π πππππ’ ππ : music as a means of catharsis , cigarette smoke & unreleased demos in the green room , the war against the fuckin' forces of entropy , the pious bond between parasite & host , becoming a deserter after early enlistment , the black dog in your head , love will tear us apart again , an imperfect copy of the soul , and never fading away.
note that this blog contains highly sensitive & potentially triggering content. follow at your own discretion.
π·π΄π°π³π»πΈπ½π΄ππ : πππππππππ’π’ππ ππππ£πππππππ ππΉπππππππ
i. basic roleplay etiquette applies. do not impose your personal headcanons about johnny upon me, do not assume anything about my portrayal, and do not steal my ideas/headcanons, or graphics for yourself. i also do not consent nor support my writing/ideas being used for purposes of training ai technologies. please note that this blog is 21+ and i'll only be writing with partners who have their age visible on their blog. personal accounts dni.
ii. original character & multifandom friendly. i don't expect you to be familiar with the source material (although i highly recommend it!). in his main verse, he's a human and well-established in the music industry so he's adaptable. i also have a long-term case of cyberpunk brainrot so i'm more than happy to workshop a verse with you if you're game! live action icons are available as well.
iii. my writing style is descriptive and heavily formatted. this may include coloured text. please let me know if you'd prefer me to keep the formatting to a minimum so i can accommodate.
iv. this blog may feature violence, sexual situations, substance abuse, gore, and other mature content. triggers will use the '___ cw' format. if you are currently playing the game for the first time (please do!) and care about spoilers, let me know and i can tag game-related media posts with 'cp2077'.
v. although i rarely follow first (mainly to ensure that you're receptive to his characterization), there's a good chance i'll follow back if you have detailed character information, a descriptive writing style similar to my own, and enough potential for interaction. i may ask questions about your character as needed but i can almost always find some common ground to work with! unless they have a live action face claim or exist in the edgerunners universe, i'm less inclined to interact with animanga characters in general.
at this time, however, please note that i'm not comfortable following duplicates
i also won't follow v writers first out of personal preference but i value every portrayal that i interact with and will do my best to individualize my interactions with them. please let me know about their in-game choices if they're not locatable on your blogΒ
lastly, if you already have a main johnny (or if you already write with multiple), i'm less likely to engage/interact as i prefer not to step on anyone's toes. thank you for understanding!
vi. i practice ship exclusivity and if we do develop an established dynamic (whether it be platonic, romantic, familial, or antagonistic), i'd greatly prefer the same practice on your end! this applies to original characters too via face claim exclusivity.
for v writers, i do treat them all as original and standalone characters. in those rare cases, i'll be lifepath and 'name' exclusive; i won't write with other v writers with your v's particular lifepath and first name (ie. a streetkid named valerie or a corpo named vincent) out of respect for our developed dynamic. if they have a face claim, i'll apply the same exclusivity to them as well
vii. this blog will only be engaging in threads with mutuals and will prioritize plotted dynamics. ideally, i'd like to plot with all my mutuals (even if it's barebones). it makes our interactions that much easier to write and i love to chat about our characters. let's be excellent to each other!
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Heβs had likely been trying to get out of bed but his large house panther of a woman is currently wrapped around him in bed, fingers in his hair as she buries her face into the crook of his neck. Looks like even rockstars canβt get out of a good post-f*ck cuddle πβ€οΈ
THE BIOCHIP'S SCHISM into disparate consciousnesses and corporeal forms necessitated ample adjustment. from appearance's virgin slate to absolute autonomy of all five senses, rebirth had delivered on its quixotic potential with minutest complications. to touch and be touched by her in turn was a benediction beyond what his engramic percipience could have fathomed and still its hallowed light had yet to dim.
silence was on its own weighted blanket in the aftermath of husky hymns and carnal coupling yet her immediacy was of greater comfort. against his neck could she feel a testament to the life bestowed upon him, its cadence steadying in the calm and haven of devout companionship. to stall so close to his pulse when those less than he had been demised by the torment of her teeth was a gesture of willful vulnerability but not a moment spent in its vicinity was unearned; should she have petitioned for a mouthful, it was hers to relish as his benefactor.
snugly ensnared by her limbs and subjected to uninhibited contiguity, captive contentedly surrendered himself to confinement for several minutes until basic need could be deferred no longer. chrome fingertips which had circled listlessly around both scar and beauty mark alike trekked lower to her full thigh, his thumb tapping expectantly against copper skin to stir her sentient. with the sedative graze of her nails against his scalp and her figure's contours fitted so harmoniously against him, disturbing her repose was not without cost to them both.
