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blankdblank · 1 year

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Poke Pt 7 - Masquerade & Marbles

@devilishminx328. @theincaprincess, @lilith15000, @jesevans, @jiminapickle

Poke Masterlist

...

Poker, online a recap of a radio show Reed had asked you to take place in to fill in the world to work of bright minds this year was something of a stunning notion for the people commenting on what was shared. After the talk of your aircraft plans and latest two hospitals you had installed scanners for them that had the hospitals thriving, it was a clear as day pause to enable a comment from you about your dating life. They had commented on the pictures of yourself with quite a number of men, of varying ages, and so question of spare time and what you used to fill it left the host stunned for words as to how you filled your spare time between jobs and ship building.

You didn’t mean to derail the conversation Tony at the other end of the table coasted the talk back onto focus of how several of the men at the table enjoyed poker in their downtime, and most certainly you didn’t aim to have several messages to wake up to daily with such a bombshell hobby. Some simply called you an outright liar, much like a woman who hosted morning show that straight up said you were hiding some secret relationship within this pool of well known men with this hobby. That as a young woman with a title to ease family abroad into news of said secretive relationship yet to be tested for a future longevity you were simply trying to hide this from the world behind some nonsensical hobby.

Thoughts on the story snapped at Johnny Storm landing at your side in his blue body suit with flames receding, “You know, only way to get ahead of this story is to launch it into hyper drive for cover.” Up at him you smirked as he offered you a white rose inside of a fireproof cloth the size of a hand towel, “If you’re up for it, you know where I live.”

“Thank you, might be helpful for a more fun person, and I wouldn’t be your anchor. You can fly Johnny Storm.”

Sentimentally he kept his eyes on yours, “Man I wish you were my Mate,” shaking his head he said, “Yours better be, unspeakably impossible, or it is so unfair for a heart like yours.” A bit wider your smile spread, “They turn out some miserable shell of a bump on a log,” he tapped a finger on his chest, “Nothing is stopping me from rising to be deserving of you. I might not be the one you could be stuck to cosmically, but one day I could be the one you choose.”

“JOHNNY!” clear as day shouted from his sister followed by a distant crash had him lean in and press a quick kiss to your cheek then step back to ignite and blast himself into the sky.

Softly you sighed and kept moving, ignoring the people who had of course stopped to film, cradling the flower which by the time you got home had sprouted roots and was savoring the water inside your thermos you added it to for a temporary home on the walk. His words did hit you hard and staring at the now settled white rose in its new dirt filled pot tears obscured your vision and gasps bled into haggard breaths until you were curled in a ball on the floor. Just flooded with panic and dread over who you used to be, who you were, and what sort of person was so brutally tethered to all of that. Eventually to cry yourself to sleep there and wake up needing to crack nearly every joint in your body for the all over stiffness the emotional onslaught had left you with.

“The answer is no,” you said to the purse lipped Peter who sat down on the empty table you were seated at waiting for the big escort to the book, poster and merchandise fair on the other end of the school that would fill the first class slot for everyone.

“You’re not dating the Human Torch?” Ned behind him asked to MJ’s ease into the group as Gwen nearby tried to pretend she wasn’t listening while in a group of her other friends who were excited about the excuse to get out of class.

“No, he offered to play up a fake relationship for press but I said I wasn’t the type to do that and he deserves better than that.”

“But that’d be so awesome,” MJ said and Gwen had to keep her mouth shut and glance away. “You build planes, make flying health drones, he can fly. You could be backup and help patch him up after.” The image lured a smirk across your lips, making her say quickly, “Okay that sounded better in my head, more even a dynamic.”

Ned said, “He can’t fly in the rain, and you can,” luring the trio to nod and you to let out a chuckle.

“I will consider it should we get the chance. Until then, just need to get to the summer first and all that can just happen how it is meant to.”

Ned asked, “Did you try your button with him yet?”

“Ya, after the day I got it. So we’re both still searching.”

Peter asked, “Is there anyone you want it to be?”

“I really don’t know. Who would you want yours to be.”

“That’s,” he said nervously in a cracking tone, “Is a very hard question.”

“It is.” You said with a grin. “Bound to slam into them eventually,” you said stealing a look at the list of stalls here today the others jumped on inspecting for a battle plan of sorts while you ignored the eyes focused on you having heard what you said and the exhaustion and sadness that bled out across your face until you looked up again.

