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Neon Star Rising (BL)

[BL - Mature Content] In a cybperpunk future, a young man wakes up inside a box with no memories, and to two strangers making threats at him. Ivo doesn't know who he is. Or even if that's his name. But from there, he'll have no choice but to learn how to survive the dangerous neon streets of a city that has forgotten how to dream. His new reluctant allies keep him at a distance. Especially Davi, the mysterious guy who doesn't trust Ivo's memory loss and thinks he might be connected to the group of people responsible for all the misery in their city. The same people Ivo now has to steal information and tech from -- for the paying clients who employ the services of Davi and his crew. --- Davi: give me one good reason why I shouldn't get rid of you? Ivo: ...you're a good person and don't want to do that? Davi: try again. Ivo: I can be useful... Davi: still not convinced. Ivo: my winning personality and sparkling smile? Alina: it's like you want him to shoot you in the head --- determined, belligerent, adaptable, snarky and fearless amnesiac MC x mysterious, intense, idealistic, selfless, ruthless and passionate hired gun ML x and their trigger happy, sarcastic, sexy, lover (1v1v1) more tags: cyberpunk, sci-fi, crime, mature content, fast-paced action, slow burn romance, important side-characters, LGBT cast, side romances, violence, dystopian.

ThirtyTyrants · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
245 Chs

Eat your plastic

Vice didn't know how long he and Davi sat on the floor while he talked to Ivo. He was just saying words to fill up the silence; half hoping that one of them would be the one that made Ivo's visible eye flutter open, maybe twist his chapped lips in a wry smile.

None of that happened. Eventually, Alina came back from wherever she had been, poked her head in the room and said, "I think you guys need to eat."

Right on cue, Vice's stomach rumbled.

Davi patted his thigh. "Let's go." He got up to his feet and held out a hand to Vice. "I'll make us something."

Vice took his hand but rejected his offer. "No way. I'll cook. I'm sure I'll manage to find something halfway decent in your fridge."

All they had was synth food. Protein extracted from who-knew-what, fibre made from bark of this and that, juices that amounted to nothing more than colourful chemical soups.