βΒ hate to put a damper on the post-nut bliss but gonna need you to loosen up a little and scooch over. gotta take a piss.Β β shades of mischief tinted his tone, shelled of all subtlety so accompanying amusement was audible through the graceless prose. βΒ β 'less you're not opposed to sports of the water variety.Β βΒ
rockerb0y: β cheer up. it might be all downhill from here. β (for any v you like)
"no shit," vivienne spits out the words with her head between her knees, trying not to puke. everything swims, vision going blurry while the signal keeps telling her the relic's malfunctioning. blood keeps rushing between her ears, the swooshing sound weirdly similar to the one trapped inside of a shell, rhyming with a time when the ocean wasn't a wasteland of trash. she wonders what it was like: toes buried in the sand, water on the horizon, bigger than any man-made skyscrapper.
almost asks the dipshit inside her head, because that's the kind of habit she has picked up-- because she expects him to be here, and to reply. because they're... not friends, not colleagues, but a third, worse thing. something a bit more cannibalistic, maybe, because a look in his direction makes her wish she could put her hands around his neck & squeeze.
"aren't you tired of," she stops because now she's coughing, and fuck if that isn't representative of the bullshit that her life has become: body crumbling while she tires herself with admonishing a figment of her imagination. "...of being this fucking annoying?" at the very least, being mad at johnny makes her feel better-- she'll blame him 'til she can't breathe anymore, even if it's done half-heartedly. animosity makes her blood pump. makes her want to hold on a bit tighter; to him, to life. it's better than to look in the mirror and find jackie's face looking disappointed somewhere above her shoulder.
"if i die like this..." the "if" registers: silence ends the sentence, like it hadn't really reached her mind yet, that she could die like this: worried of puking her insides out, itching for a cigarette, johnny's body blocking out of the light.
TO WITHSTAND the onset of the relic was an onerous feat in itself but the reminder of its oncoming terminus only aggravated their mutual plight. unlike the biochip's psychological burden, the physiological trauma was chiefly shouldered by his host and depicted the construct in stolid indifference. resentment of the malfunction's inequity needn't have been seen when it could be heard in high-fidelity; antipathy was more warmly welcomed than apathy, every time.
the mercenary's fragmental remark hung limply in the space between them, rebuked by a wrinkled nose and sharp stare blunted only by his aviators' tinted lenses. until supposition hardened into certainty, no receptivity was afforded to such a flaccid fate. a second chance to wreak vengeance upon arasaka was too lucrative of windfall to squander, regardless of his counterpart's present state of decay.
βΒ youβd be nothing more than a fresh coat of corpo scum left to dry on the ground β goddamn pathetic but par for the course. just another tuesday in the city of sweet fuckin' dreams. βΒ
a dearth of pity fortified the construct's tactless tone and elevated height, silhouette delineated by the room's scant illumination and compelling the other's gaze upward without compromise. the bout of discombobulation shouldn't have entailed dramatics as a side effect but a smoke break outside had already been prescribed nonetheless. whether the urge was synced or leached from either of them was too muddled to discern and the rockerboy wasn't specially inclined to distinguish it further.