Strangers formed a sea entering and inside of the party floor inside of Stark Tower which had seating and bar areas on two sides of the spacious dance floor. With ample mingling space on the other end and a few closed off bedrooms and baths for rest or privacy, all engulfed by a wrap around glass encased sunny hallway to mime a balcony. Upon exit of the elevator eyes fell onto you, taking note of the voluminous skirt of your gown in a nude colored under layer topped with black lace decoration stitched onto black sheer fabric continuing up the sleeveless bodice. Hidden behind a black lace mask tipped with gold to match your heels your face was obscured, only given away by the long braid of curls and purple eyes for those not well known to you.

Eddie in a tux with a mask of his own thanks to his stature had been cornered by a few women assuming he was part of the Avengers. So alone you toured the perimeter, taking in the layout, pretending to aloofly be in search of a familiar face. All the while the lowest earrings you wore had the youngest of the Fantastic Four smirk in recognition of the petite figure wearing his gift of diamond and yellow diamond teardrop earrings. Though the necklace you made to pair with it had other women staring jealously. In a choker around the base of your neck in a woven Asgardian metal base were grape sized teardrop yellow diamonds to form hearts. Spaced enough to fit leaf shaped clear diamonds all around them that met in the front for a strand of teardrop clear diamonds growing in size to end the strand with a yellow diamond to put the Tiffany diamond to shame to rest just shy of your cleavage.

Contrasting the white interior of the place bright and bold flowers chatted peacefully in their hidden dirt pots as they clearly were live bouquets and not cut ones impressing you all the more as you rounded the tall pillar bases. One in the back corner seemed to be lacking and easily without igniting a gentle stroke of fingers across a cascading blossom sent a ripple through the one decoration hidden here to not be pointed out by others. And as you continued onwards the bouquet perked up considerably to rival the others.

Music throughout kept others distracted while they braved the dance floor, save for one suit clad sulking Super Soldier with shot glass being twisted atop the arm of his chosen leather armchair in the sitting area. Right for him you moved, fully in notice of the trio of Widows who recognized the gown and began to plan to check in on you later after mingling with their current social partners. Arms bent in a lean forward you lowered. The angle causing that yellow diamond and the familiar locket and rings that slipped out of the top of your dress to slide down Bucky’s shoulder and chest. Instantly at notice of the locket the corner of his lips quirked up and the blurry face next to his came to a stop for him to hear, “Now I know a fella with such blatant disregard for his own ankles is not sulking on the edge of a dance floor.”

Lowly he chuckled and he hummed back, “No one’s asked me.”

“Oh I’m asking,” you said making him chuckle as you pulled back and tucked your locket back into the gown, circling the chair, playfully keeping your body facing him in his rise to his feet. “I even took lessons.”

You said making him chuckle again, “Where do they have swing lessons?”

“I know places, even have free ballet classes twice a month. Or did, before the lockdown. Just might put you to shame, lucky ducky.”

Right up his finger rose to tap the largest stone on your necklace, “That rock on your neck you put all of the Vanderbilt’s to shame. You are gonna need an escort home.”

“My maneater is around,” you joked as he lowered his hand to offer a hold of yours to escort you onto the floor. “Wanted to try it out before the big sail reveal, you got sisters, think it looks right?” The confidence in your tone slipped and at the start of a latin hip hop hinted song with a beat close to a lively swing tune had him smirk and ease the press of his thumb into the back of your hand for a comforting squeeze.

“Not a dame in this place who isn’t plotting to palm that piece,” instantly his smile spread to the growth of your smile and notice of the formerly sulking soldier who hummed, “I’ll watch your back for any daggers drawn, you watch mine for my new time piece.” The subtle flash of the rolex he had been given had him chuckle at your impressed soft whistle then he took a first step to a dance that had eyes now fixed upon the dangerously wide smile stuck on his face for the rest of his time on the floor. One dance style that had Steve with a willing partner who wanted to learn in means of winning his time for the night also brave the floor.

A couple more lively tunes for the impressed Avengers watched this dance enthused side of their new friend, who after the beat changed was easier to coax into a laughter filled lesson of his own to bring him a bit closer to the eras of dance the world now knew of. Still it didn’t have his heart like his own music but at least with a fellow out of time baby sister like you he could adjust in due time with ample lessons to come.

