tarot readings can help you navigate, but all the readings in the world won't help you get anywhere if you never put your foot on the gas.

random ass vibes: I dunno if y'all forgot to eat but like I've been ravenous this whole reading, The cartoon Roadrunner, venus, tea, sunburn, flowers, 666

Like this reading and wanna enable me doing readings to put-off doing my laundry? Leave me a comment on how you liked it or a tip with the lil thing at the bottom of the post!

The Road to Anywhere and Nowhere

The Star, the Five/Pentacles Rx and the High Priestess on the bottom of the deck.

Listen, honey. You can handle this. And you know you can. You're listening to your intuition, learning to trust yourself if you don't already. Y'all are navigating your life, you may have rough moments as we all do but y'all are learning to handle those moments with grace. I'm not gonna lie, it took me a minute to figure out why y'all are even at this reading, seems like the topic of this reading ain't something y'all need help with. And it ain't, y'all are killing it in this area. The reason y'all are here? Y'all need some encouragement. Maybe need is the wrong word, cause y'all are doing fuckin awesome either way. Deserve. That's the word. Y'all deserve some encouragement. The road you're on may be unconventional or the people around you very strongly disagree with. Or maybe they just strongly disagree with you, your identity as a person. (I dunno where "strongly disagree" is coming from but it keeps popping up in my head?) I feel like y'all have actively had people put you down and were able to power through and encourage yourselves, so you may not need others to encourage you. BUT we all deserve to be encouraged, just cause you can power through without supportive voices doesn't mean that you should have to. SO GET READY FOR SOME CHANNELED ENCOURAGEMENT MOTHERFUCKER! Y'all have been doing a fuckin amazing job moving away from shitty past situations and are not fucking giving yourselves enough credit. Yes, even if it was "just" some mental blocks. Oh, "just" a mental block are you kidding me? Do you know how hard getting over your own mental bullshit is?? Y'all are over here, learning to parkour over your mental bullshit like a goddamn ninja, acting like it's no big deal. Sweetie, that's huge, you do realize that? To be honest with yourself, call yourself on your bullshit and then do something about it? Step fuckin one of that is daunting. And I'm hearing that y'all were able to get through faster than even your guides were expecting. Honey, how powerful are you? Not only that, but y'all are learning to argue with your self-deprecating thoughts. Asking them, who gives a shit what they have to say? And taking all the energy you used to put into pushing yourself down and using it to build yourself up. That's SO fuckin badass, y'all! Talk about fuckin alchemizing shit. Y'all saw how much time and energy it was taking to keep yourself small and hurt, thought: Wonder what would happen if I used that to build myself up instead? And then you went and did it and ITS FUCKIN GORGIOUS. The blessings are gonna start rolling in with this new energy, but you already knew that. Cause motherfucker YOU are the blessing! Y'all are really embodying your own power and strength and are KICKING ASS. The last message is to let yourself rest, y'all are doing a lot. So give yourself a break, let yourself sleep in a bit later. Set aside time to just chill, you won't lose your progress while you sleep.

random ass vibes: receiving roses, worms, gardening, astronomy designs on clothes, 18, hide and seek

Like this reading and wanna enable me doing readings to put-off doing my laundry? Leave me a comment on how you liked it or a tip with the lil thing at the bottom of the post!

The Road to Ol' Kentucky

Shout out to all my fellow Kentuckians! How y'all doing?

The Moon Rx, The Queen/Wands, the Page/Cups Rx and the Five/Wands Rx on the back of the deck

Y'all are being called to really embody yourself and your power moving forward. It seems like y'all not only have it in your head that you're a Page when you're a Queen (queen energy, not gender). You're wrong about the whole damn suit. Others may have convinced you you're being sensitive when they're being an asshole and you're pissed about it. (As if letting people talk shit about you is "weak" right?) Y'all think you're the negative aspects of the Cups: Overly emotional, flakey, manipulative, disorganized, and self-centered. When the truth is you're the positive aspects of the Wands: Passionate, creative, driven, confident, and strong-willed. Y'all are really fuckin hard on yourselves, okay? Others may have been intimidated by your strengths and convinced you they were your weaknesses. If y'all have been feeling stuck, this is why, alright? You are stuck cause you've been told that the way to get unstuck IS the reason you're stuck. Think of it like this, y'all are an airplane, convinced by cars that flying is your biggest weakness, trying to figure out why you never seem to get anywhere. Airplanes can roll around, sure but they're MADE to fly. It's time to do some hard thinking, probably back to when you were a kid. What were the things you loved and pursued, how did you pursue them and what bullshit did others say about it? Like, did you get super focused on an activity you were doing, forget about choirs or some shit, and then be called irresponsible and lazy? When you wanted something, were you the type to push and work towards it, then be called stubborn or relentless or annoying when others decided they wanted you to do something else? Because there are some good qualities y'all have that are how you're supposed to show up in the world that you're not letting yourself embody. To be clear, I'm not talking about being told you're acting like an asshole when you were, in fact acting like an asshole. I'm talking about strengths you had that were demonized to you and in an effort to be a better person you stopped using. Now they've atrophied and you've gotta work them out to get them back. Cause, listen the typical way of navigation ain't gonna work for you. Y'all can continue to roll around and try to get where you wanna go, but it's gonna be slow and a billion times harder. You ever seen an airplane trying to go down a road through town? Think a sec on on how hard that would be. Cause that's you, right now. There are no road maps for the sky, ya know? Y'all are charting your own path. You need to stop trying to make yourself follow the road map for life that others are using. It's not gonna work for you, cause it was never meant to. Y'all are on an unconventional path, the only way forward is to embrace it.

random ass vibes: Back To The Future, coffee, night owl, finding your people, reds oranges and yellows, clouds, libra, cats. Thelma and Louise

Like this reading and wanna enable me doing readings to put-off doing my laundry? Leave me a comment on how you liked it or a tip with the lil thing at the bottom of the post!

#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #wtftarot #tarot readings #tarotblr #Spotify

[incorrect-nevermore]

Modern au Headcanons!!

• Ira is straight up, completely fine, even supportive of Lenore as Annabel’s partner.

Annabel and Lenore coming back from a trip or something: Father, I’m home-!

Ira, running past Annabel: Ah! Lenore my boy, welcome home!

Lenore: Hello sir- wait, I don’t live here?

Ira: Ah, you might as well at this point! Annabel hurry up and make it official by putting a ring on the lad will you??

Annabel: *stares in wtf you never welcomed ME home with that much excitement* FATHER PLEASE STOP TALKING.

• Ira who was a closeted but not really gay man in 80’s. Clocking Lenore’s butch ass in as homo faster then everyone else.

Annabel: Oh! father, it’s finally time you’ve met Lenore.

Lenore, still with long hair tied into a braid but in a suit: Pleasure to meet you sir-

Ira, after observing Lenore for about 1.2 seconds: Oh, you are gay-

Annabel: FATHER-

Lenore, smiling, very caught off guard cause. She thought she was doing a very good job of acting hetero: What-?!

Ira: Oh, my apologies. Hello, nice to meet you. You are gay.

-

Thaddeus: Oh, well. We have been thinking about setting up Lenore with a certain gentleman-

Ira, trying desperately not to burst out laughing: OH, h-have you?

• Lucille and Theo disapprove of Annabel’s britishness immensely.

Annabel: Here’s Lenore’s jumper, she left it at my-

Lucille and Theo: WRONG.

 Annabel: :l

• Both the Vandernachts and Whitlocks are still big important business people here, but they aren’t exactly famous like people in the industry absolutely know who they are but they don’t have to like go incognito to get coffee at Starbucks or something.

•Every once in a while someone finds a picture of Lenore and @s The Vandernacht corporation account like “Man fuck the trains- I want the founder’s daughter to rail me instead.” And sometimes Theo sees it and goes “:l >:0” *blocked and reported* but takes a screenshot and sends it to Annabel to remind her his sister HAS OPTIONS SO WATCH YOUR SELF-

(One time the account in question may or may not have just been Annabel’s alt and she may or may not have made several thirst posts after getting a little too drunk after a shitty gala “Pet, stop laughing it isn’t funny-“)

• Berenice once made a “Your mom” joke while at Lenore’s house and Lucille fucking appeared out of thin air and scared the ever living hell out of her and Berenice has been too afraid to make another one since.

•Annabel used to be very good at hiding when she was drunk. But ever since dating Lenore she has found that it much harder to fake sobriety when all you wanna do is yell about your wife. She is a “LOOK AT MY WIFE!!” Drunk.

• Lucille has found all the misfits asleep in Lenore’s room multiple times and just… stopped questioning it after a certain point like “Go clean my daughter’s room but do it quietly try not to disturb the young cat like young man in there taking a nap Lord knows the kid needs it. I don’t think I’ve seen dark circles that bad since last i looked in the mirror.”

She would often find Berenice knocked out cold in Lenore’s bed, sometimes in Lenore’s clothes and one or thrice in there with Lenore herself- and was convinced that these two were dating. Berenice is just a cuddly bastard but it takes a while to convince Lucille.

• Lenore and Theo have matching tattoos Lenore shows her’s off with out much care but Theo hides his FOR DEAR LIFE- even tho like… Neither thad nor Lucillecan be bothered to care at this point-

+ Lucille was goth in her youth source: Trust me bro Lenore’s dark circles and natural air of sadness have got to be genetic or something

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #incorrect nevermore quotes #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee x lenore #white raven #pluto nevermore #Annabel lee Whitlock #lenore vandernacht #Thaddeus Vandernacht #Lucille vandernacht #theo Vandernacht #headcanon #headcanons

[fuck-customers]

10/13 This one’s gonna be long, I’m feeling ranty

I’m cutting down my hours at Job A and picking up more at Job B because B pays me over $3/hr more than A, and mostly because A’s corporate has made some decisions lately that are negatively impacting my work experience in a major way (they just fucking took away our phones and are now forcing us to use handheld scanners as phones, for the most recent). They’re mad that we don’t get more credit card applications (because the stupid thing has 30% interest) and warranties (who buys warranties on frames and string lights??).

The second-highest manager at Job A (I’ll call her M) is now pissed at me and thinks it’s retaliatory because the store leader recently covered my ass on a major fuckup that would’ve cost me my job if corporate had found out, but that happened before I 1: got the raise at Job B and 2: was told BY MANAGER M that corporate was going to start firing cashiers who don’t meet credit card/warranty goals. (Which turned out to be a lie, that she told me straight to my face.) So no fucking shit I wanted to minimize my time on Job A’s register because I’m not just gonna magically get more cards, and I’m GREAT at Job B’s Christmas toy drive, which just started this month.

What I kinda wish I’d said when she accosted me (and plan to if she brings it up again) is “would you rather I fully quit instead? Because that’s what you’re pushing me to. Not corporate, not shitty pay, YOU.” And if she threatens to out me to corporate, well, I’ve got a screen recording of her actively driving while smoking a joint and she’s literally always getting high at work. Pot’s legal here but DWI sure isn’t. 💅🏻 I don’t start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

please do update on an any further developments.

-Rodney

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on 'Tribe'

When not turning his home into a giant light hazard for Jesus's Birthday or getting into yelling fights in the alley with Bobby Lee (another redneck neighbor who is a DIE HARD 'Bama fan) about SEC football, Doug's been randomly texting me things about the Jedi.

I'll update y'all on that soon enough. (Plo Koon = Sexy Shrimp Daddy?!)

Meanwhile, here is his review of his favorite episode of Season 2 of The Bad Batch...TRIBE, or as Doug calls it 'Chewbacca Junior and the Weed Business'.

Yes, a random fetch quest one in which Clone Force 99 helps out a random Wookiee kid. His favorite. Don't ask.

Need a Doug refresher? Check it out under Doug Talks Star Wars here.

TW: Doug Doug's as is his Doug-like wont. Hold onto your butts. A little calmer since Daddy Warcrimes is MIA in this one.

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

So we got Daddy Rambo and the gang making counterfeit licenses for underage drinkers or whatever. You gotta do what you gotta do, I guess, and Daddy Rambo will do a lot of things, but obtaining gainful employment ain’t one of them. 

Ryan-from-Accounting is smug as hell about his counterfeiting operation. You’re so smart, Ryan-from-Accounting, why don’t you go to law school and start practicing corporate licensing? At least you can get equity there, ya dingaling.

And Little Orphan Blondie runs away because she’s embarrassed to be seen around them. I get it, kid.

Woah, it’s Chewbacca Junior! Are the lizard and robot people trying to sell him to the circus or something? Oh, he’s a Jedi?! When did this happen, this is awesome! I loved Chewbacca! I love Wookiees! AWESOME!!!

And Little Orphan Blondie is protecting him, go Little Orphan Blondie, go! 

I hope they adopt Chewbacca Junior and get him a collar and a nice bed on the floor of the HMS Search Warrant. They need a pet. Little Orphan Blondie can brush him and put bows in his hair! Do you think he uses a litter box?

They’re taking him home, and look! Little Orphan Blondie is giving him her Lunchables. I’m proud of the Dad Batch, they’re teaching Little Orphan Blondie good morals. Oh, poor wee Chewbacca Junior, he has no family and when he talks it sounds like Jimmers when he’s treed a squirrel*.

But Ryan-from-Accounting can understand him! Ya know, I wonder if his helmet can translate Bitch and that’s how Ryan-from-Accounting talks to his Bitch Wife Laura. 

