WIP WEDNESDAY
@wanderingaldecaldo tagged me to show one of my wips. I decided to choose a part from my upcoming chapter 8 of 'Tower'.
Warning: since I'm not a native speaker and my chapter hasn't been proofread yet, English can be a bit unnatural.
The devil knows how long it took for the first outlines to emerge between the luminescent spots. Gunfire erupted in the distance, spiced with swearing. At least The Grim Ripper didn't take him, so he was still in the City of Dreams.
A damp plaster ceiling was the first thing Jackie noticed. As if sprinkled with sand, he closed his eyes and the brain stopped responding. In some godforsaken place, Jackie found himself in a medical bed.
Wait, wait wait... what bed? Where am I… And why am I stuffed with wires like a pulpo?!
Trying to rewind the events of the last few days, Jackie did not notice how he was surrounded from both sides.
His mother was on the right. Her dry lips touched Jackie's hand. With the hot breath, Jackie felt the wetness - his mother was crying. Oh, Santa Madre, where did he mess up again? Jackie was always afraid of his mother's tears since he was a teenager, and now he upset her again. Her thin shoulders twitched with each sob. Jackie wanted to hug her, but he couldn't move.
On the left was Vik. He gently patted him on the shoulder while making notes on the clipboard.
“Welcome back, buddy,” Vik smiled.
Tagging: @for-lovely-things @neonbutchery @theviridianbunny
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Cyberpunk 2090
I couldn't shake the idea that I needed to know where all my boys were a few years down the line, so I went and found out!
The man leans over his balcony overlooking the neon and stench of Night City from a sanitary distance. The grey flecks in his beard put him maybe late thirties, early forties but his eyes, beautiful and gold ringed though they are, seem those of a much older man who’s endured many hard lives. He blows a steady stream of cigarette smoke down towards the moving lights below, it’s a habit he picked up pretty late in life and knows he should kick, he will one day.
He feels like he’s been waiting forever, waiting to escape from home, waiting for the good shit to finally happen, waiting to be saved, waiting for ‘the one’. Right now he’s waiting for a cab to take him to the airport so that he can get back to ‘the one’ and have him in his arms again.
He’d been against the idea at first, a new procedure that regenerated every cell in your body thereby reversing the signs of aging, it sounded suspiciously like something he’d been through himself and not enjoyed one bit and it had taken six months of constant care for him to be anything like healthy again, but Kerry had insisted he wanted it done, ever the vain (amazing, lovable, breathtaking) asshole, he booked himself into the clinic in Texas and that was that, conversation over.
Vince wanted to join him obviously, insisted in fact, but circumstances intervened as usual and after only two days in Dallas there was a call that dragged him back to the City, Mama Welles – Guadalupe – was gravely ill and asking for him. Living out your natural span with nothing added or taken away was rare in Night City, Mama had beaten the odds and died on her own terms with Vince holding tightly to her hand. Vince – he’d left V behind ten years ago when he and Kerry married – organised everything, the funeral, the ofrenda, even the sale of the bar. The Coyote had been left to him of course, but it wasn’t a responsibility he felt ready to take on, so it was in Valentino hands now, he’d still be welcome of course, but doubted he’d ever return as he left with Vik that last time.
Sitting beside his old friend as they return to Little China, Vince looks at the rain-streaked City on the other side of his window marvelling how it’s hardly changed at all in the twenty plus years he’s been here, yet he himself could not have changed more. “How long’s it been?” Vik’s rich voice stirs him from his thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“Since he’s been away?”
“Oh, nearly two weeks.”
“When’s he back?”
“Still a few more days, it all went OK but he’s not as young as he thinks he is and it’s taking a toll. Kim’s pretty worried, I’ll probably make my way back out there in the morning.”
Vik looks over at the other man, noting the dark stains under his eyes and the fine lines which seem to have appeared out of nowhere over the last week or so. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea V,” Vik being the only one who got away with still calling him that, “take some time for yourself, you’re exhausted. I’ll call the clinic in the morning, get them to spill and let you know.”
“Ugh, you might be right, feel like I could sleep for a week. OK fine, but if there’s anything wrong I’m on the next flight to Texas.”