Laughter and smiles amongst the bouncing jewels, braid and voluminous gown had no loss of attention that the sudden arrival of trays of appetizers suddenly caused the music to dim to allow time for mingling and a break of dancing. Tray after tray in just a single glance over your shoulder and Eddie was seen ducking out of view, to be shielded on the cameras when Venom sprung out to leap off a balcony at notice for no edible food for their clearly hungry baby sister to enjoy.

“Truly that is a remarkable piece, one to goad envy from the grandest of fortunes within this hall.” A voice hummed right beside you.

Up at the raven haired Prince in a suit and golden mask to match his tie you smirked to reply. “For a compliment like that I would require confirmation of a name, you have deceivingly familiar blue eyes.” A smirk of his own grew at the beginnings of a conversation to distract from the parade of inedible food while Bucky shared he was off with his aching face to find some food hidden somewhere at his own growing hunger.

Melina to a swift swoop of an official’s aid who wished to speak to the Prince across the room took your bare side to say, “Now that is a stunning necklace, heirloom?”

“No, printed it myself. Are you enjoying the party?”

“I never was one for parties.” Her eyes swept over your face and she said, “I do not recall most of my years at Hydra, but we have met before the park, correct?”

“Few times,” you said causing her mask coated brow to tick upwards, “They actually sent you and Yelena to stop me at the airport when I left Russia.”

“Oh,” she said at a loss for words making you chuckle to yourself.

“No hard feelings. I stashed some sedating rounds before I left, made it easy on you.” Earning a chuckle from her in return, “Any plans now you’re free? Or just jumping teams and keeping at the gun slinging?”

“Not sure yet. It would appear the Winter Soldier is quite intent on leaving the field, someone must take his place.”

“At least Natasha and Yelena get to know you better.”

“We are not actually family.” She said and your head ticked to the side as you heard Venom on his way back up the building through your bees still shielding him on surveillance.

“Only if you choose not to be.” Swap of mingling partners came and like the wind you were simply gone.

Bucky still trapped in his bubble of bliss, feeling happy from a bout of fun all his own since his being freed without forcing it for the sake of others as well could tell there was a certain absence.

Meanwhile the embrace and press of a kiss to the soldier’s cheek lingered in the chest of the Raven haired Prince sulked away from his forced social target. To lap the room in search of that same locket clad new friend he hoped to deepen his link with, as you were one who truly tried effortlessly to make him and his brother feel welcomed. Partly at least immersed with hints of their culture through the people who had learned from ages ago. To hint at least of home.

“Not so much as a word to Johnny Storm, playing hard to get I see.” One woman quipped just beginning the gossip said Prince would hear of the numerous men here apparently claimed to be romantically entangled with the young lady of some standing. Bruce upon hearing his name rather loudly had his goal to be made blatantly clear that he was in no way shape or form involved or ever would be with someone who was still technically a child compared to his own age. Noise that had the young and rather socially anxious Peter Parker within the crowd slipping away for a place to wait the outburst out.

Aim for the private rooms to feign the need for a toilet if need be was had, though wide eyed he found the answer to the missing persons question when he opened the only unlocked door on the room on the end. Behind a hand you were heard saying, “Don’t tell Stark,” and the teen could only smirk and enter the room shutting the door behind him promptly at sight of the towels across you and Eddie’s laps and mountain of bags of tacos and burritos split between the two of you.

Offer of a towel and a split of the hoard had him hurry over to dig into a real belly filling meal compared to the fancy unappetizing display outside.

Mere whispers of where you might have gone to, or having left altogether to leave mere rumor in your wake lured the Prince to check the closed spaces for sign there. The first door he opened waft of a different feast tugged the corner of his mouth up to find you with a savory hoard all to yourselves. Between bites you simply blurted out, “Can you be bribed for silence?” The door was shut behind him and to the bed he moved.

Ensuring to scoot your skirt over to not disturb it as he sat down accepting his own share. “To keep from the pressure to continue eating the travesty of a supply of food Stark has ordered I would savor anything you offer me.” No other man was the target of this private space or entanglement aside from filling your bellies. And though he wouldn’t admit it aloud he prized his craftiness to have been the one to answer the mystery of the whereabouts of the mistress of the evening had slipped off so unnoticeably while clad so very distinctly to possibly prevent such an act.

