#neongrime

[piperafterdark]

any advice? i've never died before. sami :|

the pitt: season 2 [2/3]

She wants to laugh. She wants to shake Sami and tell him he isn't going to die now either.

She wants to hug him so tightly that he can't.

But she doesn't really get to have a say in all of that, does she? It's not fair. She lost him once, and just now in the height of their rekindled friendship she's going to lose him again.

She holds his hand, fingers laced together, but it isn't enough. She brings her other hand over to cover his, to sandwich it in place between her own so maybe he can feel just how badly she doesn't want to let go. People like them have never been good with words, not like this.

"If it were me," she finally begins, voice tighter and thinner than usual as she fights back that burning sensation in her throat, "I'd go out with a fucking bang."

Her gaze drops from his face to their hands.

"No regrets. No time to think twice about it. Just a final rush of freedom... purpose."

[motleyd]

beneath his fingers, life takes shape — it starts as an abstraction, the barest hint at features pulled from flat planes of wood. here, the slight curve of an eye. there, the sharp peak of a nose ... himself in miniature, that jolly young fool of old. he greets his past with his best mimic of a smile, then proffers it to fitz with a bemused huff. "what do you think, fitzy fitz? do we flatter eachother?"

⋆˚࿔ @neongrime ( fitz )

[rockerb0y]

@neongrime: spotify wrapped,🎁

     ❝ sit, stay, lie down. ❞

     condescension was enlaced in amusement, honed by a roguish gleam in the construct's gaze as engramic appearance rematerialized. the mercenary's alacritous response to the fixer's assignment hadn't eluded judgment, albeit unvoiced until the contract was consummated and payment discharged; the pavlovian protocol was effectively hardwired in his counterpart's brain, much to his chagrin and boon alike.

     ❝ such a good attack dog, always doing what you're told. ❞

[favoriteache]

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for. panam from v :)

PANAM PALMER -- SPEAKING. «

the trunk of the warhorse closes with a defeaning bang as she turns toward him. it's always the same fucking chorus! woe is me, etc etc. she's tired of listening, tired of pretending the only solution is lying down and taking it. it's no better than saul's poor attempt at saving the family; giving up, that's what it is, and she isn't planning on entertaining such a shitty decision. "you've got a choice! either you shoot yourself in the head, one neat little hole right between all the cyberware, and be done with it," she crosses her arms over her chest, a frown between her brows, eyes searching for something in v's gaze-- something other than this weird defeated tone, "--or live. with us.

but don't you fucking pretend it's an inevitability. it's not. you're killing yourself." she's fuming, she can feel it; the hot warmth beneath her skin like the desert's sand after a long scorching day under an unforgiving sun. she doesn't know how to speak in a language he'd understand; maybe it's too late. maybe he's already lost to the space between man & machine, mind a list of ones and zeroes forming a language that panam doesn't speak as fluently as he does.

[8lackdog]

molecular  ,  that  was  the  entanglement  ,       dna  merging  ,  minds  still  threaded  like  knots  .  memories  becoming  each  other  ;        and  some  fucking  philosopher  said  the  soul  was  tied  to  that  shit  ?  well  here  we  go  ,  souls  merging  ,  despite  being  wiped  clean  and  killed  .  still  unsure  ,  still  caged  like  a  beast  within  a  stranger  .

he  'popped  in'  quite  literally  ,  to  the  pad  ,  sitting  on  the  backboard  of  the  couch  instead  of  the  actual  seat  ,  like  the  degenerate  he  was  .       "  you  live  like  actual  shit  ,  like  the  whole  entirety  of  the  city  took  a  dump  right  here  and  said  ;  this  is  it  ;  fine  living  for  a  scav  .  "

part  of  him  wanted  to  pursue  harsh  words  ,  the  other  saw  this  whole  'sitch  a  cry  for  help  .

                                                  CLOSED STARTER FOR @neongrime

[relicfound]

@neongrime »»» closed starter ( for Arièl ) !

" Listen I'm not gonna pretend Pacifica's my turf or anything, gotta respect you guys rule here and all that. " There was an unspoken but in her sentence, one that she knew was going to raise tensions further. Her business with the Vodoo Boys had not gone as smoothly as she would have liked, they had used her, she had considered retaliating in kind — only to decide it wasn't worth it. She was hardly surprised to find herself shadowed or perhaps SUPERVISED in Pacifica afterwards, though she could only guess at the other's affiliation. Though what else would it be? Call her narcissistic but she hardly expected anyone would be stupid enough to simply try and mug her given the reputation she was cultivating. It had to be more than THAT, right?