“Course you are kid,” agrees Vik patting his shoulder.
-
Vik had been as good as his word and had called earlier this morning telling Vince not to panic, everything was going to be fine, but the treatment had knocked Kerry for six and he was still pretty weak and out of it – the flight had been booked before the doc had finished speaking.
-
Some hours later, Kim rushes out to meet Vince at the front of the clinic, “Thank God you’re here…”
Alarmed, Vince grabs the woman’s elbow and turns her towards him, “Why, shit Kim what’s happened?”
“Sheesh Vince, calm down, he’s fine, just hasn’t stopped complaining and fussing since I told him you were coming back.”
“So…he’s feeling better?”
“I think that’s fair to say, he’s got all the nurses fawning over him, he’s even got the physiotherapist bringing him coffee!”
Vince wraps Kim into a much-needed hug, “I hated being away from him, longest two weeks of my life, thanks for staying with him.”
“No need to thank me, he’s still my dad no matter what gonk things he’s done. Don’t think he’d’ve wanted you to see him like that anyway, all the tubes and machines…”
They hug a little tighter for a moment then head inside arm in arm taking the elevator to the private room on the top floor. Sterile white rooms always send a shiver through Vince and this one’s no different, so he distracts himself by focusing on the sleeping figure in the bed at the end of the room, bending to stroke his cheek and whisper, “I’m back Ker baby,” into his mainline’s ear.
A bright-blue eye groggily opens and investigates his face, “Bout fucking time, been going stir-crazy in here.” Then that (literally) million Eddie smile lights up his face, “Shit Vince it’s good to see you,” he pulls his man in by the shirt for a soft kiss, “when can we delta from this hell-hole?”
“…You mean from this billion Eddie facility with state-of-the-art equipment that you chose to come to because you’re a vain, arrogant bastard?”
Kerry closes his eye and groans, Vince rests his head on Kerry’s chest whispering profanities under his breath, only Kim looks up from the magazine she was reading, “Uncle Johnny, what’re you doing here?”
-
The grounds of the clinic are more like a park than a garden and Vince pushes Kerry – using a wheelchair only for effect he insists – under the canopy of the trees and takes a seat on a bench, closely followed by Kim and Johnny who’ve been following along chatting animatedly.
Johnny, it turns out, had been in Texas anyway visiting his sister’s family (his sister herself having passed away twenty years since, as had many of the people he’d once been close to) when he got a message from Ted, who he got along famously with unsurprisingly, telling him that his dad was at a facility less than ninety miles from where he was staying. Whether Ted had done it to mess with them all they’d never know – this seemed quite likely to Vince who never quite clicked with Ted – but here he was.
The relationship between the two rockers was better than it had been when Johnny had first returned to his body, it had taken years but now it could be described as cool but cordial. He and Vince still worked together, though they got on each other’s nerves a lot more than they used to, Vince had left him in charge of the club on a few occasions, it never ended well.
“So Ker, finally ran out of the blood of virgins and had to try something else? How’s that been working out for ya?” Johnny snides.
Stopping Vince from getting in Johnny’s face with a gentle but determined hand on his thigh, Kerry slaps on his best smile, “Just fine Johnny, feelin’ ten, hell twenty years younger. Maybe you should give it a go yourself, beginning to look a bit rough around the edges.”
Johnny gives his old friend a look over the top of his still ever-present shades. He looks every inch the man in his mid-fifties that he is (kind of), as much grey as black in his hair and weather-worn lines on his face, but his hazel eyes still sparkle with mischief. “If I ever get vain enough for that shit, you have my permission to shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery.”
Vince makes a mental note, he’s wanted to shoot Johnny in the head countless times over the last few years so he silently calls dibs.
Other than getting sub-dermal armour after being shot in the good shoulder over ten years ago, Johnny has resisted the urge to enhance (compromise) his body in any way. The thought of having a limb removed on purpose and replaced with tech repulses him and the idea of having his eyes replaced with Kiroshis makes him feel physically sick. No amount of cajoling by Vince to get the latest implants and enhance his skills will ever convince him and, to be fair, he gets along pretty well with what he’s got, Johnny has every intention of going the same way as Mama Welles, in bed after a natural span, give or take fifty years that don’t really count since he wasn’t technically alive.
