#song: the good that won't come out

[aceghosts]

All I Know is a Place Where I Haunted

Summary: After saving President Rosalind Myers and delivering her to Reed, Rooney tries to deal with everything they've seen. But it's all too much to bear. Title comes from Spiritbox's Jaded. Rating: Mature Warnings: References to unnamed character deaths. Survivor's Guilt. Also, references to injuries (mainly cuts and bruises). Lastly, I wanna give a warning that Rooney is not in a good mental space, like 'I clearly don't care whether I live or die' kind of mental space, and thus, may be triggering for readers. Please use discretion. As always, if I need to tag for anything else, please let me know. Words: 4,438 words. Author's Note: This is an AU for what I consider Rooney's canon as I normally don't consider it canon for them to have the Relic in their head. But I had this idea for them and it wouldn't stop bothering me. So, now this fic exists. Also, if you have not played Phantom Liberty, this does contain spoilers for the beginning! Taglist (opt in/out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @voidika, @strangefable, @captmactavish, @carlosoliveiraa, @theelderhazelnut, @nightbloodbix, @fourlittleseedlings, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @clicheantagonist

AO3

Black Dog in my head, guiding me until the end…

Samurai blares over their radio as Rooney leaves Dogtown in the dust. Their hands grip the handle-bars tightly, knuckles white. Every inch of them hurts. Each movement-no matter how gentle or careful, sends a jolt of pain radiating through their body. Their head aches, a painful stab behind their right eye. Above all, Rooney is tired, so very, very tired. They feel sluggish, their limbs feeling like heavy weights are attached.

Even worse, they haven’t slept in over 24 hours. Last night as they hid in the Kress building with Myers, Rooney couldn’t sleep, no matter how much they wanted to. Every sound, every movement, every sight, no matter how real or imagined, sent adrenaline coursing through their veins. Their heartbeat would race, their body acting on finely tuned instincts to assess and fight. Every time, they would close their eyes, memories would haunt them. The crashing of Space Force One. Dead presidential staffers and Secret Service everywhere. The Chimera, the telltale glow of the red static from an AI beyond the Blackwall, staring Rooney and Myers down. It screams, a cursed, awful sound. Rooney’s throat tightens, a choked sob escaping from them.

The black motorcycle wobbles beneath them, Rooney swearing. They slow down, pulling over to the side of the road. Climbing off the bike, Rooney nearly falls to the ground, catching themself by their hands. Bits of gravel scrape at their palms. They ignore the pain, scrambling onto the sidewalk. Reaching the guard rail of the bridge, Rooney slides down until they’re in a sitting position, back against the rail. Behind them, the setting sun is a burning orange, stark against the faded sky. Sighing deeply, Rooney places their head in their hands. How much longer can they keep doing this? Keep moving along as the end goal is dragged further away? When will they be allowed to rest? Not be haunted by every terrible and awful thing they’ve seen?

Rooney closes their eyes, the Chimera there in their memories. The cable breaks, sliding out of their grasp as they hurtle towards the ground. Slamming on the ground on their back, Rooney gasps as the Chimera refocuses, raising a large paw to squish them like a bug. Rooney rolls out of the way, the Chimera narrowly missing them.  Above them both, the chandelier falls, sparking as it hits the ground. The Chimera and Rooney fall, knocking against each other as they descend into the blackness. They feel weightless, almost like they’re falling with the Chimera again. Rooney’s heart starts to pound loudly in their ears, mouth dry. Their limbs feel numb, adrenaline kicking their senses into overdrive. They’re falling, they’re falling they’refalling!

“ROONEY!” Gasping, their eyes open wide as they jump slightly. Johnny kneels in front of them, sunglasses in hand as he watches them, concerned.  Taking a panicked breath, Rooney’s eyes scan for any threats, for the Chimera. A few seconds later, they realize they’re in Night City with Johnny, and the adrenaline fades, leaving them with a bone-aching weariness. Tears burn in the corner of their eyes as Johnny speaks, “Shepard, you alright? Scared me there for a minute.”

“Yeah,” They force the words out, their throat tight, “Just remembering.”

Johnny softens, knowing a thing or two about reliving awful memories. “We should get you to that Ripperdoc friend of yours.”

Vik. They should; So Mi’s hacking of the Relic could have messed with their implants, especially the experimental Arasaka ones. Rooney’s holo rings, a familiar icon in the upper left corner.  “Don’t fucking answer that,” Johnny commands.

