#stuff i would put in a fanfic

[leletha-jann]

OT3 Headcanons Nobody Asked For: dancing!

I seriously love that in the great big fancy party (promise to Violetta paid off, check!) in "An Entertainment in Londinium", the concept of "who dances together" and "who leads" in a formal partnered court dance is completely ungendered. The women don't have to dance backwards in high heels unless they want to, and "who leads" is pretty much based on vibes, politics, and whatever the dancers are most comfortable with.

So, in a future where I have assumed the OT3 and a profusion of parties with dancing...how do the Triumvirate handle "who leads"?

Gil mostly leads whenever he's dancing with either of his partners, just on the basis of that's how he learned to do it, and he's taller than both of them (don't fight me on this). I'm not an expert here, but I feel like these sorts of dances are very geared towards the taller person (traditionally male) leading and their partner following. But he's perfectly willing and able to follow if that's what the vibes are in the moment.

Agatha and Tarvek, on the other hand, are playing a whole game where they trade off the lead, not just between dances but between measures. Constantly swapping back and forth, throwing in an extra step or spin whenever they feel like it, and suddenly if Tarvek was leading before, Agatha is now. A minute more and they've switched back; another ten seconds and they've reversed again. They're both making up the timing as they go along and very coordinated about it. They cue off each other in subtle signals - Gil can see them, but most people can't - and never miss a step. It makes a choreographed set of movements more engaging for busy Sparky minds, and confuses the whole political narrative in entertaining ways. They are playing. This is fun.

They tend to get a little extra room on the dance floor. Not because they're going to bump into anyone - they know where they are, and they know where you are, too - but because of how random it feels to everyone else. You know someone is going to be in that space of the dance, but whether it's going to be Agatha or Tarvek is anyone's guess.

It unnerves people and they think that's funny too.

It's also very eye-catching, and more than one partygoer has caught Gil stopping just to stare at them, not in jealousy but...just to watch.

[pixlokita]

I feel like ? I gotta remind people it’s ok to unfollow a blog when it upsets you in any way >> like if I ever do that sure, you can let me know if it was anything I did personally I’d appreciate it but if you just don’t enjoy something it’s ok to unfollow ;w; can’t stress enough how important it is to put your mental health first 👌

[penofwildfire]

Can Kai fans shut up about the thing with Chen's staff already it was like 13 seasons ago and lasted 20 seconds or something it was not that important.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Thoughts on humanstuck!Eridan? I'd imagine hes somewhat better adjusted considering. yknow. the lack of Murder and Gov't Mandated Racism. but if his dad was Dualscar or something he'd probably still have some Issues™.

SO many of Eridan's issues are tied up with Alternian society, specifically, that he's basically gonna wind up in OC-with-a-canon-skin territory in any situation where that pressure is removed. I'm not really the person to go to for that kind of thing; I'm a frothing-at-the-mouth canon purist 😂

No shade at all on the people who do like to mess around with AUs and the like, it's just not what I'm into. Even the meta fact that he's the Society Troll is significant to his character and place within the story and themes, so asking me to speculate about him when the Society aspect is removed is really not my boathouse, sorry.

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

Medical log, stardate 18935.15. Once more have I seen the tailor go out in his lizard fashion—

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[ropes3amthoughts]

Fanart for my own fanfiction that I may or may not finish idk. I have no idea what happened to the quality and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it so it’s just really blurry now 😭

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

fuckfuck fuck i need to make more physical crafts i need to create tangible things that i can hold with my two hands and put it somewhere i can See It and think Wow. I Made That.

[r0semultiverse]

What We Do in the Land of Ooo

🧛‍♂️ What We Do in the Shadows x Adventure Time crossover AU! ⚔

Finn Mertens in place of Guillermo de la Cruz

Marceline Abadeer in place of Nadja of Antipaxos

Bonnibel Bubblegum in place of Laszlo Cravensworth

Jake the dog in place of Colin Robinson

Vampire King in place of Nandor The Relentless

Betty Grof in place of The Guide

The Lich in place of Baron Afanas

Peppermint Butler in place of Wallace the Necromacer

Simon Petrikov in place of Derek

BMO in place of Nadja Doll (her old consciousness uploaded or something was an idea I had)

Marshall Lee & Gary Gumball/Prince in place of Sean & Charmaine

[hcdragonwrites]

Banquet ( a @journey-to-the-au fic)

I had to split this into two parts because … it’s 16 pages and I did NOT want to swamp anyone with a wall of text. I’m finishing up the last bit later today possibly after work or tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy!

If there was anything that Heaven knew how to do, it was to throw a party.

In the most boring way possible to Willow.

The entertainment for tonight’s banquet of Heavenly Delight were four great white mares, set to dancing. The great beasts were dressed in robes so long they brushed the courtyard ground beyond their feathered hooves. Purple and gold, saffron and yellow silk was tied to their manes as they sashayed and side stepped in perfect tandem to the soft orchestra led by Gold Chimes Softly. The drums beat a second heart to the horses hooves. Everything was ever perfect and in time. Not a swish of a tail or a twitch of an ear. Willow heard the bells on the great hooves beat in perfect harmony. Other women from their seats applauded as the mares danced softly from side to side. To everyone who awaited the main course and delighted in the dancing, it was the most marvelous entertainment.

To Willow, she was bored to her wits end.

Not a single spark of spontaneous will, Willow thought as her hands settled in her lap. It was another feast her father had requested by letter for her to attend. Well her and Wukong who-even now after almost hundreds of years!- the celestial busy bodies still whispered that she, Earth Reaching Willow, must be under some sort of cursed spell, some beguilement to be married to him.

Sometimes the pasty nobles and smooth beautiful faces of the lady’s behind their fans and sleeves earned the deepest scorn from Willow.

She looked up to the sky. They were seated in the courtyard of sorts, where the pavilions were open to the air and backdropped by the perfectly cut ivy crawling it’s way up the trellis. The warm air and the music was welcome but also stifling in a sense. Incense burned not too far away, cloying with the scent of cooking food in the worst possible way. Willow saw that every star was in its perfect place, the constellations playing at perfection to please their Emperor. Another laugh from nearby caught her ear over the dancing horses. She turned and saw a few attendants huddled in a whisper, pointedly looking between other guests at the banquet. Seems their is rumor scheming going about. How dull.

I bet none of them have witnessed the beauty of a star shower from earth.

She hid it well however, her scorn. Willow couldn’t understand how anyone would choose Heaven over the ever changing earth below. None of these thoughts made themselves visible on her face however. Schooled and taught, bred to peaceful serenity, Willow let nothing ripple the calm of her outward appearance. As cool as a northern star, as serene as a flower in a vase.

