#cigarettes-after-interface | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elvenbeard · 2 years ago

Text

Urge

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: "Don't go where I can't follow" - despite a clear goal ahead and time of the essence, V and Kerry get caught up in their own anxieties about the future. Procrastination can come in so many fun shapes though - and in the most exciting places. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 7/?, 6229 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, rated E for 👅💦, smoking, and other adult activities and language) - notes at the end! >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

V broke their kiss, and one look in his eyes was enough for Kerry to know what was going on.

“’s it him?”

“Think so,” V said, managing not much more than a whisper.

He wanted to withdraw, but Kerry still held him close with his left arm slung around his waist. V put his right hand on Kerry’s chest, but he would not budge.

“No, lemme listen in,” he demanded, eyes fiery while V tried to pull away.

“He’s gonna notice,” he urged, “You don’t know these people, they’re – “

“You don’t know ‘em either! You know a fraction of the shady crap they do and one guy’s face – which could be nothin’ but a random, generic faceplate, just sayin’,” Kerry protested, holding on tightly still, “Let him notice. I don’t give a fuck. Let them know you’re not alone in this.”

V’s phone kept ringing relentlessly, “Unknown Caller ID” burning itself into his retina.

“Just listening. No talkin’,” V said sternly.

“That’s all I’m askin’,” Kerry nodded, and reluctantly V connected him to his holo before finally picking up.

“I hope I’m not interrupting an intimate moment,” the overly friendly, digitally modified voice on the other end of the line said.

Kerry’s golden glowing eyes went wide, meeting V’s. He mouthed the words “this motherfucker…” but kept his promise and stayed quiet. V nodded ever so slightly, holding on to Kerry tightly now.

“Not at all,” V then replied, tone as neutral and professional as he managed, despite the growing pit in his stomach.

“Because if so, we can speak another time.”

“You know as well as myself that time is not something I have a lot to give of,” V said.

“Of course.”

There was a short pause of crackling static that Kerry used to take a deep drag of his cigarette.

“I wanted to preface this by telling you that my associates and I are very pleased with the results you provided us with,” Mr. B then said.

“That’s why you work with the best,” V replied nonchalantly.

“Indeed. And I shall fulfill my part of our deal now to ensure you remain the best for a long while to come, right?”

A little notification blipped up in the corner of V’s interface. A tiny, encrypted file had been sent over.

“Decryption should give you no troubles,” Mr. B said, “You remember the location I mentioned last we spoke?”

“Yes, of course,” V nodded, already in the middle of opening the file for both him and Kerry to see.

“I have made some arrangements. Come by any time it is convenient for you – I guess sooner rather than later would be best though.”

“Alone, I assume?” V asked after a pause.

Another moment of buzzing silence followed.

“I’m leaving that up to you entirely,” Mr. B said, still friendly, but something in his undertone almost sounded like a challenge – or a threat.

With that, the call ended.

“What a fuckin’ slime-bag,” Kerry grunted, blowing smoke through his nostrils, and immediately put the cig back to his lips.

The encrypted file popped open, once more containing the coordinates of the Charter Hill building Mr. B had shown him back at the Columbarium, as well as a digital access token that would let V past the certainly heavy security.

“That the secret lab of theirs you mentioned?” Kerry asked and V disconnected their communication as well.

“Yeah…” he nodded, eyes following Kerry’s right hand in which he held the cigarette.

“You know you’d hate it,” Kerry said when he noticed, taking another drag, teasingly almost.

“I know,” V said, licking his lips, “But sometimes…”

Kerry grabbed V’s jaw with the same hand he held the cigarette in, not with force, but intention, bringing their lips together again, only just not having them touch. Almost instinctively V wanted to just kiss him, but before that could happen Kerry let out the breath he’d been holding, cigarette smoke billowing into V’s mouth. V suppressed a gasp, the smoke burning in his eyes, so he closed them, the harsh, bitter taste taking over all his senses as he breathed it in. Then Kerry bridged the remaining distance between their lips and kissed him, until the wind had carried away all remnants of ash lingering in the air and only its taste remained on their entangled tongues. Kerry slowly pulled back after a couple of seconds, and V quickly turned his head to the side and covered his mouth to cough, reminded again of his bruised ribs and aching head. Kerry’s hand wandered from V’s waist up to his arm, rubbing soothingly.

“Urge satisfied?” he asked softly, frowning still even when V’s cough had calmed down again.

“Yeah…” V laughed teary-eyed from the smoke and strain still, “Also… that was pretty hot.”

Kerry grinned, then flicked what was left of his cigarette over his shoulder, into the abyss behind them.

V didn’t mind that Kerry smoked, as long as they weren’t in one of V’s cars at least. He’d gotten used to the smell, the taste, just connected it so much to Kerry in his head that it had become synonymous with him… He himself had never smoked though, had never liked it, the taste and sensations, had hated it when Johnny did it while in control of his body. But now and again, more often than not lately, he was overcome with the urge to snarf Kerry’s cigarette to take a drag. It was as if his body refused to learn, while in his head he knew it would only end in another coughing fit and nausea.

“I don’t even know how I’m s’pposed to go down there now and work on that fuckin’ song,” Kerry said after a while of them just standing there against the rail, processing the call still. He ran his fingers through his hair, head slightly tilted back, and eyes closed. His jaw was tense, his shoulders, his whole posture really.

“You got this,” V said and rubbed Kerry’s arms, but before he could continue, Kerry opened his eyes only just enough to squint at him.

“Don’t ya dare even suggest goin’ to these assholes alone now,” he said, nose scrunched slightly.

“What, you wanna go instead?” V asked and instantly bit his tongue at how mocking the words came out. That hadn’t been his intention... He didn’t even know why he’d said it at all. Kerry’s expression did not change, he slightly tilted his head though and looked away for a split-second.

“Told ya I wanna be a part of this,” he then said slowly, but seriously, “Don’t ya think this all smells like a big fuckin’ trap?”

“Oh, it absolutely does,” V shrugged, “But I feel like I got no choice but to walk right into it... Same old game with these bastards every time.”

Kerry sighed and stepped towards V, resting his forehead on his left shoulder, his hands finding V’s. V’s chest ached at the gesture, and he leaned against him gently.

“If you don’t wanna take me along, take someone at least… Rogue, or some happy-go-lucky wannabe-mercs who will blindly do your biddin’. Just don’t go alone. You can’t even reload your fuckin’ gun with your hand like this.”

His fingers brushed against V’s cast.

“Fuck… you’re right…”

“I’m always right,” Kerry mumbled against V’s neck, then slowly pulled back again to look at him. He sighed.

“I know you wanna, but don’t do this alone, too,” he said, “Hell, I’d probably already sit in my car if I was in your shoes, but… Don’t. For me.”

“Wow,” V snickered, caressing Kerry’s cheek briefly in an attempt to cheer him up, his big blue puppy eyes glued to him, “Kerry Eurodyne advises thought and reason. Think I’ve really done it now and changed ya…”

A smile flashed across Kerry’s lips, but it didn’t last.

“I just… don’t wanna lose you. Not yet. Not to these creeps. And just stand back and watch.”

V pulled Kerry into a hug, unable to reply, to promise anything. Unable to longer bear his sad expression, the plea his eyes that spoke more than his words. Kerry hugged him back tightly, careful again not to press down on his bruises too hard.

“Okay, c’mon,” V said after a minute or so, reluctantly pulling away, “Let’s finish that song first, and I’ll think about what I’m gonna do while listenin’, alright?”

“Alright…” Kerry mumbled and side-by-side they went back downstairs.

Kerry had been hoping that as soon as Blue-Eyes had called, his mind would be clearer, less preoccupied and running in circles all the time. Turned out though, having a clear goal ahead of them now, had the opposite effect.

“Kerry?” Vicki asked, and Kerry only just managed to not flinch too visibly. He had been staring at the mixing console, chin resting on his hand as he leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.

“Huh?” was all he managed in response.

“Should we leave it at that for today?” she repeated with a smile that he knew only too well from her… pitiful, not blatantly, but combined with her shoulders slumped in resignation it was even worse. Kerry’s first impulse was to brush Vicki off, power through, just to finally finish this stupid song… No, it wasn’t stupid, he loved it a lot. But it just wasn’t where he wanted it to be yet. What was stupid though was him being forced to finalize it, yesterday ideally, for a deadline he hadn’t even set himself. He threw a quick glance at V, who had been banished to the sofa again. He smiled briefly, nodded slightly, as if to say “your call”, his eyes bright, encouraging him to stand up for himself. Fuck… Kerry’s heart sunk a little more than just a notch.

“Yeah, I think we’re hittin’ a wall here,” he then said, looking back at Vicki, “Lemme sleep on it.”

“No problem!” Vicki said, and at least a little bit of pressure was lifted off of Kerry’s chest, “We still made some big steps forward today.”

She got up from her chair and stretched.

“Alright guys, time to pack up here for now,” she directed the two sound engineers, then she turned to V who had also gotten up from the sofa, “Was nice seein’ you again, V.”

“Likewise,” V nodded, and they shook hands. Kerry spun around on his chair as he jacked out of the mixing console and then slowly walked over to join V, who put an arm around him as they left the booth.

“You did good,” V said, pressing a quick kiss on Kerry’s cheek, but all Kerry could think of was the inevitable conversation they’d have next, at the latest when they got into his car. He didn’t want V to go meet Mr. B, not alone… Admittedly, he just really did not want him to go with anyone else but him. But of course, why would V wanna take him along? Kerry was no merc. He could handle his guns alright, even though it had been decades since he fired one in an actually dangerous situation, not just to blow off steam by shooting bottles in the desert. He’d been in many dangerous situations throughout his life though and had still made it this far, one way or another finding his way out of the messes surrounding him every time. But admittedly, the people V had at his throat now were still bigger than anything he’d ever had to face before. What difference could he make that wasn’t to V’s disadvantage?

They walked down the hallway in silence, V’s arm still around Kerry’s shoulders, and when they turned the corner and the elevators came into sight, one of them was just in the process of arriving. A familiar blue pompadour appeared behind doors sliding open, and Kerry rolled his eyes so hard, he feared he’d dislocated them for a moment.

“Ah, Kerry, I… we’re in a bit of a pickle…” Lee announced loudly, then his eyes fell on V and went wide for a second and he hesitated. Maybe he was really a bit scared of him.

“Is this about the fuckin’ Crystal Palace again because I swear - …” Kerry muttered when Lee approached them quickly, a datapad in his hands.

“No… ah, it’s actually good you’re both here. We have a little publicity problem… And we need to come up with a plan of action, quickly,” he said, voice hushed as he urgently gestured them to step to the edge of the hallway.

Kerry frowned as Lee handed him the datapad. He didn’t know what to even expect. Maybe a paparazzi had taken a picture of Kerry picking his nose in public, and Lee was blowing it completely out of proportion. Instead, a video file was opened on the pad, and Kerry needed a moment to even make sense of what he was seeing. Dashcam footage from the middle of a traffic jam? V was looking at the screen somewhat puzzled, too.

“That’s Little China…” he noted right when Kerry tapped on “play”.

The sound quality of the video was subpar, the images slightly pixelated. Break lights flashed, the driver of the car immediately ahead of the one which was being recorded from honked angrily. Kerry could only just make out what sounded like an NCPD announcement via loudspeaker in the distance.

“Please turn around, the road is blocked!”

Realization hit him like a truck, and in the next moment he watched himself jump out of his own car a little further ahead, absolutely frantic because he’d just arrived at the site of V’s accident. Only now he noticed the timestamp from a few days ago in the corner of the clip.

“Sir, stay in your vehicle!” a woman yelled, and the operator of the camera mumbled something – it sounded like they’d edited out their own voice in an attempt to obscure their identity before surely sending this little clip to the highest bidding media jerk. The camera jittered and was moved from its mounted position, zooming in on Kerry at the police cordon where he continued to yell at a young cop to a point where she pulled out her gun. He barely remembered the whole situation, let alone what he’d said or done, half fearing he’d been caught on camera punching her. He watched the scene play out half in trance, an older badge resolving everything peacefully rather quickly though. The video ended with him getting back into his car and speeding off.

Kerry looked up at Lee, who took the datapad, tapped around on it for a few seconds, then gave it back to him. He had opened a variety of articles across all the usual screamsheets and news networks.