Rooney answers it anyway. They’re not going to ignore his call, and Rooney needs to get it together. No more of this pity party. Reed, So Mi, Dogtown, Night City, Myers, NUSA, and everyone else are counting on them. Roone will rest when they are dead. Wiping the corner of their eyes, Rooney composes themself as they answer, “What’s the situation?”

“Rooney!” Yorinobu’s eyes widen as he takes in their face with a concerned look on his face. “I could not reach you, and I worried you might be injured. Where are you? I will send someone to-.”

“I’m fine.” Rooney needs to be better than fine; they have to be. But fine is an acceptable state of being for now. “What do you need me to do?” They push themself to their feet, stifling a painful groan as their body protests. Johnny shakes his head, exasperated by their stubbornness. A frequent occurrence.

Yorinobu is silent, his gaze scrutinizing them. “Meet me at Konpeki Plaza as soon as possible.”

“Don’t. Get your ass to Vik’s,” Johnny says, flipping a finger toward Yorinobu.

“Understood. I’ll head there now.” Swinging their leg over the motorcycle, it roars to life beneath them.

Johnny shakes his head. “Fucking pathetic. ‘Saka Jr. says fucking jump, and you say how fucking high.” He glitches out of existence, saving Rooney the dignity of having to answer him.

“Rooney,” Yorinobu pauses, still watching them, “Be careful.”

“I will.” It’s a lie; Rooney has never been careful with their own life.

—

The elevator dings, opening up to the Tavernier Suite. The penthouse is gorgeous, offering one of the best views in Night City. Stepping into the suite, Rooney squares their shoulders, pretending they’re anything but exhausted. As they found the corner into the main area, Smasher and Yorinobu stop talking, looking away from the holopad between them. Smasher laughs, grating on Rooney’s nerves as he catches sight of them. Yorinobu’s brow furrows, looking more concerned than he did on the phone. “Fuck, Shepard. You look worse than fucking roadkill,” Smasher teases.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Rooney replies sarcastically, glaring at Smasher.

Smasher rolls his eyes while Yorinobu simply states, “You are limping.”

“I’m not.” Embarrassment floods Rooney as they realize Yorinobu is right. Trying to even out their gait, Rooney places weight on their left leg, pain shooting up from their hip as they stiffen. They bite down on their lip, trying not to whimper in pain. Rooney continues slowly towards Smasher and Yorinobu, purposely not limping. Well, at least, trying not to.

Yorinobu and Smasher exchange glances before Smasher sighs in annoyance. “I’ll get the fucking Doctor,” he grumbles, his loud stomping sending waves of anxiety through them, too reminiscent of the Chimera. As he passes Rooney, the two lock eyes, and Smasher scoffs, clearly thinking them pathetic. And the worst part? He’s right.

Making their way over, Rooney leans against the expensive dining table. “So, what’s happening? What can I-?”

“Where were you? I could not reach your holo.”

They suspected So Mi probably jammed their holo, making it difficult for Hansen and the Barghest to find them. It also probably made it harder for anyone else trying to contact them. “Had a missing person’s case in Dogtown. Needed to go dark for a while.” Not an unbelievable excuse. Rooney occasionally had to go dark on cases, not wanting to alert anyone who might be involved.

“Did Kurt Hansen do this to you?” Yorinobu cuts straight to it, fear and anger in his eyes. He looks like he’s about ready to punch Hansen.

“No.” Even though Hansen sent the Barghest after Rooney and Myers, he hadn’t set the Chimera on them. Wasn’t So Mi’s fault either. Whatever had been in the Chimera was something else, something from beyond the Blackwall. A shudder runs up their spine at the thought of it. “The thing that did this to me is dead.”

His shoulders drop, relaxing slightly as he motions for them to sit in the already pulled-out chair. Rooney sits, trying not to wince as pain radiates through them. “I do not doubt that anyone who intends to harm you would not leave with their life, Rooney. But-,” He emphasizes the word, “I do not think you are telling me the full story.”

Johnny finally makes his presence known again, glitching into a pulled-out chair on the other side of the table. Kicking his legs up onto the table and drumming his fingers, Johnny warns, “You can’t fucking tell, ‘Saka Jr., Shepard. What the fuck do you think ‘Saka is gonna do when they find out about Songbird?”