Captive peace was hardly true peace. It was stagnation. It was the loss of what made the peace worthwhile. Willow had experienced that feeling: of tumbling in the grass, the heat of the fire as a lightning strike burned a forest down, of the sea and its salty spray in a storm. Willow had felt the movement of a world and it had caught her and held her constantly in its motion.

She took a sip of wine to hide her mouth as it began to slip into a frown. The wine may be of the best quality, brewed by the greatest hands and purified in the finest crystal, but it would never compare to the joy of the toasts her earthen family held in their patch of paradise. Of how when Ba got into his cups he would challenge his sister Ma to a duel of jokes and japes. The music made by Sweet, a kind little monkey, was a better tune and full of more life then Gold Chimes Softly well placed and organized orchestra. Sweet could play a jaunty tune upon their flute, while the rest of his little musician group followed along. They could whip the troupe into a frenzy of dancing and table jumping. Willow had danced before, controlled and reserved like the Mares in their bells and ribbons. But dancing within her husband's court had been an experience she never would have imagined missing. The dancing wildness and stamping feet, the spinning from partner to small partner, the joy that filled the air and the laughter. It had been better than star wine - it had been an intoxication that had left her heart drumming and face smiling wide.

The horses finished their beautiful dance and the court clapped. Willow clapped too. The mares did wonderfully. It was not their fault that the dance felt too restrained, too controlled.

Her father was happy to have her home. Willow could tell by the very evident glances down to his daughters from his seat at the head of the table. He had all of his family arrayed about him, basking. Willow made polite conversation that only scraped surface level with her sisters and the passing women who came to visit her seat. Willow complemented the lady’s jewels and colored gowns. To the men she disarmed a hundred pointed comments that were trying to dig beneath and get to the root of what would be tender and delectable tea to spill in court.

That great sage- he drinks with a gusto! Is it always this way?

Translation - is he a drunk ?

My what clothes. Such a unique style it must have been picked up in his travels!

Translation: He dresses like a Savage. Is He a Savage to you?

Willow had almost slapped another adviser who had pointedly remarked on the lack of children they had and questioned Wukongs ability to perform.

Her sisters, oh her clever sisters, had rallied to her defense in the most courtly way they could: they turned him into a piece of gossip to throw back to court.

“Did you hear?” Wind Over Sea stage whispered to Autumn Leaves Falling.

“Oh do tell!” Autumn Leaves Falling flashed her most wonderous smile, catching the Advisor in her trap.

“Seems that Moon Shadowed Clouds husband has been kicked out of their bedroom!” Wind replied, making direct eye contact with the Advisor.

“How terribly pitiful!” Weaves the Clouds remarked from her cushion beside the other sisters. The Jade Emperor watched from above, keeping himself out of the gossip.

“Wasn’t he caught drinking down in one of the mortal brothels ?” Autumn added, her eyes slashing toward the advisor.

“I heard it was on his Wife’s birthday to boot!” Winter Frosted Grace sniffed, setting her cup of tea down.

Her sisters turned in unison to stare down the Advisor with such cat like intensity.

“For shame!” Little Weaver Girl, the youngest of the brood of women, said loud enough for the court to hear. Little could get away with being louder than the rest- she was adored by their father and was the master weaver of heaven. Her creations had been sought after by all the courts when their father had worn one of her robes that Little had made. “Trying to twist your bad fortune onto my sister.”

The advisor, of course, made a swift exit with red ears and wounded pride.

Willow was thankful for her sisters. They alone understood that Willow, for whatever reason, had found comfort with Wukong and was truly happy. They didn’t see why she wished to remain down among the earthly mortals. Her happiness was what they valued and, like a streak of tigers, would defend with witty claws and well disguised barbs any that fancied a go at making court gossip from the Emperors family.

Willow wished for the upteenth time that she could bring the lot of them to their mountain. To see what she saw. She knew deep down that none of them would really understand. Except for Little. Her youngest sister often snuck from the court to watch the common people live their lives and to see the other mortal weavers of the world. Little would love their mountain. She began to think of Flower Fruit Mountain as theirs - her and Wukongs. It Held so many memories- so many joys and sorrows.

Where was Wukong?

Willow was surprised he had been absent so long. Wukong was still a bit unaccustomed to the Celestial workings of the court and it’s people. Even after attaining buddhahood and becoming an enlightened master, Willow knew that the gossip surrounding them would never die out. It was tiresome to interact with people who still brought things up from almost centuries ago.

She cast her gaze about for him and saw a flash of his red fur—

And his teeth.

Willows stomach fell, like a falcon folding her wings for a dive. Straight to the bottom of her soul

Wukong was surrounded by a swath of richly dressed courtiers, lords and men of the Palace. They kept a respectful courtly distance but Willow knew it was too close. Her dear friend was giving all the warnings she had learned over the centuries together to read. His eyebrows had been raised at the beginning of her watching but now they lowered, the teeth on full display. A smile of aggression. A smile that said ‘I take offense’. He felt accosted and would soon act upon it. For all the calm that had been taught, her husband could not forget that he was a creature that had to fight for so long.

Oh these utter fools, Willow thought. They still don’t know when to leave him well enough alone.

It would be their fault for not understanding Wukongs simple and very obvious attempts to walk past and around them. But another man would join, asking to hear of his teachings from the Buddha himself, and his eyes would make direct contact with theirs and the teeth would shine all the sharper. That wasn’t a smile. That was a promise of violence.

Willow knew if Wukong reacted it would only cement the court's opinion of Wild Beast they saw. Willow had to act fast before the feast turned from one of peace to one of violence. So Willow, setting her goblet down whispered to her nearest sister, Winter.

“Catch me.”

“Beg pardon?”

And then Willow, with the grace of all her years of acting and tricking the witless fools of Heaven, swooned and fainted. Winter caught her, crying out in more surprise than worry.

Willow made sure she brought her hand up dramatically to her face, the sleeve covering her mouth. Her elbow she had knock into the tray that held food and Willow was rewarded with the loudest clatter of porcelain cracking onto the floor beneath them. The goblet she had placed was sent flying to spill into the rug beneath their cushioned seats.

Sorry father. I know you wanted a peaceful night with us all.

Her dramatics had the desired effect: the court all took in a sudden breath and some gasped. She heard her father call to her and the worry in his voice made Willow's heart beat with a bit of guilt.

“Sister?” She felt hands shake her shoulders in worry and looked up beneath lashes into Winters frosty face.

“Play along, so that way the court doesn’t catch on.” Willow whispered and her hand subtly pointed to where Wukong had been- and where he was running up to her.