It would be awesome if they adopt Chewbacca Junior and he attacks people with his lightsaber. He’s like a pet version of an MR-15! Imagine the DAMAGE his furry ass would do on the battlefield! 

Ooh, they made it to Wookieeland! Ya know, it always reminded me of where Jenny and I used to camp in northern California. I wonder if there’s a brewery nearby? I bet Toaster Strudel needs to throw back, that man needs a beer and a restraining order from Daddy Rambo. 

Oh SHIT, looks like the bugs from Klendathu made their way down to Wookieeland. Somebody call the Starship Troopers! Oh, wait, they can talk to those things like Dougie Houser did? Woah. Neat. 

Looks like the Empire found the Wookiee weed farm and torched it. Poor Wookiees, they’re just trying to make an honest living growing herb. Leave ‘em alone!

Which planet makes meth, my money’s on Tatooine, it looks like New Mexico and that place is meth Disneyland, there was a whole TV show about it. 

(Above is...Tatooine?! - Dr Meat Muffin)

Oh man it’s Houma-BBQ-Bitch’s shitty brothers and they’re burning the whole weed operation to the ground. Guess they work for the DEA.

Kick their asses, Wookiees! Now they want Chewbacca Junior, but the Dad Batch is saying FUCK YOU! 

Go Dad Batch go! Fire ‘em up! Destroy the tanks! GO JULIO GO! It’s like Apocalypse Now with Bigfoot!

More Wookiees! And they’re riding giant monkey-cats! AWESOME. Man, I feel stoned just watching this episode. Why can't I stop giggling.

Granny Wookiee says come on in and have some weed! Oh, shit, are they doing ayahuasca? Toaster Strudel ain’t having it, but Julio’s down. Julio’s down for anything, he’s probably gonna stick around, use his pipe laying skills, and get some free ganga out of the deal. Man, we all need a Julio in our life. Love him. 

Oh, poor Chewbacca Junior can’t find a home. Come on, Granny Wookiee, just let him crash with you guys! He can clip weed on the side, he’s got that lightsaber, let ‘em have it. But first, let’s talk to the trees! Did they take mushrooms before this scene, Jesus Christ this really does take place in Humboldt County, doesn’t it.

Ah, nevermind, the gators that run the DEA are here. With Stormtroopers. Oh shit, are the gators wearing Wookiee pelts while fighting Wookiees? That’s some Silence of the Lambs shit right there.

Welp, time for fire fights, Smokey the Bear does not approve of this episode, especially as one of the lizard men chases Chewbacca Junior and Little Orphan Blondie into the woods with a flamethrower. 

Oh shit, there are the bugs! Shit, am I actually cheering on the bugs from Starship Troopers? What is going on here, I’m so confused. Whelp, they’re eating Houma-BBQ-Bitch’s brother, good for them.

Back to Granny Wookiee’s Pot Palace, where Toaster Strudel and Julio throw back her questionable moonshine and smile at each other. If they end up with Wookiee girlfriends, it will be weird, but I will be happy for them. 

And Little Orphan Blondie and Chewbacca Junior are talking to the trees, again. Just watching this episode makes me wanna go back to Electric Forest. Except I don’t think Oceana County has wookiees, but it does have crazy people in the woods I guess. 

*=Jimmers is Doug’s extremely handsome poodle mix dog. His full name is Jimmers Jimothy Jimerson III and they found him as a stray when he was eating trash behind a bowling alley in Nacogdoches. 

Where my Doug fans at? @amalthiaph @eyecandyeoz @merkitty49 @sued134 are the biggest, but let me know if ya wanna be tagged in the next installment!

#tbb #cloneforce99 #thebadbatch #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #gungi #tribe #wookiees #the bad batch season 2 #doug talks star wars #redneck doug #doug the neighbor #doug why #doug is amazing #doug loves wookiees! #“They remind me of every good dog I've ever had” #“What about every bad dog you've ever had?” #“They remind me of BITCH WIFE LAURA!” #Lord almighty Doug #clone force 99 #little orphan blondie #ryan-from-accounting #julio the pipe layer #daddy rambo #toaster strudel

[tyrantisterror]

Fantastic Rants and Where to Find Them

So, back when the Herbie Porber movies were still being made, Warner Brothers saw the cash cow on their hands and decided they had to lock that shit down as much as possible to make sure they could milk it until its teats were chafed and withered to nothing. To that end, they bought the rights to every book the Terf Queen had written by that point - which included all the Henry Pansley wizard school mystery books, but also two gag books set within the Henry Pansley world: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which was presented as an in-universe biology textbook for wizard children, and Quidditch Through the Ages, which was an in-universe book of trivia for a fake magical sport.

And at the time everyone with a brain who'd read those two books was shaking their head and thinking how dumb those corporate executives were to do that because, like, those aren't novels or novelas or short stories or narratives of any kind. They are, and I cannot stress this enough, a fake textbook and a fake trivia book about fake things written in a slapdash manner as a cheap gag. They existed for three reasons:

First, to sell something Herbie Porber related at a significantly lower price point than the actual novels so the Terf Queen could get more of that sweet, sweet Scholastic Book Fair money by having something poor kids could buy.

Second, to give a portion of the proceeds raised from that poor kid book fair money to charity so the Terf Queen could get some nice tax writeoffs.

And as a distant third, to expand the world-building of the Henry Pansley setting a teensie bit.

Now, as far as I'm aware, they succeeded at the first two well enough - tons of kids bought those cheap-ass thin as shit paperbacks when I was a kid, myself among them. Well, ok, I only bought Fantastic Beasts and skipped Quidditch because even during the height of my Herbie Porber fan days I thought the Terf Queen's imaginary sport was really fucking stupid and every time it popped up in the books I was bored as shit and tried to skim it as quickly as possible to get to the interesting stuff. I think I looked over the book once in a Barnes and Noble and thought, "Wow, I knew I thought real sports were boring as shit, but it turns out fake ones are even more so."

But back on track - goal number three was... kind of successful, I guess? Like, I don't know if you know this, but bestiaries of fictional animals are one of my big interests. I love a big book of made up creatures, and have collected many in my long life of thirty-four years. And as I said, I got a copy of Fantastic Beasts - technically several, because those cheap ass paperbacks disintegrated if you read them more than once, and I haven't met a bestiary that I haven't poured over several times, no matter how shitty. And despite how often I read it, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was, well... pretty mid, honestly. It's a book that's 99% world-building, and like all of the Terf Queen's world-building, it's overall mediocre and undercooked.

Like, in pure Herbie Porber style, it's mostly concepts that have been done in fantasy fiction and mythology dozens of times before with no real original spin on them whatsoever, often stripped down to their most recognizable elements alone. There are a smattering of original ideas that are actually interesting an novel, a few more original ideas that have potential but don't seem very well-thought out as is, and then some that are clearly just there to be a joke and are amusing for, like, a second, but also would quickly become annoying if they were given any focus.

I'll give a very me-specific example. As a fan of vaguely medieval european fantasy tropes, one of the metrics by which I judge a bestiary is "How does this handle dragons?" Because, like, I don't know if you know this, but I love dragons a lot, and the sheer variety of dragons in fiction is one of my favorite things in the world. There is a smorgasbord of different dragons a person can choose from just in folklore and mythology alone, and that variety is reflected in a given bestiary, the higher I think of it.

The Terf Queen's bestiary gives us ten dragon breeds... and they're all more or less the same except for scale color and minor variations in size. Oh, and their names, which are all based on different dog breeds because the Terf Queen thought that was funny. It's the worst of both worlds because it gets your dragon-loving hopes up that there'll be lots of unique dragons but no, they're just different colors, ho hum. Even the Chinese Dragon sticks to the same basic bitch wyvern body plan as the rest, when, you know, Chinese dragons have SUCH a different body plan than any of their European counterparts. It's downright insulting to the variety and creativity of this iconic folkloric archetype to reduce it to such a samey-set of monsters. Absolutely the most disappointing dragon entry in any bestiary I've ever read, just infuriating.

BUT, BACK ON THE INCREASINGLY DERAILED TRACK: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was never meant to be a "great" book. Remember goals one and two: it was a cheap cashgrab, a gimmick, a gag book. It was meant to be a disposable bit of fun - "Tee hee, here's a goofy textbook from this goofy wizard story that you kids will likely grow out of in a few years, you can read it in twenty minutes and not feel bad when you pitch it because there's very little substance to it, and it only costs three bucks."

The Terf Queen doesn't write textbooks, gag or otherwise, she writes novels, narratives, and in its original form Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was clearly just her fucking around with something whimsical and stupid for shits and giggles (and money, sweet sweet money). The original version of it was published with notes in the margin written by Henry Pansley and Donnie Stoat themselves, the two wizard hooligans writing little jokes and messages to each other with further references to other characters from the series, both to add more humor and because, again, the Terf Queen writes novels, and it was clear she couldn't commit to the "fake textbook" bit without working in some characters riffing it for her own sanity. And that makes it work as a gag book - you get a few laughs from the wizard hooligans playing MST3K with their shitty textbook, learn a little about the (undercooked and poorly thought out) ecosystem of the wizardy world, and then when you reach the back cover the spine of your cheap as shit pulp paperback book falls apart and, unless you've got a weird obsession with bestiaries, you throw the dying book in the garbage without a second thought. Three bucks spent well enough.

BUT, TO GET BACK ON THE INCREASINGLY DERAILED TRACK AGAIN: Warner Brothers bought the rights to this cheapo cashgrab gag textbook, and goddamn it, they were/are determined to squeeze Herby Porber's sore teats until every last drop of money milk spills from his chapped and bleeding nipples. They announced they were going to make a Fantastic Beasts movie towards the end of making the Herby Porber novels into films, and everyone with a brain sat there and thought, "Well, that's going to be a stupid cashgrab. Bet the Terf Queen's laughing her ass off at how dumb it'll be, too."

But the Terf Queen was not laughing, at least not for long, for once the Henry Pansley movies wrapped up, she was left with the horrifying knowledge that people didn't care for her non-wizard books all that much, certainly not enough to keep her rolling in sweet, sweet money. She needed that mega millionaire cash, and she needed it in abundance and she needed it quick. So when Warner Brothers asked her to write a movie based on her cheapo cashgrab gag textbook, she said, "Yeah, I can make a novel out of that! I - I'm a talented writer! People love my writing! They definitely love my writing and they'd love to pay money for things I wrote that don't directly feature Henry Pansley!"

So now she had to pretend that Fantastic Beasts, the cheapo cashgrab gag textbook about made up animals in a made up world, has a narrative. Not just any narrative, but a grand, sprawling narrative, one to rival, nay, SURPASS Herbie Porbie and the Seven Books of Wizard-Themed Coming of Age Nonsense. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, she assured us, was to be a magnificant tale, and one she planned all along, and CERTAINLY not a marriage of convenience to a completely stupid idea for a film that she was desperately sculpting into a narrative it had no ability to support for the sake of trying to recapture her already passed glory days as a writer.

And I think, in retrospect, this is a great illustration of the Terf Queen's great character flaw. She just can't fucking admit to a mistake, even when it's obvious to everyone that one was made. She will hop on board a sinking ship and keep doubling down on trying to get it to sail even as the water is up to her neck. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is a serious narrative now, not a gag textbook written to wring a few more dollars from school children goddammit!

Recent editions of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them took out the Herbie and Donnie commentary, by the by. They also added many of the new half-baked monsters that were introduced in the movies, in a shoddy attempt to pretend this was the plan all along, and that Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was always meant to be the seed of something great.

But it wasn't, and no matter how hard the Terf Queen pretends otherwise, it's obvious it wasn't. It's a cheapo cashgrab gag textbook, and that's all it really had to be, until greed and ego demanded otherwise.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

For You, I Would Ruin Myself | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! This is a very self-serving fic lol. This is, indeed, something I do! Because of all of the shitty relationships I’ve been in! But of course I don’t have a person to be nice to me about it lol.

Warnings: talk of sex, shitty exes, stressful work environment

—————————

Bucky didn’t like how you slumped against the front door. He didn’t like the vacancy in your eyes or the downtrodden look on your face. “Hey, baby. Long day?” He joined you by the door and welcomed you into his arms. He smoothed a hand through your fallen curls, let his lips rest against your forehead. For nearly two weeks, you’d come home like this. Exhausted. Depleted. Bucky hated it. He hated your boss and your company and all of your clients.

Your head fell into his shoulder, and you nodded against his shirt. It was all you could muster. You just wanted a moment. A moment of calm and quiet and peace. Bucky gave you all the time you needed. He left kisses against your hair and gently slipped your bag from your shoulder. He was always so patient with you, so understanding. 

“I haaate my job,” you groaned. “My department head is a fucking idiot and I swear the manager wants to stick her hand up my ass so she can use me as a puppet”.

Bucky stifled his loud guffaw. Even half-dead, you were still the funniest person he’d ever met. “I’m sorry, sweets. Is there an end in sight to this nightmare or…?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and groaned again. You seemed groan a lot these days. “Not yet. We’re just supposed to ‘keep on truckin’ until we get word from corporate”.

Bucky frowned, “But you’ve been going in early and coming home late.”

“I know. I’m so tired that I wanna die.”