“It’s bad it’s… everywhere already,” he said, “I think… the best next step might be releasing a statement? Deny some of the worst accusations at the very least, to minimize damage to your image…”

Lee rambled on, but Kerry didn’t even bother listening. His eyes were glued to the datapad. Article titles ranged from journalism classics like “Road-Rage Rockstar” to ones lacking all sense of creativity, like “Eurodyne unhinged about mystery lover?”. Opinions seemed divided about whether or not he must’ve been high out of his mind or not, and the reasons for him freaking out at the roadblock in the first place. Kerry scrolled through the tabs, encountered rankings and collections of the most unflattering screenshots taken from the clip, saw remixes of it in the making, detailed analyses of everything he presumably said, and the hundreds of comments already accumulating under all of it. Some were bored, some confused, some even sympathetic. But his eyes most lingered on the ones mocking him.

Suddenly, and with gentle force, V took the datapad from him, turned it off, and handed it back to Lee without a word. He put his arm back around Kerry, pulling him a little closer.

“What kinda manager are you even?” V then asked sharply at Lee’s puzzled expression.

“I, uh…” Lee stammered.

“Thought so,” V interrupted him once more, voice and eyes stone cold, “How come this even got so bad? You can’t tell me all these articles popped up within the last 5 minutes. That first video alone was uploaded hours ago. Right then and there you should’ve gotten your ass up and requested a takedown, a media blackout at the very least, used the fuckin’ connections you surely have. That’s your job! Not come running to us like a dog with its tail between its legs because it crapped on the carpet again and doesn’t know what to do now. What were you doing when all this happened, huh? Whose ass were you stuck in all the way down to your shoulders about stupid merch while some assholes spread the vilest lies about the fucking talented artist you signed? Whose reputation and wellbeing you should be takin’ care of? What are you being paid for?”

Lee stared at V with wide eyes and gaping mouth for a solid ten seconds, at the very least. Kerry stared as well, but his face was flushed and… had his pants gotten tighter all of a sudden? V could be fucking scary if he wanted to, and it was sexy as hell… So much so that at least for a moment Kerry actually managed to forget what they were talking about, the mountain of media-shit currently broiling outside this building’s walls.

“I, uh… I’m so sorry, I’ll…,” was all Lee managed to sputter before he stumbled back towards the elevators, pulling out his phone already to frantically call his higher ups.

V huffed angrily.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Then he turned to Kerry, and his expression immediately softened. He kissed Kerry’s forehead before pulling him into a proper hug, and Kerry just let it happen, closing his arms around him slowly.

His thoughts were racing, lingering on the fact that V had seen him now in a moment so desperate and helpless… that fuck knows how many more people had, too, and all the media bullshit that was surely to follow. The rumor mill was already running at full speed about their “secretive” relationship anyway.

Not that they kept it secret on purpose. They weren’t hiding, just keeping a low profile, because Kerry had been through all of this with Louise over and over. It had been a nightmare to always play the happy couple, especially when behind closed doors…

With their current uncertainty about so many things it didn’t feel like the right moment yet. Dealing with the media vultures tearing into their private life would just be another stressor, one they could actually avoid. Kerry wanted to go public badly, wanted to scream his love for V from the rooftops, because he made him so fucking happy. But as long as they kept somewhat quiet about it all, he’d have V all to himself still, for a little while longer… for as long as he’d still have him at all.

And V, well… he was a rather private person in general, for safety reasons mostly, or so he said. He also didn’t want to hide or keep their love a secret forever, had reassured him over and over that he wanted to be a part of Kerry’s public life when the time was right – still working on the Crystal Palace heist in secret at the time. In hindsight his reluctance then made sense now, had something gone wrong, himself not even fully in the know about what Mr. B had wanted him to do. But Kerry sometimes doubted if maybe there wasn’t more to his current reluctance than his justified worries about their future and what “officially” sleeping with the King of the Afterlife might do to Kerry’s reputation.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Kerry…” V whispered. His voice had done a full 180 as soon as Lee was out of earshot, quiet and gentle again now. It was a little jarring occasionally, the contrast between the icy ex-corpo and his soft and caring mainline.

“What for?” Kerry then asked, trying his best not to sound too upset about the whole ordeal.

“Everythin’…” V mumbled, head resting on his shoulder now, “That I worry you so much all the time, I… had no idea that... That you were there.”

Kerry shuddered. Right… he hadn’t told V he’d almost witnessed the accident. Why would he, it hadn’t mattered. All that had was that V had made it out of there alive.

“And then having to deal with this dipshit on top of it all...” V added, a little bit of anger flaring up in his tone again after all.

“Well, the dipshit is only partly your fault at least, so, apology accepted,” Kerry tried to joke to ease the tension, and V laughed weakly.

He leaned back to look Kerry in the eyes again, brushing his fingers through his hair with a gentleness that Kerry still struggled to process most days. How V touched him so softly, looked at him with an adoration as if he was the sun and he’d just laid eyes upon it for the first time in his life. And then he could turn around and tear a guy to shreds just with his words, without as much as blinking.

“Wanna go home and watch a movie?” V asked, leaving the dreaded ‘are you okay?’ unspoken while still acknowledging the situation, that Kerry needed something to take his mind off of this. But Kerry had another idea. He couldn’t help himself but kiss V, long and deep. His lips lingered, as did his arms around V’s shoulders.

“V…,” he said quietly against his mouth, “Let me fight for you the way you fight for me. Just this once.”

V’s shoulders tensed up for a moment, the tiniest noise escaped his throat, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Or stopped himself just in time.

“Please,” Kerry begged and kissed him again, more intensely now, sucking on his bottom lip, tugging at his piercing with his teeth. V’s eyes were closed and then he slumped forward with a shudder, his forehead coming to a rest against Kerry’s.

“Okay…” he whispered, voice shaking just slightly. It wasn’t much, but that was to be expected. Kerry would take it though, without hesitation.

He grabbed V by the collar of his jacket, eliciting a little gasp from him at the sudden force, as he pushed him towards the elevators, the doors sliding open as they approached. By the time they were inside, pressed against the back wall and the doors closed again behind them, Kerry had already undone V’s belt. Sloppily kissing him the whole time, their little moans and gasps drowned out all other noises. As the elevator began descending to the parking garage, so did Kerry. He got on his knees in front of V and pulled his pants and underwear down just far enough to cup his naked ass with his hands, mouth closing around his already hard and swollen clit.

“Shit, Kerry, what the fuck…” V gasped, voice heavy with desire, his fingers curling into Kerry’s hair, pulling first, then guiding his head, his movements. Kerry’s thoughts wandered back to their evening on the yacht briefly, the same thrill and excitement he’d felt then. How alive he’d felt for the first time in a long time ever since V had walked into his life.

His tongue still circling and teasing, never breaking contact to the hot, soft, salty, he looked up at V, breathing heavily, face red, eyes dark and hooded. He wasn’t easy to fluster, but this did the trick every time. Kerry groaned against V’s skin, sliding his tongue further back, licking him up, devouring him, and V’s whole body shuddered as he moaned with pleasure, things trembling and knees almost giving in.

With an electronic “ding” the elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and Kerry got back up, tongue trailing across V’s stomach in the process. He helped V to haphazardly pull up his pants, really just high enough to be able to walk, then he grabbed his hand and they half-jogged across the huge parking garage towards Kerry’s car.

“Passenger side,” V directed him, their eyes met briefly, and they couldn’t help but snicker at an incident a while ago where they’d tried to do it on the driver’s seat and kept bumping against the horn. For some miracle reason that hadn’t ended up in the screamsheets, despite the car being parked near a high-end restaurant they’d spent the evening at. Their last proper date night Kerry remembered, and it felt like it had happened ages ago already.

The passenger side door swung open and now V was the one to push Kerry inside, onto the decadent black and gold leather seat.

“Make me forget my own name,” Kerry pleaded, legs spread, reaching up to grab V’s chin, brushing his thumb across his lips. V smiled, wickedly almost, and it made Kerry’s dick throb in protest about still being confined to his too-tight jeans. But V was already down on his knees now, about to deliver him the relief he was yearning for.

“Ah fuck…” V cursed under his breath, struggling with just one hand to undo Kerry’s belt, and so Kerry helped him, yanked his pants down and his cock sprung free.

“Well, hello there,” V chuckled, and Kerry wanted to say something in response, but his words turned into gibberish when V took him into his mouth without hesitation.

What they did here was all manners of risky. V kneeling beside Kerry’s very recognizable car, naked ass hanging over the waistband of his pants. They weren’t even parked in a dark and quiet corner, no, pretty much in the middle of the parking garage instead. Anyone could come in at any moment, from all directions. Not really the smartest thing to do after what had just transpired, was still going on – and Kerry doubted Lee was capable of fixing it.

But also, all sense and reason was out the window, at least for this moment. Kerry didn’t want to think about it anymore, least of all about Lee’s incompetence. All that he wanted in his thoughts was V, his tongue, his soft lips, hot mouth…

“Vince…” he groaned, the wet sounds of V sucking him off so good must’ve echoed through the whole garage. V took Kerry in so well, so deep, it was driving him crazy. Kerry didn’t even try to hold himself back, little moans kept escaping his lips, the melody to the song of their lovemaking. V kept up a steady rhythm, now and then looking up at Kerry, and whenever their eyes met it only added to Kerry’s arousal. V had begun to touch himself, occasionally moaning quietly as well, the vibration of his voice translating onto Kerry’s dick, and it was almost too much to bear. Kerry buried his hands in V’s hair and then urged him to stop before he was too far gone, balancing at the edge of his climax already.

“Not yet… Come here,” he panted, his own voice sounded strange and distant, and his dick popped out of V’s mouth, leaving a thin, glistening trail of saliva and precum on his chin. Kerry pulled V into a messy kiss, tasting himself on V’s tongue, let his hands trail along his lover’s lean body, bruised muscles twitching under the lightest touch. His fingers found their way between V’s legs and fuck, he was dripping with lust… V shuddered at the touch, back arching, pushing himself against Kerry’s chest and fingers. Kerry slid into the passenger seat properly now, dragged V inside with him, and the car door closed, giving them some privacy finally, but also limiting their range of movement drastically. V straddled Kerry’s lap with some difficulty. The anticipation was torturous, for both of them.

“Fuck, you gotta… I can’t…,” V groaned in frustration, needing his healthy hand to hold on to Kerry for balance, while struggling to get his pants down to his ankles and out of the way. Kerry kissed V’s throat as he firmly placed his hands on his hips and guided him down onto his cock. V’s breath hitched, he groaned as Kerry slid into him, and Kerry whimpered, the wet, pulsating warmth pulling him in.

“Fuck… ya feel so good around me,” he whispered, his head falling against V’s chest, his hands still on his waist, slowly gliding upwards under his t-shirt, caressing, then lightly scratching his goosebumps-covered skin. V gulped, breath still shaky as he adjusted his position until he was comfortable on the seat way too narrow for this exercise. A severe oversight from the designers.

V started grinding against Kerry, pace slowly increasing again until the whole car was moving with them. Kerry’s fingers dug into V’s flesh, and V winced, burying his face in Kerry’s hair. His arms were wrapped around Kerry’s shoulders, his hips rolling, he clenched around Kerry with every move. Kerry moaned at how good this made him feel, how even in this tiny space fucking Vince was more like dancing with him. Both of them following and in the lead simultaneously, perfectly matching each other’s movements, meeting in the middle, hitting all the right spots with perfect timing, every time…

“Cum in me, please,” V begged, and with that it was over for Kerry. His head fell back as his vision blurred with stars, all muscles in his body tensing up for a moment as he climaxed. For a few seconds he lost all sensation in his arms and legs, his head was wonderfully empty, heavy, grunting as his hips bucked upwards meeting V’s without even thinking about it. He somewhat regained his composure just in time to watch V close his eyes, bite his lip, and rock himself to completion on his dick. V slumped forward, breathing heavily, kissing Kerry’s neck lazily and Kerry held him close. Basking in his scent, his radiance, V’s breathing and little gasps were like music reminding Kerry of home. Slowly they swayed to a hold, just resting against each other to catch their breath again.

“Still know who you are?” V asked after a few moments, still panting slightly, and Kerry laughed softly.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he sighed, running one hand through V’s hair, lingering at the nape of his neck, fingers curling in the slightly longer strands there. His own little corpo-rat, including the tail, he thought with a smile.

“Dammit… remind me to put one of my straps into the glovebox when we’re home. Gotta try that next time.”

Kerry chuckled, and so did V.

“I love you, Kerry.”

“Love ya, too.”

V sighed heavily, somewhat unwilling to move it seemed, fitting into Kerry’s shape so comfortably. Only with reluctance he got up as far as he could without hitting his head, slowly, and gasped and shuddered once more when Kerry slipped out of him. He leaned over again for another quick kiss before unlocking the passenger door and beginning to scramble out of the car. He almost ended up falling out with his pants half-restraining his movement still.