βΒ now pry your head outβta your ass 'n get up. find us a better grave if you wanna call it quits. β
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Β Β Β Β Β πππ¦ π‘π’π¦π π¦ππ₯π¨π‘ππππ¦ π¨π£, π¨π‘ππππ π§π’ π¦π¨π£π£π₯ππ¦π¦ the mild annoyance which crosses his features. johnny's wit is quick, and from the surface tension he can shallowly gauge why almost everyone tied to his social circle might find it varying levels of unbearable. the mercenary wants to fire back, but his chrome heart just isn't in it at the moment. β pass. β
Β Β Β he feels like an amateur solicitor running a sales pitch, shoddy and half-baked β¬ especially with how silverhand is an open revolving door of controversy and criticism. still, it seems to make some kind of ripple; he hadn't been kicked off the team, so it's not entirely off the table at the moment. β i can make that work. might as well put your shadow to shame with how i operate, though it's not like you can see it with this shit weather hanging off all our backs. β he could snuff away the comment to himself if it wasn't such a morose truth. today? grimy. tomorrow? also fucking grimy.
Β Β Β the side-eye to johnny is brief ( it starts to stick that some of the rumors might be more than background entertainment ). maybe he's just bullshitting him. on a good day, rogue hardly mentions the man's name outside of the strictly professional sense: his perspective of importance might be influenced by all that ego to back it up. now raiden can't help stare at him, unable to ditch the little bite he feels to match.
Β Β Β β well, what'd you expect? she probably learned to raise her standards. β that boring, muted, repetitive clink of the lighter, just signaling his wavering patience. maybe he should say something. β do you usually smoke your ass all the way to the filter? β
INCREDULITY found expression in a snort of amusement, stopping short of outright refutation for the sake of a more concise exchange. over the years, rogue's standards survived without preferment to a loftier level and their stagnancy was an undisguised blessing. whether it was a prolonged bicker or deliberate eschewalΒ of his company, an armisticeΒ was always achieved when it was needed most and her adhesion to him was wholly known. for all their contradictions, rogue proved herself ever reliable in her relapses; expectedly, the rockerboy didn't deign to articulate the nuance to an incidental acquaintance.
βΒ mhm, sometimes. used to swipe smokes any chance i got in the throes of adolescence. never knew when i'd land another so savored 'em right up 'til the cherry singed the skin. force of habit, suppose. βΒ Β the ember weakly pulsed with dying vigour, waxing pithy and demanding more of the depleted cigarette for a few moments longer. raiden's testiness and thinning toleration had been noted, albeit unheeded out of sheer willfulness. βΒ pump the brakes a little, hustle. still gonna have a few hours of downtime after the show, ample time to powder your nose at metalstrom or make a pitstop at kitty liquor on your way home. night's not a total write off just yet. βΒ
persistent grip yielded and the stub was finally laid to rest with its brethren on the dampened ground, already forgotten amidst a graveyard of garbage and all manner of human waste. with a yank was the enforced door swung wide in mirror of the solo's earlier gesture, lacking its polite decorum but no less transparent in intent. despite the rockerboy's previous grievances, the bodyguard was ostensibly there to stay until the contract closed and so too was he.
βΒ after you. βΒ Β the graffitied alley's appeal had expired and the change of scenery was timely. the city's stench was overwritten by the crowd's, thick with body heat and communal riot in the venue's alleged capacity. after the extended absence, an earful surely awaited him in the green room; fortunately, with the opener already packed up and the stage sterile of entertainment, the lecture was fated to be mercifully abridged and forgotten by the second song. βΒ just remember: if shit takes a turn for the worse, try not to take a bullet for me. βΒ Β
The merc leveled him with a hostile look, not as quick on the draw with a witty comeback as heβd like. Dealing with Padre always left him pissy and Johnny on the other hand, had an unmatched skill to strike a nerve. Probably because he had unrestrained access to his nerves, and every dark and twisted thing swimming around that head of his. Fun experience, both ways.
βAh, but the dog guards the sheep, Johnny,β he said then in a bad impersonation of the priestβs grave tone.
Midway through digging in his pockets in search for a pack of cigarettes, he pettily decided against it, even as his own nerves were practically screaming for it. Instead, all he fished out of his jacket was his own hand, giving him the middle finger.