Dark circles shadowed your under-eyes. Bloody cracks dug into your cuticles. The stress wanted to pick you apart piece by piece until nothing remained. But what bothered you most wasn’t the deadlines or the endless emails. It was your severe lack of time with Bucky.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, Buck. I feel terrible. I know you’re-”

Bucky brought his hands to your cheeks, silencing you. He felt the weight of your head resting against his palms, like your neck decided to take a long-needed break. “Don’t apologize, doll. I understand, okay? I just don’t like seeing you so exhausted. Seems to me like they’re taking advantage of you.”

You nodded. Unfortunately, your company’s bottom line didn’t look good. And the way they stripped money and resources from every department seemed almost criminal. They’d overwork and underpay every member on staff if it meant happy shareholders. And one of those overworked, underpaid employees was you. “If I can just hang on,” you sighed. “If I can just make it through this rough patch and impress the CFO, they’ll promote me- my project manager is sure of it. Things just suck right now.”

Bucky didn’t like the way they treated you. He didn’t like the long hours or the way they expected you to do the work of two- or three- people for the salary of one. He watched as this job slowly drained the life out of you. Each time you returned home, your light was a bit dimmer. And it took even more effort to help you shine again. 

“But I’m gonna stop complaining now,” you said. A manufactured smile replaced your frown, “Tell me about your day, babe.”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing exciting to report. Long briefing at the compound this morning. Meeting with Hill. Errands. Some laundry. Read over some intel Fury sent my way.” He dotted a kiss to your nose, “And I want you to complain as much as your little heart desires”.

You shrugged. Surely, Bucky didn’t wanna hear you ramble on about trailing averages. And you weren’t about to bore him with work-talk. “I’m good for now”, you shot him a wink. You decided instead to let your gripes scream inside your head. Bucky had been tortured enough, you wouldn’t bore him with statistical analysis.

“Okay, then how about we order some food and you can change into some comfy clothes? We have a new episode of Temptation Island to watch. Sound good?”

“Sounds great”, you said through a yawn.

“Then let’s pick a restaurant and get you some dinner. What do you wanna eat?”

Bucky watched your switch flip in real time. Your posture changed, your eyes brightened. A devilish grin stretched across your face. “I think you know what I wanna eat…”

Bucky eyed you, “um… pasta and garlic knots from Italiano’s?”

Oh, Bucky. So sweet. So innocent.

“No, babe-”, you sighed. “You.” One finger traced lazily across his bottom lip before trailing down his neck and hooking into the collar of his shirt. 

Bucky shook his head and gave you a chuckle. How you’d gone from downtrodden, overworked employee to sultry seductress baffled him. “Doll, what am I gonna do with you?”

“You could fuck me.” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “Am I crazy? Weren’t you just talking about how exhausted you are?”

You shrugged, “I mean, yeah. I’m exhausted, but I also wanna fuck you. Two things can be true at the same time, Barnes.”

This was just like you. Bucky loved your hunger for him, your needy lust. He found you nearly insatiable twenty four-seven, and loved every moment of it. You always wanted him. Always needed him desperately in bed. Or the shower. Or on the floor when the bedroom was too far away. You’d sent countless nudes that made missions more bearable. And the paragraph long texts in which you described everything you wanted him to do to you always made his cheeks flush. How your sex drive kept up with his was still a mystery. But he wasn’t complaining.

“Okay,” he laughed, “well let’s put food at priority number one, doll” 

“But wouldn’t you rather eat something else, Buck?”

He brought his hands to either side of your face and narrowed his eyes at you, “I just heard your stomach growl. And you just said that you’re so tired you wanna die.” He swept a thumb over your cheek and grew serious. “Let yourself rest tonight, okay? Let’s eat and relax and go to bed early.”

He expected it- but still laughed at your over-dramatic wink. “No, not like that. We’ll go to sleep early. You need it.”

He sent you to the bedroom with strict instructions to put on pajamas, “I mean, actual pajamas!” he called after you. “No lingerie!” Bucky couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth- no lingerie? He’d never imagined saying that to you. But he could keep it in his pants for a night or two if it meant that you got some much needed rest. He kissed you goodbye each morning at five and welcomed you home every night around eight- it was too much. Too much overtime, too many hours spent getting yelled at by your boss. And not nearly enough rest or time for yourself. 

“Alright, does this pass your ‘real pajamas’ test?” You did a quick spin for Bucky, revealing your outfit for the rest of the night: one of his shirts and a pair of cute underwear. “We both know I usually sleep naked soooo I feel like this is more than appropriate for ‘pajamas’.”

Bucky covered his face and granted you a nod. He didn’t want to make you feel weird or possibly spark some sort of self-consciousness in you, but the question gathering at the tip of his tongue had plagued him for months. He’d batted it away time and time again, banishing it to the back of his mind. But it returned, and he wanted an answer.

“Can I ask…” he cleared his throat. “Are you satisfied with- do we have enough sex? Am I giving you what you need?” He cringed. It was so awkward. So clunky. He truly couldn’t believe how clumsy his words were. But it was important.

Alarm shot through you. “Absolutely, Buck,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Our sex life is perfect- you’reperfect.”

You made your way to the couch and leaned against the back. There was something in the look you wore. Embarrassment? Dejection? Bucky wasn’t sure. But he knew it was his fault. And it wasn’t good. Before he could apologize, however, you mumbled something nearly unintelligible.

“I’m doing it again…” you muttered to yourself with a shake of your head. 

Bucky recognized your look: shame.

He didn’t want to ask- rather, he did want to ask. But didn’t know if he should. Something about the way you walked away, the way you mumbled under your breath. It almost seemed like you tried to find privacy without leaving the room. Like leaning against the couch while your shoulders curled in on you somehow protected you. 

“Are you sure? I only ask because you, um, you make a lot of those little jokes and innuendos and I… I wanna make sure you’re not trying to drop me a hint.” Bucky took a cautious step toward you. And then another. Until his feet rested only millimeters from yours. 

You rolled your eyes- but not at him. “I’m fine- sorry, babe. This has nothing to do with you. It’s just…” you sighed. A fire raged beneath your words that burned only you. “It’s this thing I do. This really annoying thing. Well, annoying to me”. You laughed a dark, broken laugh. Something was off.

Bucky decided not to poke or pry. He simply took the spot next to you want waited. If you wanted to elaborate, he’d listen. And if you didn’t, he’d be there just in case. But something sinister floated around in your mind. He could see it rippling. And he wanted to be there for you when it breached the surface.

“All of this sexual humor? All of the nudes I send and my near constant attempts to jump your bones? That’s what you’re referring to, right?” 

He nodded.  

Another eye roll. You couldn’t believe it was happening again. Well, you could believe it- you just wished it wasn’t true. How many times had you been through this? How many years did you work on trying to eliminate your stupid habit? You didn’t care if your therapist called it a “coping mechanism”- it made you cringe, and you hated yourself for doing it.

“It’s a stupid holdover from my ex- well, my most of my exes.”

Bucky wasn’t quite following. He stared at you with an unsure look and about a million questions rattling around in his head. But he didn’t know what to ask first. You were clearly upset, clearly troubled by whatever happened in those past relationships with shitty men who didn’t deserve you. And he didn’t want to upset you further. 

Bucky was in the dark. He saw no issue, had no problem with your suggestive sense of humor. And he didn’t quite understand why you’d be so upset about whatever little habit you carried with you- especially when work was slowly devouring your soul. He saw the evidence of your hellish schedule written all over your face. He saw the way you had to practically drag your body out of bed each morning, the way you pounded coffees and energy drinks just to get through the day. Why was this the moment in which your insecurity caught up with you?

“I’m sorry, doll. I think I’m confused,” he said. “I’m not really sure what’s going on.”

“I’ve never dated anyone who made me feel loved,” you blurted out. “Except for you.”

Bucky still wasn’t sure where this was going, but he knew he hated your exes.

“No one I dated in the past cared for me or prioritized me. None of them ever made me feel secure- I was never quite sure where I stood, you know? Their affections were always so hit or miss. Like, they’d give me a ton of love and attention for a few days, and then spend weeks treating me like I didn’t matter.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to fix whatever damage your past relationships did to you. But he knew you were tired- mentally and physically. And so he did the only thing he could think of- he picked you up and set you down on the cozy couch cushions. He ordered dinner. He got you a tea. And he let you talk.

“I always felt unsure, you know? I didn’t know how any of these guys actually felt about me. Or if they even felt anything for me at all. One guy actually kept me a secret from everyone in his life- he wouldn’t even talk to me in public…”

A concoction of heartbreak and rage flooded Bucky’s consciousness. How could anyone treat you that way?

“Anyway, there was one thing I knew they’d respond positively to- one thing they wouldn’t ignore.” You dropped your gaze down to your mug, too embarrassed to look Bucky in the eye. “When I felt them slipping or noticed their affection for me dwindling, I knew I could use sex to renew their interest in me.” 

The living room sat silent. Bucky stared at you, and you stared at your tea. You watched the tendrils of steam wafting off the surface and into the air as though it were your job. If you didn’t look at Bucky, if you kept your focus elsewhere, maybe he wouldn’t notice your damage. 

Part of you was perfectly fine stopping the story there. It would preserve what little dignity you had left, what fraction of respect Bucky still held for you. But the other part needed you to spill your guts. You were so depleted. So tired of putting on a façade. 

“I mean, the first few boyfriends I had actually admitted to me after we broke up that they only wanted me for sex- that they only got into a relationship with me so they could be the only one fucking me.” Your eyes remained downcast. “I’ve just been with so many people who made me feel like I had to earn their affection. And so, over the years, I just- I don’t know…”

You shared the silence for a moment before Bucky offered his help, “You got used to it?”

You nodded. “I accepted that I’m just a- that they saw me as an object. That my feelings and  needs don’t matter. And I know it’s pathetic that I stayed with any of those guys for longer than five minutes. But I’m so-” Your tear-filled eyes finally met Bucky’s. “I’m so desperate to be loved. Or, I was. And now, I have you. And I know you love me- you show me everyday just how much you care about me. But I’ve never been treated like this before… it’s unfamiliar territory, I guess. All I know is secret parking lot hook-ups and feeling like I have to give someone my body as payment for love.”

Being this vulnerable, this raw and exposed, made your hands shake. Of course, you trusted Bucky with your past and with your heart. But showing him your shame and imperfections made you cringe. You feared you were supplying him with ammo, with reasons to treat you poorly. To leave. 

But he didn’t see you any different- he simply wished he’d found you sooner. Wished he could’ve saved you some heartbreak. He extended a hand and welcomed you into his arms. He held you close. And he listened without judgement. 

“I don’t know how to handle consistent love. And I feel like… I’m afraid the other shoe is gonna drop any minute. Like a switch is gonna flip and you’ll pull away from me without warning. And I’ll have to win you over again.” 

Bucky’s grip around you intensified. As though, if he wrapped his arms around you tight enough, he could transfer his love via osmosis. 

 “So I try to keep your interest with sex,” you said, you’re voice falling. “I try to make you want me.”

“Even when you’re exhausted…”

You nodded.

Knowing that the two of you’d had sex when you weren’t completely and totally into it made him nauseous. He knew what it felt like for others to have control of his body. He knew how uncomfortable and dehumanized it made him feel. And he hated that, more likely than not, you’d felt that way with him. Even if it only happened once, it was too many times.

Bucky’s silence made you nervous. He was probably mad- or hurt- by what you’d said. And you instantly regretted all of it. “Don’t get me wrong- the sex we have is perfect. It’s not like anything I’ve ever had and I pretty much wanna get in your pants the second I see you.” The familiar light returned to your eyes for just a moment, but the glimmer faded just as quickly as it appeared. “But sometimes I find myself forcing my own hand- even when I can barely stay awake- because I still feel like I have to fight for the love of the man I’m with.”

Bucky wanted to kill every man who’d ever hurt you, every man who’d ever made you doubt your value. “I want you, doll. Always. You don’t have to fight for anything with me,” he took the mug from your hands and placed it on the coffee table before turning you around and taking your face in his hands. “And, yeah, the sex is great. But I’m just happy to be near you. To spend time with you. This-” he said, sweeping his thumbs over your cheeks, “this is all I want. To be close to you. To take care of you.”

You let your eyes fall closed for a moment as the words sunk in. You took his hands in yours and grounded yourself in his touch. After all this time, you finally got what you wanted. The reassurance, the validation. And you knew he was telling the truth. But the nagging in your chest forbade you from believing him. You had half a mind to grind your hips against his and attach your lips to his neck. But before you could act on your impulse, Bucky spoke.

“You’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I don’t expect you to just stop out of nowhere. It’s a coping mechanism- a way of protecting yourself.”

It’s like he read your mind.

“But I want you to put yourself first, doll. Okay? When you’re tired, when you have a headache, when you don’t feel like having sex- for whatever reason- it’s okay. It’s more than okay. I don’t ever want you doing something you don’t want to do. You have me, okay? I’m yours.” 

You shook your head- sure, that was easy for him to say now. “But you’re used to us having a lot of sex. You’re used to me being ready and willing twenty four-seven. What if you-”

“Baby… hey,” he once again cupped your face. It stopped your spiral, your anxious ramblings. Wild ‘what ifs’ invaded your brain and trampled everything Bucky said, every assurance he gave. But he was determined to make you understand. “My feelings for you are never going to dwindle or falter. Ever. I swear on my life that I’ll always want you. I’ll love you until I die- and even after that. We didn’t meet and immediately jump into bed together. We spent months just enjoying each other’s company. And even then, when I wasn’t even sure if anything was gonna happen between us, I just wanted to spend time with you.”