He cursed when Kerry caught him only just in time.

“This just in, man murdered by his own pants,” Kerry laughed, and then they both giggled at how inelegant this whole experience was, with legs still shaky, half-undressed, hair messy, and both of them red-faced and sweaty and very visibly still reeling from the exertion and post-orgasm-high.

V finally stumbled to his feet and out of the car, pulled his pants back up as best as he could with one hand. Kerry did the same but didn’t bother getting out or even up. V turned back around, giving up on trying to close his belt as he leaned against the open car door with his left shoulder, flinching and adjusting his posture slightly. With his right hand he reached over and brushed some stray hairs out of Kerry’s face.

“Gorgeous,” he mused quietly, thumb trailing down Kerry’s cheek, following his fashionware. Kerry smiled with some reluctance, reaching up to take V’s hand and pressed a short kiss on his palm. He didn’t let go and looked up at him.

“I meant it, earlier,” he then said, “Lemme go with you to face these fuckers.”

V’s head slumped against the roof of the car with a soft thud, he looked away, then back at Kerry, then away again.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly, “If they’re up to no good. If they see you as a threat. For whatever reason, really.”

“I can handle myself,” Kerry reassured him.

“I promised you something, remember?” V slowly said, thumb circling Kerry’s knuckles, playing with one of his rings, “I’d protect you from yourself.”

“You’re doing that already, more than enough,” Kerry said, sternly, but his heart ached at the same time at how serious V was taking this little promise, given a long time ago in a moment of emotional vulnerability.

How often had Kerry been told and reassured that a significant other or friend or other acquaintance would always be there for him… only to be dropped whenever he became too much of an inconvenience, relapsed one too many times, or inevitably fucked something else up again. Sure, even V had not always been able to be there physically when he needed him, he’d messed up, forgotten stuff, but never anything that truly mattered. And he sure as hell made up for his shortcomings every single time, sooner or later. He treated even the smallest promises with a sincerity that almost felt out of place for Night City. Kerry had seen and lived through so much, but this level of honest devotion without ulterior motives was something he’d still have to learn to navigate, that sometimes was almost a little too much to bear. Something he didn’t really feel worthy of.

“You can’t protect me from everythin’ forever though,” he then said decidedly, “You gotta let me make my own decisions still.”

“I know,” V said quietly, “Sorry… didn’t wanna seem patronizing. Or like I didn’t wanna have you around. I do. I’m just… dunno. Y’know. Everything.”

He shrugged.

“All good,” Kerry clutched V’s hand a little tighter, “But sure as hell wouldn’t hurt if we talked ‘bout this a bit more openly. If you’d relax a bit more. Y’know, I’m not that fragile.”

V looked back up at him finally, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” he nodded, but then his eyes drifted away again.

“Please,” Kerry repeated his plea from earlier, “Let me come with you. Protect each other through this, and everythin’ to come.”

V’s eyes seemed anchored to the ground, head still resting against the frame of the car, back against the open door. Then he slowly stood up straight again and took a deep breath, not letting go of Kerry’s hand still.

“Y’know, didn’t think I’d ever be this scared of something again, with all that happened,” he said, “But I’m actually terrified of goin’ there.”

“Me too,” Kerry said without even thinking, but it was true.

There was a little glint in V’s eyes.

“Don’t even know what to do with myself. Not even sure if it’s the anticipation… or the unknown. Or knowing that, whatever it is, could be either a huge chance or the biggest letdown so far,” V said, swaying back and forth. If their fingers weren’t entangled, he’d surely be pacing along the whole length of the garage already.

“Can do somethin’ ‘bout some of these worries at least though,” Kerry said, and now he got up and out of the car as well. He reached out to cup V’s face to stop him from looking around, from swaying, give him something to focus on.

“Let’s just go. Right now. No more overthinkin’,” he said, “We have the address, let’s fuckin’ do it.”

V’s eyes were wide, he was frowning slightly, as if it had never occurred to him to just go there right now, without hours or days of preparation first. He looked away briefly, seemed to consider it. Then he looked back at Kerry.

“Not with your car. Let’s switch it out with one of mine,” he said, and Kerry’s heart skipped a beat, with excitement or even more anxiety, he couldn’t quite tell.

“Okay, then let’s fuckin’ go,” Kerry spurred him on, gently dragging him back towards the car.

“And… I wanna change real quick, maybe shower…” V added, hissing and flinching in pain, and Kerry helped him into the seat, slowly and carefully now.

“And knock myself out with pain killers…” V added under his breath.

“Honestly, it’d be a power move. Walkin’ in there full of my cum,” Kerry said flatly, in an attempt to ease the tension, and V snorted.

“Just sayin’… you asked for it,” Kerry grinned, and V grabbed him by the collar, pulled him down and kissed him, bit his lip with just enough force for it to sting, but not be unbearable. Kerry pulled away slightly, licked his lips, but V didn’t let go of his t-shirt just yet.

“Let’s just go,” he said, “Before I get the chance to change my mind again.”

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

I promised more action last chapter and well... the guys surely delivered, although not the kind of action I had planned for. Since they can't possibly have sex again while walking into the elusive secret lab though, next chapter they'll finally discover what (if anything at all) Mr. B has planned for saving V... Thanks so much for reading and following along <3

Requested Fic Update Tags:

@humberg @r3d-f0x-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @projectdanse @kharonion @genocidalfetus @seeker-of-truth <3

If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!

If you do not want to receive further notifications, shoot me a quick DM and I’ll take you off the list again!

#cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne x v #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cyberpunk fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #otp: to bad decisions #vincent ezaki #my writing #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #love is stored in the olive jar #*drops some smut on your dash on this fine friday morning*

40 notes · View notes

sadik165 · 6 months ago

Text

Tips For Choosing The Right Cigarette Equipment Supplier

When it comes to cigarette manufacturing, choosing the right supplier for your equipment is crucial. The efficiency, reliability, and quality of your production, including processes involving cigarette wrapping machines, depend significantly on this decision. With numerous suppliers in the market, finding one that aligns with your needs can be overwhelming. This guide highlights key considerations to help you make an informed choice, ensuring that the supplier you select enhances your production capabilities and supports your business growth effectively.

1. Assess Your Business Needs

Before reaching out to suppliers, start by identifying your specific requirements. Do you need high-capacity machinery for large-scale production or smaller, versatile equipment for custom products? Consider the type of cigarettes you’ll produce, the speed you require, and any unique features like eco-friendly operations. Knowing your needs will narrow down your options and ensure you’re not paying for unnecessary capabilities.

2. Research Supplier Reputation

A supplier’s reputation reflects their reliability and product quality, especially for cigarette machinery spare parts. Seek reviews, testimonials, and case studies from similar businesses. Ensure they have experience in your industry. A well-established supplier with a proven track record is a safer and more dependable choice for long-term success.

3. Evaluate The Technology Offered

The cigarette manufacturing industry is evolving, with automation and digital technologies playing an increasingly significant role. Ensure the supplier offers modern, efficient, and technologically advanced equipment. Features like automated quality control, easy integration with existing systems, and user-friendly interfaces can boost productivity and reduce operational challenges.

4. Focus On After-Sales Support

Even the best machinery, like an automatic cigarette rolling machine, can face issues, making after-sales support essential. Opt for a supplier offering excellent customer service, quick response times, spare parts availability, and maintenance support. Also, inquire about warranties and staff training to ensure smooth operation and long-term equipment efficiency.

5. Consider Cost And Value

Although cost is a key factor, it should not be the sole consideration in your decision-making process. Analyze the long-term value of the equipment, including its durability, efficiency, and energy consumption. Sometimes, investing in slightly more expensive machinery can save you money in the long run through reduced downtime and maintenance costs.

6. Compliance With Industry Standards

Make sure the equipment adheres to industry regulations and meets all required safety standards. reliable supplier will have certifications to back up the quality and safety of their products. This ensures smoother operations and avoids potential legal or regulatory issues.

7. Seek Customization Options

Your business might have unique needs that off-the-shelf equipment cannot fulfill. Opt for a supplier who offers customization options, allowing you to tailor the machinery to your specifications.

Conclusion

Choosing the best supplier for cigarette manufacturing equipment involves assessing your needs, technology, and after-sales support. Today, companies like Budhan offer diverse equipment, including automatic cigarette-making machines and automatic box-packing machines, catering to modern manufacturing trends. Such suppliers provide comprehensive solutions that ensure efficient production and seamless packaging, making them valuable partners for business growth. Carefully evaluating such offerings helps establish a successful, long-term partnership with the right supplier.

#cigarette machinery spare parts #automatic cigarette rolling machine #cigarette wrapping machines

2 notes · View notes

etherealvoidechoes · 10 months ago

Text

Dinner Offer: Coasting Gigs - Pt. 1 of ???

Goro eventually takes Varsha up on her dinner offer sometime after the warehouse infiltration. After having the twins help decipher and clear up his misinterpretation of her texts from that night.

Well, I've been sitting on this for a bit and finally feel like I can post it. Maybe a 3 to 4 parter, not sure yet with how chapter 3 is slowly coming together. Hopefully, the characterization isn't too far off. Need to give the game another go for the other lifepaths.

Ao3 || Fic Wiki Hub

1(You are here)||2||3||

Appox. 4.6k

------------------------

Goro’s brows furrowed, knitting tightly together as he scrolled through his phone, searching for the “note” app to double-check some information for future endeavors. “››Infernal device…‹‹” He cursed under his breath for the fifth time as his quick fingers accidentally activated another app he did not want. How he missed the phone and the familiar interfaces he once used. With a mere thought, he would have what he wanted instead of aimlessly searching like a toddler.

“Hm?” He felt and heard that familiar ping of an established hidden connection in his modified Internal Agent before seeing an equally familiar icon take over the screen before a button press would transfer it to his internal hud. A portrait of Vargus’ face — the right side obscured by stylistic smoke billowing from an elegant cigarette holder held by two fingers. Goro’s cyber eyes lit up orange as he looked up and out from his windmill perch. “More targets incoming, I assume?”

It had been a few days since Goro and his unlikely former Corpo compatriots had infiltrated the warehouse where the Arasaka parade floats were being stored and infected the target float with the malware.

Today, he was assisting the twins in a gig they got from Fixer Dakota. More or so, the twins roped him into joining them when they overheard him mumbling about needing more cash so he could procure some more gear before the parade happened after a quick meet-up.

At first, he declined, partially him still being cautious with his fugitive status and then he didn’t want to get roped into the possible shenanigans they would be getting into in the Badlands. But the cut they offered — half paper, half digital — made his judgment wain just enough. And it wasn’t the first time they had managed to do so.

“Heh, yes’em!” Vargus softly laughed. “Eyes up, Goro. More Wraiths coming in hot. More to dust.”

Goro set his phone down on the grating before lifting the Techtronika SPT32 Grad sniper rifle, one the twins let him borrow, from his lap. Military training kicked. Good habits to always have. Magazine check first. Still a fresh one he had swapped to once the first round of their business was done. Black-tipped armor-piercing rounds greeted his eyes. Then the chamber. Loaded, locked, and ready to fire. Repositioning himself, raising his left knee higher than the other before placing his left arm on top of it and nestling the rifle in the crook of his elbow. Lowering his head and raising the scope to his face, he scanned that parched landscape around the Wraith camp they had wiped out 15 minutes earlier.

Towards the southeast, he spotted a massive dust cloud rapidly charging their way.

“Hm.” How many this time? His finger gently turned the dial, feeling each subtle click until it reached the infrared vision. “A convoy of ten vehicles from the southeast. Rapidly closing in on our location.” He relayed to Vargus.

“Got four more coming from the west.” Vargus said. “Oh ho! They ain’t happy about losing this catch. Time to zero these fools.”

Shots rang out. An explosion followed by the sound of metal grinding and twisting in the distance.

“Mhm.” He nodded. He steadied his aim on the lead car. Lining up those crosshairs to the driver’s head. “How much time does Višnja still have?”

Another familiar ping rang in Goro’s head. This time, he saw the ID appear in the corner of his vision. A sleepy cartoon bat with massive ears and connection cables crisscrossing over it like a spider’s web. That portrait was quickly replaced with Višnja’s and that concentrated hacker face — scrunched brows and bitten lip — he had come to learn.

“Secured the important data slates and caches, but still digging through this ICE of these kleptoid deckheads.” A second caller window opened, showing the inside of the garage she was currently in. It was a pig’s sty. Various boxes and containers were strung about, as well as half-eaten, near rotting food. Fresh and dried-up blood stains were splattered across almost every surface. The people of interest were in a nearby bath — with barely a hint of ice floating — with a mass of cables weaving back and forth between them and the nearby servers.