He has a point. Rooney trusts Yorinobu, baring the vulnerable parts of themself to him that no one else would be allowed to see.  But they can’t trust the rest of Arasaka. And even if Rooney wanted to tell him, which they did, anything they say about Myers and So Mi could put Yorinobu in danger. And they won’t put Yorinobu in harm’s way. “Not much to tell. Just your standard missing person’s case that got a little rough. But I ended up finding the person alive and well. A happy ending.” Might have been a happy ending in Myers’ case. But for everyone else, it was a failure. So Mi was missing and most of the civilian passengers on Space Force One ended up dead. They should have been able to do more.

Yorinobu reaches out, his right hand cupping their face. His thumb lightly traces their cheek as Rooney leans into his hand, nuzzling his palm. In the reflection of his glasses, Rooney notices how awful they look. Their bottom lip is busted, a deep cut running through it. Another long cut runs through their eyebrow, red and inflamed. Dark circles sit underneath their eyes, making Rooney look like they’ve been punched in both eyes. And they look pale, paler than normal, which is a feat in itself. No wonder Yorinobu seemed troubled. “What is the name of your missing person?”

Out of the corner of their eye, Johnny shakes his head, and Rooney wonders if Yorinobu already knows. There is no way Arasaka Intelligence wouldn’t have heard about Space Force One, of all things, crashing into Dogtown under mysterious circumstances. And Yorinobu knows Rooney is drawn to trouble, always willing to put themself in harm’s way.  But they’re still not willing to put him in the middle of this. “Just a local-.”

The elevator opens, cutting Rooney off as Smasher enters first. They wince at his loud footsteps, aggravating their headache. Dr. Katō, one of the few Arasaka employees that Rooney is somewhat friendly with, follows behind Smasher. “Shepard!” Dr. Katō calls, a knowing look on his face. “Found trouble again, I-,” He stops, catching sight of Yorinobu’s dark expression, “Arasaka-sama, I-.”

“Examine them now.” Yorinobu releases their face, stepping back to allow Dr. Katō to do his work.

“Yes.” Dr. Katō bows, now slightly nervous as he approaches Rooney. He starts his examination, his cyberware scanning for any broken bones or internal wounds. Rooney assumes there isn’t anything too serious. Otherwise, they might already be dead. As he finishes scanning, Dr. Katō suggests, “I would suggest that you have one of my colleagues run diagnostics on your implants for issues. I also wish you would allow me to run medical diagnostics on you.”

“No!” Rooney and Johnny both say at the same time, the same panicked look on both faces. The last thing Rooney needs to happen today is for Arasaka to find out they have the Relic in their head. And they really don’t want to have that conversation with Yorinobu. Rooney swallows as Yorinobu looks at them suspiciously. “You know how I feel about Arasaka doctors. No offense, Dr. Katō. I’ll have my local ripper check them later.”

Yorinobu sighs, shaking his head. “Would you like to give us the number of-?”

“No.” No way in hell they’re giving Vik’s number to Yorinobu. Rooney is pretty sure Vik would have an aneurysm if a bunch of Arasaka Corpos showed up on the front doorstep of his clinic.  Plus, Rooney doesn’t want to burden him with any more than they already have. He’s done so much for them. “My implants are okay. I have not noticed anything off about them.”

“I still highly recommend you have one of my colleagues examine you, but I’ll respect your decision,” Dr. Katō states as he begins to work on the cut on their eyebrow, “Any specific places bothering you, Shepard?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Yorinobu and Smasher both answer. Yorinobu clarifies, “Rooney is favoring their left side; they were limping when they arrived.”

Dr. Katō nods. “I’ll take a look after I finish with their face.” He tends to the other cut on their lip, silence permeating the room. Rooney glances toward Johnny, nervous energy radiating off him like a trapped wild animal. He’s never liked it here, and he especially doesn’t like it when Yorinobu or Smasher is around. Johnny’s learned to deal with Yorinobu, but Smasher still brings up a swirl of complicated feelings. Fear. Anger. Pain. All of it flows through them, leaving a nervous pit in Rooney’s stomach. “Do you mind taking off your shirt, Shepard? I’d like to take a look,” glancing nervously between Smasher and Yorinobu, Dr Katō gently suggests, “Perhaps you two should leave-.”