“Shieldmaiden Pear,” he began his try to learn you better, “It has become my understanding that you were the one to break Barton out of his cell in Japan.”

“True,” you answered and chuckled at the wider creep of his impressed smile.

“I’m listening, I trust your Beserker allies informed you of how to best them.” Largely he took a bite of his next burrito to allow you ample time to talk while he chewed, but instantly regretted that as you answered only luring up more questions from his mind.

“No, Heimdall did.” After a quick grin you continued, “It was a comment he made while on Vanaheim, of the control panel to the prisons that bear a weakness during varied celestial events within dimensions around the one Asgard is housed inside of.”

“How convenient,” he finally hummed after he’d finished his mouthful. “Master of our borders allowing such prized secrets loose.”

“Actually he only commented on the event and power to the planet, the escape of convicts was a passing sentence in the summary. Work backwards from that and only pulses and frequencies of the effects celestial events bear on surrounding areas and pulse inhibitors are an obvious first choice.”

“You defend him,” he teased.

“Fandral is the one who gave away the keys to the secret treasury,” you replied making him and Eddie chuckle around their mouthfuls while you took another bite and let Peter jump into the conversation.

When the food had run out and the door began to open again Loki waved his hand burning the wrappers in a single motion and laid back to rest against your lap that had your hand instinctually rest on the side of his head.

“What are you doing?” Rhodey asked from the doorway then smirked at the Prince lounged across your lap. “Your brother is looking for you, Loki.”

Loki simply sighed and turned his head to press a kiss to the underside of your fingers for a shielded goodbye followed by a sudden rise to sit upright then get up to go find his brother to see what he wanted.

Mouthwash from your purse was handed out in travel sized bottles and disposed of in the trash on your ways to rejoin the party at Pepper’s trip to come and find where the former life of the dance floor had gone.

“There you are,” Storm said in an ease up to your side, “I’m stealing you.” He joked to get you back on the dance floor now the music had kicked on again only to be stolen away the next round to have a revolving set of partners for you. Including the raven haired Prince and your old teacher to get his smile perked up again to work on the tips Sam was trying to give him.

Jane out of the mix who had taken over Eddie’s try to get a refill for his drink luring you over to help him fill in the blanks of what the planet looked like where she had been taken hold of by the aether. Simply she soaked in all you both shared and then got to asking a few questions about Vanaheim as well to know if a fellow visitor there had some of the same thoughts or assumptions she had come to during her stay. Thor being scolded for an inebriated try to break glasses in demand for more alcohol lured her away and had you grin at Peter who had snuck over to wide eyed hear more about space.

A silent alarm on your phone had you slip up to Loki’s side while he moved between destined tedious mingling partners. Around his middle hands settled and almost cheek to cheek the raven haired Prince at the lull between dances heard you whisper in Swedish, “We’re about to sneak out. Thank you again for the dances and the bribery.” Across his lips a smirk eased then broke in the part of his lips at the brief tap of lips to his cheek and the sudden slip away of his former partner through the crowd.

“Okay this is weird,” you muttered in reading the notice from your hive of a note being webbed to your apartment window to head to Eddie’s. Already you had an odd task of fetching a small box of mail that was too large to fit inside your mailbox sure to include offers of representation for you publicly or even written inquiries about your necklace to join the several messages you had gotten online from various routes of where you had gotten it. Online wherever possible the jewelry enthusiasts, including a Director working on a film including an actress playing the late Elizabeth Taylor had been messaging you on the hour to get an answer to know who to call for more extravagantly perfect pieces for the fake Dame to don.

Straight to his building you went with said box tucked underneath your arm, using the spare key you had his door was opened to let out muffled grunts of words urging you to hurry in and see what was wrong. Onto the half wood and resin dining table you left the box instantly looking over the gagged, tweed jacket and wool pant clad man in loafers Eddie was pacing around. To his waist from his neck Eddie dropped his hands and gestured to the man, now head on revealing a blood streak on the collar of his shirt and the side of his head, “This guy hit me with a skillet.”

“Where?” You asked in a stunned tone eyeing Venom’s tiny head pooled out still glaring at the man on top of Eddie’s head.