Višnja’s fingers rapidly tapped away at a console as her eyes glanced back and forth between the two net runners and the monitor. A low rumble of a growl entered her voice. “Gonks really had to make their rescue harder with some of these daemons they have set up.”

“Hm.” Goro pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. Two shots rang out. One for the driver, another for the engine block. Seconds later, that silhouette of the driver slumped over the steering wheel. The car took a hard left, careening into another vehicle before the two crashed into a boulder. “Is the option of ‘delta-ing’, to leave these two overzealous fools to their fate still available?”

“Yeah.” Višnja answered. “But…”

“But?”

“We get more eddies if we bring ‘em back alive.” And extra money was always nice. A second later, she cursed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! What do you mean there’s another layer!?”

“Told ya, ya should’ve asked Varsh to lend over Chroma, batsy.” Her brother butted in. “That spunky AI would be done lickity split compared to you, slowpoke.”

“Can it, Varg or I’ll shut your brain off for a week!”

“Nuh uh, feedback will knock you out, too.”

Their squabbling continued into more name-calling. Like most siblings would do.

A soft chuckle left Goro’s lips. Though he could find the young ones’ conversations grating at times, he did enjoy the sibling squabbles they would get into from time to time. Something refreshing for the pressing times. It reminded him of childhood friends. And to think he was slowly considering the two to be entering that territory.

“Think you two kids can save your sibling ‘love’ for ‘nother time?” Johnny’s voice joined the call. “Gonna get flatlined with all the distractions.”

The twins; squabbling stopped like a bullet drop. “Shut it, Johnny.” They spoke in unison.

A snort slipped from Goro’s lips. How that construct could make everyone laser focus to shut him up. It was strange hearing the voice of that dead man when they linked their Agents like this.

It was strangely alluring, as a few times he couldn’t help but pick at the “samurai’s” brain when they all would meet to discuss future plants. More often, Goro would make disparaging comments due to the terrorist’s vexing, often vulgar comments. Loose lips and barely a filter Silverhand had. But it was also a constant reminder of that every pressing time limit. Varsha’s mind would be overwritten by the construct’s or outright killed from the information they receiving from Hellman. Then the potential brain-damaging feedback the twins were receiving the longer they had their neural oscillation synchronizer linked to Varsha’s systems.

Each Relic malfunction was bringing all of them closer to the grave.

Goro fired several more shots, causing four more cars to crash, but the others, looked like they had reinforced windshields and hoods. “Hm.” He grumbled, tugging on his collar. He would have to deal with them once they arrived. His free hand went down and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his sweat-soaked shirt.

“››Blasted heat.‹‹” Muttering, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Update on our situation. Four vehicles are closing in on your position, Višnja. Mere seconds away. The other vehicles are disabled, but some of their occupants still live. Those that can walk and wield weapons are making their way here on foot.”

“I’ll engage them.” Vargus said. “Deal with the others and want to see what my new spine can do. Doc Roth let’s see how good your daughter’s work is.”

“Hey, didn’ V tell you to be careful with that new Sandy of yours with the whole ‘potentially catastrophic’ feedback from you and ya sis’ synchro horn things?” Johnny interjected. Though he usually sounded dismissive, this time he sounded genuinely concerned.

“Doc Roth, Mithra, Višnja, and I fixed up some limiters and warnings. We good.” Vargus said, confidently. “Goro, you can provide me support, but focus on those stragglers.”

“Affirmative.” Goro responded. Pulling away from his rifle for a moment, his eyes darted over to the windmill Vargus had made his perch.

Eyes zooming in, he saw him holstering his rifle on his back before pulling out a knife and revolver. The next second, he jumped over the railing and landed on the ground below with a hard thud. The fabric of his pants flared out, most likely in response to the sections of his cyber legs flaring out in response to the impact. Raising himself up, he broke out into a blur of a sprint towards their enemies.

Goro shook his head. “Insane.” A bold move to only use those weapons against dangerous odds.

Goro shifted his focus back to the vehicles he had disabled earlier and made quick work of the ones pulling themselves out of the wreckage and the others moving on foot towards the camp.

“Hot damn! They don’t know what hit ‘em!” Johnny exclaimed.

With them taken care of, Goro shifted his focus over to where Vargus was once he heard Silverhand’s excitement. The construct was right. He barely had to provide support for the cocky edgerunner. Even with partially reactivated(jailbroken) cyberware, his mind could barely process the speeds Vargus was moving at. Strategically activating his Sandevistan in short bursts, Vargus was a blur dancing across the battleground. One second he was plunging his blade handle deep into the neck of a startled Wraith.

Next, like a flickering flame, he appeared behind each individual in another group, placing the barrel of his revolver to their heads mouthing “bang” as he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, as he quickly moved on to sink his blade into the gut of one with a machete that tried to sneak up on him.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

Goro heard the delayed shots. Blood, brain, and bones flew. The bodies dropped. Vargus was wearing a cheshire grin that grew wider as he repeated the cycle of violence against the rest.

The engagement barely lasted for a few more minutes before the desert grew quiet once more.

“Whoo! Mithra’s got miracle hands. That is ex-hil-arating.” Vargus was pulling his knife free from the last Wraith, having to give it a firm pull with how deep he buried it in their skull. Blade free, he wiped the blood and brain matter against the dead’s shirt before gently sliding the blade against his black fingernails. A few ribbons of the polish rolled up against the wicked sharp edge. “Hun’dred miles better than my old chrome spine.”

“Don’ let it get to your head, kid.” Johnny said.

Feeling an unexpected “heavyweight” dig into his back shoulder blade, Vargus lurched forward. Gritting his teeth, his head snapped around, eyes nearly closed tight in a glare. No one was there. To the visible eye, that was. “Oh? Gonna be a killjoy now? Thought you liked being gung ho? A little reckless?”

“The construct is right.” Goro said, agreeing with Silverhand. That made Johnny laugh with surprise. “One should not lose oneself to the dangers of bloodlust in the heat of battle. Keep your senses sharp.”

“The ronin and terrorist agreeing? Hell’s getting colder…” Vargus grumbled.

There was probably a smirk on Johnny’s face, even more so with Goro agreeing with him. “Kinda am in a kill joy mood ’n’ making sure you ain’t going cyberpsycho.”

“I ain’t hexed. Ain’t that chromed.” He rolled his eyes. He took a step forward, letting Johnny “fall” before rolling his shoulder. “No plans to be, ever.”

Johnny made a halfhearted “aaaaaah” and “oof”.

Goro continued to scan the landscape.

The desert was still clear. No reinforcements in sight.

An excited exclamation from Višnja. “Finally!” She was beaming from ear to ear. “Cracked the ICE. Both are free. Applying the coolant since their temps are high. Get the truck, bro!”

“On it.” Vargus replied. He was off.

Hearing that, Goro began to gather all his gear before leaving his windmill perch. “Coming to assist.”

Once Vargus brought the truck around, they tossed the unconscious netrunners in the back, along with the other items they had come for. Before leaving, they made their way around camp to gather whatever weapons and gear were salvageable from the Wraiths. Just another way to secure some quick eddies unless there was something they wanted to keep for themselves.

The trip to the rendezvous was uneventful. Goro stayed in the truck (though he didn’t need to) as Višnja and Vargus did the handoff. The netrunners and items were handed over. In return, they got their eddies and some extra goodies for a job well done.

“Aaaaand your cut, choom.” Višnja sang as she entered the passenger seat. Reaching towards the back, she placed three stacks of 10,000 €$ on the middle seat. Then, her eyes glowed blue as well as the lines in her neural oscillation synchronizer implant — the horn — on the right side of her head.

Goro glanced at his phone first. A smile crossed his face as he saw those numbers in his account rise. He then picked up the stacks. Old and new bills glided against his fingers. After a few flicks, the amount matched the band. And it was more than enough for what he needed to buy.

“Thank you two, again for allowing me to join your… gig.” His mind still had some trouble comprehending some of the slang of the city.

“No, probs. We have a few more lined up and ain’t hurtn’ for the cash.” She said.

“Actually, have another gig we’re about to hit next if you’d like the join?” Vargus offered. “Deals with an annoying Maelstrom branch. They got their hands on something they shouldn’t have and the owner wants it back and doesn’t really care if half the block hears us. Says it’ll get a point across or sum’n’.”

Višnja tilted her head back and forth as she giggled. She leaned forward towards Goro, placing the side of her hand to her mouth. “That’s code for zero ‘em fools to send a message.”

“Hm.” Another gig? Goro wasn’t so sure about that. He had his money now and had some final planning he needed to do before the big day. Besides, he felt like he had been out long enough, though nobody had seen him. And the possibility of this next contract could be quite loud and bloody.

“We’ll give you a fair cut agaaaaaiiin.” Višnja playfully sang. Her wide smile soon turned into a sour sneer as her eyes focused on the empty seat next to Goro. “Oh shut it, Johnny! He deserves the cash and a bit of a break from being on the run.”

Goro stifled a chuckle. He wondered what Silverhand had said this time.

He tapped his fingers together. Another fair cut? More eddies were always nice. Maybe he could use the extra money to buy some new clothes?

“Where too?”

———————————

The trio’s next gig went on into the long night. But was another successful venture, even if they ended up more banged up due to close-quarters combat.

“››Will need to buy some new clothes. Or mend these.‹‹” Goro muttered to himself as he used his sleeve to wipe the blood dripping from his nose.

His shirt was littered with tears and holes as well as blood, synthetic blood, and other questionable viscera painted it. Feeling stray hairs tickling the sides of his face, he took a moment to fix his equally disheveled hair. A hiss slipped from his lips. Something felt off with the joints of his fingers and knuckles as they ran through his hair. There was one metalhead that snuck up on him and Višnja that he had to punch dead in their borged-up face.

Hair slightly neater, he took a look at the offending hand. At a glance, it looked fine, but moving his fingers slightly, there was an odd bend in the digits and the gaps between the knuckles were slightly off.

“››Out of joint.‹‹” A hiss shifted into grunts as he popped his dislocated knuckles back into place before flexing his fingers several times. “Ah… and may need to pay Viktor a visit to make sure there is no damage. Or maybe Dr. Rothschild, if he has an opening.”

He was waiting for the twins. Vargus was gathering up weapons and gear to strip or sell, and Višnja was turning in the gig. Feeling his phone buzz, he brought it out. Another hefty deposit of eddies in his account. Good. Since he didn’t know how long he would have to wait, he tried locating that “note” app once again. There were a few fumbles before he finally found it.

Eventually, the twins made it back. Vargus got their spoils of war loaded into the truck before he and his sister started discussing their plans for the night. Višnja gave Goro the other half of his payment.

“Yo, Goro, where do ya need us to drop you off for the night?” Vargus asked, rolling his jaw a few times. The segments to the armor plating that lined his cybernetic jaw and part of his neck flexed open and closed.

“Hm?” He glanced up from his phone. “The same place you picked me up from for the first gig.”

“Alright.”

“Unless ya wanna grab a drink and bite with us?” Višnja said. “It’s a low-key joint. Pretty preem soul-food style grub and breakfast. Waffles and fruit sound real good right now.”

Goro raised a brow, inadvertently wrinkling his nose. He had still yet to find anything in Night City that his palette found remotely palatable. Though there were a few places he was growing a soft spot for. Tom’s Dinner.

“I think, as you two say, ‘I’ll pass on that shit.’” Though he would never admit it, around the twins he let that air of sophistication wain and let their “city lingo” infiltrate his speech. “I have preparations I need to make.” His eyes winced as his body tensed. A hand went to his stomach. There was an audible rumble coming from his stomach.

“Sure about that, choom?” She grinned. He only glared in return.

“Don’t needle the old man.” Vargus nudged his sister’s arm a few times before roughly tussling her hair, which made her threaten that she’d hack his brain.

The three hopped into the vehicle and started their drive.

Goro fiddled with his phone. The talk about food brought a text conversation from the night they infiltrated the warehouse. A few taps, and he found his conversation with Varsha.

He quickly scrolled up to find their discussion from that night. A dinner offer for real food. A private dinner offer. At her place. The viper’s den. And perhaps sex? The stressful circumstances made it tempting and his mind could only imagine what she looked like under that dark emerald dress she often wore. Quite pleasing to the eye. But Varsha didn’t seem like that kind of woman.

From his observations, she was the complete opposite, especially when that one ‘associate’ of hers attempted to court her at every interaction whenever they crossed paths. She ignored every gesture, every word uttered by that silver tongue. Everything was strictly business to her. But there was always the possibility his assumptions were wrong. She was harder to read than most of the Corpos he dealt with during his service to Arasaka.