“I’m going,” Smasher grumbles, while Yorinobu stays. As soon as Smasher is gone, Dr. Katō looks toward Rooney.

“Yorinobu can stay.” They’re okay with Yorinobu here; Rooney doubts he would leave anyway.

Dr. Katō nods, gently helping Rooney out of their black and blue trenchcoat. He helps them pull off the turtleneck next as Rooney tries not to wince in pain. Yorinobu gasps, and Rooney looks down. A large, nasty, purplish-blue bruise covers the left side of their torso disappearing below the waist of their pants and farther down. Several other bruises cover them, leaving Rooney’s freckled skin a splatter painting of bruises. “How did this happen?” Dr. Katō asks as Yorinobu crosses his arms, looking even more troubled.  

“I fell.”

“Fell? How far did you fall, Shepard?”

They shrug, ignoring the pain that jolts through them. “Not sure. Might have been a few flights.”

Dr. Katō pales as Yorinobu shakes his head. “You’re very lucky to have escaped with no major injuries.” Rooney knows how lucky they are. Most would have died in their position. Most would have died going through some of the shit they went through. Rooney even already died once. But death was a luxury they would not be afforded. They had already been snatched from Death’s jaws once by Arasaka. What would stop it from happening again? “I am recommending bed rest, Shepard. At least, for a few days. I’ll also have some pain medication delivered to you.”

“No.” Dr. Katō looks shocked at their cold tone while Yorinobu narrows his eyes. “I’ll take the pain pills, but I need to be back on my feet.”

“Shepard,” Dr. Katō starts very gently, placing a hand on their shoulder, “You need to rest. Your body needs to rest. Otherwise, you risk injuring yourself further.”

Johnny shakes his head in the corner of their eye. “Can’t believe I’m ‘bout to agree with a fucking ‘Saka employee, but he’s right, Shepard. You look like you’re almost fucking dead.”

Even Yorinobu gets in on it. “Rooney, Dr. Katō is correct. You must rest. You are welcome to stay here, or I can drive you back to your apart-.”

“STOP!” Frustration overwhelms them. Why won’t anyone listen? So Mi and Reed are counting on Rooney; so many people are counting on Rooney. Rest is a luxury afforded to others, but never to Rooney. They need to keep moving; They have to keep moving. Shrugging off Dr. Katō’s hand, Rooney stands, biting back a groan as they get up, unsteady on their feet. “I don’t need to rest; I’ll be fine.”

“Fine? Fine?!” Yorinobu exclaims in disbelief, Rooney clenching their fist. “You can barely stand! If you were ‘fine’, you would not limp. You need to rest, please.”

“The limp will go away in a little bit. It’s not that big-.”

“Do not finish your sentence.” He softens a little, allowing Rooney to glimpse how exhausted and fearful he was for them. “Take this seriously. Please.”

“I am,” Rooney insists, knowing they are taking this deeply seriously. Why can’t everyone else see that?

“Are you?” Rooney’s armor starts to crack a little as they stare into Yorinobu’s eyes. Weariness comes over them, and Rooney pushes it away, trying to stay focused. “If you are, listen to Dr. Katō.”

“I am, I promise,” Rooney feels their throat tighten like they’re about to cry, “But I can’t rest. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t tell him a fucking thing, Shepard,” Johnny cuts in again. “Just get the fuck out of here and get to Vik.”

“I-,” Rooney struggles for a second, trying not to make sure they don’t reveal too much, “People depend on me, Yorinobu. I cannot let them down. If I stop, I fail them. And if I fail them, then what use am I to anyone?” Rooney has already failed people before, the ghosts of the past holding onto them, dragging Rooney down. They won’t fail anyone, not again. “I’ll rest when this is all over.”

Yorinobu takes their face in his hands, wiping away the tears from their eyes, the ones they didn’t know were already starting to fall. “Rooney, you will not fail anyone, especially if you rest for a few days. And your value is not determined on how useful you are to others.”

Fuck, they’re gonna cry. Swallowing down the lump in their throat, Rooney takes a deep breath. “You can’t know that.”

“I do.” He sounds so sure, his arrogance bleeding over.

“And how would you know that?” Anger tinges their voice as they answer sharply.