Β Β Β β sheep in night city ?Β no such beast, v. they're all just fuckin' wolves. take it from your resident case of rabies here. β
Β Β Β reciprocation of the obscene gesture was well-nigh instantaneous, startlingly simpatico as if preordained by the same source code. causality could have resided with either the biochip's active acclimation or their keener sense of kinship but the distinction itself mattered little; a richer rapport ameliorated the agony of incorporeality, but only just.
Β Β Β β won't get a merit badge for pickin' up the geezer's call on the first ring. won't get one for pristine lungs either. β with a knowing look did the engram's finger tap the packet's corresponding location on his own person, intimating the precise pocket and demoting the search to a matter of retrieval. an appetency for a cigarette could never be so willfully neglected. β might as well smoke up, pup. β
you know the opening band is truly rancid when johnny wordlessly rips out the amp's guitar cable in the middle of their set to plug in his own and start his show early
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Β Β Β Lips part to watch the cap fall to the ground and him flipping through the private contents within her black journal. Cassandra felt relieved that she doesn't write about what she does in her free time. The journal contained thoughts about her average day and plenty of spider doodles. Lucky for her, Silverhand didn't pry and flipped to a blank page.
Β Β Β β Hm, I will keep that in mind. I think I like the way they look now. β
Β Β She blinked at the sudden pop quiz and her mind instantly became a blender of jumbled words. Cass's eyes tear away from his to think on his discography.
Β Β Β β Um, It's Cassandra. Cass is fine if you don't wanna spell all that - Uh uh , frick umm! - Oh! Archangel, Never Fade away and Ballad of Buck Ravers. β
Β Β Β Moments like these made her grateful to work in a coffee shop. The orange hibiscus tea she chugged an hour earlier played a helping hand into her remembering even her name. Her two jobs were tiring and it was easy to get endless brain fog when put on the spot. A small smile appeared on her nervous features and her fingers began to toy with the numerous bracelets on each cold wrist.
Β Β Β β So, um - What do you think about the city? Outside of suited characters and Corporate America being in your face every two seconds. β
Β Β Β UNCONTRACTED name had already been scrawled on the blank paper prior to her nickname's mention, stilling the marker tip in the space below until the knowledge assessment was finalized to his satisfaction. any intimation of nescience or temporization tended to be penalized with a vulgar scribble in lieu of formal signature, much to the chagrin of the commercialized opportunists who hadn't heard a single album in its entirety. albeit not exemplary in the triad's selection,Β the answer managed to spare her of bitter disillusionment and procure his stylized initials as per request. the canvas itself may have left a lot to be desired but at least the memento of their interaction would be cherished by a legitimate enthusiast.
Β Β Β β two outta three ain't bad, i guess. just hope those weren't ranked in order. plenty'a other picks to round out the podium too. in fact, maybe give ' purple flame ' another whirl on the ol' turntable β think you'd jibe with it. β
Β Β Β the open spread of the journal was abruptly snapped shut in front of her and returned to her possession, nearly dropping the item during the transfer from premature release. the close call elicited neither flinch nor alarm, already dismissed to cogitate on his impression of new york. despite the attempt to forsake discussion on the city's most noteworthy observations, the lesser attributes weren't expunged from appraisal.
Β Β Β β city's fine. corps're the same on the west coast, nothing exotic here. less accustomed to the local costumed crew. been to new york a couple times already and find that with every lap, there's fresh batch of year-round trick-or-treaters on the streets. makes me wonder if the lot of 'em are from broadway's bargain bin β a bunch'a theatre kids who couldn't handle their final curtain call. don't think it's the worst working theory. β
Β Β Β jaded appetite for any urban sprawl had envenomed his status as a tourist but some laxity was extended; a citizen's viewpoint may have been able to inject some colour in his saturated outlook or even induce reconsideration, slim likelihood notwithstanding.
Β Β Β β must be some reason why you choose to stick around, though, so clue me in: what's keeping you from packin' up 'n shippin' out ? β
The first impression definitely says original. Something about the spirit of the place reminds V of that one weirdo with a Samurai merch stand, but more... settled, in a way that makes it likely to last.
She appreciates the clerk's lack of interest in her; it lets her look around and take everything in, imagine this is what stores like this may have looked like before. Maybe she should ask Johnny, but he's asking his own question before she has the chance to speak herself.