“Višnja. Vargus.” He said as he leaned forward and perched himself between the gap between the driver and passenger seat. “Can you help me decipher this message from Varsha.” He moved his phone into their view. “I am not sure I understood her offer.”

“Driving.” Vargus said.

“I got it.” Višnja was about to pluck the phone from his hand but noticed those fingers tightened. Right, trust is still tentative. She read the text.

“Let’s see, let’s see.” She read it over a few times before mumbling Varsha’s portion of the text history.

[Varsha]: What would you say to a little dinner together? Real food. I know some places that may fit your refined palette and the owners can ‘look the other way’ for you. If that doesn’t work for you, how about my place? I can order some food or cook it myself. Think you could use the company for one night. Perhaps we can get off on a better foot?

It read like Varsha. She was always generous to those she considered friends, or those who stayed on her good side.

She then read Goro’s response and Varsha’s response to that and held in a snort the best she could. Where was this old man’s brain going to misinterpret her offer for food like that?

“What’s so funny?” Vargus shot her a few glances.

“››Think the old man thought V was offering sex in exchange for dinner besides not wanting her to go through the trouble of hiding his identity and he has ‘no appropriate wear’.‹‹“ Višnja slipped over to that machine language she, her brother, and Varsha liked to converse in if they didn’t want people listening.

The car jittered for a second. Vargus’ grip tightened on the steering wheel to steady it. He bit his tongue to stifle snickers breaking through.

Goro narrowed his eyes, even more so noticing those horns of theirs pulsing softly with color. He had his suspicions about what was shared between the two, but wouldn’t press. “So, what do you think?”

“She offered you dinner.” Višnja said, pushing his phone back to him.

“And?”

“Just dinner. Nothing else, mate.”

“Are you sure?” He reread the texts again, especially his response. “Was she not offering…sex?” He almost didn’t want to say it.

“Sex? Hell no!” Vargus laughed. He slapped the steering shelf with each laugh. “Geez mate, and you said we could be fools, ya gonk.”

“Are you sure?” He just had to ask again.

“V wasn’t doing some tit for tat for dinner and sex, Goro.” Višnja shook her head, doing her best to keep her laughs at a minimum. “She’s not like that.”

He looked at the two before closing his eyes. Shaking his head, those shoulders dropped. He sighed. So he had misinterpreted her message. He felt like such an idiot.

“No hard feelings, Goro.” Višnja said. “I can somewhat see how you read it like that. V still needs to work on her people skills.”

“Really, don’t think Varsh is even interested in sex. Hell, don’t think she’s wired for it.” Vargus said. “Don’t think we’ve ever seen her with somebody since we’ve known her. Minus anything for an Op.”

“She’s not. Remember the dollhouse story she told us?” Višnja said, corners of her mouth lifting with a little sticker.

Her brother, in turn, lost his composure, breaking out into a deep laugh as he threw his head back. He was laughing so hard that his eyes glued shut; he had to pull over and wipe the tears from his eyes.

“H-her co-workers, her nosy coworkers wanted to learn about her sex life and instead witnessed a therapy season!” His fist pounded against the steering wheel.

Goro slowly tuned the twins out. He didn’t feel like he should be privy to that information. Besides, there were more important matters he needed to handle. How to apologize to Varsha for misinterpreting her offer? Perhaps he should accept it? As an apology? He was unsure. Hearing the sound of snapping fingers in front of his face brought him out of his brooding thoughts.

“Yo, Goro.” It was Vargus. Composure regained, he then motioned his thumb to the center seat. “Before I forget, check the cooler next to you. Center seat. Varsh’s got a gift for ya.”

“Shoot, I forgot about that.” Višnja said.

Goro raised a brow. He put away his phone and went to open the cooler. “A gift? Why?”

“Just open it, you’ll figure it out.”

With the cooler open, Goro spotted several things. A few drinks, a backup handgun, an assortment of boosters, and then a few turquoise bento boxes.

“Those bento boxes are for you.” Višnja said.

“Really?” He asked as he picked them up. They had some heft to them. He closed the cooler and placed them on his lap. “Why?”

“Even though you turned down V’s offer, she’s been feeling sorry for you and your refined palette. Made ya some food. Home cooked and ordered something from a friend’s restaurant.” She said.

“Her cooking is the best. Real preem, you’ll love it.” Vargus said.

“Hm…”

Goro cautiously opened the first box. What greeted his eyes was a blanket of white rice, an assortment of vegetables elegantly cut and folded into shapes, and what he could tell was a few small cuts of raw fish with vibrant red meat. Fish. Real or fake? Raising the box to his face, he took in several sniffs. He prepared himself for a questionable, if not repugnant, smell. Eyebrows raised, his eyes lit up. There was nothing but a faint oceanic smell. Perhaps it was real? His stomach growled again. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Yoooooouuuuuu’ll looooove iiiiiiiiiit.” Višnja sang again, dragging out every word to a nearly obnoxious degree.

Goro rolled his eyes. He opened the second box. His nose wrinkled not out of disgust but from the strong spices emanating from the second meal. It was nearly overpowering to his senses. There was more rice and next to it looked like reddish-brow curry and what he assumed was chicken or coconut chunks in it. His fingers found the silverware in the lid. Perhaps a taste test wouldn’t hurt? And it would silence his stomach for some time. He’d save the fish for later.

With the spoon, he carefully grabbed a portion of each piece of the meal, he finally took a bite of it. His eyes lit up, glimmering with surprise. It was all so flavorful. And the textures all felt right. The rice was light and fluffy. The chicken was firm and juicy, with the coconut only enriching its flavor. And the curry, his mind couldn’t describe it, but it was good. Nothing tasted like sawdust and plastic, and the meat wasn’t a chalky, stringy mess. He was already going for the second bite.

“The ronin likes it.” Višnja said.

“The ronin likes it.” Vargus agreed with a laugh.

Despite their Agents being disconnected, he felt a faint tickle in his ear like he could hear Silverhand joining in on their teasing. He ignored them. Best not to fall to their level. It would be foolish. He ate about half of his meal.

———————————

The rest of the ride was uneventful. The two dropped him off where they had picked him up earlier that day.

Slipping through the shadows, Goro made his way back to his safe house, not before stopping to buy some replacement clothes and ammunition. Back home, he meticulously laid out his gear and went over his plans. As he did so, he snacked on what was left of the curry meal and took a few bites of the other and was pleasantly surprised it was real fish. Salmon from what he could tell.

As he was winding down for the night, his mind drifted back to the meals and that text conversation with Varsha. He shook his head and sighed.

“I need to apologize for my swift assumptions… and thank her for her generosity, this kindness. I do not deserve it, as I have been more judgmental towards her than the twins.” He mumbled his thoughts as his hand reached for his phone. “She deeply cares for those two. How she became complicit in this foolish chaos.”

For another hour, before sleep would finally take him, he made several drafts of the potential text he would send her in the morning.

#writings #cyberpunk 2077 #cp 2077 #goro takemura #Corpo V Trio #corpo v #cyberpunk 2077 fic #Cyberpunk - A Life That Was Designed

2 notes · View notes

disco-elysium-via-polls · 2 years ago

Text

Fuck it. Let's steal more shit from Cuno's dad.

REGULAR BLACK JEANS

+1 Composure: A normal day for a normal guy

Thank god for black jeans. Everyone looks good in black jeans. Combine it with your favourite book t-shirt and a yellow plastic bag to channel that laidback 'trashbin raccoon meets a cool professor' vibe. Or do whatever you want -- it's just a pair of black jeans after all.

Finally, some good clothes. I equip these.

I also take 1.10 real.

Here there's a door that leads to the Smoker's balcony.

The breaker box is full of cigarette butts and electric wires.

0.15 real...

Just a door. Nothing for you here right now.

Someone's growing rosemary, thyme -- and a cactus.

#28 -- A door to be remembered.

This is the door to apartment #29.

This is the door to apartment #30.

Equipping the prybar allows us to open this box. There's 0.75 real inside.

Someone has drawn a five-pointed star on the wall.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - That isn't *just* a five-pointed star -- it's an inverted white pentagram cradled in a wreath of antlers. The iconography of communism, in other words.

Inspect the symbol closer.

[Disregard thought.]

ENCYCLOPEDIA - The star-and-antlers was developed in the sixth decade of the last century and quickly adopted by Mazov and the communards during the Revolution...

Even today, half a century after, the star-and-antlers retains the ability to evoke hope, disappointment, and fear in equal measure.

Why is the star upside down?

What's the deal with the antlers?

Why white?

What does it evoke in me?

[Finish thought.]

ENCYCLOPEDIA - To symbolize the toppling of the old order.

Also, some social democrats were already using it.

2. What's the deal with the antlers?

ENCYCLOPEDIA - The wreath of antlers represents a natural crown. It was about building a society that could exist in accord with the natural world -- and at the same time above it.

3. Why white?

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Because white is the colour of peace.

4. What does it evoke in me? [Finish thought.]

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Gone. Gone is the glory. Of hope, only the scribblings of impoverished students remain. In dirty hallways...

-1 Morale

PADLOCKED DOOR - This door has been closed with a padlock. A chalk-drawn number on the board says #11.

Knock.

Examine the padlock.

[Leave.]

PADLOCKED DOOR - No reply.

2. Examine the padlock.

PADLOCKED DOOR - It's a solid lump of metal, but the shackle is deeply corroded -- a solid pair of chaincutters would make short work of it.

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] - Better whip out those cutters... you won't get very far otherwise.

3. [Interfacing - Medium 10] Use the chaincutters to cut through the padlock.

May as well keep breaking into apartments. One of these has to belong to the smoker. (Also, I'm pretty sure this is the only way to get access to this one.)

INTERFACING [Medium: Failure] - What are you doing? You're trying to cut the body of the lock with the chaincutters and it's really not working.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I believe it's the *shackle* you mean to cut, detective." The lieutenant points to the corroded loop with a gloved finger.

-1 Morale

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - He's just trying to help, don't take it... bad. Relax.

"Don't you think that's what I'm *trying* to do?"

"These chaincutters are broken, Kim."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Perhaps you should give it another go?"

+1 Kim pointed out the shackle.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - The shackle snaps like a twig and the lock falls to the floor with a little thud. It should be possible to enter now...

KIM KITSURAGI - "After you, detective."

A flamboyant poster of a white star. Real lithography.

Photos of revolutionaries posing with guns.

Books of 'critical theory' on the monstrosities of capital, and such.

Revolutionaries *love* to pose with their guns.

In the chest is a jacket and a single bullet.

SAZAMIRIZIAN LOUNGE JACKET

+1 Conceptualization: Summer plans

A classic white summer jacket, loved both by the Sazamirizian Commission Party and the accompanying subtropical drug traffickers. it fits you well -- regardless of your political ambitions.

This'll look great with our black jeans. Also, it gives us a useful stat bonus.

BUST OF KRAZ MAZOV - A plaster cast bust depicts a middle-aged man with impressive sideburns. The name on the plinth reads 'Kras Mazov'.

"Why does this tenant have a bust of Kraz Mazov in their bedroom?"

"Kim, who is this Kraz Mazov?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "The white star... the photos on the wall... I think we have broken into the apartment of a young communard." He looks around, before mumbling to himself: "How fitting."

+5 XP

2. "Kim, who is this Kras Mazov?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "He's known as the father of scientific communism, also known as Mazovianism. His theories about economic history greatly influenced -- some would even say *sparked* -- the Antecentennial Revolution."

2. "Father Mazov, the hero of the working class!" (Salute the statue.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Whoever lives here definitely shares your enthusiasm." He leans closer to inspect the photos of revolutionaries on the wall.

"There aren't many communists around -- not after the Revolution. Some youths still keep the ideology going, it seems."

3. [Leave.]

Nothing else here.

There's a postcard in this box.

POSTCARD "BOOGIE STREET '46"

This crumpled up postcard depicts an open air market in Boogie Street -- 5 years ago. A vendor smiles as dead roosters line his stalls -- hung by their feet from canopy. Red blood flows onto the muddy street, blurry shadows of people pass.

LOCKED DOOR - You hear someone walking around inside, rearranging the furniture. The number on the panel says #10.

Knock.

[Leave.]

LOCKED DOOR - The walking stops abruptly, but no one comes to the door.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - You can feel tension on the other side.

Knock again.

LOCKED DOOR - This time the steps come closer. "Who is this?" demands a female voice, wary and tense.

"This is the police. Open up."

LOCKED DOOR - "Do I *have to* open the door?" You hear the clacking of heels again, as the other side walks right up to the door. Her tone is now getting a defensive edge...