" But I thought we were good — if there's been a misunderstanding I'd like to clear it up BEFORE the gunfire starts. I'd hate to get into a fight when there doesn't have to be one. "

" Wastin' your breath on this one, V — " " Quiet, Johnny. "

Last thing she needed was to get chased out of Pacifica when she still had work to finish here but if she wouldn't let herself get pushed around much further either. The situation with NetWatch had crossed a line already. She wasn't going to give them a second chance to conveniently flatline her again. Please, be some minor thing that could be solved quickly ( as if she would ever be that lucky ).

[d0llfatale]

send DIFFERENT for a scene from my muse's past that they feel changed their outlook / personality / etc, for the better or worse @neongrime

heart pounding in her chest so quickly that she thought she might faint, fingers clutching onto the small scrap of paper that had a hastily written address on it in bright purple ink. she was so nervous she could barely BREATHE as kitten heels clicked against the pavement, quick steps taking her to the front door. she had been waved through by a guard with barely a second look -- something in her gut told her that this might be BAD NEWS... but she didn't care. couldn't care. not when she was so fucking CLOSE.

she tucked the piece of paper into her bag, smoothed her dress out to remove any wrinkles. bambi needed to look PERFECT. her makeup was natural and minimal, dress appropriate and down to the knee whilst blonde curls framed her face like a halo. not one hair out of place. knuckles tapped against the door before she realized there was a door bell and she nervously pressed it, glancing at her freshly painted nails to make sure that were no chips or smudges. perfect. perfect. she had to be perfect.

"huh? who is it? oh, aren't YOU pretty --" her smile was wide and practiced as jack entropy opened the door in a pair of sweatpants and a silk robe, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. it was him. it was REALLY him.

"i..." she lost her words, the ones she had recited in the mirror a million times. (hi, my name is barbara. you're my father. i've been waiting for this moment for my entire life. please love me. please, for the love of GOD, love me.)

"what, cat got your tongue gorgeous? why don't you come in, i'll make you a drink. don't tell me, let me guess -- you're a DIE hard fan, right?" she took a few steps into his mansion, still looking stupid and unable to speak for a long moment before she realized he was waiting. of course he was. why wouldn't he be?

"n-no! oh, it's... it's not like that. i... uhm, you were on tour and stopped in nashville in 2051. do you remember?" and it was immediate. the way his face darkened like a dust cloud sweeping through. shoulders tensed, jaw clenched and bambi KNEW she had made a mistake. "i'm sorry," she started (although she wasn't sure why). "i just... i've been..."

"what, you're here for money? is that what you fucking want? jesus christ, you're all the fucking same!" a scoff, a raised voice. bambi flinched and felt like an idiot for it, felt even more stupid for how tears immediately welled in her eyes.

"no! no, i don't want any money, i swear. i just... i always wanted to meet you and i've ruined this -- please let me start over. i traveled all the way just to meet y- " she couldn't even finish her sentence as she suddenly had a wad of money thrown right at her, nailing her in the temple. a stumble back, shock falling on her like a bucket of ice water as she stared down at the money that now laid on the floor.

"take it, just fucking take it! and i never wanna hear about this again, you get that? if i ever see you on my property again, i'll tell my guards to open fire. i'm not fucking around." his edge seemed unnatural -- she had heard the rumors about his cyberpsychosis, his refusal to seek treatment or help. and for the first time, bambi felt... truly afraid. rebuffed. cast aside like a dog someone just didn't want anymore. without thinking, she bent down to pick up the money with shaking hands. she DIDN'T want it, she really didn't. but if he didn't want her... well, fuck. she had nowhere to go. she came to night city for him, ONLY for him -- her rose colored ideas and fantasies that the man she was told was her father might actually want her.

"i'm sorry." she didn't want to cry, not in front of him -- but a tear slipped out all the same. she must have blacked out because just a moment later, in the blink of an eye, she was standing on his front porch with the door slamming and locking behind her. shoved out into the world again. chewed up and spit out. she tucked the money into her bag before fingers moved to wipe away her tears. nobody could know. nobody WOULD ever know. they would never see her cry. a deep breath in, a deep breath out. a carefully practiced smile. nobody would see her break.

[helldwells]

he leaned against a rust-streaked pillar beneath the overhang of some half-broken arcade, cigarette glowing faintly against the rain's reflection. a whiskey flask sat heavy in his pocket, half-drained, and his knuckles still bore the purpling stain of a fight he had not won cleanly. heywood was not peace, but it was distance. it was also when he noticed the other, soaked, no concern about the rain that glued to every fibre of his structure. their gazes met for the briefest second, but it was long enough for recognition of a sort that had nothing to do with names. ❝ hell of a night to be out here... ❞ it was muttered, voice rough from too many smokes and too much whiskey. ❝ rain isn't getting gentle... at least here you have shelter... and free booze... free smoke. ❞ ( @neongrime )