He must admit, Kerry is looking good, glowing skin, thick silver hair, experience rather than years lining his lean face, the eyes are still wrong, but he’s kinda getting used to them, if he wants to spend his Eddies on living a couple of extra decades then why not? He’s got a lot to live for, Kim and her kids live in the City and visit pretty often, he’s on a better footing with Ted than he’s been for years, the last two volumes of him memoirs were best sellers and he’s working on the third volume and of course there’s Vince.
Over the nearly thirteen years they’ve been together, the last ten of them as husbands, the longest they’ve been apart was 17 days. Back in the late 70’s when Kerry still toured, he went on a six month long world tour leaving Vince at home running the Afterlife. They’d both agreed that it was the best idea, they’d been in each other’s pockets for the last 18 months, some breathing space would do them good and anyway the public life of a Rock star’s output was not something that Vince aspired to particularly. The first week Kerry called every night just before and just after the show excitedly regaling Vince with back stage gossip and tour goings on, the second week they were pretty much on the holo to each other for ten or more hours on any given day, after fifteen days Vince booked a flight to Japan, set off on the sixteenth day, arrived on the seventeenth day and they hadn’t been apart for more than a couple of days since, well not until two weeks ago.
Their devotion to each other was absolute. When the world found out about their relationship and V’s face was suddenly all over the sreamsheets they turned it to their advantage, Vince even getting a brief but glorious modelling career out of it, it was only cut short by the next scandal, beloved Kerry Eurodyne was marrying a merc! A hired killer! But still their devotion could not be swayed, Kerry insisted that Vince be at every appearance and interview he did so that the world could see what a sweet, kind, wonderful man he was marrying, it kind of worked, the horrifying murderer angle was dropped in favour of him being a money-grabbing gold-digger. It was about then that they gave up, refusing to be interviewed, photos only for fans, Kerry gave up promotion and touring not long afterwards, hell he could do what he wanted, he owned the label and Vince was his manager, still is.
That’s not to say that the music dried up, an album still dropped every few years, some better received than others and none as well-reviewed as his self-titled album of ’78, but the overall view was positive. Fans still clamoured for tickets to the increasingly rare small, intimate, one-off shows he occasionally did when the urge to perform could no longer be contained, though it was unlikely he would be doing any more any time soon.
“When do you need to get back?” Vince asks Johnny conversationally.
“Don’t, seen who I need to see thought I’d hang with you guys for a couple of days and fly back with you.”
Kerry and Vince exchange a look, they are really never going to be able to get rid of fucking Johnny Silverhand.
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buryustogether’s kinktober 2023
trying my hand at participating in kinktober this year! i’ll begin writing requests this month.
to request a spot, simply send me an ask with the day/kink + a character you’d like to see. all fics will be x readers. i have the right to refuse any character.
happy kinktober!
day 1: aphrodisiacs - ineffable husbands
day 2: dirty talk - crowley
day 3: breeding kink - miguel o’hara
day 4: size kink - miguel o’hara
day 5: breath play - crowley
day 6: car sex - johnny silverhand
day 7: threesome / moresome - ineffable husbands
day 8: lingerie - lemon
day 9: uniform kink - hunter
day 10: mirror sex - miguel o’hara
day 11: overstimulation - saul bright
day 12: role play - tangerine
day 13: phone sex - aziraphale
day 14: marking kink - jonathan reid
day 15: thigh riding - aziraphale
day 16: oral sex - tangerine
day 17: praise kink - crowley
day 18: blindfold - sam drake
day 19: loss of virginity - aziraphale
day 20: orgasm denial - crowley
day 21: begging - loki
day 22: predator / prey - bigby wolf
day 23: semi public sex - tangerine
day 24: bondage - miguel o’hara
day 25: scent kink - karl heisenberg
day 26: somnophilia - miguel o’hara
day 27: dacryphilia - loki
day 28: cockwarming - tech
day 29: mutual masturbation - bigby wolf
day 30: collar - crowley
day 31: body worship - viktor vektor
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