"Do you have a warrant? I'm not obligated to open the door if you don't have a warrant."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Let's go," the lieutenant says, "we don't have a reason to get inside that apartment."

2. [Leave.]

The door #9 is locked.

There's also 0.25 real in a box here.

Apt #8, their mailbox is overflowing.

The graffito says: "A firing squad for the rich."

A note reads "Foreclosed by Martinaise Realty Associates."

CLEANING LADY - "Give me a moment." An elderly woman is leaning on her broom, her knuckles white as bone. She seems to be having difficulty breathing.

"The cold never does any good for my bronchitis..." She sneezes into a dirty handkerchief.

"Are you alright? Should I call a doctor?"

"This won't take long, I only have a few questions."

Let's do it later... [Leave.]

CLEANING LADY - "I'm fine, fine, don't you worry about me!" She starts coughing, red spots appearing on her cheeks.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - You're still worried. It's very worrying.

CLEANING LADY - "Now, what do you want from me, policeman?"

"Who are you?"

"I am looking for Martin Martinaise."

"I have a few questions about those apartments..."

"Thanks, I'm off." [Leave.]

CLEANING LADY - "I'm no one, just an old woman who cleans these hallways."

"Do you live here?"

CLEANING LADY - "If you can call it living..." She spits on the floor, before wiping it off with a broom. "I have a little room upstairs, right next to the coal room."

"It's barely bigger than a closet, but I don't complain, no…" She juts out her chin, eyes shining. "I have my bed and my aching bones to keep me company and that's all I need from this world."

2. "I am looking for Martin Martinaise."

CLEANING LADY - "Oh, you'll find plenty of Martins here, don't you worry!" She smiles a gap toothed smile when she hears you mention the name.

"What do you mean? I wasn't joking."

"No, you don't understand. I'm looking for a real person named Martin Martinaise. He told me he's Martin Martinaise."

CLEANING LADY - "Pea-brain, someone played a trick on you. Martin Martinaise is a name for *anyone* from Martinaise. Like Jim Jamrock or Raoul Revachol."

+5 XP

RHETORIC [Medium: Failure] - Oops... you really didn't get the joke there.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I thought it was obvious..." He stops before he offends you. "Anyway, officer. We *don't* have the witness' name."

2. "How about a young male in his mid-twenties, dark hair, skinny build? A smoker on the balcony. Know where he lives?"

CLEANING LADY - "Yes-yes. I know who you mean. The scrawny boy who's always smoking like the devil, right?" She looks at the other end of the hallway.

"What's he in trouble for?"

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #cleaning lady

12 notes · View notes

merge-conflict · 1 year ago

Text

when I run out of tense painfully emotional moments in beloved shows* to rewatch I like to hurt myself good by writing alternate thread-safe endings (long under the cut)

It’s an evening like any other evening, the winter sun sunk out of view and the neon of the city gleaming outside the penthouse windows. V pours herself a drink from the minibar, like she usually does, except today it’s her third. No matter what she does she can’t relax. Her leg aches but she can’t bear to sit, and if the alcohol doesn’t calm her restlessness she hopes it will at least dull the pain. She’s an optimist that way.

“Sure you’re up for this?” Rogue asks, raising her eyebrow as V paces behind the couch. She waves her hand in reply, pausing for a moment to take another gulp that burns all the way down her aching throat. “You don’t have to be here.”

“Yes, she does,” Johnny says, lighting a fresh cigarette. “Bailed her ass out after she was ready to leave, least she can do is be here for this.”

V bares her teeth at the back of his head, and Rogue purses her lips. “So long as you two can keep from having one of your slap fights.” She looks pointedly at V, who drains her drink. “Maybe you should sit this one out, Johnny.”

“I’m not the fucking problem here,” he snaps, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Only one person in this room is interested in sucking Arasaka dick.”

The glass shatters in V’s hand, scattering over the hardwood floor along with the ice. She shakes the pieces out of her metal joints and meets Johnny’s gaze for the first time since he’d pulled her out of that AV on the hotel roof. He knows better than anyone what she’s feeling, and resents her for it. Hates her for it. She looks away.

Her eyes are drawn to the center of the room, where Goro sits on one of the dining room chairs, wrists bound behind him. Bloody bandages cover the left side of his face, partially hidden by his hair, head bowed and eyes closed. His left knee is a mangled mess of cyberware, but his chest rises and falls steadily. Not badly wounded, all things considered. She steps over the pieces of glass and makes herself a new drink.

“What are you going to do if he doesn’t talk?” Kerry asks, breaking the heavy silence. “Torture him? Kill him?”

“No,” V says, the force of the word accompanied by a sharp pain. If she closes her eyes she can still feel the grip of Goro’s hand on her throat, the tunneled vision, the way he’d finally fucked her without care or consideration for anything else around them. She wants to crawl back into that moment, instead of facing everything that has come after.

“We’ll do what we gotta do,” Johnny says, and she narrowly avoids the temptation to throw her new glass at his head.

“V is the only one who knows enough about what’s going on at Arasaka to tell if he’s lying,” Rogue says. “I’d like to have him here. You on the other hand, I could do without. Try and keep your shit to a minimum.”

“But, V,” she adds, a little more gently. She’s not usually so kind. What does that mean that she is being kind? “It’d be better if he doesn’t know you’re here, at least to begin.”

V considers the request, which has been so carefully phrased. She wants to break something. She wants to scream. She needs to control her breathing or she’ll start to cry. Her throat aches and her leg aches, and her heart aches.

She sets down the glass and picks up the bottle, makes a half circle around the room, out of Goro’s field of view. That leaves her close to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, and she puts her back to the wall and slides down, straightening out her leg.

“I was unable to retrieve much useful data from his interface,” Alt says. “His connection with the Arasaka network has been blocked, likely as a precaution for this eventuality. I doubt you will get much out of him that V does not already know. That Arasaka risked sending him here alone could mean that they are desperate for leverage, or merely that they intended him to die. If he is an agent of deception he is an unwitting one.”

“People say all sorts of things when they’re under stress,” Rogue says. “Never know what might be useful. You ready to wake him up?”

“He is already awake,” Alt says. “He simply cannot see or hear.”

What does he sense, sitting there now? Can he feel the chill of the air conditioning on his skin? Can he feel the tension in the arid air, like the quiet before a missile strike? Can he smell the sharp tang of alcohol, the curling smoke? What is he thinking, sitting here with only the blood in his mouth to comfort him?

She licks her lips and takes a swig straight from the bottle. Every sip hurts. Everything hurts.

Rogue says, “Then let there be light.”

There’s no fanfare except for the sudden twitch of Goro’s fingers behind his back, and after a few seconds he lifts his head. From this angle V can’t see his face, but she can read the set of his shoulders and the slow clench and relax of his hands. He scans the room, noting Rogue and Johnny on the couch in front of him, finding Kerry where he leans in the doorway to the kitchen, not quite committed to being in the room. His hands ball into fists as he scans again, and she knows he's looking for her.

#* you ever find yourself unable to watch new shows because you don't know what's going to happen?#it's such an interesting challenge to write a character who can't really speak

3 notes · View notes

totentnz · 2 years ago

Text

a little something for the AU @bishicat and me have been fucking around with. essentially everything is the same but my v (viper) gets to be unhinged and without a brainworm, making viv's life just a bit more chaotic lmao enjoy!

"i'm not a chair jockey, viv." viper was clearly annoyed at the request for help with this gig. "coulda told me before what you were up to, woulda joined ya." there was a pop up in viv's user interface; access requested. johnny popped into her vision now. "don't."

it had only been a few days since v crawled from the wreck that was the arasaka tower gig and he had watched her stumble and fuck up for long enough. when he said he didnt want her dead anymore, he was telling the truth: he needed her to fix his past mistakes and she wouldnt be able to do any of it with the way things were going right now. she lost all her implants and was now living the life she had given so much to avoid. it was a fucked up stitch and he felt for her, perhaps he even appreciated her unwillingness to lie down with the fallen. they had to get through this together and two heads were better than one, especially if one was filled with hot air and pipe dreams, johnny thought.

he was sitting on a barrel next to her. though she didn't reply to him and her hesitation meant she was willing to hear him out. "don't trust the chick." he lit one of his cigarettes and took a drag. "sides, shouldn't allow any runner into ya system." he watched her, tried to grasp what was going on in her thoughts, was curious to see if she would give his words the time of day, see if she would even consider if what he was saying was true. "she's not any runner though. i trust her." the engram rolled his eyes and adjusted his position to face v. "clearly ya do but that don't mean you should." johnny was getting agitated now, how could she be so blind? within a year she was betrayed twice: first by saka, then by dex and yet she would still a person so blindly; a person going by viper of all things.

"what the fuck are you talking about? you --" their conversation was interrupted by the voice on the holo. "viv? c'mon you said this was time sensitive." this interruption pissed him off even more. she was so full of herself, thought her time was so precious, on her netrunner high horse. "sorry, giving you acess now." viv finally said and johnny would've held his breath if he had any. this could be the end, he was given a second chance at life and it would all end so quickly just because he had to wake up in a gullible gonk's skull. however, nothing did happen, yet.

"a'ight. look up for me, find a camera." viper instructed, the tone in her voice was a bit too playful however. "why are all netrunners fuckin weirdos, control freaks?" he wondered. johnny wasnt surprised when viv looked around like she was told to; what a great employee, following orders without questions.

soon multiple icons depicting a snake bearing it's fangs popped up all around her vision, meaning viper was hacking away already. it was all so fast these days, she didnt even need to be present, didnt need to be physically jacked into any port to fuck with the system. it freaked him out though v being completely unphased by it was somehow worse.

"your funeral." johnny jumped down from the barrel he sat on just to appear on one of the catwalks in the factory a few feet in the air. "you've seen my memories, you know her as well as i do! you know she can be trusted!" viv argued. "yeah, that's what worries me. how long's it been since the two of ya last spoke? 4 years? more? an' she hasnt changed a bit? 's just ready to help ya? pick up exactly where ya left off? after you abandoned her for a corp? doesnt seem likely to me." he paraded, walking up and down the metal walkway, erratically taking a drag from his cigarette after each question. "it's called friendship, johnny, know ya dont trust nobody. doesnt mean i have to." viv ducked behind one of the barrels to hide from the patrol that was making their way back into the hangar and johnny threw the cigarette bud down at them.

"place should be your playground now. doors unlocked, cameras on loop, turrets shut down." there it was again, that chick really thought she was the best runner there is, ridiculous. he was itching to give her a piece of his mind, another downside of not having vocal chords of his own.

"thanks val, owe ya one." viv replied with a smile and johnny stretched out his arms, letting himself fall off the catwalk. "on my way over there now. how're ya doin this?"

johnny appeared right in front of v now, if he had a smell she would be able to make out the cigarettes and tequila from nights past. "ya think saka just let you go? ya think they didnt send someone? after ya stole from them?" it was clear to him: arasaka would never let him go and this was the oldest trick in the book. step one: find someone from your past. step two: replace them or start to control them. step three: you are now under constant surveillance and soon they will control you too. his mind was racing now and he once again wondered how she was unable to see it.

"oh, for fuck's-- think she's a sleeper cell? sent to take me out, soon as i spill some corp secrets?" v's dismissive tone only strenghthened his belief that their friendship was an elaborate con to get to him. it had to be. "clearly your gonk ass still doesnt know what saka is capable of."

"bitch! quit talkin' to ya fuckin' hallucination!" viper yelled from the holo. v just had to tell her so called friend about their sitch huh? and viper was all too eager to believe it. sure it was true but who would believe any of this? someone who is supposed to believe it, gain her trust, clearly.

"plan 's to do this silent." v used to be good at it, doing things quietly, but now without her implants and no eddies to buy new ones things had proven to be more difficult, much to both of their frustration. only reason she called up viper for help was due to her not being able to efficently hack her way into this.

"gotcha, will stay on the call, keep me updated, yeah?" something would go south, it was just their shit luck and even if it didn't happen naturally, the runner had everything she needed to put v into an even bigger debt. "i smell a rat v." johnny said, finally disappearing for good.

#sammy says shit #sammy writes shit #johnny thinks the whole world revolves around him #as we know and love him #p; townie #au: everybody wants to rule the world #oc:v

4 notes · View notes

sparkflower-fields · 3 months ago

Text

✨Blog Introduction Post✨

Hello everyone! Welcome to my multimuse blog! My name is K.B. or KayBee, whichever you prefer! I am 25 years old and my pronouns are They/Them.