“I would not think that of you. And anyone who does, simply would have never think you succeeded in the first place.” Rooney’s walls break. The tears start slipping out faster, as they shake, taking in a weepy breath. Yorinobu lets go of their face, pulling Rooney into his arms as they let out a small whimper. They bury their face in the expensive silk fabric of his shirt, unable to compose themself any longer. Rooney sobs into his chest, fingers gripping the back of his shirt tightly.  Yorinobu rubs comforting circles on their back, holding Rooney up as they cry. God, they’re tired. Just so exhausted.

After a while, their sobbing starts to soften, their grip less tight on Yorinobu. “Come. You should rest.” Rooney nods, allowing Yorinobu to shepherd them to the bedroom. As they walk towards his bed, they realize Johnny and Dr. Katō are gone. Johnny probably left because it was getting too emotionally intense for him. But at the thought of Dr. Katō, shame washes over them. Rooney should have been more com-. “He does not think less of you,” Yorinobu comforts, already knowing where their thoughts are headed, “Dr. Katō is worried about you as we all are.”

“Thank you.”

“No need,” Yorinobu shakes his head, bringing them to the bedroom, “Do you need help changing into something more comfortable?” Rooney nods, too tired to even pick out clothes for themself. He pulls out a pair of pajama pants and one of his t-shirts for them. He is so gentle with them, nearly sending them into tears again. Rooney feels so loved yet unworthy. Yorinobu shouldn’t have to do this for them. Rooney should be capable of something as simple as this.

Drawing the covers back, Yorinobu ushers Rooney into bed. They climb into bed, heading over to the other side. A part of Rooney wants to ask him to stay, to hold them as they fall asleep. But that would be selfish, and he’s already done so much for them. Instead, they turn away, trying not to want more than they are given. Like they always have. The bed dips on the other side, Yorinobu sitting on it. They hear him take off his shoes before getting underneath the covers with them. He pulls Rooney close to him, his chest against their back as he wraps an arm around their waist. He feels so warm and comforting pressed against Rooney as they allow themself to relax. Placing a kiss on the bare skin of their shoulder where his t-shirt has slipped away, he softly speaks, “Sleep, Rooney. Please rest.”

“I love you.” The words slip out of their mouth. Rooney does, they really fucking do. If Yorinobu asked the world of them, Rooney would gladly give it to him. Again and again.

He places another kiss on their shoulder, replying, “I love you too.” Those words ring in Rooney’s head as they fall asleep, Yorinobu nuzzling into their neck.

—

When Rooney awakes, they are alone in bed, muscles and joints aching. Even blinking feels like a herculean effort as they push the sleep out of their eyes. The dying rays of sunlight stream into the bedroom, infusing it with a golden glow. It makes the room look heavenly; it already feels heavenly. Grunting, Rooney pushes themself up, ignoring the protest from their muscles. By the time they’re sitting up, Rooney is out of breath, panting from the exertion. “Did you sleep well?” They look over, finding Yorinobu leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Rooney hadn’t heard him come in.

“Yeah,” their voice sounds rough from sleep, “How long was I out?”

“Over 24 hours,” Yorinobu answers, pushing himself off the wall and taking his hands out of his pockets. He walks over to the bed, sitting down beside Rooney. Yorinobu brushes a stray strand of dark red hair from their face, his fingers featherlight on their skin. “You needed it. You still need more.”

Rooney blanches, pulling up their holo. No missed calls or texts from Reed, but that doesn’t mean Rooney can stay in bed any longer. Reed could call at any moment. "I have to-.” As they try to get out of bed, Yorinobu places a hand on their shoulder, pulling them back gently. Rooney doesn’t fight back, too exhausted. Every movement feels like they’re making a trek up Mount Everest. “I have a case to work on.”

“Would that have anything to do with Space Force One?” Their eyes widen, swallowing nervously. Yorinobu looks triumphant. “I knew it.”

“How?”

“It is all over the news, and you were very…,” He pauses for a moment, perhaps trying to find better wording than ‘fucking stubborn’, “persistent about this case.” Fair enough. This one had more stakes, more chances for other people to get caught in the middle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rooney shakes their head. “I can’t discuss this one with you. Trust me, the more you know puts you in danger.”

“And it is acceptable for you to put yourself in danger?”

“I’ve fought the NUSA and worked with them after the Unification War. I know what they’re capable of.” They let out a sigh. “Thanks for the sleep, but-.”

“No,” Yorinobu shakes his head, his hand gripping their shoulder firmly, “If you plan to put yourself in danger on our behalf, promise me you will rest for one more night.”