He sensed uncertainty in your eyes, “doll, if we never had sex again, I’d still be here. I’d still want you.”

Finally, after a night of doom and gloom, he got you to laugh. 

“Yeah, sure, Buck-”

“I’m serious!” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. “Obviously, I don’t think either one of us wants to forego sex completely…”

You gave him a vehement shake of your head. He laughed at your dramatics.

“But if, for whatever reason, we put a full embargo on sex- I’d still be here. I promise. Because I love you, and all that matters to me is your happiness. Okay?”

A knock at the door startled both of you. It pulled you out of the world of past-trauma and heartbreak and threw you into the present. Shit- you were hungry. Starving. And your head pounded from exhaustion and dehydration. 

“That’s the food!” Bucky lifted you from his lap before replacing you on the couch and running for the door. He paid the delivery driver and returned to you with a bag so full you feared the bottom might split. “I got everything: the pasta and garlic bread you like, a chicken parmesan, a lasagna, and two slices of their dark chocolate cake.”

You stared at him with wide eyes and a growling stomach. “We feeding an army?”

“Well, no. But I know you probably haven’t eaten since breakfast…”

You nodded, and Bucky threw his head back with a groan. “Doll! You promised me you’d make sure to break during the day for lunch, and- you know, that’s a conversation for another time. Let’s get you fed and into bed. Okay?”

You watched Bucky unpack the food and spread the dishes out across the coffee table. He got plates, silverware, and drinks before putting on your favorite episode of New Girl. He took care of you. He was the person your family always promised you’d find. The person your friends told you to wait for. The person you swore didn’t exist. But he was real, and he was yours. And he loved you more than you ever thought possible.

————————

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll @god-ofthunder @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #Bucky #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x yn #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female reader #Bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky x y/n #Bucky x yn #Bucky x you

[thecoolcatstuff]

Still trying to digest how absurd is the extreme dissonance between the writing team's intention and what we actually saw on screen. Its like we have two entirely separated stories:

1-the show the writers believe they are writing being a magical epopey about feminism and self-assurance

2-the show we are actually seeing, being a show about abuse apologia and circunvented misoginy.

the cheer incapacity to connect with your viewer and write something that will get through them and not give them the wrong messages is simply baffling.

I mean how can you miss the mark so much? How can you fail so hard as a writer to the point of giving your reader so much mixed signals in the narrative and the build-up it feels an entire different story to what you are trying to convey?

And NO, its not the viewer/reader's fault they are "interpreting this wrong". Its your fucking JOB as a writer to convey your messages correctly, you cant just write things out of your ass and then say "you just dont get it bro". Especiallly if we are taking about a kid's show.

And they know how bad it is. To the point they have to constantly release post-content stuff and tweet to try to justify their wrong signals to fans just show how aware they are at their terrible job.

However, what makes me truly MAD is how they dont care and even still feel justified with their shitty job, because they are still meeting their view quotas, pushing their master's agenda and selling toys, as if it being comercially attractive to impressionable children equals to good writing. Imagine being this much of a corporate rat. Who cares if kids are getting the wrong message? Who cares if we are writing an unsatifying story? Its still colorful and is still selling out so why should we care? Why should we make an effort to see if kids are getting the right or wrong impression? As long as they are watching it and making their parents open their pockets, no problemo, right?

This is an issue in western animation in general, but Miraculous just decided to throw out the straw and jump head first into the pound.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ml salt #chat noir #ml s5 spoilers #ml writing salt #mlb #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

[slamminslamminmcgill]

thinkin abt working w gene takovic & being generally shit at the job and he gets tired of reader slacking off and decides to give reader a little motivation to do better ……….

workplace harassment but if it was epic 😌

my immediate thought was "reader comes into work high and gets disciplined" so im adding intox to this hope that's ok :3

warning: intox, possibly dubcon? (you're high and he's your superior)

You hated your fucking job.

I mean, it wasn't horrible. It was just a run of the mill food service position at the Cinnabon in the mall. Standing for 8 hours, shitty customers, all the glitz and glamour you could expect, but hey, free cinnamon rolls was a nice perk. It's not like you were planning to make a career out of this anyway. You could afford to dick around on the clock from time to time. Plus, y'all were short-staffed anyway, so what were they gonna do, fire you?

Well, today, you had pushed your luck too far.

It was supposed to be a busy day, some huge sale happening in the mall, and that meant a bunch of entitled pricks needing their cream cheese frosted insulin bombs. You didn't want to risk strangling the first boomer that yelled at you, so you figured why not pop a few edibles before your shift?

Big mistake. You realized that when you clocked in.

One of your coworkers called out, and another was coming in late. That meant it was just you and your manager Gene tackling the first few hours. He wasn't horrible to work with, but a skeleton crew was no one's idea of a good time. Let alone the fact that you'd be stupid high in about an hour and there'd be no one else to cover your ass.

When they kicked in, it didn't take long for him to notice. You were staring at the register blankly for maybe 5 minutes, but it felt like eons in food service time. Once your other coworker came in, Gene took you into his office to reprimand you, making sure to lock the door before he slumped down at his desk.

"Look, kid. I get it. I don't wanna be here either, but you can't be doing that. Not only is it against the law, but it's dangerous. If you're spacing out like that you could cut or burn yourself, and-"

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. You ever talk to your cat and wonder if they can understand a goddamn word you're saying? That was basically this. You were just staring at how his nipples poked through his officially licensed Cinnabon® polo shirt. He was kinda cute, for a sad old man. Wait, fired? Did he just say fired? You snap out of it and make eye contact with him.

Gene sighed. "You haven't been listening to me, have you?"

You shook your head.

"I said, corporate has kind of a zero-tolerance policy for drug use on the job. I'm supposed to fire you, but," He got up from his chair and approached you, stroking your cheek with a pensive look on his face, no doubt a dumb, ditsy look on yours. "you're a good kid. I'd like to see you do better. I'm hoping there's another way we can work this out. Call it positive reinforcement, yeah?"

You nodded. Positive reinforcement. Sure, whatever.

He smiled. "Good boy."

You whined. Oh fuck, that felt nice to hear. He could tell.

Before you knew it, you were on your knees in front of him, servicing his cock with your mouth, messily. Drool was seeping out from your lips, pooling onto what you hoped was the floor and not your shirt. The weed was making this far more intense than you'd ever imagined. His taste was addicting. However deep you could take him just wasn't enough. You ran your tongue all over him, his head, his shaft, his balls. God, it was so fucking good. Shit, you were probably enjoying this more than he was.

That's not to say Gene wasn't enjoying it. He threw his head back and sighed. He rested his hand on your scalp and ruffled your hair, making you whimper around him. "That's a good boy."

Positive reinforcement indeed.

#anon #ask #saul goodman #jimmy mcgill #gene takovic #saul goodman x reader #jimmy mcgill x reader #gene takovic x reader #saul goodman smut #jimmy mcgill smut #gene takovic smut #brbabcs #breaking bad #breaking bad x reader #bcs #bcs x reader #better call saul x reader #brba x reader #intox kink #better call saul smut #breaking bad smut #saul goodman imagine #jimmy mcgill imagine #gene takovic imagine #breaking bad imagine #better call saul imagine

[makoodles]

you know what?! condensing flirty qautich with the southern charm and looks like sweet innocent nurse until she opens her mouth and drops one burn before leaving the room. just fucking snark him. better yet, not even scared of him. surrreee he could easily kill you but you know how much trouble he be in for killing somebody smaller than him(especially an important member like a nurse?! especially one that’s not afraid of the navi combatant to get their check up done, imagine how many fucking bounced when they saw a combatant even smile at them with those sharp teeth?) so yeah. she definitely look him in his eyes with a 😑😒 look give a quick snark just to put him in his place before promptly leaving the room, not because she’s scared but she’s not in the mood of dealing with a butthurt man complaining about he didn’t get the last word. girl not afraid in fact she could give less of a shit. now after a few weeks we are dealing with a whole snark battle between a corporate that snarks condescending to flirt and a bored nurse that snarks to put him in his place. listen i know that man keeps giving a 😳 look everytime she drops a burn.

WAIT TO ADD TO SNARKY NURSE!!! QUATICH FALLS FIRST!! HE TRIES TO KINDA GO OUT HIS WAY TO “BUMP” INTO THE NURSE JUST TO SNARK HER (cause he’s been thinking about this one for a long time, there’s no way she got a comeback for this one!) ONLY FOR HER TO DROP A “your momma” IN THE MOST DEADPAN TONE AND LEAVE THE ROOM. BOY FLABBERGASTED! BUT HE KEEPS COMING AROUND! HE LIKES THIS LITTLE BACK AND FORTH THEY GOT! GIRLY DOESNT EVEN KNOW HE HAS A CRUSH ON HER UNTIL HER COWORKER MENTIONS HOW THE CORPRAL KEEPS CONCIDENCELY SHOWING UP TO WHERE SHE IS FOR A “short talk” AND THEN SHE GETS A CRUSH! boy be talking “i don’t got nothing for her” boi quit lying i see your tail lift up some when you around her. shut yo blue ass up. 😒 next thing you gonna do is give her shitty gifts.

lmaooooo this is good stuff

quaritch would for sure love a woman with a mouth on her, and having such a pretty young thing be so snippy with him just really gets him going

(ALSO LOVE THE IDEA OF HIS TAIL LIFTING UP EVERYTIME HE SEES HER LMAOOOO he's so emotionally repressed he doesn't even realise what's happening until his body is betraying him)

#quaritch #asks #avatar headcanons

[hishighnesstheprincess]

MY HATER POST

literally made a hater post just to talk about stuff in the sonic series that I dont like ❤️ if you don't like this post then fuck you block and/or blow me. this is disorganized as fuck btw and i dont care

sonic frontiers was the best mainline sonic game in over a decade but thats really not saying much

i think tangle is kinda boring and whispangle is kinda boring by proxy. whispers cool tho

surge is the best rival sonic character since blaze and the only thing dragging her down is that sonic in the idw comics kinda sucks as a character

its great that we are getting more female characters in idw and the games but quite a lot of them are kinda boring and we still need more female villains

metal sonic is basically nothing but a jobber in idw rn and its really depressing

idw please treat the babylon rogues better, theyre goofy characters with serious storylines just like basically every other sonic character, stop making them NOTHING but a joke

lanolin is an interesting character, yall just cant handle women who are even SLIGHTLY rude to a fan favorite character

the worst part of idw is that its tied to game canon because they cant shake up the status quo too much or have character arcs for most of the main characters

rouge is ABSOLUTELY a sexualized character and always has been. learn to like a character despite the faults in how they are portrayed or shut up about it

sally was the best canon romantic partner for sonic and you cant change my mind

the second worst part of idw is the titular character himself

i dislike surg/amy because of the age difference andalso the fact that everyone wants to disregard surges character to have her be redeemed

if sega is going to keep teasing son/amy then they should just stop dancing around it and make them canon already, make the shippers happy and get the drawn out agony over with for the rest of us. also age amy up for the love of allthat is holy

also, sega should stop ship teasing ships they have no intention of making canon in general, its shitty and edges into queerbaiting when done with gay ships

the above does not apply to whispangle

idw art is overall much much MUCH better than any other sonic comic and its not even a contest

there are a lot of things i disagree with about the current state and direction of this franchise but we are in a much better place than we were even just two years ago and we should be glad for all this success

the worst parts of archie are the most atrocious things that this franchise has ever put out, in art, storytelling, basic morality, etc.