Muse List

Autobots: Bumblebee (IDW/Cyberverse) Cheetor (Cyberverse) Drift/Deadlock (IDW) First Aid (IDW) Skyfire/Jetfire (G1/IDW) Swerve (IDW) Tailgate (IDW) Optimus Prime/Orion Pax (ES/TFA/TFP/IDW/TF1) Ratchet (TFP/IDW) Rewind (IDW) Rodimus/Hot Rod (IDW/Cyberverse) Jazz (G1/IDW) Perceptor (IDW/Cyberverse)

Decepticons: Knockout (TFP/IDW/ES!AU) Megatron/D-16 (ES/IDW/TF1) Nickel (IDW) Rumble/Frenzy (G1) Starscream (IDW/Windblade/G1/TF1) Thundercracker (IDW/Skybound)

Others: Nightshade (Earthspark) Kitbasher (OC)

This blog is a roleplay blog for the Transformers fandom, featuring multimuse, multiverse and canon divergent aspects! So if something isn't quite accurate, that's okay! We are all here to have fun and write interesting narratives and to create with one another!

This blog is an 18+ blog, meaning anyone under the age of 18 is requested to not interact with any of the muses, or myself (the mun) especially in any inappropriate ways! I am willing to be kind, and interact in PG settings with younger folks, but anything more than that will earn a block. It is for your safety and my own.

If you are an adult and wish to interact with my muses in a spicy (20+ NSFT/NSFW) way, please direct your interactions to @cigarettes-after-interface that is my after dark roleplay blog!

Now, for the roleplay stuff!

Length

Typically, I roleplay longform style, with anywhere from two or three paragraphs to five or six, depending on how long the roleplay has gone on, how much my muse is involved in the scene and how detailed my partner's responses are.

Format

My preferred format is narrative style. For example: "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." Said the narrator. Though on occasion, when being silly and/or lazy I have used asterisks. (i.e. *Stick bug dance.*)

Consistency

I will always try to remain consistent in my replies, in length, format, grammar and frequency, and I would like to expect the same from others when engaging in serious roleplay (not shenanigans.) Communication is key! If I am actively roleplaying with someone, and I will be taking longer than usual to reply or will be gone for an extended period of time, I will try to let them know, and I expect the same of those who roleplay with me. Also, I will tell you in private if I am growing bored, uninspired, or uncomfortable with a roleplay, and I fully expect for you to do the same. If you don't communicate with me do not expect me to reply in the ways you want me to!

With that all being said, I know it seems daunting to speak with me, or to roleplay with me. I assure you its not! I am a very easy person to talk to and get along with, so please feel free to send my muses asks, or even shoot me a private message! If I'm busy I will get to your message eventually, I never leave messages in my inbox unread.

I hope to speak with you all and get into some fun roleplays with you all!

-Mun (aka "Kaybee")

10 notes · View notes

transformiing · 2 months ago

Note

@cigarettes-after-interface

“All you have to do is ask.”

The soft rumble of the Autobot leader’s voice filled the space between them, the air warmed from his engines.

Optimus was sat, his back against a sturdy brick wall with the human known as Hal resting on his thigh.

Optimus didn’t know much in the way of human interface. He only knew the basic mechanics of it. But he was willing to learn, if Hal was willing to teach.

The soft sparked mech scooped Hal up in his servo to be more eye level with him. Optimus had to admit, he was nervous to even proposition such a thing, but in the pursuit of education, and helping someone he cared about, he would stifle his own personal concerns over the matter and allow the human to speak for himself.

Optimus’s hesitation was, admittedly, adorable, which wasn’t really a word that often applied to him. Hal couldn’t help a fond smile. Being propositioned by Optimus goddamn Prime presented its own set of hurdles and, in turn, made Hal a little jittery as well. He huffed a nervous laugh.

“I must admit, you’ve caught me at kind of a disadvantage,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. God, those optics were intense. “I, uh, haven’t done this in a while.”

Waffling. He was waffling. But asking the commander in chief of the Autobots to please fuck me was a little daunting, dry spell or no.

“Do… you want to proceed?” he tried instead.

#//hal is a dingdong #communications (asks)#hal price (in character)#cigarettesafterinterface #not safe for werk

1 note · View note

mltw · 2 months ago

Text

Theory of One

Chapter One: The Silence Between Thoughts

It was the kind of Tuesday that barely left a footprint in the world. The sky hung pale and thin, like it had forgotten how to hold color. The air buzzed with the invisible static of human distraction — people swiping, scrolling, tapping, their minds orbiting some other place entirely.

Cael Mercer stood in line for coffee, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lost in the middle distance.

The campus café smelled of burnt espresso and laminated textbooks. Students drifted around him like particles, their conversations orbiting random subjects — AI ethics, stock tips, hookup gossip, weekend plans — the filler noise of lives held together by deadlines and distraction.

Cael didn’t join in. Small talk had always felt like a language he was never taught, and big talk never interested him much either. People called him brilliant, but always with a trace of caution — like genius was something contagious, or unstable.

When his turn came, he paid, nodded once, and took his coffee outside, settling into the routine he knew best.

Routine.

He liked routine. Routine gave his mind room to wander.

And when it wandered, it always drifted back to the same place: the silence between thoughts. That strange flicker of awareness when the world went quiet, and for a moment, it felt like something else was listening.

Cael had been a cognitive physicist for twelve years. Ten of those had been spent underground in windowless research labs, the kind funded by joint ventures where military budgets met private ambition. His work had made ripples — six papers published, three quietly classified after release. The kind of ideas too dangerous to live in public.

Now he worked at VIRE.

The name sounded harmless: Virtual Interface for Reality Exploration. It could’ve been a VR start-up, or some experimental brain-computer interface company. But the truth was stranger.

VIRE wasn’t building virtual worlds. It was mapping the real one — or rather, the ones inside us.

Their focus was on a bleeding-edge frontier called Resonance Mapping — a theory simple in its elegance, impossible in its execution. Measure consciousness not as thought, but as vibration. Track the unique quantum signature of a person’s mind, and trace where it went during dreams, deep thought... or death.

Not what people saw.

Where they went.

Most dismissed it as pseudoscience. Cael didn’t.

Because once, long ago, he had drifted.

It had started with an experiment — just a harmless neurofeedback trial. The equipment misfired. Cael collapsed mid-sentence. He was unconscious for nine days.

When he woke, he told the doctors about a city with no sky. About a language built without vowels. About a voice — deep and disembodied — that whispered:

“You’re not supposed to see this.”

He never spoke about that place again. But he never stopped trying to return.

The lab was six floors beneath the Arizona desert. No windows, no weather, no distractions. The walls were gray, the lights dimmed to reduce photonic noise. The machines hummed quietly — the heartbeat of research that tiptoed past the borders of known science.

Dr. Lena Rivas was waiting for him when he arrived. Sharp, unsentimental, practical to the bone.

“Coffee,” she said, eyeing the cup like it was a lit cigarette. “You’re supposed to be off caffeine this week.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Cael replied, taking a sip. “I’m cycling.”

“That’s not how biology works.”

Cael gestured to the console. “Run the overnight data.”

Lena sighed, but her fingers tapped the command. The screen blinked to life — waveforms scrolling like static storms. Most of them were chaotic, disordered. But one stood out. A smooth curve, spiraling inward like a song no human should be able to hear.

Lena leaned in. “That’s a harmonic curve.”

Cael nodded. “It is.”

“Whose session?”

“Mine.”

She stiffened. “We agreed. No unscheduled self-tests.”

Cael’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “It wasn’t a test. It was... a dream.”

The waveform looped endlessly, spiraling into itself like a lighthouse beam flickering through fog.

Lena stepped back, her voice quieter now. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

Cael’s gaze stayed locked on the data.

“I know.”

Cael had no family left. His parents died in a car crash when he was seventeen — the kind of event that doesn’t leave behind grief so much as emptiness. His brother, Ezra, vanished during a classified military operation years later.

The official word was missing. Cael never believed it.

He still dreamt about him sometimes — Ezra standing in the distance, just out of reach, his voice muffled, like calling through water.

His obsession with consciousness had never been academic. It was personal. Every night, in that flicker of silence before thought returned, Cael could feel it: the drift. The same impossible pull.

His notebooks were full of symbols that didn’t match any known language, coordinates that pointed to nowhere. His colleagues thought it was stress. Lena suspected some neurological glitch.

But Cael didn’t correct them.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

He had seen something real.

That night, the lab emptied. The corridors fell silent, the hum of machines the only sound.

Cael sat alone in the Null Room — the most shielded chamber in the complex — staring at the drift crown resting in his lap. The wires curled like veins. The sensors gleamed like watchful eyes.

He wasn’t planning to use it.

Not tonight.

But his fingers lingered on the cold metal, tracing its surface like a man holding a compass without knowing where north is.

The last time he’d used it unsupervised, the feedback loop had nearly burned out the coils. The tech wasn’t ready. The mind wasn’t ready.

But the question haunted him, soft and relentless:

What if the dream wasn’t a dream? What if someone — or something — was pulling him back?

He turned off the lights. The silence deepened, thick and heavy.

And beneath it, in the marrow of his thoughts, a hum.

Not in his ears. Not in the room.

But deep inside. Like a beacon, waiting to be found.