“Here, he was waiting in here for me! Said something about using me to get to you so Buddy didn’t eat him as he webbed him up.” Again you looked to the man and Eddie reached over tearing the webbing off the captive’s face gaining a stunned exhale of air for the sharp tug at his skin and tuft of a beard underneath his lower lip. “Tell her.”

“Well it looses effect with me stuck to this chair.” A tendril from Venom in the back of his head whacked him with his hand and the man blurted out, “However, however,” his eyes rose to meet yours again in the cross of your arms. “My intention was to enforce reason upon you to make use of that magical ship of yours to free the Elgin Marbles from their unlawful captivity from colonial shores.”

“That’s it?” Eddie asked and reached out to tear the webbing down the back of the chair to free the pudgy six foot man whose frame hinted of a retired formerly injured athlete by how his weight had settled around sure pockets of lingering muscle. “Could have just asked, man.” The statement had him look between you and Venom webbed the windows along the seams to ensure no one else broke in while you were away and Eddie shoved the man to the door. “Don’t have all night. Bloodied my skillet you are coming too.”

A subtle wink to you and there was a confirmed plan to ditch or kill him if need be in the turn you took to head out again now to the garage. Once there up at Eldfalls you peered in his resting place in ship form, “Haven’t asked yet, but, what is your stance on aiding a criminal endeavor for the history books?”

Lowly a chuckle came from the ship and he lit up with excited flames for you and Eddie to toss the intruder onto the deck and climb up after him. Soon as you shared the location of the marbles flames erupted to transport you three to the museum in England where you mentally had already sent electronic wasps ahead to alter the security footage and redirect guards by minor glitches in other exhibits.

Right off the ground and their supports the marbles came easily and hurriedly you had hopped off to do a quick count ensuring they were all inside the beam.

Cackles right out of a cartoon, loud and obnoxiously confident, the man had started making noise breaking the effort for stealth, instantly causing you and Eddie to lock eyes and gesture at the idiot who fell headless within seconds of the draw of Eir-Gram.

“Just had to go and cackle like that,” Eddie said catching hold of your hand to tug you aboard mid leap up to zap off. “Couldn’t even wait.” Lost in flames and tunnels of light above the ruins of the Acropolis of Athens now encased in a barrier of bees casting a hologram of the ruins to disguise your acts inside a shielded bubble you arrived.

With apparent care each piece thanks to murmurs from the earth you leapt out to touch was put back into place to match the pieces Eldfalls helped you to fetch from the museum nearby within Greece. Other relics were left in place while you transported back again. And there ignited to get to some serious work.

Bright and bold power surged to swirl and contort around every crevice and crack of these old stones. Inside your head echoes of the original structure pulsed to the coating of Vibranium you layered around the structure ensuring it would neither collapse or be able to be stolen again. Over which to mirror old paint in gemstones of varying colors and solid gold each building of this sacred place became painted to shield the metal protected stone, around a recreation of a massive golden statue of Athena who this city was named after and used to grant protection to its people.

Sharply a breath left your lips to the hold Eddie took of your dimmed self around the waist to keep you steady. “I say we make a getaway and make the rest of my tater tot hoard so you can show off that box of yours.”

“Oh I am going to love hearing England scream over this.” You said luring a smile across his lips in the joint turn to the ship that zapped you both home again with glee.

Eldfalls being the only one to notice the cloaked figure just beyond your barrier, who upon your vanishing act and drop of the hologram eerily faded into the earth mid low ominous pleased chuckle.

“What’s in the box?” he asked in the wait for food and helped you to sort the mail to keep the usual bills, friend and family letters apart from the rest you broke open to varying levels of torn papers and ones left aside to respond to later.

‘Now the true question is, does the British Museum now have not rights of property, but rights to desecrate a sacred monument to retrieve the initially stolen artifacts.’ Everywhere the news replayed the coverage of the explosively celebratory city at the monument restored beyond what they could imagine with ample efforts to pay homage to not just Athena but all the gods with representative statues there.

Even to the shock of the Princes the museum, with just a decapitated skeleton in Ancient Greek styled armor found inside of it bearing no hint of identification just yet as it had structural hints of not being entirely human, had pled to Thor and Loki for support and urgency to aid in the return of their property. Both however publicly refused to desecrate a sacred place to support a profit for their pocket books when greed had kept the arguable property issues silenced for decades now since they had been taken in the first place.