most of the popular ships in this fandom suck ass

unless sega stops rushing sonic team and actually gives some resources to them we are never going to get better than 7/10 games. corporations are not your friends and you dont have to thank them for giving you a mid product

sega should have been sued into oblivion for the literal seizure inducing state sonic colors ultimate was released in and we should never, ever let them forget it

remain skeptical about every single sonic game until release, we've had "WERE SO BACK" moments before that turned out to befalse

the edm in sonic frontiers cyberspace slaps but isnt as memorable as previous sonic soundtracks

stop ghosting sonics friends (sonic frontiers, sonic prime, sonic dream team) its kinda weird and puts way too much importance on sonic again. this is a good cast, USE THEM

sonic frontiers dlc being hard wasnt a bad thing, the jank, glitches, and lack of fairness were bad things that tarnished the experience

the games have never ever been properly translated from japanese into english and that is just an objective fact. but also dont shit on people for only having interest in the english version, you have to go WAY out of your way to get a good translation and that's on the franchise, not the fans

this franchise's "canon" has been fucked since the original classic games, trying to fix it in the sense that you can somehow make every little detail perfect is a lost cause. just pick and choose what you like

of all the characters that deserve a game to themselves blaze deserves it the most. girlie has a whole other dimension that we could explore can you IMAGINE an open world game in the sol dimension COME ON

if lots of people are criticizing something you like then you should give some consideration to the fact that they may have some points instead of just disregarding it as people being nitpicky and nasty. you dont have to listen to it but if you dont do that then you cant dismiss it out of hand either

the stories of sa1 and sa2 arent even the best stories in this franchise

06 sucks ass and no amount of "potential" means jackshit when it comes to actual quality. if we're just evaluating "potential" then congratulations everything ever made is a quality product have fun with that

its okay to games with goofier and lighthearted stories

team dark are just friends

i prefer amys hammer to the cards

let this franchise have its edge back. but also let sonic be cute. they arent mutually exclusive

keep good physics and momentum in the games for the love of god please its what this franchise was built on

sega of japan may do characterization better but the closest brushes to death that this franchise has ever had (Dreamcast, 06, Forces) were all on them as well

this might be the hottest take of all time but sonic team shares some of the blame in how a lot of sonic games turn out very bad, its not all on sega

stating that some sonic-inspired games (spark the electric jester and freedom planet) or sonic fan games (project 06) have turned out better than actual sonic games is kind of objectively correct but youre a dick if you say it just to make sonic fans feel bad about the games or themselves

if you ONLY consume sonic media you need to branch out more. for your own health please

flynn is neither the worst person to ever walk the surface of this planet or gods gift to the sonic fandom, practice some moderation in your opinions people

i think discourse is good, actually. except for when it harms people. and fictional characters do not count as people

sonic frontiers open world biomes are boring and nowhere close to most open world games, even ones from a decade ago

silver was never sonics rival

it would be nice if we could go back to having smaller games on handheld consoles coming out on a regular basis while mainline sonic games come out once every couple of years on a bigger scale and higher quality than weve been getting. and no locking games behind apple arcade PLEASE

sonic lost world isnt a terrible game or a good one. its just weird and boring

sonic riders was fun and its a travesty that it got downgraded into generic cart racing games

sonic unleashed daytime stages are the best boost stages in this entire franchise because they actually rely on quick decision making and reaction times instead of just smashing your way straight through the entire level with little to no effort

the werehog combat sucks ass and the fact that its super slow and super long and takes up like 75% of the time youre playing the game is why unleashed isnt peak. sorry

stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill stop using green hill STOP IT

a lot of fans of sonic do not understand what they are talking about and that includes me a LOT of the time

sonic himself cant just be whatever the writer wants him to be. the reason characters are characters is because they have certain character traits and you cant just change that without getting a different guy, im sorry

archiehad the worst moments but the sonic movies are the worst adaptation overall

the above will change if movie 3 kills off shadow or tom. then the worst adaptation will be underground

game sonic being a static character is cool, actually

sonic fandom is sexist as fuck and that includes the tumblr side of it

sage getting revived in a post credits scene was lame. give us more time before confirming shes alive

the sonic twitter takeovers are not canon. no, not even if you think a thing they said on it was funny

they should let female characters be naked (dont make this weird) and give the boy characters outfits sometimes

amy having a crush on sonic is totally fine but they took it WAAAAAYYYYYYYY too far at many, many points. i dont care if its funny amy threatening chris in x or intimidating cream in various games (battle, rush) was NEVER a good thing

rouges design does not need to be changed, it needs to be framed and posed in less sexual ways

rouges heroes and prime outfits sucked ngl like just from a color and design standpoint like theyre kinda ass and overcomplicated and an eyesore

if sega is gonna age the characters up they should actually go ahead and post the new ages on some official channel, dont just leave us in this horrible limbo where we have to argue with weirdos online about who youre morally okay to thirst over certain characters and whether a different voice counts as a character becoming an adult

the fact that the main official english sonic account only posts memes and advertises hilariously overpriced """"""""products"""""""" kinda sucks tbh. i have to go to other language accounts to get stuff like concept art and celebrating the anniversary of a game the released a year ago. were well past the era of laughing at sonic just for being sonic, now lets act like it

stop harrassing people involved with this series even if theyre doing an objectively bad job. thats a real person and you should care more about them than you do a fictional character

the above DOES apply to ken penders. hes a piece of shit but still a person

criticism =/= harrassment. this goes both ways

cream IS a hero thank you very much

reference to a thing you like does not equal good character writing. critically, it does not equal bad character writing either

amys not a damsel in distress and hasnt been in over 20 years. if we count characters just getting captured as being damseled then congratulations, sonic himself is a damsel in distress (Forces), apply that shit equally across both genders

ryan drummond was the best english va, but jason got the better scripts. roger is getting better and most of the work hes been given is just. bad. so i dont feel okay judging his work. but he is my least favorite

gameplay>story when it comes to the actual games, every time. if you have a good story to tell its only hampered by being in a shitty game

worst game in the series is sonic colors ultimate. say what you will about 06, forces, rise of lyric, or whatever other game. at least they werent literally physically dangerous to play

all the main female characters in the games are asskickers, they just need to be utilized more. as does every member of the supporting cast

the sonic franchise fucking needs to stop having long gone ancient civilizations. please have new ideas

this is the end of the list. go away

#sonic #prin posts #sonic posting #long post #hating #trigger warning for uh. hating ig

[reddawnmultimuse]

@bladedhunter--Senju Tsunade

How the fuck did he get here?

That’s what Kakuzu was interrogating himself on as he found himself in the ass-end of Konoha, the once “Billion Ryo Man” and ex-Akatsuki walking the streets like a colloquial civilian; none brave enough to give the six-and-a-half tall man dressed in all black in the deadass of summer a second glance.

After the Edo Tensei failed to send them back to damnation, each member was seized, kicking and screaming, back their home nations for their day of reckoning after a lifelong career of crimes against humanity. However, instead of offing them as they should have, the Kage had the collective idea of rehabilitating the once terrorist organization–and it was successful. Fuck him was it ever so successful.

Sasori and Deidara were leaders of their old corporations while still piddling their shitty art, Itachi was a fucking housewife back in Konoha and Kisame was back in the Seven Swordsmen. Kakuzu, meanwhile, pissed his days away by either doing the government’s taxes or being their obedient little mailboy. It was bullshit but there was little he could do. Again, he was nothing but a puppet for Taki with their hand shoved up his ass.

Whatever. If he was here then might as well get wasted for the long-ass walk back to Taki. So, randomly choosing a bar, he walked in.

#. hell runs on money--kakuzu #. bladedhunter--senju tsunade #. closed starter

[thranduilsperkybutt]

requirements.txt=unsatisfied

Pic source: 1

Pairings: Johnny Silverhand/V!Reader; Exceedingly minor Goro Takemura/V!Reader alluded to Warnings: Endgame spoilers; Arasaka!ending; I take liberties with the ending (everyone lives AU); yearning; fighting; nsfw banter (no actual explicit behaviors); angst with a happy ending; mentions of canon-typical drug use and violence Word Count: 9,936 words Reader Gender: Female Author: Meg Summary: Johnny always wants a lot of things--- a smoke, a good fuck, for you to turn the radio to 107.3 instead of that new age crap you like. In a perfect world, he'd like to have his own body back, too, but this isn't a perfect world. This is Night City, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to forgive you for going and doing this. Turns out that being in love requires being unsatisfied. A/N: Look. I finally finished playing the game as corpo!V and I will not live with these endings, alright? I'm gonna make my own.

“Think they make shitty motels like this just for screw-ups like us?”

You make a point to continue staring at the ceiling of the ‘shitty motel’ room, deep breathing the mildew and age-old cigarettes. He isn’t wrong, but you don’t want to hear it right now. He always has a way with words. Wiping your hands down your face, you do your best to ignore him, but Johnny wasn’t the most dismissible parasite you’ve ever had.

“’Parasite’s’ talkin’ to you, fuck-up,” he flicks his cigarette butt at you in retaliation for the thoughts in your head and it glitches through your thigh with a fuzzy tickle in your neurons. “Do ya’ really think Arasaka is gonna’ just let you waltz away after grabbin’ that stuck-up bitch princess of theirs? You’re fucked.”

“Was fucked before that, Johnny--- royally, if you’ll remember,” you groan, and turn away from him. He appears on the other side of the bed, leaning over it to glare at you. “Got you to show for it, after all.”

“Why are you so chill about this? Takemura fucked you both by deciding to take a life-sized souvenir from your trip to Cherry Town---"

“Cherry Blossom Market---” he barely acknowledges your interruption; you doubt he cares about the situation past hearing himself talk either way.

“--- and you’re just gonna’ do what? Sit here like a ditched date, waitin’ by the phone for that ‘Saka scum to call?”

“Johnny,” you push yourself up into a sitting position, headache threatening a presence at the back of your skull. The edges of his shoulders have that glitchy quality you’ve come to know follows his movements at times when he crosses his arms, but his glare is clear as ever.

“What? Don’t like me callin’ him that?” he rolls his eyes as he certainly feels your annoyance spike, “Jeez, didn’t think you could ride ‘Saka’s dick any harder, but if you literally want to---”

“What crawled up your holographic ass and died tonight?” you bark back, and the glint behind his eyes tells you that this is what he wanted all along. A fight, interaction, anything other than you just melting into the stained mattress of this motel room while the fan drones overhead in excruciating monotony. Johnny’s at his worst when he’s bored or cornered, you’ve found.

“I don’t know, V, maybe the fact that while I’m livin’ in your head, I’ve gotta’ listen to all your disgusting little thoughts about that Grade-A asshole? I’ve never had a dry spell that’d make me wanna’ sleep with a corpo drone, but maybe old habits die hard for you, huh?” You try to ignore his jab at your corporate background, but you know he just can’t help himself, “At this rate, alert a joytoy pronto, because I think I’ll throw up if I gotta’ watch you eyefuck your ronin anym---"

“You’re so fucking annoying sometimes, Johnny, you know that?” you rub your temples, trying to bite back the heat in your cheeks. No telling if it was from embarrassment at his inevitable acknowledgement of your major-league crush on Goro, or an oncoming stroke. At this point you are wishing for the stroke.

“You say that, but you’re not havin’ to watch how pathetic you look waitin’ on Takemura to call. Shit, even that cop you turned down would be better than this guy.”

Rising to your knees, you point a finger directly against his chest, feeling the fuzzy presence of your fried synapses mistaking him for something real at your fingertips, “Know what? Maybe I will fuck Goro the next time I see him, just to screw with you. Maybe I’ll finally get some peace and quiet when you slink back to God-knows-where to hide in my head while I lay back and take it from the big, bad, ‘Saka scum.’”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growls down at you, the fire in his eyes flickering from your own to your lips and back again. “If you wanted me gone, you’d’ve taken those omega blockers by now.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’d take a half-dose of pseudoendotrizine just so I could kick your ass, if it wouldn’t mean kicking mine, too.”

“Now, there’s a thought,” he reaches out, pushing you back by a phantom grip on your shoulder. Your body flings itself onto the mattress without a thought, “But I don’t need a pill to kick your ass, remember?”

“Asshole,” you grumble defeatedly, but his anger seems to dissipate, if only a little.

“Bitch,” he chuckles, and it’s a short sound of disbelief. “Don’t pout like a damn kid.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of mean, Silverhand?” you look down to where he still stood beside--- no, knelt onto, now--- the bed. His lips are quirked into a slight smile, one brow raised like he doesn’t quite understand just why all your annoyance has seemed to sink away into the dingy carpet and rotting walls of this place. Maybe it’s the exhaustion settling into your bones?

Or perhaps it’s the uneasy feeling in your gut when he looks at you. Despite the mountain of resentment your soul screams that you have every right to have at him for stealing your life away from you with every waking second, you can’t seem to bring yourself to hate him.

He clicks his teeth thoughtfully, dipping his weight onto the knee he has on the bed, but it doesn’t creak under his weight or acknowledge his presence, “It may have come up, once or twice.”

He isn’t really here, the soft static framing his hard edges reminds you.

“Why, then?” Why does he keep falling into the same pattern? Why does he treat you like this? Why does he look at you like that afterwards?

You don’t ask any of those questions, but you don’t have to. He’s in your head, after all--- but you think he’d be able to figure them out even if he didn’t have a front-row seat to your every thought. You still aren’t sure how much of your consciousness he is privy to, but you know it’s enough for him to know more about you than any other person ever has.

At this point, he might know your mind better than you do.

You wish you could read his half as well.

“Maybe I just don’t like watchin’ you run head-first into what’s bound to be another shit-show’s all, choom,” he deflects, but his eyes don’t turn from your gaze. There’s something guarded in them, sure, but they soften all the same.

You sit on his bullshit explanation for a few seconds, tasting the thought on your tongue, “Is that what we are, Johnny? Chooms?” It’s an unsatisfactory descriptor, but you don’t know if there’s a word in the English language that can accurately describe what you are to each other.

“I don’t know, V. Are we?”

Before you can even think of an answer, the sound of your holo ringing breaks through your ears and Goro’s image appears in your optics.

Johnny huffs and just like that, any softness in his gaze disintegrates with a roll of his eyes, “Go on--- know you’re giddy as a schoolgirl to answer that.”

“Fuck you, Johnny,” you grumble, before picking up the line and watching him straighten up off the bed before disappearing from your gaze in a static glitch. “Goro---”

“V, meet me, quickly as you can. I’m sending the coordinates.”

---

Your fingers run over the markings of Johnny’s initials you’d just carved against the metal. It’s jagged, raw, and as good a headstone as he was ever going to get, given you’d probably never find where his body had been truly laid to rest. In a city like Night City, after so many years? He’s lucky enough that Arasaka had dumped his body at all, instead of incinerating it like most folks these days.

“There, how’s that for a marker?”

