ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨: 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕪
Tagged by @dreamskug and subsequently ripped off inspired by his, @lokiina’s, @nightcityace’s & @arcandoria’s creative take on it.
V: Hey, sorry I’m-
Interviewer: Late?
V: Only by thirty minutes, can't be that big of a deal.
Interviewer: Maybe it is-
V: Okay, well, I'm here now, on a Friday night, instead of drinking myself stupid like I wish I was. Go ahead and ask your questions.
ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ:
V: V.
Interviewer: That’s it?
V: Yup.
ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ:
V: Male.
ꜱᴛᴀʀ ꜱɪɢɴ:
ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ:
V: Six feet.
Interviewer: Actually?
V: Does this look like a face that would lie to you?
ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:
V: You first.
Interviewer: Excuse me?
V: Hah! Relax, choom, just trying to lighten the mood! Jeez. I’m Pan. Equal opportunity for all. Mostly me.
ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ / ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄɪᴛʏ:
V: I was born in SoCal, but my parents are both from Mexico. I have a…complicated relationship with my Latino heritage, since it wasn’t really somethin’ that my parents took the time to share with me in detail, or my siblings.
Never had the chance to ask why, but after comin’ to Night City, I realized I kinda missed out on a lot growing up.
ᴅᴏɢ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ:
V: Well, I have a cat at home. One of those hairless ones. But I did always want a dog.
Interviewer: Oh? What kind?
V: Xoloitzcuintli.
ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ, ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ꜱᴄᴇɴᴛ:
V: Whoa, whoa, slow down, Jesus. Uhh…first one was-?
Interviewer: Fruit.
V: Right. I like grapes. The purple ones.
Interviewer: Why purple?
V: Shit, I dunno. They taste better?
Interviewer: Heh. Yeah, fair enough. Season?
V: I love summer. Life slows down a little, people take more time to relax. I don’t mind the heat, neither, ‘cause I can just go for a swim whenever, or go for a drive with the windows down. Cools me just fine.
Interviewer: Preem.
V: I like those orange poppy’s that grow all over the Badlands. California poppy’s I think they’re called.
Interviewer: And for your favorite scent?
V: Right – probably amber. I've used the same brand of amber-heavy cologne for years. Oh, and I really like that one specific brand of tobacco my mom smoked.
Interviewer: What brand was that?
V: Can’t recall. Somethin’ imported.
ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ, ᴛᴇᴀ ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ:
V: Coffee. Double shot. Sometimes triple, if I’m doin’ a long gig.
Interviewer: Christ.
V: Hey, merc work ain’t easy. It’s that or synthcoke.
Interviewer: I’m scared to ask the next question…
ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ:
V: Yikes…like 5? If I’m lucky.
Interviewer: I’m not at all surprised.
V: The fuck is that supposed to mean?
ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ:
V: No, no. Hold on. I wanna know why you’re not surprised. Do I got bags under my eyes or somethin’?
Interviewer: Actually, no.
V: Nova.
Interviewer: You got suitcases.
V: You’re fine, choom. I appreciate the banter. I don’t need to sleep with any blankets though.
Interviewer: Really? Why not?
V: Sub-dermal armor. Got a bunch of other stuff you can’t see as well – keeps me runnin' hot, all the time.
ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴛʀɪᴘ:
V: Aw, shit. There’s so many places. If I had to pick, I guess…Havana.
Interviewer: Cuba. You into history?
V: Nah, choom. Beaches.
ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ:
V: Mad Max.
Interviewer: You don’t think that’s a little…stereotypical?
V: Does it look like I care? Me and my sister used to pretend we were members of the MFP and annoy the hell out of our brother. I called him nothin' but Toecutter for two years. He hated it.
ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ:
V: If you lick a person’s elbow when they’re not looking, they won’t feel it.
Interviewer: …huh.
Misty: Oh, V…
V: It was the first thing that popped into my head, okay, I panicked-
This was a lot of fun to make tbqh. He's such a gonk - that ADHD brain keeps him moving around and fidgeting 24/7 even without the help of caffeine or stims and boosters, and he can talk about himself for hours, the narcissistic dickhead.
Shoutout to my bestest choombatta @klept0kid you deserve to have your name attached to your masterpiece lmao.
tags: @chooh2 @pinkyjulien @meltingangels @ouroboros-hideout @ne0n-rust @netripper @wilxfyre @klept0kid @glitchinginthegarden @nightcxty @shimmer-like-agirl @noirapocalypto @katsigian @wanderingaldecaldo @cyberpunkaddict @elvenbeard @wraithsoutlaws
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Your name is Sun Wukong. You have not seen your former friend in centuries. Last you remember was bearing your fist down in a mighty fury, your hands strong enough to break stone never meant for bones so fragile. You, born of earth, forged in fire and brimstone with more strength than heaven could allow, never held gently by anyone would not know tenderness until it dripped red streaks across your palm. Against your design, you break. You have broken, following your design perfectly. You cannot stand to see what else your touch may ruin, you flee. Your shadow will recover, after all, he is in the shape of you, and you are unbreakable. You ignored the tears, wiped off the blood, there are people waiting for your smile. It had to be done it had to be done, you warned him-
You warn him too, when he tries to channel more power than his body can handle through your- his staff. You know all too well the consequence of when a body channels more power than it should handle. If it does not bleed, it will be one to make others bleed, and so the mural on your wall shatters. The faces of your companions are lost.
It has been centuries. You tidy up your home since for the first time, there is another soul standing at your side. A knock at your door and your delivery has arrived, a nice fur rug off eBay. It’s a deep black, a throw rug. It’s in a peculiar shape, but you don’t mind odd patterns or designs as a collector of all things strange and magical in your vault. There’s an almost passive hum to this rug as you place your palm over it, your fingers running deep grooves through it. A scent so very old, so faintly distinct. A collection of iridescent threads of red, purple, and blue trail out on each end, complimenting the three segments fanning out on either side like lotus petals. Your hand, gentle as a mountain, does what it has always done. It is the only level of tenderness your strength will allow. There is a reason you’ve begun to hold back in fights.
Butterfly wings bring hurricanes, and your form smothers them down so that only a dessert, dry and lost follows behind in the shadow of the rainforest you’ve raised. You have not seen your friend in centuries, but he is in the shape of you, always reflecting on the ground at your side. And here you are again, your hand pressing down on him, too blind to see you. This carpet wears your face, torn from the grave you never gave. Oh, Great Sage- what a mistake. Through ice and bone lost to decay, the fate once held, then cast away. A future unsung, oh Sun Wukong, destiny cannot be undone.
…Now. Turn around.
🥺
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