I’m a Big Dreamer

Indie. Semi selective. 18+ only. Skyrim/BG3/Fantasy RP blog

Multi-para, multi-ship, multi-verse! Crossover friendly!

Captured by what you create Your path keeps you from your fate

There's a click sound as his sunglasses retract, something new he's had installed he's been very eager to constantly show off before propping the door open.

He frowns immediately at the sight of boring tile instead of the fun carpet that glowed a bunch of neat colors under the UV lights that he remembers from when he was often getting wasted in a Jersey Shore bowling alley when he was way too young to be drinking. The machines don't even take tokens with the funny rat on them anymore.

Yep. There are games to be played. They seem to be the only people there outside of an employee who, behind the counter on the far wall, looks kind of startled as he puts his e-reader down. Might still be a money laundering front. But hey, from the noises the game cabinets are making, they seem like they work.

She lightly taps Orange's arm with the back of her hand. "I'll go get us some game cards."

With that she's off. And one quick conversation with a guy who doesn't seem to know how to load credits onto the game cards in question later, she's returning triumphantly with the items in question. It's the least she can do for ruining his chill afternoon with her inability to keep her fists to herself.

PRO FELICITATEM.

enter: the story of a midwestern gang boss and a young man convinced he has nothing left to lose.

"It's crazy."

It's late. His shirt is too big for her and the air is cool on her bare legs. Leaning back against the railing of the fire escape, Piper is caged in place by hands on either side of her, elbows locked and forearms tense as Richie leans in towards her.

"What?" She asks, smoke drifting from the cigarette pinched between her fingers.

"How I can't stop thinking about you."

She rolls her eyes at that, a quiet sound coming from her lips as her gaze ends up resting just over his shoulder. "Whatever."

He steps closer, hand freeing itself from the railing to pluck the cigarette and bring it to his lips instead. He tastes her, as much as he tastes the nicotine.

"I'm serious, Piper." His voice is quieter as he says it, firm in a way that makes her spine tingle. "I'm not fucking around."

"Fucking around seems to be our M.O."

He doesn't laugh at the joke and Piper's gaze slips back to his face, pulled in by the silence. He's handsome with that sort of angular face, all sharp features and tragic, sad eyes that she's lost herself in more than once. A man made for heartbreak. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking along the fresh cut there from an early morning job hours ago.

"This hasn't just been fucking around to me. You're... crazy. You're vicious, and wild," his head dips forward, curls of dark hair brushing her forehead, "you're like a storm, this... this thing that demands to be seen, respected."

She laughs, then, lungs tight and sound breathy. "What, and you want to tame me?"

"No. God, no. No." Fingers drifting from her cheek down the side of her throat, skipping along her pulse as smoke wafts lazily from that dying cigarette. "I want to worship you. You are everything, Piper."

Silence catches between them. She wonders if he can hear it, feel it even, the pulse of her heart thrumming that much faster. The way her breath catches for just a brief moment.

This was what she has always wanted, wasn't it? For someone to say these things to her, to look at her just like he is right then: like she was a goddess made real, like the city could burn around them and it wouldn't matter. Her tongue slips out to dampen her lips, and she doesn't realize she's been fussing with the hem of her borrowed shirt until she has to release the fabric.

Her hand touches his chest, sliding up until her fingers spread wide across his heart. His heart is beating fast, too.

"You're serious aren't you?"

"I am."

"... You're an idiot."

And he laughs at that, eyes shutting briefly. "Yeah, probably. But I'm a serious idiot."

Her hand curls to hold the front of his shirt, bringing him that much closer. "My serious idiot." She whispers.

He sits at the edge of her desk, dangling his feet as he watches; unlike most viruses, Johnny is persistent. He's more like an active parasite, consuming her energy and feeding off her systems. Watching her through her digital psyche, he practically hand waves at the anti-virus scanning for his program. It had stung, badly, but he tries not to let it show. He's trapped in Piper's mind and is more or less a captive of it, despite his empty threats. "The fuck you mean by that? I'm as me as it gets."

Which doesn't really mean much. He can't remember his blonde hair, or the name of his parents, or even the model of cyberware he has on. All he knows are fragmented pieces of former-rockerboy Johnny Silverhand and the corrupted files his dying brain Spider Murphy had scattered onto the net. Uncomfortable with this thought, he itches his crotch and sniffles. "Don't think you can just toss me out that easy. I ain't no virus."

While he doesn't say it, he knows the implication here: she could just easily delete him. With a little extra technological know-how (which he's sure she doesn't possess), Johnny could disappear in an instant. Despite her grievances though, he doubts that's a solution that either of them want. "I'm a whole sentient being, Piper. Even if you could get rid of me, do you really wanna?"

The memory that flashes through her, bubbling up clearly enough with the recent recollection to be shared like a B-film, proves that to be true enough. Some idiot who's only mistake was to spit on her shoe on the wrong night getting the brunt of her ire, a life snuffed out for one thoughtless action.

She's not proud of it.

Try as she might she can't stop looking at Johnny, which is stupid because he isn't there. He isn't real. And she's kind of afraid that if she gives into it, if she feeds it, it'll just root deeper into her mind. Part of her is worried, too, this cold trigger something worse, something that can't be undone.