Although after days of celebration and homage paid a day of rest was called for by officials to grant the people of the city and state who had traveled there rest from the nonstop festival the news change entirely. A second round of celebration was again called for as out of the renewed worship and homage Athena, Artemis and Ares themselves had appeared to slay the powered group of thieves sent by England to dismantle the place and fetch those expensive ruins, not just the original chunk this time either, this time the whole thing to make their point.

Lightning and earthquakes while the monarch was there rocked Buckingham Palace as Zeus struck back with a booming warning against any strike upon those lands again. Reborn off faith out of one act the old gods roamed the country again to claim their old homes and check upon their lost peoples they would all ensure no more monuments would be stolen away from them.

“So I might have woken up the Greek Gods,” you said in a call to Idun and Epli, the Beserkers who co-owned the research center your parents had formed with them left in a third now to yourself.

Chuckles faded into one saying, “You informed us Thanos is coming, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now as in the old alliance they will stand with us to defend the realm, if not in battle but in influence alone.” The other added, “Truly, this is beneficial to us time will not have broken the treaty of peace between our people, the Mayans might even revive should they wish it upon word of their greatest allies have returned to the realm. The Egyptians have never abandoned their post, merely grown more cryptic.”

Pt 8

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imadhatt3r · 8 months

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You know what? That one line from that Phantom Liberty ending where V can call Johnny a "big ol' softie"? They're right. They're absolutely right.

Johnny is a softie. He goofs off on multiple occasions in V's field of view despite knowing that nobody can see him, probably to his own and V's amusement. He screams on the rollercoaster and grins like crazy at V. He adores Nibbles. He wanted to check on Kerry when he heard that he was suicidal. He finally took Rogue on that car cinema date and can flirt with her in a goofy way straight out of his favorite "Bushido" movies. He has fun on the reunion concert and gives Kerry his DeLuze Orphean as a goodbye gift. He narrates that one quest like a noir narrator just to mess with V. He understands Barry's grief over his tortoise. He's respectful when watching Joshua's crucifiction. He's nice to Spider Murphy and calls her "Spider". He sheepishly apologizes to Alt in "The Sun" ending. He puffs up his chest when Denny says she misses him. He's fuming over the kids in "Talent Academy" being treated like products, probably because it reminds him of how he was treated in the military. He feels for Solomon Reed because he sees himself in him. He feels for Songbird because her circumstances remind him of V's.

And speaking of, he really loves V. He just loves them so much; He's always on watch for any danger and does his best to give them advice. He promises that he will do everything he can to cure them. He will encourage them to take a break if they're feeling sick. He will attempt the most dangerous stunts to get them to Mikoshi. He promises V to let them wipe him from the Relic and he keeps that promise. He will realize that they're his only loved one left and will ask for the last chance, and when he gets it he does everything he can to make them proud and happy. He accepts their decision no matter what it is, because it's their body and life. His worst fear is getting to live again, but without his friend/partner/soulmate/beloved (depending on interpretation) with him. He's proud to be able to call himself V's friend. He's proud of them. He's sad that he won't be able to see how V will change. He choses to stay calm and positive before he will be innevitably killed so that his beloved V will live to keep them calm and comfort them.

That whole hardass, asshole act? It's a ruse, it's a front, it's a persona he had to put on due to bad childhood, PTSD from being drafted as a teenager, seeing other teenagers die horribly around him, losing his limb and being branded with the Arasaka logo he did his best to scratch out and being tossed into a rockstar life of drinking, drugs and fans when he was likely not much older.

He might fight it, but he will never be the detached, emotionless action hero he wants to be, because that's not at all who he is! I think that his slight grin when V says it is one of relief, that he was able to show his most vulnerable, tender and gentle side to the one person he holds dear and not be punished for it, playfully teased but with clear sympathy on V's part. After decades of struggle with who he is being so different from who he wants to be, he can finally be seen for who he is, and who he would be if his life went oh so differently.

#cyberpunk 2077 #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers #Johnny Silverhand #silverv #hatter blathers #hatter writes meta #i had these thoughts since the base game but pl finally added that one last puzzle to it #its literally like two sentences but its a key that unlocks his characterisation

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shuttershocky · 3 months

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Any IS4 tips, tricks, advice, secrets, and/or absolute game-breaking combos?