“Willow!” He sounded so worried it made her heart give another guilty squeeze. His hands had grown in size, meaning he had made himself larger than regular. “Are you alright my love?”

Willow looked just beneath her arm as she brought it up higher in a mock groan. But he was close enough to hear her now.

“Let’s go home.” Willow could see the stress lines on his face, the anger that had been there cooling like coals in a fire.

“Seems my sister fainted.” Bless her, Little was close enough to see that a game was afoot. And she always approved of games. “It’s been so long since she was at the Palace after all. The scents may have overwhelmed her.”

Wukong looked down just long enough to see Willow give a wink. Some of the tension leaked from him and she could feel it leave his hands. His fast mind seized onto this statement (now that he was given a signal that this was a ruse) and elaborated upon the story.

“My wife was worried about tonight. The winds over our mountain have been so clean and clear while Heavens incense must have overwhelmed her delicate nose.” Wukongs arms took her up, face close to hers.

“How did you know?” He mumbled into her hair. He didn’t ask her if she knew what. Wukong understood that she was doing this for him in some way. It was the intuition of being with each other for so long.

“Saw those courtiers - the fools.” She barely moved her lips to speak and was glad to have her sleeve covering her face. She couldn’t help the smile as he blew air into her ear, tickling her.

“You are a Heaven send.” He said to her then addressed the court.

“Seems my wife needs to clear her head. We will head home on the leave of my Father-in-Law the Jade Emperor.”

“You may go, Sun Wukong. Let me - let me know how she fares will you?” The worry that made the end of his voice tremble at the end had Willow feel just a bit more guilt.

Sorry Father.

Willow felt Wukong bow his head and then they were away, faster than a falling star on a path back to earth. Once past the Celestial guards Wukong tapped her shoulder with a claw and Willow dropped her act and sighed.

“Thank small mercies.” She sighed, gazing out at the fast approaching world below.

“Mercies exist but they are not small.” Wukong said. “I’m holding one in my arms.”

“You flatterer.” She laughed at the sappy look he gave her and she pressed his nose with a delicate finger. “Come, tell me true- what we’re those vipers cornering you about?”

“Seems they were beginning to question my … ability to … well …” Wukong was looking everywhere but her, the wind blowing across his fur. It couldn’t hide the blush turning his face and ears into a tomato.

It only took a second for Willow to understand- and she turned in his arms to glare back into the sky. “I will flay that Advisor!”

“Advisor?”

“Yes. The little shrew of a man must have set the rumour to running before he approached me himself.” The coward. She was glad her sisters had known enough gossip to spin his dilemma into a full show for the court. Willow touched Wukongs cheek, worried. “Tell me what happened.”

“They started asking about my ascension in Buddhism and asked about my teachings. Then they started … well. In on the questions of you and me and our… intimacies.” He was so uncomfortable that he was rubbing at his forehead, claws leaving little red marks on his exposed skin. “It started making me uncomfortable and I couldn’t see or get a clear path to return to you.” Wukong sighed. “I’m sorry Willow.”

“Sorry? You have nothing to apologize for! That man had come up to me and my sisters to dig at us for information as well.” Willow chuckled, remembering how Little, Winter, Cloud and Autumn had perfectly embarrassed the man. “Of course you know the sort my sisters are- even if they don’t quite approve of me living on earth they won’t stand for such pointed questions.”

“You were asked about children as well?”

“Yes and I was about to slap him.” This made Wukong laugh. They sped past a cloud front, promising heavy rain. The mountain was coming into sight now within a sea of jet black turned silver by the moon.

“I would have paid good money to see it. The second slap heard in all of Heaven!” Wukong chortled. Then he sobered. “I’m sorry again.”

“Stop Wukong.” Willow caught his face and pressed a kiss to his temple. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

And then her stomach gave a tremendous growl, like the traitor it was. It took the wind from her words and flamed Wukongs look of timid regret.

“I pulled you away from the feast before you could even get a bite in.”

“We have all the food back at home.” Willow countered. Cursed stomach. As the Mountain got closer and the silence stretched a bit longer Willow looked back at her friend. His face was concentrated in thought that was slowly beginning to brighten to delight.

“Wukong, I know that face. What are you thinking ?”

He was silent, trying to make his face neutral again. And failing miserably. Once they had stepped down and onto solid ground, Wukong set Willow down and returned to his original size.

“Wukong…” Willow tried again, but was interrupted as the two sentries that night, Ma and Ba, came bounding forward, weapons drawn. When they saw it was Wukong and Willow they relaxed and called greetings.

“My King? You Return so soon!” Ma said.

“Was the feast good?” Ba asked, his broken tail giving an agitated flick.

Wukongs face was fully alight with a genuine smile as he looked at Willow then back at his family.

“The feast was a drab thing of mediocre blathering. We will outdo them here!” The Monkey King walked forward, taking Willows hand gently. She followed, knowing that she was about to get her answer to what Wukong was about to do

“Ma! Ba! Call the troupe- fire up the ovens. Set Water Curtain Cave in its best ! We will have our own feast that will rival Heavens!”

“Yes my king!” The two answered in unison then sped off, whooping and calling and waking all of the mountain for a feast. Ma grabbed at her brothers ear and yanked, getting ahead of him. Ba snarled in mock aggression, swinging his leg to knock Mas out from under her. The two had turned it into a race and it didn’t seem that either would make it out without a few bruises along the way.

“They seem eager for it.” Wukong laughed. He led Willow into their home as the lanterns were turned from their sleepy glow to a bright blaze.

“Wukong …”

“What?”

“Why a feast? I don’t need a feast — I would be satisfied with a simple fruit tart and some water.” Willow felt a bit guilty as she saw sleeping mothers poke their heads from the stone homes and peer out at the ever growing and excited crowd calling for feasting. She saw the kitchen fires light up like a twinkling row of stars coming to life.

“Nonsense!” Wukong assured, pulling her along. “ Why should Heaven have fun and we not have any? Besides I have to find a way to thank you for saving my pride while you lost a bit of your own.”

Was that what this was about ?!

“Oh Wukong it’s fine! Women are expected to faint and fall over themselves with the silliest things.” Her sisters had fainted countless times. Mostly to attract the eye of a gentleman or women they thought was beautiful or fancied. Willow had seen Autumn take the most spectacular swoon, right into the arms of one of the generals! Maybe theatrics ran in the family. Wukong simply shook his head. The idea had him now, the excitment of competing with Heaven growing brighter in his eyes.

“I won’t hear of it.” Wukong declared. Willow forgot how competitive her friend could be. But he also was hiding something else he wanted to do. She could read it like a book.