"Uh... Gorillaz." Why is she afraid of being judged all of the sudden? "It was a super old one. The guy didn't know what he had. I didn't either, to be honest." V sits on her heels beside one of the shelves to run her finger along the records' spines as she speaks. They must have some real old shit here too.
"You're lucky you ended up with me," she hums a moment later, a mischievous ring to her words. Still there, even though technically she isn't even speaking. "Imagine having to share a brain with someone who doesn't like music. Or even worse," she turns her head to catch Johnny's face, "A teenybopper fan."
She's sure Johnny would eventually warm up to it if he had to, simply out of lack of other options. The old guy's really lucky he's squatting in her head.
"Was this store here back when you were alive?" She finally attempts at the question she's been meaning to ask. "That's how you know about it?"
β tickles my dick pink that i give off such a youthful impression but nah, saw this spot when you were breakin' a miscellanea Β of traffic laws the other day. doubt there's many vendors from my vintage that staved off extinction. all that's left are some spiritual successors and their ye old faithfuls, still fightin' the good fight for the next generation. endearing in a way, bit like when some chrome-rotted junkie doubles down and tries to squeeze you for a few more eddies on line b β futile, but gotta appreciate their pluck if nothing else. β
within a beat of the mercenary's answer had the engram repositioned to the cited band's genre, already sentient of the result yet miming the search for her nonetheless. an index finger diligently flipped through the cluster of vinyl records and didn't tarry long at any individual cover. the simulated suspense only diffused once the back of the stack was reached and a click of his tongue cued his disapproval; in actuality, none of the records underwent any disturbance and their analysis had been concluded instantaneously prior to relocation.
β gorillaz, huh. not bad for baby's first record but no dice. never had one of theirs in my collection so could've been a retroactive addition, provided it wasn't an ' earsore '. damn shame. β
despite a plentitude of grievances against current circumstances, music taste was felicitouslyΒ exempt from his host's moral derelictions. had it not been so, his preferred solution to the relic's predicament during their first encounter wouldn't have seemed nearly as drastic.
β has'ta to be another album on these shelves that'll strike your chord. buy us something good to play tonight β bill me later. β
πππππππ'π ππππ πππππ πππππππ πππππππ πππ πππππππ ππππ that would brace her weight without waning. cool concrete scraping against leather. a chuckle bubbles out of the hollow of her chest as her head soon follows the bulge of shoulder, feeling the shock of cold stone against her temple.
in the span of a single moment, the chuckle takes on weight and turns into a sigh of relief ; less directed toward @rockerb0y's cocky humour, more toward the feeling of brick against hot skin.
β ββββmm .. lemme guess, not the kind you're used to? β wry remark, mumbled with a glimmer of humour shining through the grey. ( there's a defensive hand hovering over her ribs on the left side, ) ( not blatant enough for anyone to notice ... ) but those who knew where to look would clock it immediately. a sign of trust, albeit an uncommon one.
β fuckers that get a free beatdown? they're the ones you really gotta worry about. left this one outside of pacifica so he has a nice view of shit when he wakes up. β
βΒ least he's wakin' up at all. gonna be practically picturesque compared to what could've been. got a little slice of paradise, all of his own. β
limp cigarette stiffened in mouth to draw, leveraging its hands-free flexibility while the target was reset to its uncastrated state. a potent blend of personal experience surfaced and steeped him in thought but didn't mature beyond shallow recollection; as per his pieced impression, she surely related in kind. with the right perspective, even the most unsterile of surroundings could be bedizened into adequacy.
imagination could only lend itself to the loser's condition through that of the victor. the concrete wall wasn't a mere accessory to her but an ally, surrogate support meant to unburden her of balance. vi's vulnerability was inwardly acknowledged but not outwardly articulated, electing instead to present a courtesy offer after the malorian's chamber was checked for residual ammunition. an extended opportunity for respite was a milder mercy for the boxer than his firearm's ruthless recoil.
βΒ wanna finish off my round ? her bark's as mean as her bite but hell, so is yours. β
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