Johnny leans back from where he’d been moping and gestures to your makeshift headstone, “Say this was my real grave, what would you write? ‘Here lies Johnny Silverhand…’”

The words roll around your head in tandem with the pit of dread in your stomach. It didn’t feel right talking to him like he was dead, even though the rational part of your mind knew it was true. The real Johnny Silverhand died more than fifty years ago, and you were left talking to a ghost--- a copy that seemed close enough to the real deal, but you never would be able to know if he was a good one. More recently, though, he’s started to seem just as real as the ground you walk on and, while you know that’s something to be deeply worried about, you can’t help but have come to enjoy his company.

When he’s not being an asshole, that is.

For better or worse, he was, “The guy who saved my life.” You’d been through so much--- everything--- together. It hadn’t been intentional on his part; he’s only a piece of broken prototype tech going haywire in your head, but it was still true. He’s saved you in more ways than one, lately.

The words sink into him, dragging his shoulders down like the same ache you feel in your soul. His eyes meet yours beneath his sunglasses, holding you in a regret so deep that you think it will swallow you both with the knowledge that he’ll be the death of you.

Johnny reaches up, metal fingertips clicking on his shades in a way that’s so honest in your ears that it’s difficult to remember it’s just another one of your disconnected mind’s lies anymore, “You don’t know how much I want that to be true.” He pulls the barrier from his face to dangle between his knees as his free hand wipes at the perpetual dirt on his skin, “Listen, I realize I’ve fucked up a lot of things. Either let down or used every last person who gave me their trust--- blind, selfish bastard that I was--- but I’ve managed one thing, for now. Not to fuck this up. What we have.”

Johnny’s always wanted a lot of things--- a smoke, a good fuck, for you to turn the radio to 107.3 instead of that new age crap you like. He's rather demanding, day in, day out.

You've been privy to his every request as it flits through your shared head for long enough that he’s come to annoy you nearly as much as he's grown on you. He’s like moss overtaking a stone, so slow that you don’t realize it until he’s covered all of you. He’s changing you into something neither of you can quite recognize anymore, and as the days pass, you worry you’ll never be able to wash him away and return to the person you were before him.

Worse, you don’t know if you will want to.

“What do we have, Johnny?” you sigh, looking up at the light-polluted sky. You weren’t far enough out of town to see stars, just the dim void and flickering city lights reflected on the clouds above. Maybe if you were at camp with the Aldecados, you’d spot a star among the dusky sky. Maybe life would seem simpler, easier, “I don’t know what you want from me.” All you know for sure is that you were growing so tired of the fight. There’s this hurt in your chest; you can’t tell if it’s yours or his. Maybe it’s something you share. Maybe this is what he means.

Or something close to it, “Most of who I thought were my friends, well, it turns out they couldn’t hardly stand to be in the same room with me. But you?”  You hear him pause, but you don’t dare to look at him. There’s a stammer in your chest, and you’re terrified at what it means, “You’re forced to be right fuckin’ here, twenty-four-seven, and you don’t seem to hate my living guts.”

This silence is something you can only achieve on the outskirts of the city, but you know it would be worse if you were further away. It’s almost excruciating, being alone with your thoughts--- being alone with his.

“There a point in there?” your heart aches for him, and you know he can feel it. It’s more than pity, more than friendship, but you try your hardest not to think of what it could possibly mean--- let alone, say it.

He knows, though. Of course he does. He has to.

“Just that… I think you’re my first real choom, even though you’re a real bitch sometimes.”

Your head lulls forward, and it takes all your strength to muster a glare at the pained smile dancing at his lips. There’s more to it than that, you both know it, but you’re grateful that he’s feeling somewhat merciful tonight--- it was something you didn’t know he had in him.

Maybe it’s only something he has in him when it comes to you.

“Chooms, huh?” tilting your head, you pretend to mull it over like it’s a proposition of eddies from a fixer. Playing it off with a shrug, you concede, “I could get used to being Johnny Silverhand’s choom, I guess, even though he was a total dick at first.”

“As if you didn’t deserve it,” Johnny smirks.

“Uh, remind me again, who’s been whining about missing his smokes since day one?” it’s a half-hearted blow, and his widening grin shows it. “Better yet, beggin’ me to get my rocks off?”

“My own personal hell is being stuck inside a non-smoker, and it doesn’t help that you’re practically a nun,” you toss a rock at him for that, and it goes straight through his chest like he isn’t even there. He isn’t, but he grins at you anyways, “Still… who’d’ve thought we’d make it this far?”

You sit there for a beat, feeling your own smile turn at your lips, before sighing, “You know, if you really want a marker, we could get you one at the columbarium.”

“For what, an empty box?” shaking his head, he puts his shades back on to perch atop his nose.

“Please, I have more of your stuff than even your most devoted fanboys. I don’t need it all. We could, I don’t know, ‘retire’ something of yours there. You know, as a symbol,” his gaze weighs heavy on you, and you can’t for the life of you understand what’s going through his mind. It frustrates you nearly as much as his stare seems to, and you shift your gaze back to the sky in your attempt to escape his holographic scrutiny.

“Let me guess, you’ll bring me flowers every day?” it surprises you that his tone isn’t mocking, but rather curious. “Would you visit his grave?” he seems to ask.

Trying to lighten the mood, you tease, “You know me, too busy trying not to die for all that.” You look back to him with a wink, “Plus, preem flowers are expensive these days, choom. ‘Fraid you’ll have to settle for the synth ones. Besides, you seem like a cheap date to me.”

“Bitch.”

“Just say, ‘Thank you.’”

It’s as close as either of you will come to what you really want to say.

---

From the roof of Misty’s building, it’s almost as if the troubles of the city no longer exist. You think you understand why Jackie found his choice up here. It seems as good a place as any to choose between life and death.

You would have to come to yours, too, soon. Maybe you already have, and you just don’t want to admit it.

The thought dwells in your head, and it feels like the only choice that makes sense.

“You’re not considering that. Please, tell me you’re not seriously considering going to those bastards again for help,” Johnny’s voice tears you from your dreadful stare over the neon Night City advertisements staring back at you. Promising everything from NiCola to the market version of the prototype Relic crammed in your head. “You’re trying to make sense of something that makes zero damn sense!”

You think he might wind up hating you forever, for this.

“Takemura said---” you begin, but he cuts you off as he stands from his spot on the ledge overlooking the city and takes up pacing.

“Fuck that guy!” Johnny rounds on you, fiery as ever--- but there’s something more terrible in his eyes; a grief that only comes from knowing he won’t be able to change your mind. “You’re just takin’ the easy way out! Those ‘Saka bastards won’t stay true to their word, you know. All they do is lie, and they’ll keep lying to you so long as it gets them what they want from you. You can’t really believe they’ll help you or me!”

The truth is, you’re too tired and you don’t know what’s worse: the taste of blood on your tongue, or the look of disappointment in his eyes.

You should be at least used to the blood by now.

“I’m dying, Johnny. Hanako is the only person who can maybe help us. Name someone else. Anyone! They made this tech---”

“They’re only gonna’ hurt you. We can do this a different way,” he stops pacing to stand so close that you can swear his boots touch yours. It’s as if you could feel the heat radiating off him, but that may just be the fever settling deathly into your skin, “Hell, give me the keys and I’ll get us to Mikoshi. I’ll burn this whole fuckin’ city to the ground to get you there and I’ll throw the pieces of you back together myself! I’ll gladly die trying---”

“But I don’t want you to die, either,” you fight back the tears at the thought of it, and he huffs down at you in utter exasperation, “can’t you get that?”

“Think they’ll do any better by me at Arasaka?” his chuckle is humorless, coming strained from the back of his throat. “You don’t believe that.”

“I can cut us a deal…” you look down, away from him, blinking out beyond where he stands towards the city lights. You don’t want to fight with him right now. You don’t think you can.

“With what leverage? Deals are only good so long as you have the upper hand, V,” he kneels into your eyeline, reaching out to grasp your chin in two silver fingers and turning you to face him fully. It’s gotten to the point that his hands on your skin feel akin to something real, dulled synapses firing with every spark of his hands on your skin. It’s how you know you’re close to the end. “Who is gonna’ be in your corner after they get everything they want?”

“Goro’s a man of his word.”

“You’re so fuckin’ naïve. Just as dumb as you were when you took that bullet to the brain from Dex, and I had to save your ass then, too,” Johnny growls your name like he hates you for it, but who knew how much you would come to welcome the end? Because when he frustratedly drags you forward by a harsh grip at the back of your head to eclipse his lips over yours, you can feel it. Him. In the burnt neurons of your addled mind, he is there against you--- kissing you with death on the edges of his lips, in all the heavy grief and anger that your choice has brought forth in him. It’s a terrible knowledge that pours from you into him of how much you’ve come to love him, and how desperately you know he’ll hate you for this, because maybe he’s right; maybe you really are naïve for wanting to believe in some way out of this.

He gasps against your lips like it wrecks him to the core; voice hoarse with the emotion as he curses, “Damn, you’re one stubborn bitch.”

“Inherited only your best traits, Johnny,” it’s just as dry on your tongue, and you lift your hand that has been clutching the omega blockers to your lips. You want to say it--- tell him in words how much you care for him. Instead, you murmur against his lips, “Please, don’t be mad,” and swallow the pills.

“I got a feeling you’re gonna’ regret this, choom, and I won’t be there to help you,” he leans away, and you feel the drugs start to kick in when his voice becomes more distant. “Don’t do this. Miracles like the one you’re hopin’ for don’t happen for screw-ups like us, you know.”

“Trust me.”

“I wish I didn’t trust you at all,” he sounds just as tired as you do when he says your name one last time before you blink and he’s gone. The bitter aftertaste of the pills tastes like betrayal on your tongue, and you already know Johnny will haunt you for the rest of your days.

You’re quickly reminded of why you’ve always hated taking the omega blockers.

It takes everything you have left not to sob at the feeling, like you’ve lost a limb--- gone numb and tingling painfully with the ghost of where he was. It’s as if everything is muted, including the deepest parts of yourself. You’re in a bad way, and you know you don’t have much longer now.

So, you find yourself committing to the desperate choice you’ve made, but you don’t call Hanako.

Instead, you call the only corpo you trust besides yourself, and hope it isn’t stupid to do so.

Takemura.

---

He is dressed in all white when he comes to find you at Misty’s Esoterica, looking like a harbinger of death in every sense of the word, “You… look like shit.”

“Don’t look half bad yourself, Goro,” you chuckle, but it turns into a wracking cough that leaves you with a more urgent taste of blood at your lips.

“Are you in any shape to negotiate?” he wonders, but it’s not threatening--- more of a genuine concern displayed with the arch of his brow. Johnny may disagree with you, but you still dare to think him a good man.

“Not in much shape to do anything, anymore, but I know exactly what I’m useful for. My eddies are on Hanako knowing this, too,” you lean on the arm he offers when you stumble on your way to the car. “After all, she sent you. Smart woman.”

“I would have come even had she not,” Goro confesses, pausing with his metal-laced fingertips on the back door. When you shoot him a questioning look, he offers you only a simple, “We have done much work to not see this through to the end, yes?”

“Who’d’ve thought we’d make it this far?”

Goro nods in agreement, before you’re sliding into the car behind Anders Hellman and hoping the Swede knows half of what he thinks he does about your condition, “Agreed.”

---

There’s something to be said for dying. It’s not always as bad as people make it out to be.

Some people would consider you dead. You always find yourself wondering what Johnny would think, these days.

You absentmindedly turn the Rubik’s cube in your hand with no real aim at solving it, letting your mind drift in the overly sterile room Arasaka’s finest clinicians have sequestered you to.

“Barbaric,” Goro called it once, but that didn’t stop them from putting you right back here again. The news plays softly on the screen you’ve been allowed to have after they determined it wouldn’t exacerbate your oversensitivity, but not even the privilege of phoning what few friends you have left can eat away at the boredom that’s settled into your bones in this space station. What was there to say, anyway?

Hi, it’s your favorite lab rat again! How’s it going in the real world? I’m going insane up here!

You can’t help but dwell on the thought that maybe Johnny was right about it all. Maybe it isn’t worth living if life is going to be like this.

Arasaka made no guarantees past what you had signed for on the dotted line the day Hanako had again sent Goro solely to break the news that your body was dying even after Johnny’s Relic had been extracted from your mind. It would seem the soft spot you’d held for Goro was well known by the Arasaka heiress. The woman is nothing if not strategic.

Hell, you’d gotten yourself a worse deal that day than you’d gotten for Johnny at the start of this. After all, you’d had nothing left to bargain with by then.

You were technically a construct, now. A lab experiment dreamed up by Arasaka’s best bioengineers and a team of physicians lead by Anders Hellman. Your current body was a multi-billion eurodollar joint Arasaka-Biotechnica venture that had only been put at the top of Hanako’s list when implanting her father’s construct into Yorinobu had gone awry. You’re convinced she would have been content to let you rot on a biochip in Mikoshi for the rest of your existence otherwise. After all, your contract never said when they had to provide you with a body, only that they were obligated to when the technology existed to allow it.

Turns out, rewriting someone else’s psyche does more damage to the physical body than anyone in Arasaka thought it would. You don’t know why it was such a surprise to them all when Yorinobu’s body couldn’t handle it, considering what it did to you. Maybe they just didn’t care, with how desperate they’d been to get any semblance of leadership back.