“You are planning something else are you not? Don’t lie, I can see it on your face plain as day!” She teased him, his mirth infectious. The whole cavern was now alive with the news- droves of the family were coming out now gathering in the banquet hall with foodstuffs to share and enjoy in. Wine was being brought up from the deeper colder caves and already the air smelled intoxicating as the cooks set to work.

It was Wukongs turn to wink at Willow now as he left her at her room door, smiling softly. “You will see~”

[vulpinesaint]

mutuals will know that i have been losing my mind over this for weeks. i am proud to finally present my aromantic crowley fic :)

[blotomical]

This desolation within me burns my skin.

(POMR 6) previous chapter AO3

Mr. Plant has to go to court-ordered therapy.

Word count: 3.7k

[amplexadversary]

Completely self indulgent post but here's one of the post-canon scenarios I have in my head for G Gundam.

Maybe skip this post if you don't like dark themes. Not all of what I've outlined is dark (most of it isn't), but I do cross the line past what appears in the show in regards to DG cells and abduction.

The shuffles all get roped into restoration projects on Earth between the 13th and 14th gundam fights, partially to have something to do alongside their training, partially out of inspiration by the common points of the Kasshus' and Master Asia's goals, and partially because netting their countries some decent publicity is likely to earn them favors during the Gundam Fight's off-years.

Sai is contacted by Kyral about an effort to clear out the infamous buildup of trash and cadavers on Everest; he wants Sai to leverage Neo China's help as something of a reparation kind of deal and Sai goes sure why not.

Sai recruits Argo because Bolt Gundam is built to withstand the cold, and he thinks Argo and Nastasha could help reverse engineer that quality to enable the use of their Gundams as both heavy work equipment and protection from the harsh environmental conditions that normally prevent this kind of operation.

George gets involved because someone he knows has a distant relative who died on the mountain a century ago, and they wanted him to check in with the forensics team on the project. This detail is important because eventually it becomes clear that there is a mystery to solve (that I myself haven't figured out all the details of yet but broadly know the setup and conclusion); DG-infected people are disappearing and not being investigated due to stigma. Our heroes are naturally going to be pissed about this, and will need an "in" with the field if they want to do anything about it.

First massively self-indulgent element: The forensics/body identification team inexplicably includes the real-world author Kathy Reichs, who somehow exists in this universe, and there's a little side bit about her having written a Bones book right before the 12th fight that featured a cooked cadaver found inside a gundam after entry into the Earth's atmosphere. There are a lot of weird coincidences in the book that parallel the DG incident, which creeps everyone out, but the similarities are merely born of the writer threading the needle of being believable and interesting in a way that became very true to life.

What does become relevant is when the Shuffles eventually meet up, she's able to explain the implications of a bunch of weird shit the fighters discovered (also Marie Louise read her book, and one of the in-universe liberties Reichs took writing about the gundams' black boxes that she explains in the afterword leads to ML realizing something important; that Neo Germany does not have its gundam's remains.)

While the Everest project is happening, Domon, Chibodee, and Allenby all want to continue their training somewhere on Earth, and receive a proposal from (an OC of mine who is) a historic preservationist (and an acquaintance of Allenby's): she has acquired the grounds of an abandoned castle in Europe* after submitting a plan to restore it, and needs to hire people to help with the labor.

*the castle is probably somewhere in Germany because I also want this pitch to have drama over Schwarz (pre-13th fight), Schwarz (Kyoji), and Schwarz (the next guy who was supposed to inherit the mask when the older ninja retired). Also Germany is fucking pretty.

In exchange for the help of the three gundam fighters, they and Rain get paid, plus room and board anywhere on the grounds, plus full access to the grounds and miles of sparsely-inhabited countryside for training purposes, and the privacy and ability to practice with their gundams that comes with being in the middle of fucking nowhere. Rain sets herself up to work a clinic in the next town over as well as practicing pro re nata wilderness medicine (I'm convinced every medic supporting the gundam fight would need to be able to do this.)

The group involved in the Castle project sticks around for a time, makes some good progress, and engage in occasional Shenanigans that come up when you put a bunch of weirdos in a Situation.

They aren't in town a lot save for Rain, but when they are they eventually start to pick up on gossip and news about the Mysterious Disappearances correlated with DG cell infection (as well as details that turn out to be important later). Eventually Rain brings this to Domon and Chibodees' attention and they decide that, yeah, this is tied to the DG, this is their problem, they should convene with the rest of the Shuffle Alliance about it.

Also of course Schwarz is involved because I'm the one writing this; the culprits' DG-tissue harvesting operation relies on having him captured and helpless, using cells from his body to "update" other victims' DG infections to a less aggressive strain. One thing I haven't decided is whether I want a reinstantiated Wong to head this shit, or make up my own morally bankrupt opportunistic asshole looking to twist the DG to their own benefits. I also need to decide where on the planet the center of all this insanity is, and it needs to be a place that isn't going to have any unfortunate implications (because that's a genuine risk with dark story elements)

... That's about as much as I have that is thought-out enough for me to explain. I return to thinking about this scenario a lot because it puts most of the characters way out of their element (and has a bunch of details that appeal to me specifically), and it kind of evolved into an incomplete plot outline that I don't currently have any plans to flesh out.

I think it's an interesting enough direction to go, because it follows through with a lot of the themes present in G, but takes advantage of the genre shift to avoid DBZ-crazy power scaling and adjusts the conflict more to a matter of where the main characters' prowess is most effective (Both in and out of the gundams. I'm assuming there are a ton of guys similar to Michelo's gang that just need fighting interspersed with everything else I described. In fact, kicking Some Group of Douchebags out of their protection racket is probably how team Castle even gets ahold of evidence related to missing persons.)

[aceghosts]

And I try to move on, but I just can't let go

Summary: Rooney Shepard takes a missing person's case at the request of Rogue Amendiares; they do not expect the client to be their ex-boyfriend, Yorinobu Arasaka. Title comes from nightlife's fallback. Rating: Mature Warnings: Referenced Character Death (Specifically Jackie and Rooney's), Referenced Human Experimentation (Rooney), and I think that is everything. Let me know if I need to tag for anything else. Words: 5,198 Author's Note: Just wanted to explain: Rooney's original universe is Mass Effect. I've tried to blend part of the events of Mass Effect (not the aliens and reapers, but their pre-service history and similar events) into Cyberpunk 2077. I tried to fit it in as best I can, staying within the confines of the universe, but I've changed parts of canon. Tagging: @bbrocklesnar. @marivenah, @voidika, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @amalkavian, @onehornedbeast, @captastra, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @inafieldofdaisies, @vizarding, and @thedeadthree. I added everyone who liked this post; I hope it's okay that I tagged you. If you want to or don't want to be tagged, let me know.