“Yorinobu, I-,” Rooney falters, the genuinely concerned look on his face getting to them, “One more night, but tomorrow, I’m up and back at it.”

“I would never expect anything less,” Releasing their shoulder, he takes their hand in his, “Do you really think you have let anyone down?”

Rooney looks down at their hand tightly intertwined in his. “I do. I let everyone down who didn’t make it off Space Force One. I refuse to let anyone else get hurt. Not as long as I breathe.”

“You worry me when you say that, Rooney.” They know they do. Even if Yorinobu doesn’t say it, Rooney knows that there is always the possibility that the next case might be their last, and they think it scares Yorinobu that he might be powerless to stop it. Rooney looks up at him as Yorinobu reaches out, gently tracing the edge of their face. “You did not fail anyone, Rooney. The person who shot down Space Force One is responsible, not you.”

“I know, but if I was faster, I might have-.”

“Rooney, you cannot blame yourself. You cannot save everyone.”  They know. Rooney knows they can’t save everyone, but they have to try. They can’t just give up. Sighing, Yorinobu decides to let the matter go. “Would you like a cup of tea? I even have your favorite.”

“That sounds nice,” They say, thinking a cup of tea sounds wonderful, “Maybe a shower afterwards too. I feel a little gross.”   

“Good, I can even help you with the shower too,” He teases as Rooney rolls their eyes, before placing a soft kiss on their lips, “I will make your cup now.”

As Yorinobu leaves the bedroom, a familiar figure glitches onto the edge of the bed to their right. “Ask ‘Saka Jr for some vodka instead. I need to block out the mental image of you two eying each other like a bunch of horny teenagers.”

Oh Johnny, truly a wordsmith. They shake their head, a faint smile on their lips. ‘Glad to see you too, Silverhand’, Rooney thinks. A moment later and perhaps a touch more fondly, they add, ‘I mean it. I really thought I might have lost you, and it terrified me’.

Johnny sighs, but he looks away, clearly touched by their words. “Stop being so sentimental,” He grumbles, with no real bark or bite. He adds a moment later. “Missed you too, Shepard.”

‘We’re going to get So Mi back. I promise.’

“You think she’s telling the truth?”

‘No,’ Rooney thinks, and Johnny looks a little surprised, ‘I know when people are hiding things from me, Johnny, and she is hiding something. But I really think she needs our help. Besides, I have a feeling Myers is up to something worse, and we’ll stop her.’

He gives them a real grin. “Now, you’re speaking my language, Shepard. Just wish you had some of that when it came to ‘Saka Jr.”

They roll their eyes as Johnny lets out a laugh. For now, they were here safe with Yorinobu and Johnny, but tomorrow, the real challenge would begin. 

[giantkillerjack]

Favorite part about Death Note is that Light gets the Note and IMMEDIATELY becomes a serial killer fascist with a god complex.

No build-up, no Fall From Grace, no slow corruption of a good boy gradually becoming a monster. Just-- SPEED RUN STRATS. And I love that for him.

Tbh, I think there are a lot of folks (especially boys) from my high school days who would have immediately become monsters if given the power of life and death over every person around them.

It's kind of like how when people have apparently casual ableist beliefs, and you push them to elaborate on that just a little bit, they'll often end up openly saying stuff like "well, some people are just too disabled to be worth the resources it takes to support them." - Which is... eugenics. It's just eugenics, justified by the myth of scarcity. Now these folks almost certainly won't call it eugenics, or even think of it that way. But that doesn't make it NOT a core belief of the Nazis.

In a similar way, Light seems like a nice and well-adjusted boy with strong beliefs. No harm in that.

But to paraphrase Lindsay Ellis in her analysis of the Game of Thrones ending, "Power doesn't necessarily corrupt. Power reveals." [I think she was quoting someone else when she said this. It was someone who wrote a biography on LBJ. Whatever. Lindsay said it and she's smart as hell and I recommend her videos.]

And 15 minutes into the Death Note musical, I'm already thinking about how so many beliefs "casually" held by well-adjusted, nice people immediately reveal their monstrousness when talked through to their natural conclusion.

And I wonder how many of those people, given the power of life and death over everyone around them - the power to take their ideas to their natural conclusions - would also immediately reveal how their lack of self-reflection has laid the groundwork for them to become monsters.

