#silverhandj

[sanctamater]

“ Oh? I didn't know you had it in you, halle-fucking-lujah. " @silverhandj

‘ i do not. ’ as if she hasn’t thought about it. as if she hasn’t imagined it. would it be as easy as his hands around her throat? would it be as easy as johnny with all his fire and brimstone on his self made pulpit; that gun he’d fired during a show? our lady is, as always, passive. nothing touches her, until it does. until he does. isn’t she pretty like this? peel back the veneer and she’s red and raw and glistening. ugly. it burns her, still. ‘ if i did, then we would not be having this conversation right now. ’ she means to say if i did, then you would have left a long time ago. 

[cyberpawn-arc]

“  you fucked it up.  ”

Confrontation Starters

    “I got us outta Clouds with our wits still about us, thank you very much! Doesn’t matter if I “fucked it up”, I killed some fucked up guys. They thought they could cover up murders and other illegal shit and I brought ‘em to justice! And since you’re ridin’ shotgun, technically you did too! So we fucked this up. You like seein’ a fight, you like seein’ me get my ass kicked, so there you go! Win-win situation!” Vale huffed and cross their arms. “You gotta stop being so critical of me, seriously. You think if you’d want a host already, you’d be nicer and I’d be more willin’ to give up what I got.”

[valheri-a]

             THE SUNSET LOOKS LIKE WEEPING, MOLTEN GOLD over night city’s megastructures.  the warm hue melting into its harbors behind their many bridges & highway overpasses.  the city of dreams, where eastern eyes set their sights on —— now more than ever as opportunity for wresting power from the west seemed the MOST VIABLE as it’s ever been in centuries.  

𝐕 lights up another kretek on the 80th floor of a public building OVERLOOKING the scenic view secured with a vast window pane. ( it is so pristine that one may fear falling from its heights or feeling an occasional draft that never comes ! )  behind her is the floor’s foyer, potted plants & a state-of-the-art staircase.  walls & decor are all bleach white, copper & marbleized structures.  no one ever asks her to put it out & no one remains situated on the floor for long.  just perpetually EXHAUSTED guests propped in the sofas with their expensive luggage, nursing a glass of whisky or cup of coffee.  she’s a ghost in their eyes.  nonexistent in this finely-draped purgatory.

 ❛ ——i’m so tired of you. ❜  an admission. watching through the GLASS, her pupils beneath techgogs are the size of pinpricks or the tip of blood-drawing needles.

                                                                 @silverhandj​​​​   ⮕ s.c.

[sanctamater]

  there’s a hum in the base of her skull that might be god whispering to her - might be the bass turned up to ten, might be the beer in her hand that’s finally getting to her. our lady has been here before. at least, she thinks she has - but not with him, no; with some different, faceless man - when she was a girl much more like herself - the beer had been watered down then, too; but at least the company she kept was better this time. johnny always had a way with her, didn’t he. our lady supposes he has a way with everyone he meets - how easily they seem to fall into him; she can see it now, the way the crowd him at the bar; the way they listen to him despite the noise; how deafening it all was, hanging on to every word. he could have been a politician. she thinks; standing motionless - an image of a bygone, still era in a scene that never stopped moving. could have been a great one, even. not necessarily a good one. politicians didn’t have to be good, the nusa is proof of that enough. so is she. so is everyone in this bar. i shouldn’t drink beer. another sip. it makes me morose. ever the optimist, our lady downs the bottle, savours the burn. it doesn’t take the edge off like it used to; nothing does. 

  no, our lady is all together unlike herself this evening. it can’t all be johnny, can it? touch any idol enough and their gilding will come off upon your finger tips. if she checks now, will johnny’s hands be covered in chrome? will they be as golden as her neck? our lady shifts in her shoes, in her skin; slips soundlessly between dancers and adoring listeners to oh so daintily pluck the tequila from johnny’s hand. no point in getting jealous over the attention he gives others, is there? how unlike herself. or rather, how very much like herself? she knows how to get his attention other ways - leaving her lipstick on the rim of the glass is one of them; her smile, wide and warm and sparkling, is another. ‘ you take all the girls you’re with to this bar? or am i just the lucky one who’s about to lose her hearing for the night? ’

@silverhandj​​ kiss kiss

[sanctamater]

stinky

takes a stinky bitch to know a stinky bitch

[sanctamater]

hi

hi johnny,

[cyberpawn]

“ If you wake up haunted its not my fault. “ 

HALLOWMEME

"So who's fault is it, cyberghost living inside of my skull that haunts me?" Raised eyebrows were offered mostly as a tease, waiting to see Johnny's reaction to their sly commentary. The ghost haunting them could be a hell of a lot nicer, a hell of a lot more patient, and could cool it on the negativity, but Vale wasn't a saint and they hadn't done their three miracles, so they'd just chalk up Johnny's attitude as "something to discuss later".

While not beaming, they still flashed a grin his way, glancing out the window of their apartment onto the bustling streets below them. Night City was their home, a gravesite for thousands of lives over time, and many of those lives had been taken by the one living within their brain, a guilt that weighed heavier than any ectoplasmic ghost.

"How d'you...deal with it all? Bein' haunted by your choices. Does it get any easier? Even a bit?"

[cyberpawn]

it's no surprise you would know all about me .

𝑽𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 .

"Yeah! 'Course I would! I know lots of things! Especially stuff 'bout the guy in my head now. I knew plenty before I was seeing your memories, I was the kind of kid sitting on the computer all day trying to find stuff on the internet about Samurai. People's blogs, interviews, concert recordings, posters, I was an encyclopedia of knowledge! And I always liked your interviews the most, you never lied or played games, you said bluntly what you believed in! That's fuckin' preem as hell!"

Vale blushed, getting far too enthusiastic about the whole ordeal and quickly feeling embarrassed about the sudden explosion of all the research they would do. Typically, this was the kind of stuff they got jeered at for, even when it was just about something as simple as a movie monster. But with real people? Yeah, they could see there being some...ideas that Vale was just some obsessed stalker fan.

"Your music just, uh, meant a lot to me." They fiddled with their fingers, picking at a scab above their knuckle that they earned from a fight the day prior. "I didn't talk to people as a kid, and I got my emotions out through music. So when there was music that really understood the frustration I felt about corporations and the government, I...I really got into it!"