AO3

Music blasts loudly as Rooney Shepard steps into the Afterlife, a deep frown on their face. Around them, patrons of the club shout, trying to make themselves heard over the music. Their head throbs, a headache forming as they head towards the bar. Why couldn’t this have been a holo call? Rooney supposes it must be an important missing person’s case if Rogue wanted to drag them down to the Afterlife. Glancing over to her booth, Rooney catches sight of Rogue holding court, already occupied with some merc. Could be a while before she’s ready to see them. They grab a stool at the bar, catching sight of themself in the reflection of the glass panels. In the neon green light, Rooney looks sickly pale, washed out. The dark circles under their eyes stand out prominently, a thousand-yard stare gazing back at them. If it were anyone else, Rooney would describe them as haunted, but they’re fine, nothing is wrong with them. They have to be fine.

A moment later, Claire is in front of them with a sympathetic smile as she places her hands down on the bar. “Here for work or play, Shepard?”

“Work.” I would never come here for relaxation, Rooney adds silently. Relaxation used to be nights building model ships with a decent beer. Or a night at some cheap dive bar with V, Jackie, Misty, and Vik, chatting and listening to classic rock. Now…Now, V is dying, and Rooney needs to help them find a cure. No matter what it personally costs them.

Claire nods, motioning over their shoulder. “Understood. Although, I think some hope that you might come in here for a night off.” They follow her gaze, towards a Corpo, sharing a table with two of his colleagues. He raises his beer in greeting before motioning to come over, all while giving Rooney a flirtatious smile. Not interested. Shaking their head, Rooney looks back to Claire. They weren’t really interested in anyone like that since…“I’ll get you your usual, Shepard, even though you look like you could use a beer.”

“Thank you.” As Claire goes to get their drink, Rooney breathes deeply. Focus, Rooney, Focus. They need to be focused, especially for a case.

She returns with their soda, sliding it towards them as she glances over towards Rogue’s booth. “Rogue is ready for you.” They nod, flicking the creds to her along with a good tip as they get off the stool. Rooney takes the drink with them, making their way over to Rogue.

Squama nods as they approach, with Rooney returning one of their own as he moves to let them pass. Behind him, Rogue lounges, faintly reminding Rooney of a Lioness from the old nature vids they used to watch as a child. She watches them carefully, despite her fairly relaxed posture. “Shepard,” She greets them with a fairly no-nonsense tone, motioning for them to sit.

“Rogue,” Rooney sits, placing their drink down on the table. They watch her carefully, knowing Rogue is one of the few people not to underestimate in Night City. You do not become Queen without disposing of a few pawns. Besides, Rooney is curious about why they are here. Normally, Rogue preferred to give them cases over the holo with a slightly mocking tone or have a client reach out to Rooney directly. It was the rare few that ever required Rooney to come to the Afterlife. 

“I have a job for you.”

Rooney raises an eyebrow, holding back a sarcastic response. “I assumed. Why meet in-person for this one?”

“This job requires…” Rogue pauses, looking away briefly as she searches for the right word, “discretion.”

As Rogue looks back at them, alarm bells ring in their mind. Adrenaline spikes as their heart beats faster. Rooney tenses, eyes scanning around the room for potential threats. Nothing good ever happens when someone mentions being discrete. They know all too well from their time in the military that it meant covering up dirty laundry, protecting the reputation of powerful people. And if anyone should find out the truth? God help them all. For all Rooney cares, someone else can have this case. “No.”

“No?”

Shaking their head, Rooney stands, on high alert, “I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.”

“Shepard, don’t be so dramatic,” Rogue rolls her eyes, “You haven’t even heard-.”

“Don’t care.” Right now, they’re getting the same bad feeling about this job as they had about V and Jackie’s gig with that idiot Dexter DeShawn. And look where those two ended up: Jackie six feet under and V well on their way there. “I’m not interested. You can find-.”

“Sit,” Rogue commands with more authority than some of their previous COs, “Hear me out, and if you still don’t want it after, I’ll find someone else.”

Leave. LEAVE! Their brain screams at them, but curiosity wins out in the end as Rooney sits back down.

“You weren’t my first choice for this gig, Shepard.”

“So, that means others passed on it.”

“You might not be my first choice, but I haven’t told anyone else about it yet,” She pauses for a second, “I hoped I could think of someone else for this. You won’t like the client.”

“Rogue, if you’re trying to convince me, you aren’t being very persuasive about it.”

“You’re only here because you get results. And the client needs results.” She emphasizes that last part, her voice taking on a serious tone. “The client needs you to find someone. Quickly and quietly.”

“A merc could do that for you.”

“They also need someone who isn’t the type to shoot first and ask questions later. They need someone who can handle this with a fine touch.”

“Again, I’m sure you could find a thousand mercs in this city who meet that requirement. I’m a PI.”

“Not as many as you would think,” she counters, her gaze drifting down to their left hand, the metal one forced on them by Arasaka, “You might find this case to be personal.”

They clench their fist, his voice in their head: “I hope you make him and Arasaka regret doing this to you”. Saburo Arasaka might be dead, but his shadow loomed large over Night City and Arasaka still. “Rogue, are you saying that Arasaka is going after someone who might need help getting away from them?”

Rogue smirks and Rooney finally feels like they’re catching on. “Maybe,” she shrugs, playing a slightly disinterested tone, “But you don’t want-.”

“I’ll take it.” Rooney has a terribly bad feeling about this job, and they’re playing right into her hands, but they won’t let someone suffer at the hands of Arasaka. What if this person could help V, saving them from the parasite in their head? Or what if it was V? Arasaka had already sent exterminators after V. Rooney wouldn’t put it past them to send someone after V, and who better to help V evade capture than a friend? This job might be a trap, but they’ve walked willingly into traps before and come out alive. Unscathed was a different matter.

“Good,” She flicks her wrist, sending them a text, their holo beeping a moment later. “You’ll find the details for your meeting with them in an hour and a half.” They frown, opening the message as they notice the meeting location set for the Ebunike with very little information on the client. “You’ll hear the exact details from the client. Wanted to keep some of the mystery.”

Dismissed. They get up, sighing. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.”

“I’m sure you will, Shepard.” As they leave, all Rooney can think is: What have they gotten themself into?

—

As soon as they leave the Afterlife, Rooney heads towards the docks on their black motorcycle, hoping they’ll have some time for surveillance. They do, but their preliminary surveillance leaves them with more questions than answers. Maelstrom guard the dock, providing little useful information. They hear the name “Grayson” a few times, who seems to be in charge of the operation. Rooney would need to investigate him more, but it wasn’t a good sign that he was working with the Maelstrom or Arasaka. Whoever Arasaka was looking for was in deep, deep trouble.