[mvvocaloidgifs]

How do y'all feel about Project Voltage? I, personally, am absolutely stoked

[poptartmochi]

hm.. closing thoughts. bennie deserved better 😔

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: June 7

"STFU!" by Rina Sawayama

[keeps-ache]

outside once again for designated outside time

[six-improbable-things]

Behold, a playlist titled "songs to offend your grandparents with". I plan on subtly queuing it up after the songs I'm choosing for my mom in the car next week, and seeing what my grandparents have to say, askdjaskdj.

[void-botanist]

Happy STS! If your characters went out to karaoke, which song would they belt out at the top of their lungs?

Finally getting to this one! My mind remains full of Elbas Island so if we pretended that they know Earth music:

Milo: the idea of him doing Barbie Girl with Binna, where he is Barbie and Binna is Ken is just too funny to not be the answer.

Nidilaenn: Major Tom (Coming Home).

Ellery: Poor Unfortunate Souls. He wants to be dramatic about it and he wants you to understand how dramatic he's being about it.

Patience: Hollaback Girl. You know Mel is singing backup.

Mel: Last Dance by Donna Summer.

Tirias: she literally cannot sing so she would either put on a song everyone knows (All Star) and let them sing it while she hams it up or announce that this is a rendition of John Cage's 4'33". These two things get different responses from the audience but they are functionally the same thing.

Ysa: Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks.

Rae: Any Way You Want It by Journey.

Madge: Sucker by Jonas Brothers.

Rigo: Break My Heart by Dua Lipa.

Haskell: no, I don't do karaoke, no...well, I guess... Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

Lacey: the most heartfelt rendition of Mary Had A Little Lamb you've ever heard.

[benchowmein]

I think a real issue of mine is that I truly believe in performing karaoke and get annoyed at karaoke nights because other people don't understand how to do it

[rragnaroks]

fall out boy comes out with new singles and BAM suddenly i am dreaming about patrick stump every night

[reminiscentrainclouds]

Hey have any of you guys heard the song Blindness by Metric? It just came on in my playlist for the first time in forever, and I really want to make a yttd animatic to it, most likely focused on Shin. Adding it to the pile.

[wouldnt-give-a-fig]

journal entry #1

i guess it was my mistake to think that love would come naturally. like it is some innate thing that good people know how to produce, that good people are allowed to have. but really, like anything in life, love must be learned. we grow up with certain ideas about love, based on what we observe from the people around us, who have developed their own best, imperfect ways to love. some of the beliefs we will develop about love will feel true. but they might not be. love will have unlearning. love will not always be smooth. love will often not be reciprocated. love might, for a long time, feel like begging, weeping, screaming. like burning.

it was all still love, though. love, learning.

[arolesbianism]

The Joshua section of my oni playlist is looking great so far

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 2

"HeatStroke" by KaiL Baxley

[atearinspaceairlock]

new architects song so good i want to eat it

[bi-writes]

thinking about mob baking simon a cake for his birthday (without his prior knowledge) mm good soup

mail-order bride

"you think he likes chocolate, baby?" you ask the cats. they sit side-by-side at the breakfast counter, being good girls as they sit on their chairs and watch you mix batter. "he totally likes chocolate. big boys like daddy love chocolate, don't they, girls?"

you grease two circular pans, pouring the chocolate cake batter into them. you set them in the oven before getting to work on your chocolate buttercream. you're using the new mixer simon bought you--it's beautiful, stainless steel, heavy. when you saw in the store a few weeks ago, you gushed at it, telling simon you saw someone make cinnamon rolls, bread, cakes, all in this mixer, but when your eyes skimmed over the price, you said nothing more, just smiled up at simon and let him lead you over to where the cast iron pans were (you wanted a real one).

a few weeks later, you noticed it on the kitchen counter. sparkling silver, right there, with the whisk attachment on it just waiting for you. and in the cupboard, ingredients--bread flour, powdered sugar, cornmeal, corn starch, dutch process, baking chocolate, whole wheat flour--all for you to play with. and when you baked him the most decadent triple chocolate coffee cake he had ever had, he bent you over the same table his empty plate sat and ate your cunt out with your apron still on. when you kissed him afterwards, he still tasted like chocolate.

you turn off the mixer, reaching in with a spoon to lick the buttercream off of it. you hum with delight, setting it aside, and when the oven timer dings, you pull the cakes out to let them cool.

you wrap simon's present as everything settles. special order, a favor you called into johnny. it's in a nice wooden box, and you tie a big red bow on it, and when you go back into the kitchen, you level and stack the two pieces of cake between buttercream and use a spoon to make a fancy decoration over the top of it.

the front door sounds as you're putting the finishing touches on the cake. you can hear him coming closer, and you gasp.