#sci fi #sci fi novels

1 note · View note

nursingwriter · 3 months ago

Text

Symptoms of Periodontitis Smoking and periodontitis Diabetes and periodontitis Diagnosis of periodontitis Types of probes Probing force and probe diameter Histopathological alteration in the periodontal tissues Bleeding on probing (BOP) refers to bleeding of the gums induced by gentle manipulation of the tissue at the depth of the gingival sulcus or at the interface between the gingival and a tooth. This is frequently accomplished by the use of a periodontal probe. BOP is a sign of inflammation of the gums and is indicative of some sort of destruction and erosion to the lining of the sulcus. Periodontal disease is a set of inflammatory diseases usually affecting the tissues that surround and support the teeth otherwise called periodontium. This disease involves progressive loss of the alveolar bone around the teeth, and without treatment it can lead to loosening and possible eventual loss of teeth. Periodontitis is caused by microorganisms adhering and growing on the tooth surface, along with an overly aggressive immune response against this microorganism. The diagnosis is through inspecting the soft gum tissues around the teeth with a probe and x-ray films and visual analysis to determine the amount of bone loss around the teeth (Lang & Tonetti, 1996). The cause of gingivitis is poor oral hygiene leading to the accumulation of mycotic and bacterial matrix at the gum line, called dental plaque. Other causes are poor nutrition and underlying medical problem such as diabetes. Finger nick tests have been approved to identify and screen patients for possible contributory causes of gum disease such as diabetes. In a number of patients, gingivitis worsens into to periodontitis. This comes about as a result of destruction of the gingival fibers; the gum tissues separate from the tooth and deepened sulcus. Sub-gingival microorganisms colonize the periodontal pockets causing advanced inflammation in the gum tissues and progressive bone loss. Another strong risk factor that could predispose one periodontitis is one's genetic susceptibility. Several conditions and diseases, such as diabetes, Down syndrome and other diseases affecting one's resistance to infection increase susceptibility to periodontitis. Another factor making periodontitis a difficult disease to study is that human host response can also affect the alveolar bone resorption. Host response to the bacteria is mainly determined by genetics, however, immune development may play a role in susceptibility (Heins & Karpinia, 1998). 1.1 Symptoms of Periodotitis Periodontitis has very few symptoms in early stages and in many individuals it goes undetected till it has significantly progressed and that is when they seek treatment. Symptoms include redness or bleeding of gums while brushing teeth or biting into hard food, gum swelling that recurs, halitosis and a persistent metallic taste in the mouth. Also gingival recession, causing apparent lengthening of teeth, deep pockets between the teeth and the gums and loose teeth, in the later stages. However, gingival inflammation and bone destruction are painless; hence, most patients assume that painless bleeding after teeth cleaning is insignificant, although this may be a symptom of progressing periodontitis. Periodontitis is associated to increased inflammation in the body indicated by raised levels of C-reactive protein and Interleukin-6 which increases the risk of stroke myocardial infarction and atherosclerosis. It also associated to those over 60 years of age to impairments in delayed memory and calculation abilities. (Heins & Karpinia,1998). 1.2 Smoking and periodontitis. Cigarette smoking has been highly associated with impaired healing of surgical wounds and related to periodontitis. (Silverstein et al., 2000). The harmful effects of cigarette smoking on the periodontal status have also been well-documented. The adverse effect of smoking in implants has been described in a study of the outcome of 2,194 implants placed in 540 subjects. The study showed that a considerably higher percentage of implant failures occurred in smokers than in non-smokers. Smokers had total implant failure rate of 11.3%, and only 4.8% of the implants failure rate in non-smokers (Chaves et al., 1993). However, limited information exists with consideration of the consistently natural occurring plaque and bleeding on probing in the oral cavity under normal oral hygiene measures. The study was to explain the distribution of tooth surfaces covered by supragingival plaque and gingival units bleeding on probing in a steady state environment of no dental interference. Also relative consistency of plaque and bleeding was studied. 65 volunteers, 14 women and 51 men ranging from the age of 19 to 30 years, participated. 33 volunteers were heavy smokers and 32 non-smokers. Clinical examinations discovered mild, plaque-induced gingivitis without clear destructive periodontitis. Within a 6-month period, occurrence and amount of plaque, calculus and gingival bleeding was site-specifically examined four times. Well-defined, symmetric and regular patterns of plaque and calculus distribution in the oral cavity were observed, which were rather the same in smokers and non-smokers. It is worth noting that smokers had uniformly more plaque in all regions of the oral cavity as compared to non-smokers. In contrast, there was no obvious pattern of bleeding on probing. Stability of observations was considerably less than for plaque scores and it was particularly true for smokers, where the relationship between bleeding scores was smaller than in non-smokers. A large part of the difference in gingival bleeding may be due to presently unknown factors other than plaque and calculus with extensive consequences for preventive program (Lang et al., 2001). 1.3 Diabetes and periodontitis Another risk factor for periodontitis is uncontrolled diabetes. So far, facts related to disease-free implant survival in diabetics is still preliminary. A one-year report of implant survival in Type II diabetics showed a 7.3% failure rate. This shows that osseointegration can be obtained in the most diabetic patients. However, the standard of a long-term prognosis of implants placed in these subjects is presently unknown. 1.4 Diagnosis of periodontitis Periodontal probing is commonly used criteria for diagnosis of gingival inflammation. Periodontal Screening and Recording (PSR), a painless procedure used to measure and determine the severity of periodontitis, where the dentist uses a mirror and a periodontal probe to measure pocket depth. The probe is held along the length of the tooth with the tip placed in the pocket. The tip of the probe will then touch the point where the connective tissue attaches to the tooth. The dentist will 'walk' the probe to six specific points on each tooth, three on the buccal and 3 on the lingual side. The dentist measures the depth of the probe at each point. Pocket depth greater than 3mm indicates disease presence. These measurements help establish the condition of the connective tissues and amount of gingival overgrowth or recession. Tooth mobility is determined by pushing each tooth between two instrument handles and observing any movement. Mobility is a strong indicator of bone support or loss of the same. X-rays are taken to show any loss of bone structure supporting the teeth. 18 x-rays make up the full mouth series necessary for diagnosis (Nguyen, 2008). A periodontal probe is an instrument used in the dental armamentarium .It's usually long, thin and blunted at the end. Its main use is to measure pocket depths around a tooth to determine the state of health of the periodontum. There are markings inscribed onto the head of the instrument for accuracy and readability. Proper use of the periodontal probe is required to maintain accuracy. The tip of the instrument is positioned with light pressure of 10-20g into the gingival sulcus. It is essential to keep the periodontal probe parallel to the contours of the root of the tooth and to put in the probe down to the base of the pocket. This results in obscuring a part of the periodontal probe's tip. The first marking visible over the pocket indicates the size of the pocket depth. It has been establish that the average, healthy pocket depth is around 3mm without bleeding upon probing. Depths more than 3mm can be linked with "attachment loss" of the tooth to the adjacent alveolar bone, which is a feature in periodontitis. Pocket depths more than 3mm can also be an indication of gingival hyperplasia. 1.5 Types of probes. There are different types of periodontal probes, and each has its own mode of indicating measurements on the tip of the device. They include, Michigan O. probe with markings at 3mm, 6mm and 8mm, Williams probe with circumferential lines at 1mm, 2mm, 3mm, 5mm, 7mm, 8mm, 9mm, and 10mm and PCP12 probe with Marquis markings has alternating shades every 3mm. Unlike other types of probes, Naber's probe is curved and used for measuring into the furcation area between the roots of a tooth. Periodontal probe can also be used for measurement and tooth preparations during restorative procedures, gingival recession, attached gingiva, and oral lesions or pathologies (James et al., 2001). 1.6 Probing force and probe diameter The relationship between bleeding on probing, probing force and probe diameter is usually determined by the pressure exerted on the gingival tissues and resistance from the healthy or inflamed tissue. This pressure is directly proportional to the force on the probe and inversely proportional to the probe tip diameter. Large probing diameters reduce probe progress into inflamed connective tissue hence this effect of change in probe diameter reduces the pressure in a greater manner than an increase of similar change in probe force. According to the research conducted by Silverstein et al., (2000), the pressure used to place the probe tip at the base of the periodontal sulcus is approximately 50 N/cm2 and at the base of the junction epithelium is 200 N/cm2. A tip diameter of 0.6 mm is needed to reach the base of the sulcus. Clinical inflammation does not reflect the severity of histological inflammation, and the recordings may not illustrate probing depth. Therefore, probing depth does not identify anatomical locations at the base of the sulcus. Probe tips must have a diameter of 0.6 mm and a 0.20 gram force (50 N/cm2) to gain a pressure which demonstrates estimated probing depth. This pressure is useful for the measurement of the reduction of clinical probing depth, which includes the formation of a long junctional epithelium as a result of treatment. but, different forces or diameter tips are essential for the measurement of healthy or inflamed histological periodontal probing depths. A research was done to establish whether probing force had an influence on the amount of clinical attachment-gain assessed after treatment by scaling and root planing. A probing device was constructed which permitted concurrent monitoring of probing force and probe penetration and which standardized the insertion pathway for recurring measurements. In 10 periodontal patients, 2 deep pockets were selected then measured before and after periodontal treatment by scaling and root-planing. Depth-force plots were compared by superimposition. Depth values were determined at 5 different force levels (0.25, 0.50, 0.75, 1.00 and 1.25 N) on every plot and changes of clinical attachment levels were calculated. A major relationship was seen between probing force and attachment level. The values obtained with 0.25 N. were extensively different from the values obtained with higher forces (p < 0.001). Minor, but non-significant differences were noted in the amount of attachment-gain obtained at the 5 force levels. At a probing force level of 0.25 N, there was 0.80mm mean attachment gain. With 0.50 N, there was a gain of 0.70mm; with 0.75 N. The gain amounted to 0.67 mm in mean. At 1.00 N. And at 1.25 N, a gain of 0.66 mm was recorded. (Fowler et al., 1982) The present research to determine the threshold pressure value to be applied in provoking bleeding on probing in clinically healthy gingival units. Regression study revealed an almost linear association and a high connection coefficient between bleeding on probing and probing force. The result demonstrated that the bleeding on probing test using uncontrolled forces may result in a part of false positive readings and a strong possibility exists for the traumatizing of clinically healthy gingival tissues if a probing force exceeding 0.25N is applied (Lang et al., 1990) Bleeding on probing and gingival index is clinically used to characterize the extent of gingival inflammation. However, it is not clear to what level these parameters correlate to each other and to probing pocket depth. This study was to evaluate the relationship between bleeding on probing and gastrointestinal bleeding (scores of 2 and 3), as well as the relationship of these variables to probing depth, in a group of patients presenting with naturally-occurring gingivitis. Based on screening examinations of 125 patients with at least 20 teeth, at most 4 sites with probing depth over 6mm a bleeding on probing frequency of 30% or more, and no systemic condition that would influence the inflammatory response, were selected. Two weeks after screening patients were examined at 6 sites per tooth for plaque index, gastrointestinal bleeding, probing depth and bleeding on probing. A standardized pressure sensitive probe (Florida Probe) with 20g probing force was used for bleeding on probing and probing depth measurements. Means of 40.9% (S.E. = 1.36) bleeding on probing sites and 35.3% (S.E. = 1.81) gastrointestinal bleeding sites per patient were found. A total of 20,008 sites ranging in probing depth up to 5.9mm were evaluated, though, most sites (19,723, 98.6%) presented with < 4 mm probing depth. When sites were evaluated, bleeding on probing confirmed a positive correlation with probing depth, whereas gastrointestinal bleeding correlated with probing depth. For sites characterized by the absence of bleeding on probing and gastrointestinal bleeding (scores 0 and 1), the highest percentage of union between the 2 indices (77.7%) was found in shallow sites (0.1-2 mm) index (Chaves, 1993). Another study showed that the bleeding on probing test using uncontrolled forces may result in an amount of false positive readings when used as a parameter for inflammation. A strong likelihood exists for the traumatizing of clinically healthy gingival tissues if a probing force exceeding 0.25 N. is applied. The aim was to evaluate the relationship between probing pressures and gingival conditions in patients with a history of treated periodontal disease. 10 patients enrolled in a periodontal maintenance program after treatment of moderate to advanced chronic inflammatory periodontal disease were used. They were chosen on the basis of a record of excellent oral hygiene practices for at least 2-6 years and nearly complete absence of clinical inflammation after successful periodontal therapy. Probing force of 0.125, 0.25, 0.375 and 0.5 N. was applied in the 4 jaw quadrants at 2 different occasions with an interval of 10 days, then bleeding on probing was assessed. Oral hygiene and gingival conditions were determined using the criteria of the plaque and gingival index systems. All patients showed major increases in mean bleeding on probing percentage with increasing probing force applied (2.5%-7.9%). Regression analysis discovered an almost linear relationship and a major correlation coefficient between bleeding on probing and probing force. Almost identical slope inclinations were found when the 6 patients with the lowest mean bleeding on probing at 0.25 N. were compared with the regression analysis of the whole group (Karayiannis, 1992). A research was done to assess the bleeding on probing tendency and periodontal probe penetration when various probing forces were applied at implant sites in patients with a high standard of oral hygiene with well-maintained peri-implant tissues. 17 healthy patients with superb oral hygiene in a maintenance program treatment for periodontitis were recruited. Their missing teeth had been replaced using oral implants. The bleeding on probing and probing depth was assessed at the mid-buccal, mid-oral, mesial and distal aspects of the buccal surfaces of every implant. Contra-lateral teeth were designated and assessed for bleeding on probing and probing depth in the same locations and at the same observation visits. At every visit, implants and contra-lateral teeth were at random assigned to one of the standardized probing forces (0.15 or 0.25 N). The second probing force was applied at the repetition of the examination after 7 days. The results showed that increasing the probing pressure by 0.1 N. from 0.15 N. brings about an increase of bleeding on probing percentage by 13.7% for implants and 6.6% contra-lateral teeth. There was a significant difference of the mean bleeding on probing percentage at implant and tooth sites when a probing pressure of 0.25 N. was applied. A considerably deeper mean probing depth at implant sites compared with tooth sites was found regardless of the probing pressure applied. The results of the study showed that 0.15 N. might characterize the threshold pressure to be applied to avoid false positive bleeding on probing readings around oral implants. Therefore, probing around implants confirmed a higher sensitivity compared with probing around teeth. (Gerber et al., 2009). 1.7 Histopathological alteration in the periodontal tissues A study about histopathological alteration in the periodontal tissues was designed and 22 patients were enrolled. Out of 22 patients, gingival tissue biopsies samples were obtained from active sites of 10 and 12 periodontal-healthy and periodontal disease, probing depths >5mm patients, respectively. The groups was again divided into 25 -- 50 and >50 years age subgroups. The result showed a significant decrease in the appearance of Tumors Necrosis Factor Receptor-Associated Death Domain (TRADD). This was observed in 25 -- 50 years of periodontal disease group compared to the periodontal healthy group. BCL2-associated X protein expression in the periodontal disease group was considerably decreased in 25 -- 50 years age group but increased in the >50 years age group compared to periodontal healthy age groups. Periodontal disease patients of both 25 -- 50 years and >50 years age increased in the expression of Cytochrome C. And Caspase-3 compared to the respective periodontal healthy groups. The periodontal disease patients showed a stronger correlation with age in the expression of Tumors Necrosis Factor Receptor-Associated Death Domain and BCL2-associated X protein compared to the periodontal healthy groups. (Archives of Oral Biology) Non-surgical periodontal therapy results in a great decrease of pocket probing depths and bleeding on probing, and attachment gain. When combined with periodontal maintenance a long-term stability of periodontal conditions, which shows a decreased incidence of extra attachment loss and reduction in bleeding on probing is possible and has been evidenced even in residual pockets with probing depths of greater than 7 mm. This data shows that significant changes in the immune/inflammatory response take place after treatment. Though, it is not clear, whether the clinical signs following periodontal therapy are related with an expression profile of inflammatory and immunological genes that is well-matched with periodontal health (Thomas et al., 2008). Read the full article

0 notes