Deactivating their optical camo, Rooney emerges from the shadows, hands by their side as they approach the two Maelstrom guarding the entrance. They are hyper-vigilant, keeping an eye out with their electrified monowires at the ready. “Oh fuck!” One of the Maelstrom exclaims while they both jump at the sight of Rooney approaching. Rooney…wasn’t on good terms with the Maelstrom. While they preferred to use non-violent methods to resolve conflict, the Maelstrom weren’t always willing to listen. And Rooney was willing to use violence if necessary. “Shepard, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m not here for you two,” the two Maelstrom glance at each other, seemingly unconvinced by their words, “I’m here for a meeting with your boss on the Ebunike about a missing person’s case.”

Scratching his head, one asks, “Why should we fucking believe you?”

“Yeah,” the other crosses her arms, “What if this is a trap?”

If it was a trap, these two would have never seen it coming. “Call your boss and tell him Rogue Amendiares sent me. If he does not vouch for me, I’ll leave. Peacefully. You have my word.”

The Maelstrom sighs, his eyes alighting as he makes the call. “Grayson, we have someone for you. Says Rogue fucking sent them. Want us to send them home in a body bag?” He’s silent for a moment before his eyes flick back over to them. “It’s Shepard.” Silent again before sighing, “I’ll fucking bring them over”.

 The call ends, and he turns to Rooney. “Grayson vouches for ya. Says I’m supposed to fucking bring you to him like I’m a goddamn messenger boy.”

“Lead the way,” Rooney motions, “We both have a vested interest in having this end as soon as possible.”

The Maelstrom motions for Rooney to follow as his compatriot stays behind to guard the gate. Rooney follows him silently, making more mental notes as they weave their way through the docks. Lots of containers, stacked high, which meant lots of hiding places, a good and bad thing. Good as it meant plenty of places for Rooney to disappear to give them an edge. Bad as it meant their enemy also had the same opportunity to surprise them. They also noticed a few good vantage points, which would have been excellent for sniping if they brought their sniper rifle, Black Widow, with them. They had the sniper rifle with them during their whole military career, even during the Unification War. Eventually, they reach the Ebunike with the Maelstrom guide, climbing the stairs behind him. As they ascend, Rooney wonders who at Arasaka would need such a large, moored ship. It did not seem like a typical Arasaka meeting place. If anything, Arasaka liked to hold meetings in their buildings or businesses with which they had deep ties. Corps liked to be in control, and Arasaka was no exception.

Dread grows within them, like the blade of a guillotine hanging over a soon-to-be executed man. Reaching the center of the deck, Rooney finds Grayson with a few Maelstrom beside him. He looks relaxed, too relaxed for their liking. “Shepard, thank you for coming. I hope the Maelstrom weren’t too rude to you,” Grayson greets them with an unearned air of friendliness.

“They were fine.” No, the Maelstrom weren’t, but Rooney was not about to tip their hand. They glance around the dock, taking stock of their situation. Some more containers, but nothing that would be too useful. Too open for their liking. Keeping a professional tone, Rooney states, “As I said to your friend, Rogue Amendiares sent me. Told me you had a missing person’s case for me.”

“We do, Shepard.” The world drops out from under them as the door to a container opens behind them. Rooney’s eyes widen briefly at the sound of a familiar borg voice, their anxiety spiking. Instinct kicks in a second later, and Rooney spins around, activating their electrified monowire. The wire gleams brightly in the dim lighting of the ship’s deck, an audible hum of electricity in the air. Rooney tastes the electricity in their mouth, a side effect of their monowires. In the dark of the container, two red glowing eyes stare at them. A second later, they heard the sound of loud machinery, Adam Smasher, Yorinobu Arasaka’s personal bodyguard, stomping towards them. He laughs, sending a shiver down Rooney’s spine as he comes out into the light. “Put the fucking wire away, Shepard. I’m not here to kill you. Yet.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of them, and it’s fucking working. Rooney never liked Adam Smasher, too machine-like for their taste. Too cruel; too callous. They don’t put the wire down, wondering why Smasher would be on the Ebunike of all places. And then, the awful thought hits them like a rocket a second later. Oh no. Oh no. Smasher has to be here for V. Or he’s looking for Takemura, who will undoubtedly lead him straight to V. They cannot let that happen. V won’t stand a chance against Smasher. At least, not without some serious chrome, firepower, and allies. Rooney won’t fail V, not like how they failed to protect-. “What do you want?” Their tone is sharp as steel.

“Put the wire-.”

“I’m only going to ask you once,” Rooney cuts Smasher off, the Maelstrom and Grayson audibly gasping at their audacity, “What. Do. You. Want.”

The tension is thick in the air with Rooney ready to snap at any moment. They know they might not win against Smasher in a straight-up fight, but if they get clever, Rooney can-. “He’ll want to tell you himself. The brat will have a fucking tantrum if I don’t let him tell you.”

They holster their monowires, fairly certain that Smasher doesn’t mean them harm. Curious eyes burn into Rooney, everyone wondering why they would cause such a stir with Smasher’s boss. “I doubt he wants to see me. I think it would be better if you and I talked-.”

“No one ever rejected him the way you did, Shepard. Was licking his fucking wounds for weeks.” Dread morphs into guilt, and Rooney looks away. They hadn’t wanted to hurt Yorinobu, but they needed to return to the Military. It was their home, or at least, it had been at one point. “’Sides, even if I told you, you don’t fucking think he would come to find you himself?”

He would come looking for them, which would place V in even more danger. Vik, Misty, and Mamá Welles too. “You don’t have to tell him. You could always withhold my identity.”

“Pays me too much for that, Shepard. You want the fucking gig or not?”

No, they don’t; they really don’t. But this might have something to do with V, and they can’t fail V. Rooney won’t fail V. It also sounds like Yorinobu might be in trouble too. He was the whole reason Rooney got through their time with Arasaka, after being reanimated and jacked with experimental mods. Yorinobu was the first one to make them feel like a person, not so alone. They wanted, no, needed to help Yorinobu if he was in trouble.  “I’ll do it. When would he like to meet?”

Something akin to a smile appears on Smasher’s face. “Now.”

—

The ride up to the Arasaka CEO’s office is a silent one as Rooney watches the numbers tick on as the elevator climbs upward. Their last interaction with Yorinobu plays over in their head, the memory as clear as day.

Yorinobu is panic-stricken, holding onto their arm tightly. “Rooney, you cannot go back to them. They threw you away, leaving you to the whims of Arasaka. What happens if you die again?”