"no, no, no, don't come in the kitchen yet!"

"wot?"

"just--wait a little bit in the living room, okay?"

"for wot?"

"simon--" you groan. "please? for me?"

you don't hear anything after that except for the tv turning on. when you finish putting the last candles on the cake, you light them, picking up the plate and coming into the living room.

simon looks surprised. he was concentrating hard on the tv, watching the game, but his face relaxes when he sees you holding the cake. the cats perk up from where they're laid down beside him, and their ears flit as you start to sing happy birthday.

his whole face twitches. he stiffens, his palms flat on his thighs as he grips them tight. you set down the cake on the coffee table in front of him, candles glowing as you take a seat next to him. he's still staring at the cake as you finish the song.

"happy birthday, dear simon...happy birthday to you."

you smile at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, squeezing it gently. you kiss his shoulder before motioning to the cake.

"you can blow them out now, simon," you say softly. "make a wish."

he doesn't move. he stares straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the flickering candles. you reach down and take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and hugging his arm. you sit with him quietly, looking at the cake with him, and after a minute or so, you turn back at him.

"simon?" you whisper.

he's crying. you put a hand on the back of his head, scratching his short hair, and you cup his face gently as you wipe his tears. he's silent. the tears come, but he still doesn't move, still won't meet your eyes. you smile, going over to pick up the cake, and you hold it in front of him.

"here...make a wish, simon," you say softly. he picks up his sleeve and wipes his face, leaning over to blow out the candles. you put down the cake, standing up to go get his gift sitting on the kitchen table. when you sit down next to him again, he's still staring at the cake, still trying to pretend his face isn't wet with tears, but he stops wiping them when you place the box in his lap.

he unravels the bow. when he opens the case, he lets out a little chuckle, smoothing his hand over the foam inside.

there are an array of throwing knives laid before him. perfectly crafted, in different shapes and sizes, and when he picks one up and twirls it around between his fingers, the weight of them and the ease at which they move tells him you only picked out the finest quality. they're beautiful, and it's a thoughtful gift, and when he closes the lid on the box, he still can't meet your eyes.

"i'll cut us some cake," you say softly. you busy yourself getting plates and a cake knife from the kitchen, cutting generous slices before handing him one of the plates. he picks up the fork, and when you notice his hand shakes, you take the plate back from him gently and scoop a bite onto the fork for him. you don't say anything, just hold it up to his mouth, and once he takes a bite, you set the plate down and watch as he chews.

when he swallows, you sit again in silence. you reach over and take simon's hands in your own, squeezing them gently before bringing them up to your mouth to kiss softly. when he finally looks at you, all you do is smile.

he hadn't even remembered it was birthday. he never told you when it was, but he supposes you must have been curious enough to look for yourself. he can't remember the last time someone made him cake. he can't remember when he last received a gift, especially one like this. he doesn't know when he last thought himself happy enough to celebrate anything at all, but there is no other way he would've wanted today to go.

joy. you bring uninhibited, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. the way you're smiling at him--he can already see you in the kitchen in that apron, baking this cake, talking to no one but the cats as you carefully decorate it. the way you're looking at him--he knows you dreamed about this all week, scheduling the day so you could have the cake done as soon as he got home.

and chocolate. his favorite. decadent, sweet chocolate--it's still under his tongue, and he wants another bite already, he cannot wait to devour the slice that waits for him on the table.

"happy birthday, simon," you whisper, and when you lean in to hug him, he cradles the back of your head, tangling a hand into your hair as he presses you to his chest. "i love you."

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck--

"love you, too, baby."

"what did you wish for?" you mumble into his shoulder. simon snorts a little, shaking his head.

"if i tell ya, it won't come true."

"oh, yeah," you giggle. "keep your secrets then."

he doesn't want more; the only thing he wishes for is more time. more time with you. as much as he can get. to live long enough that he gets to see your face for as long as possible.

that whatever he sees for the last time will be you and you only.