All you know is that Johnny Silverhand probably rolled over laughing in his grave, wherever it is, when Saburo Arasaka died a second, painful death.

They were using you as a top-secret prototype for Saburo 2.0, as you’ve come to call what will inevitably be the body they attempt to stick him in next. Sure, Arasaka as a company is facing charges in the New United States on Yorinobu’s death--- something about human testing that everyone knows will never stick--- but that will be swept under the rug much like any bad press Arasaka has gotten over this past year, with either cash or bullets dispensed.

“Shit,” you curse as you grow frustrated with the cube, tossing it onto the thin hospital mattress they kept on your bed. Rubbing your eyes as you try to refocus, it still feels strange to not feel the metal embedded in your skin. Worse still, you had to get used to what a fully ‘ganic body felt like again.

“You even human anymore, with all that chrome?” you can almost hear Johnny’s words to you when you got a new set of mantis blades from Vik’s clinic right before heading out for the oncoming fight at Clouds with the Tiger Claws. It was so long ago, now, but it doesn’t feel like it. That’s what Mikoshi does to a person, you figure. It’s hard to fully comprehend that so much time has passed.

Sometimes, you think you do hear him in more than just a memory. Like he’s still there, in your head. The doctors say it will pass with time, but they’ve been wrong before. Safe to say, Johnny literally changed your brain chemistry.

At least some part of you hopes they’re wrong, because you don’t know how you’ll make it in this world without him if Arasaka doesn’t stay true to their word.

It’s like you’ve lost a part of yourself, and you regret it more every day that you’re forced to live in this white box of a test tube that they’ve put you in. You should have died with him at Mikoshi. Gone out in a fiery blaze of glory and torn it all down with you, if only it would’ve made you feel a little better right before the end.

His last words to you had been as you went under the knife, right before they carefully excised him from your brain like a tumor.

“If this plan doesn’t work, Johnny--- If you wind up being right about Arasaka---” you had called to him through the code, as it weaved and curled around his form. It created and destroyed him all at the same time, but Johnny’s frown was still clear as day to you.

“I’m right about Arasaka,” he sounded nearly as exhausted as you had been on that roof the last time you’d talked. Defeated was something you’d never expected to see on him, “See? You haven’t changed at all. Still think you can outsmart the whole world, when you’re really just out of your depth.”

You didn’t want to think of this as a betrayal, but that’s what it was starting to feel like as you marinate in his sadness, “Look… I just want us to part as friends, for now. Just in case I don’t get to see you again after this, I wanted to tell you goodbye as proper friends.”

“Not sure that’s possible, anymore,” cut you to your core.

You wanted to reach for him, through the flickering code, but you didn’t dare. Heartbreak tastes a lot like blood on your tongue, even here.

“That’s what we are, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, V. I just… don’t know.”

It was all you could remember of the interaction, though you’re certain there had to be more than that. Sometimes, when you dream instead of sleep, bits and pieces of it come back to you. That’s what you think it is, at least.

It’s far too real to be any normal nightmare.

It sounded too familiar when he said things like, “I just wish you’d stayed loyal to yourself,” or, “Those ‘Saka docs are cutting out a piece of us. Something we’ll never get back. It’ll leave a hole,” in those horrible dreams where memory emerges from the subconscious.

Perhaps this is just what you deserve. Your penance. The price you’ve got to pay for your choices, and the deal you made with the devil.

After all, nothing in Night City is ever free.

Multiple lifetimes of suffering, of being forced to go on without him? It’s almost poetic, in a Shakespearean tragedy sort of way. If this body fails, Arasaka will just test your construct in a new one until they get it right.

You’re company property and the Biotechnica cloning program is only in its infancy. Anders Hellman had told you as much himself when you’d asked.

“You’re one of the first successful cases, so far,” was, specifically, what he’d told you. It wasn’t much; Arasaka clearly wanted you in the dark.

You’d already proved too much trouble when left to your own devices, historically.

Have they brought you back before? How many bodies did you live and die in before this one? They could’ve wiped your memory of it, or maybe cut your engram into a million different pieces until something fit. You would never know the truth of what’s been done to you, most likely.

The door to your room slides open with a whirring noise, breaking you from your thoughts when the same scientist who you’ve come to understand is one of your daily handlers walks in, “It’s time for your daily tests.”

You try to not let the sarcasm drip from your tongue, but you’ve been failing at a lot of things these days.

“Always a pleasure to see you, too, Suki.”

You are dead, and this is just purgatory.

---

They eventually shipped you back to earth, “in accordance with the great progress you’ve displayed over these past few months,” as Anders had told it.

Earth was exhausting. Even though the Arasaka lab they had put you in had all the comforts of home, save for the overly-clinical aesthetics, it still took weeks for your body to become accustomed to its own weight. It was only then that you realized the space station’s simulated gravity was slightly less than that on earth, to allow for less pressure on your new joints and bones as your mind settled in. It’s perhaps why you had been able to relearn walking in the first place, because on earth you were much clumsier than you remember ever having been before.

There were bruises on your legs from the amount of times you’d tripped down or stumbled into something. You’re surprised they hadn’t yet put you in a padded room, but you must’ve been making progress, because eventually they sent a familiar face to see you again.

“おはようございます,” without translators installed into your body’s cyberware, the words that fall from Goro’s lips as he offers a slight bow take a moment for you to mentally decipher.

You don’t rightly care, because you’ve not seen a familiar face other than Anders since waking up in this body. Let alone, anything close to a friend.

He stiffens and freezes when you step forward to drag him into your arms, holding him in a tight embrace that almost has you melting against him with how much of a relief it felt to feel another person. It’s too forward, and you’d never have done it under normal circumstances---

But you’re so relieved to see him.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” you murmur as you release him, catching the slight tinge of a flush at his cheeks. He straightens his shirt, donned in black from head to toe. His hair isn’t pulled back, for once; it’s a little longer than when you had seen him last, “You look great, Goro.”

He seems to relax slightly at the familiar words, as if he hadn’t been quite sure what to expect of you at first. You watch as he takes you in, optics dilating as his settings switch with the distance you put between you again. It makes you slightly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

You know you look different. Sure, the core basics of yourself are the same, but you’re slimmer than you were before in this cloned body. Your cyberware is gone, as are the scars from a lifetime of mercenary work. Any tattoos you had were no longer etched into your skin, including Johnny’s. Then, there’s that new Arasaka logo brandished behind your ear that matched his own. The only good thing about your new appearance was that your hair had finally grown long enough to cover the logo when you left it down.

“You look like shit,” he cracks a smile after a second, “but it is good to see you, too.”

“What are you doing here?” you wonder as he walks further into your designated quarters, hands clasped behind his back, “Don’t tell me you get to tell a girl she’s dying twice.” He observes the room not unlike he did when he’d visited you on the space station, though seems less displeased with your living situation this time.

He doesn’t say, “barbaric,” at least.

It’s your words that earn his chastising side-eye, this time, “You should not joke. I do not want to do that again.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” the prodding does nothing to urge an explanation from him as he moves towards the desk on the other side of the room. The metal on his fingertips glints with sunlight as he moves the papers lying there--- some of the most recent status reports you’ve been given on your performance in Arasaka’s testing. A lot of it was redacted, but you were given just enough to know you weren’t dying currently.

That, they seemed to be taking as a win.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as his optics dart back and forth on the papers, reading them quickly. Surely, he’s had a briefing before he’d been sent to see you. Maybe he just doesn’t trust it was a full picture, or he wants to know what parts of it you know.

Settling into the couch, you reach for the tin of mints you’ve been hoarding recently. Popping one into your mouth, you turn it around as the fresh flavor bursts through your skin, scent sparking in your nostrils.

“Playing doctor now, Goro?” that gets him to look up from the papers to shoot you an unamused look that said just answer the question. You sigh, nail tapping the tin as you take a moment to get his answer, “Well, I’m tired and sore all the time from the physical therapy, and hypersensitive to almost fuck all. Oh, and they still won’t let me get any chrome installed--- even the minor stuff like optics.” You sigh, and the minty feeling tingles on your tongue, “Do you know how much deliberating it took for the white-coats to finally decide I was ready for an operating system update?”

“And the nightmares?” Goro turns away from the desk to instead lean on it, crossing his arms as he looks towards you. So, he had a more thorough briefing on your status than you expected.

You avert your eyes. It was bad enough having to talk to the mandated shrink about them. You really didn’t want to get into what plagued your mind with Goro.

“They’re nothing. It’s the physical symptoms that Arasaka cares about. That’s what’ll get Saburo a new body or not, right?”

He doesn’t let you off the hook that easily, “Arasaka has underestimated the impact of the mind on the body once already, at great cost. I do not think your mental state is considered ‘minor’ to your doctors and scientists, V.” After a moment’s pause, he confirms what you are thinking, “It is not considered something to be ignored by Arasaka’s board, either.”

“Is that what you’re here for?” you can’t help the irritation that seeps into your tone, “To give a first-hand report back to Hanako Arasaka and the board on my progress? Came to see the test subject for yourself instead of just reading the memo?”

“V…” his brow furrows, frown settling onto his lips as you turn your body away from him on the couch.

“Well, you’ve seen me! I trust you’ve gotten all the spicy details you need for your report on my mental status.”

“くそ,” he swears under his breath, as if exasperated with your antics. There is a stillness that comes with the silence between you after that, and you don’t dare turn to him. Instead, you focus on the tin in your hands and the mint in your mouth. Anything other than the pit in your stomach at the remembrance of the nightmares that plague you more nights than most.

There’s a shuffling of clothing and the sound of footsteps approaching as Goro comes to stand beside you, “You are… hypersensitive to words as well, it seems. Look at me, V.” You refuse to do it, and he sighs. In your peripheral, you can see him move to sit beside you on the couch, “Hanako-sama does expect me to relay your progress upon my return, but that is not the sole purpose for my visit.”

“Why’re you here, then?” it may be childish to still refuse to look at him, but you can’t bring yourself to. You feel as if nothing will be as it was before--- like even though you’ve fought terribly to return to normal, there would never be a moment when you felt like yourself again.

“You are being released.”

Your head snaps up to look at him when he says that, utter shock undoubtedly on your face. His own expression remains level, rock steady as he always seemed to be. You can see the truth of his words in his eyes; he has no reason to lie to you. You doubt Hanako would put him in a position to knowingly do so anyway.

“Released?” you breathe the word. You can’t quite believe the truth in his eyes.

“Hellman’s team has decided you have progressed as much as can be expected in a clinical setting. They think you are ready to return to a more ‘normal’ routine. I am here to tell Hanako-sama if I believe they are correct, based on what I know of you… who you were, already,” Goro holds up a hand, quelling the excitement he undoubtedly sees blossoming in your eyes. “This does not mean a return to what your routine was before. You cannot return to mercenary work.”

“So… I’m to live as a civilian, then?” you shift your whole body to face him, legs folded beneath you.

“In a sense… you will still be under Arasaka’s supervision, expected to meet every scheduled appointment and test. If you miss even one, you will be collected and returned here. There are other requirements, but I will leave those to be explained by your care team,” Goro watches as the news sinks in. He looks away, admitting, “I am maybe not the best to answer any questions you have about this.”

“Will I be staying in Tokyo?” is all you can think to ask, mind racing at the prospect of even a little freedom from this quarantine.

“At first, but I believe the goal is to reintroduce you to Night City should you continue to progress---” his words are choked off when you quickly grasp hold of his shoulders, pulling him into another hug. Just like before, he freezes, though this time he recovers enough to loosely hug you back.

“Thank you, Goro, for everything.”

---

The Corpo Plaza apartment didn’t feel like home, but it was closest to Arasaka tower and the Biotechnica building--- both of which you have to visit frequently. Well, at least it was less frequently than when you’d first been sent back to Night City, but it still wasn’t worth the constant drive from a different district.

Your fingers trace along the metal outlining your face as you glance at yourself in the mirror, having just finished a shower. The cyberware embedded in your cheeks is similar to what you had originally, though slightly different. You like it all the same, even if it had to be approved by Arasaka first. Every day you felt more like yourself, but you doubt you’ll ever be 100% you again. Too much has changed for this sense of newness to ever leave.

Even when you had reconnected with Victor, he looked at you like something uncanny. A dead woman walking. Misty could barely manage to look at you at all. Panam and the Aldecaldos had migrated; you were still waiting for her to return your call to figure out what they were up to these days. Judy was long gone, but getting out of Night City was maybe the best thing she could’ve done after everything.

Only Johnny’s old contacts seemed to remind you of who you were, and perhaps that’s because they’d never truly gotten to know you too well. Then, there was the feeling of loss that still gripped your soul. The ghost of Johnny Silverhand haunting your every thought and plaguing your dreams at night. You doubt you’ll ever be free of him. You hope he never fully fades from your psyche.

As much as it hurts, you still love him.

In hindsight, that’s probably the real reason why it would never work out between you and Goro. You’re still holding a torch for a dead man, and you’ll never be truly satisfied with anyone else.

In the end, Johnny has truly ruined you. Maybe it’s his last laugh: your complete inability to move on.

Your deal with Arasaka at the beginning had been for them to save him. To put him away into Mikoshi for the rainy day that the technology existed for a body suited for him to be a reality. The contract required them to release him into Night City after he had been deemed healthy, but you knew as well as anyone that contracts like these had loopholes even with the best lawyers pouring over them. Arasaka could truly do whatever they wanted with him once he was out of your head, other than destroying his engram.