Three more floors…

They frown, confused by his behavior. “Yorinobu, you can’t stop me from returning. We both knew I wasn’t going to stay here forever. What did you think would happen?”

Two more floors…

His grip on their arm loosens, face softening. “I thought you might want to stay with me. Help me destroy Arasaka from the inside.”

One more floor…

Rooney pulls their arm from Yorinobu. “In another life, I would have,” He looks heartbroken as they continue softly, “But I made a promise to serve, and I intend to keep my promise.”

The elevator door opens, releasing Rooney from their memories of heartbreak. They walk beside Smasher, gaze focused on the office in front of them. Rooney swallows nervously, rolling their left shoulder, out of habit. They never expected to see Yorinobu again, especially under these circumstances.

Rooney enters Yorinobu’s office with Smasher, Yorinobu standing in front of his desk, his back towards the two. In front of him is a large screen, detailing Arasaka’s stock value, and other information. “Do you have them?” Yorinobu asks, sounding vaguely annoyed.

“Course I have them,” Smasher motions to Shepard, “Do I ever come up fucking empty handed?”

Yorinobu shakes his head, placing the holopad down. He turns, facing Rooney and Smasher as the pair stop a few feet away from him. Trying to stay collected, Rooney feels like they’ve had the wind knocked out of them. He’s in front of them; Yorinobu is really in front of them. Yorinobu must be feeling the same way.  His eyes widen behind his glasses, shock clear on his face. “Rooney?”

He says their name, and they want to run to him so badly. To hold him in their arms and tell Yorinobu that they wish they had reached out sooner. Instead, they clasp their hands behind their back, aiming to treat him as they would any other client. “Good evening Yorinobu,” Rooney feels fairly confident in using his first name while staying professional, “I understand that you need help finding a missing person. I’m happy to work with your team, or I can recommend-.”

“That’s it?” Frustration colors his voice as he shakes his head. “This is the first time we have seen each other since that day, and this is how you react? Like I am stranger? Like nothing happened?”

Yorinobu is so much more to Rooney than a stranger. He’s the one that they let go, the one person who still holds the still-beating pieces of Rooney Shepard’s perpetually broken heart. “You are a client,” Their tone is firm as they continue to dig their grave, ever obstinate, “You are hiring me to find someone. Unless you would prefer someone else to take this case.” Someone who has less emotional baggage.

He looks hurt at their declaration, mumbling something under his breath about how stubborn they are, a badge that they wear with pride. To Smasher, he dismisses the man with a wave of his hand. “Leave.”

“Gladly,” Smasher replies, likely relieved to not be part of their argument. He stomps out of the room, leaving the two alone.

Silence permeates the room as Rooney searches for the right words. Yorinobu huffs, “What about us? Did any of that mean anything to you?”

They flinch a little, hurt a little by the insinuation that Yorinobu thought that Rooney didn’t care about their relationship, that it didn’t matter. But, they were treating him like a client. Sighing, Rooney unclapses their hands from behind their back. They join him at his desk and lean against it as they cross their arms over their chest. “What we had meant a lot to me, Yorinobu,” He perks up a little, some of that signature cockiness returning, “but you made it pretty clear when I left to return to the military that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I did not mean-.”

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean it,” Rooney looks up at him, “I wanted to respect your boundaries, and you made it pretty clear about where we stood.” Yorinobu looks down at his desk, avoiding their gaze. Damnit, they were screwing this up. “Yorinobu,” they gently call his name, and he looks up at them, “I’m here now. Tell me about this case.”

He comes closer to them, the scent of his familiar cologne invading their nose. Woodsy with bits of Cedar and Nutmeg. “Saburo Arasaka is dead,” He admits quietly, meeting their gaze.       

“I would give my condolences, but I feel it would be more appropriate to say, may Saburo Arasaka rot in hell.”

Yorinobu smirks, a small laugh escaping him. “May he rot somewhere worse than hell,” He looks away from them, “He was poisoned by his bodyguard.” Not the story I was told, Rooney thinks. They trust that V’s version is more accurate, knowing how much Yorinobu hated his father. But, why was he continuing to give them the same tale he was giving everyone else? Probably because they were an ex he hadn’t seen in a few years. Yorinobu couldn’t know where their loyalties lie. Besides, he wasn’t the only one who was going to keep secrets.

“There were also two thieves that day,” They raise an eyebrow knowing full well that he is referring to V and Jackie, “They stole something from me. Something important.”

“Important how?”

Deftly avoiding the question, he picks up a black flash drive from his desk and comes to stand in front of them. Holding it up, he asks, “I have footage of the crime if you want to see it. Would you like me to insert it for you?”

Rooney nods, tilting their head slightly as brush away their dark red hair, offering him better access to slot the drive in. His right hand gently wraps around their throat, holding them still in place, fingers slightly interlaced with their hair. His brown eyes meet their ocean blue ones for a second, and Rooney’s breath hitches in their throat, a small flame of yearning they thought long buried flickering within them. He slots the drive in, the footage begins to play a second later. Two thieves pop out of the wall, clearly shaken: V and Jackie Welles. Formerly Night City’s dynamic duo. Close friends of Rooney’s. While Jackie and V’s faces are blurred, Rooney can still tell them from a mile away. The two mercs rush over to Saburo’s corpse, panicking over the dead man. The audio is distorted, perhaps on purpose to keep any mention of Yorinobu’s deeds hidden.

“Notice anything?” He asks, leaning in closer, his breath warm on their ear. Yorinobu’s thumb lazily strokes along the edge of their jaw. Rooney swallows, reminding themself to focus on the matter at hand: the footage.

“No.” Jackie and V freak out. Jackie paces back and forth in place, awkwardly holding the stolen goods. V is running back and forth, looking terrified as they search for a way out. A few moments later, Jackie and V are gone, the footage ending. The drive pops out, Yorinobu taking it as he releases their throat. Rooney tries not to miss the touch of his skin against theirs, but it’s hard to shake. “I don’t recognize the perpetrators,” a bold-faced lie, “I can reach out to some of my contacts underground to see if they’ve heard anything. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“You will need to find only one of the thieves. The man holding what they stole is dead.”

“Anything more?” Yorinobu looks away, placing the drive down, and Rooney senses some hesitancy. But they need to know. If Rooney can find a way to help him and V, they want to. There has to be a path forward; Rooney just can’t see it yet. “Yorinobu,” They say his name softly, uncrossing their arms. Gently, they place their hand on his shoulder, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze, “I know this must be difficult for you, but any detail helps. I want to help you.” Please let me help you.

He grabs a holopad from his desk, swiping it a few times before passing it to Rooney. Taking the pad, their brows furrow as they begin to read the details. Shit, that is the thing that is killing V. “What is this?”

“Do you remember how I told you that my Father did worse things? Things worse than experimenting on you?” They remember the conversation very clearly, the one where Yorinobu swore that he would destroy Arasaka from the inside out. “This is one of them: the Relic.”

“And what does the Relic do?” They already know what it does. It turns idiot mercs with delusions of grandeur into long-dead rockstars.

“My father wanted to live forever,” Yorinobu’s voice is grave, “The Relic was his answer to that.”

Horror washes over them like a wave capsizing a boat in a stormy sea. Their heart skips a beat, the awful insinuation not lost on them. That’s…that’s…There are not enough words in the human language for Rooney to express how awful it is. Shakily, they place the holopad down, facing him with horror clear on their face. Instinctively, Rooney cups his face, searching his eyes. He’s still Yorinobu, the man they knew. But that still doesn’t make them any less worried for him. “Yori..,” their nickname for him slips out in a breathy tone as he uses the opportunity to pull them closer, hands on their hips, “Saburo…he didn’t try to… he didn’t…?” Even after all the terrible things they’ve seen, Rooney can’t bring themself to finish the sentence.

“No, he never got the chance.”

Rooney breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“Worried for me?”

“Always.” From the moment they left the Arasaka labs, Rooney worried about him, afraid that he might do something rash.

“When did you come to Night City?”

They’re surprised at his question. “I thought we were talking about the case, not about me.”

“You know you need to find the thief and the relic, and I would prefer this was kept between you, Smasher, and I. You will also be compensated generously for your work. But, I am curious as to how you came to live in Night City.”

“I arrived a year and a half ago. Something about being with the military didn’t feel right anymore. I ended up here in Night City, a place where the Free States and the NUS would leave me alone.”

“Did you know I was here?”

They sigh, knowing this would go in circles. “Yes, but I thought-.”

“I know what you thought,” Yorinobu cuts them off, “But did you ever think about contacting me?”

More than he knows. Rooney remembers the first time that they thought about contacting him. It was a rainy day, and they were limping to Vik’s after a nasty run-in with Scavs. As they walk down the rainy street, they catch sight of Yorinobu’s face on a screen. He stops them in their tracks, the world seemingly stopping. They watch, mesmerized, no longer caring that the rain was drenching them as the news report continued. Without thinking, they pull up their contact list, scrolling down to Yorinobu. Rooney hovers over his name, wanting so desperately to call him, to hear his voice. Instead, they close the phone, knowing that some things are better left in the past. The second time was when V was in critical condition. Things were going to shit, and he was one of the first people Rooney wanted to contact. Actually, he was the first, but they decided against it. “I did,” They admit quietly.

“Did you miss me?” A loaded question if Rooney’s ever heard one. And one they refuse to answer. They should keep things professional, already having crossed several lines. “I missed you; I missed you terribly.” He leans down toward them, longing battling within Rooney. God, they want him badly, so badly that it threatens to consume them. He’s so close and Rooney leans up to meet him, wanting Yorinobu so much more than they realize. 

“Arasaka-sama,” A voice speaks over the intercom on his desk, “Hanako-Sama is here to see you.” Rooney is jolted back to reality, realizing what they were about to do and how monumentally of a bad idea this was. They release him, gently pulling themself out of his arms. Yorinobu looks pained at their rejection, and a sharp spike of guilt rises in their chest. It’s better for them both this way.

“I should go,” They have to do this, someone has to stop this, and Rooney will take on that responsibility, “I should start working on the case.”

“Rooney, please do not-.”

“Stop.” The wounded look on his face sends another stake of pain in their chest. “Hanako, your sister, needs you right now.”

“And you do not?” They open their mouth, and he cuts them off. “Do not give me some self-serving bullshit about being fine.”

Rooney is fine. Or at least, maybe they’ll convince everyone they are fine if they repeat it enough times. “Doesn’t matter what I need,” They say sharply, giving him a pointed look, “Right now, we need to find the thief and the Relic.” Or at least, buy enough time that they can figure out what to do with this shitstorm of a situation. “I’ll leave my number with Smasher and pass anything I find on to him.” Smasher was one of the last people that Rooney wanted to have their number, but this would be better for everyone.  

“No,” They raise an eyebrow before Yorinobu’s eyes alight and they’re receiving a call from him, “Since I still have your number and you have mine, please contact me with all updates. I plan to be very involved in this.”

The door to this office opens, and both turn towards the door, the sound of heels clicking drawing their attention.  Hanako Arasaka steps into the office, Sandayu Oda hot on her heels. “Shepard,” Hanako looks surprised, all while staying very prim and proper, “I did not know you were in Night City.”

“Just moved within the last year, Ma’am. Your brother didn’t know either.” Rooney knew what Hanako was fishing for. She had been aware of their relationship with Yorinobu the last time, even if she did not always approve of it. “Oda,” They nod a greeting towards him.

“Shepard,” He returns with a nod of his own.

“Please excuse me. I was just leaving, Ma’am.” They start, making their way to the door.

“Have a pleasant night, Shepard.”

“You as well.” Rooney quickly excuses themself, throwing one last glance over their shoulder at Yorinobu. He catches their gaze, winking at them. They shake their head, fully leaving the office.

As soon as they reach the elevator, Rooney leans against the back wall, letting out a sigh as the elevator door closes. Their holo pings a second later, a familiar name appearing. The text read: We should get a drink sometime. An offer that sounded far more tempting than it should. Rooney closes the message, leaving him on read. This was going to be a long case. 

[ssreeder]

This is about the Pinterest art,

It wasn’t that one, but it was just from liab (presumably these: the first time sokka talks to zuko when he’s on suppressants, prince dishwasher, and zuko saying goodbye to sokka at the last zhao capture)

( https://pin.it/21GXoifJO )

(Idk if that works so I tried to describe it)

it unfortunately is most likely repost tho sorry 😕

Yes! I have seen that Pinterest post before with all the “wallpapers” (aka: stolen art)

that AMAZING ART is by the wonderful @15w11h2o

I love this art so much! If you wanna show the actual artist some love reblog it from them and gush in their tags <3

[maddy-ferguson]

when people who like seasons 1 and 2 better explain why it was better they always lose me when they say "the characters were what mattered the most the supernatural plot was basically not that important it was ALL about the characters" like...that's just what YOU were more interested in not what was happening in the show? like wdym the supernatural plotline wasn't that important in seasons 1 and 2. saying that it was more balanced or more subtle i get but saying that the supernatural plot wasn't THAT important and that it's not what made anyone love the show is a blatant lie