When you had asked them the status on them holding up that end of your bargain, you had been met with cryptic answers. Hanako refused to meet with you, and you were in no shape without your combat cyberware to hunt her down yourself.

You’re terrified, honestly, at the idea of never seeing him again, nearly as much as you fear facing him.

Sighing, you step away from the mirror to move towards your bedroom while you towel-dry your hair as best you can. Tomorrow you were to report to Arasaka for your end-of-the-year testing and physical. Hellman would probably personally chastise you for the pizza you’ve ordered tonight. It was far from the approved meal plan, but it wasn’t as easy to find food that fit the diet and still tasted good outside of Japan. Finally, you understood Takemura’s issue with Night City’s synthfood.

Still, if one slice of pizza was going to kill you, you figure it’s a good enough way to go. Anything beats being an Arasaka pencil-pusher for the rest of your days.

“Night City Legend, Felled by PieZ,” the headlines would read, and it wouldn’t even mention the billions you’d cost Arasaka if you died.

Water drips down your jaw and you wipe it away with the towel before tossing it into the hamper. Scooping up an oversized sweatshirt that screamed support for the debut album of SAMURAI, it soaks up the few water droplets you’ve missed when drying and effectively covers the dog tags against your chest. Looking down at the hamper, you wish that Arasaka would sign off on you having a pet finally. Nibbles was doing fine at Victor’s, but you missed that furless cat.

The sound of your holo ringing is accompanied by Goro’s face flashing in your caller ID, and you pick up after a few moments, “Yo?”

“こんばんは,” Goro appears with his hair pulled up into a bun, and you could’ve been fooled that it was the old days if not for the few extra gray hairs he seemed to have now. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“What? You worried I’ll disappoint?” you roll your eyes at his pointed look. “You know I’m doing great now, practically would be back to my old self if they’d ever let me get my combat cyberwear.”

“And you know that Arasaka has invested too much in you for you to involve yourself in a Night City street fight. Do not think they will approve all your requests tomorrow, V, regardless of your progress,” he speaks reasonably, and maybe that’s what grinds your gears the most. You know good and well that Arasaka has everything riding on you. If you successfully keep from pushing daisies they’ll move forward with Saburo’s resurrection. Hell, maybe they already were. For their one and only living test subject, you’ve been doing relatively well, if not a little hypersensitive at times still.

“Not every fight in Night City is one you pick. What if I need to defend myself, huh?”

“Do you feel in danger? Has something happened?” Goro’s voice has an edge to it, concern, and you shake your head.

“I’m just making a point. Most folks who die in this city are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. My combat chrome would give me an edge again. Call it an investment in keeping me alive,” you snort, and Goro’s lips quirk upwards at your dry humor.

“You can plead that to the panel tomorrow after you pass all their tests. I think you should… what is the phrase? Not get your hopes up?”

“Did you call me just to bum me out, Goro?” you sigh, moving through your kitchen to rummage through your fridge and find a NiCola.

“Only to discuss reality.”

“I think you’re just scared I’ll kick your ass with all my chrome one of these days for how sassy you are,” the sarcasm drips from your tongue, and this time Takemura does sound thoroughly amused.

“I would like to watch your attempt at that, but I think you will need to remove the pizza from your diet first, V,” then, he hangs up. Never one for drawn-out goodbyes. You think you prefer it that way.

“I could’ve kicked your ass while on an only-pizza diet, once,” you grumble to the apartment around you, taking a swig of the NiCola. The ring of the doorbell breaks you from the thoughts of just how you can get back at Goro for that comment, “Speaking of pizza…”

Barefoot, you stroll towards the door, hoping the delivery guy followed your instructions to leave your food at the door. You don’t want to deal with awkward small talk with another human right now. Not bothering to check the cams to see if your instructions have been followed, you let the door slide open with a swipe of your hand against the key screen.

The door is barely halfway open when a hand catches your throat and forces you back into the apartment, a body forcing you up against the entryway wall as you choke out a startled noise under a firm grip. Terror claws at your skin as you grab at the arm attached to the hand before you manage to get a good look at him when he stills against you, breathing hard. It takes a moment for wide eyes to take in enough of his features to recognize the dark eyes staring back at you.

“J---”

“You couldn’t help yourself from being corpo scum again, could you? Selfish, that’s what this whole thing was--- what you are,” his voice--- oh, fuck, his voice, it rings in your ears in a way it never has before. Deep, familiar, and real. Strained with anger and choked with a breathless fury, but something else breaks against the fire swirling in his eyes--- some relief that settles nearly as devastatingly in your bones as his skin lays heavy and warm against yours.

You can’t believe it. You must be hallucinating. You’ve finally cracked and lost it. Something was malfunctioning in your head, certainly, because there’s no way he’s here.

Your fingertips shake as they reach out, away from the firm grip he still has on your throat, to ghost against the slope of his jaw. The scruff of a beard still remained there, but was shorter than how he had lived in your head. The scars on his face were gone, along with the tattoos on what skin of his you can see beneath the leather jacket he wears. His left hand was at your throat, and it was made of flesh and bone, not metal.

He swats at your hand when you finally touch him, a hurt in his voice that was so real that you couldn’t trick yourself into believing he was just a hallucination, “Did you ever think about what I wanted, huh, when you chose this?”

But you still can’t get past the sight of him, finally managing, “Is… it really you?”

“Fuck yes, it’s me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Johnny,” you gasp his name, nails digging into his pristine forearm, tears nearly blinding you as they well in your eyes at the overwhelming emotion that surges from your chest. You can’t hold it together, trembling against him, and only then does his grip soften at your throat.

His voice sounds devastatingly mournful as he growls in the quiet of your apartment, “You sold us both to fuckin’ Arasaka, V. Look what they did to you. You’re their property. Doesn’t it make you sick? Some things are worse than death, and I doubt ‘Saka will ever leave us to it, now.”

You hear what he’s saying. It sounds just like him, and your heart breaks at the sound. At the warmth of him, and the way his dark hair ghosts around his cheeks slightly shorter than you remember it being before. He’s really here, and he hates you.

His voice cracks, “Why are you crying?”

“I-I missed you,” you confess between the sobs, trying to swallow up the emotion. Damning yourself for not holding it together better than this at the sight of him, but it was such a shock, and only one thing could run through your mind as dreadful regret sank into your soul, “a-and now you’re going to hate me forever.”

He looks at you like he’s stunned by the words coming from your mouth, or maybe he’s shocked it’s all you’re capable of saying when you’ve betrayed him as thoroughly as he perceives.

“Shit, V,” he murmurs, reaching up to drag his thumb against your cheek and wiping away the messy tears that trailed there. He looks down at you like he’s almost annoyed at you for crying, but there’s a strange look in his eyes that you can’t fully place. “I wish it was something as easy as hating you, but I just can’t seem to catch a fuckin’ break.”

The confusion at his words nearly stuns your tears into small hiccups as you breathe, “What?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate you,” it sounds like dread on his tongue, like fear and grief for the situation you’ve both found yourselves in. It sounds like a confession, from his lips, “I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for what you’ve done to me, either. I haven’t felt right without you since I woke up in this damn useless body. Feels like I should still be in yours.”

A breathless huff escapes you, almost akin to a laugh, as you realize what he’s trying to say, “You missed me, too, huh, rockerboy?”

“You’re the only thing about this damned city I missed,” he crowds you in, pressing you fully into the wall with his own body. “Not drugs, not alcohol, not music--- I came back here for you. Bein’ clean and having to put up with those ‘Saka corpo-drones has been the worst time of my life, by the way, but I did it because they said you were alive.” He looks at you, a hint of incredulousness in his eye, when he asks, “What the hell kind of a deal did you make with them?”

You’re terrified to tell him, but you can’t lie to him. Not after everything.

“I’m the reason Saburo Arasaka will live.”

Johnny curses, fury twisting his face, but the defeat is worse, “I should hate you. Fuck, why can’t I hate you?”

“I’m sorry---”

“Don’t lie to me,” he cuts you off, biting, “you’re not sorry. You don’t care if Saburo Arasaka lives or dies so long as we get to live.”

“Fine, you’re right,” anger flares in your own gut, exhausted annoyance lacing your tone, “but is that such a crime? I want to be okay again, Johnny! I want you to be okay, too!”

“And you’ll sell our souls for it?!”

“God, you’re such a dramatic asshole!” you nearly scream, slamming your eyes shut in your distress, “Go ahead and blame me for falling in love with a dead man, too, then! I should’ve known it would kill us both, but I couldn’t stop myself from loving you, Johnny! I wouldn’t have been able to go on knowing I’d left you to die, okay? That’s why I did this! Call me a selfish bitch if you want to; maybe you’re right---”

“Yeah? Well, I guess maybe I’m to blame for falling in love with a selfish bitch,” he growls, so close that his nose touches yours, and your eyes snap open just as he leans in to crash his lips against yours. It’s not wholly unlike the last kiss you shared with him, when he was just sparks on your neurons, and yet it’s entirely different.

There’s a taste to him now, but it’s not the cigarettes you had expected, but more akin to nicotine gum. Has he stopped smoking? He smells like leather and some sort of amber-scented cologne that has you weak in the knees.

But the way he kisses you is what nearly scrambles all coherent thought. He’s so warm and firm against you, the reality of his touch, tongue, and lips against yours desecrates the memory of the slight stimulation your neurons had simulated when he’d been in your head. Johnny seems to be in no better a state at the feeling of you against him, gasping into your mouth when your hands find his hair to drag him closer, and all the while all you can think is how happy you are that he is alive here and now.

It barely feels like it should be real.

He parts from you, catching his breath and staring at you with a look that sends heat rippling down your spine, flushing your skin in its wake.

You blink at him, head lulled back, and whisper through the feeling of having him back, like some piece of your soul coming home, “Fuck, I missed you, Johnny, so much.”

“You’re probably the only one, choom.”

“That’s not true. There’s Rogue, and Kerry---”

“They got their closure when I was hitchhiking in your skull. How can I just waltz back into their lives now?”

You tilt your head at him, “It can’t be that the Johnny Silverhand who was never afraid to die, is actually scared to live?”

He scoffs, leaning away from you with a roll of his eyes, “Is that the kinda’ psychobabble your ‘Saka shrink has been feeding you?”

“Could be,” you shrug, and a glint of the light at the metal around your neck catches his eye, “don’t mean it isn’t true.”

“What’s this?” he invades your space again, dragging a fingertip to loop at the chain at your neck, leading beneath your sweatshirt, and tugging it until the necklace drags into view. Dogtags clink in his hand and his eyes snap back up to yours in shock, “These--- you still have ‘em?”

Your cheeks heat with the find, and you don’t know why it’s so embarrassing even after you’ve told him that you’re in love with him. Of course you would’ve kept his dog tags. It only makes sense, but you want to defend it. The words crawl up your throat, and it takes all you have to swallow them down.

Instead, you reach up to begin to remove them, “You should probably have them back, now.”

Johnny’s hand catches yours, stilling it, “I… don’t know if I’m ready to step back into ‘em right now. ‘Sides, maybe I like the look of ‘em on you.”

You search his gaze, but he seems sure enough about the decision, “Alright. I’ll keep them, for now.”

“Good… It suits you,” a ring of the apartment door breaks you from whatever scrutiny weighed heavy in Johnny’s eyes. “The fuck is that?”

“My pizza this time, I hope,” you huff, pushing him back just enough to escape from between him and the wall. “I don’t know if I can take two of you showing up at my door tonight.”

Johnny trails after you, watching you open the door and pluck the pizza box from the ground where the delivery guy had left it as instructed, “Good news, there’s only one Johnny Silverhand.”

Turning towards him, you smirk, “Luckily.”

“Screw you.”

“You wish.”

#johnny silverhand fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #robert john linder fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 female reader insert #female reader insert #newstuff female reader insert #author meg #fanfiction #fanfic by me #nsft #trigger warning #trigger: drugs

[fuck-customers]

AAAHHHHH I hate retail. I hate everything about it. The shitty management. The crappy hours. The inconsistent schedules. The fucked customers. The dumbass coworkers. The goddamn endless cycle of tasks that are never able to be 100% completed, because some dumbfuck customer screws up the shelves or a stupid and/or poorly trained coworker undoes the work. The endless barrage of stupid customer questions. The endless barrage of the SAME stupid customer questions every single day. The demanding entitlement from customers and managers alike. Managers blowing up my goddamn phone on my days off to try to get me to come in. That goddamn fucking phone that never stops ringing and someday I will snap and rip that motherfucker out of the wall. The pisspoor communication between management and employees. The stupid ass changes from some corporate dipshit who's never set foot in a real store.

I wish I could leave my job, but even if I do, I'll just have to get another retail job, because that's all that's in my area. More and more yuppie ass bitches from L.A. or wherever are moving to my city, which used to be average and affordable but is turning into L.A. 2 and all they're building is shopping center after shopping center for these entitled mouth breathers when we should really be making them carry plants with them to replenish all the oxygen they waste by being dumbshits.

Or I could put myself thousands and thousands of dollars into debt to go to medical school and make $3 above minimum wage to be a medical assistant. Those seem to be my only options when I look on outeed or plasticdoor or any of those job search sites.

Posted by admin Rodney.