It came out just 12 hours ago so I'm not exactly sure yet about what I'm doing, but here's some basic info from CN players to get you started

IS4 is far more flexible than IS3 because you're no longer dealing with Broodmothers and floating bastards, but do note that higher difficulties still do trend towards specific strategies. In IS4's case, that's blocking and tanking.

In that same vein, Medics and Defenders see a dramatic increase in value in IS4. Nian and Hoshiguma, often ignored in IS1, 2, and 3, are popular picks in 4 because of 4's high damage, high speed enemies that need to be blocked. In one month though, Jessica the Liberated becomes the strongest Defender for IS4, due to her range, tankiness, damage output, and shield summon providing a second tank and block source.

The dominant class of IS3, Snipers, take a big hit in IS4. Without those floating fuckers whose name I forget, you're not reliant on Kroos the Keen Glint's stuns just to survive anymore, and Snipers without high DPH need a lot of relics to keep up with IS4's enemies. Typhon is the most popular Sniper pick, but in 4 or so months for Global, Ray will compete heavily with Typhon due to her extremely high DPH.

Casters are finally viable again outside of Passenger/Goldenglow juiced up on relics. However, Passenger / Goldenglow with the right relics are still the strongest in the class I think. Special shoutout to Qanipalaat for being a hard counter to the 2nd boss even at difficulty 15.

Yes, you can still pick Texas the Omertosa and then black out and wake up at the final floor. She's still incredibly busted. Same with Kirin X Yato, though the latter isn't quite as flexible as Texas.

Since IS4 rewards tanking, medics are also extremely valuable. Among them, Reed the Flameshadow is the best and even an extremely popular starting 6 star in IS4, but Eyjaberry is also still Eyjafjalla so even if there's little elemental damage she's still among the strongest anyway. Because Eyjafjalla.

#Arknights

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justmonty · 19 days

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I don’t know if this has already been discussed but some time ago while replaying Cyberpunk 2077 I noticed an interesting detail - how different "relic" So Mi and herself in real time. I'm not talking about physical changes 'cause it's obvious but about behavior and how...mature she looks?

During the missions "You Know My Name" and "Firestarter" we have the opportunity to see two different So Mi almost simultaneously: "relic" So Mi has a more frivolous demeanor and free movements but she's still a damn child - her face is immature, she's literally looks like the same teenager who was recruited by NUSA at 19-20 years old. At the same time, So Mi from the present has a gaze full of experience (mostly negative), regrets and pain. Even if she didn't look half robotic, just by looking at her face I could tell "damn she's probably seen some shit".

And this brings me to the main idea: So Mi, as an adult woman in her early 30s, still acts (and prefers to look) like a teenager because she's stuck in this unclosed period of her life, she had no similar experience before this work (remember all those words from Reed and Alex about how So Mi screws everything up, then solves and screws it up again). Her normal life was taken away, she was threatened in various ways, she was given enormous responsibility for other people and guilt that she was and still is unable to process alone.

As I think now So Mi, in order to regain a part of herself, needs to live through these years (her 20-30s), find a friend who she can trust and who will help her grow up, and then let go of the past.

#imagine V sings “you've got a friend in me” to So Mi #cyberpunk 2077 #song so mi #songbird #songbird cyberpunk #I just love so mi #maybe I lost the main idea #but I needed to write it

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bahbahhh · 11 months

Text

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps.

zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [first] [ ao3 ]

Again, big shout out to my beta reader @zeldaelmo who is an amazing writer for the LoZ fandom and is posting for zelink week as well. I had the pleasure of returning the favor for this totk zelink oneshot and absolutely recommend it.

chapter 2

for the prompt “forbidden”

Link’s just publicly recommended they destroy the most valuable resources available for the restoration of Hyrule and Zelda has no idea how to save him.

Everyone just stares, and with the company they find themselves in, it may as well be the very eyes of Hyrule itself that are on him. Zelda can’t find her breath. She’s back in Blatchery Plain, drenched in rain and despair, surrounded by a swarm of corrupted guardians. Link faced a sea of eyes then, too. He stands with his back to her, just like he does now, and she watches his silhouette light up with constellations of crimson.

He’s about to be blown to pieces right in front of her.

She starts to raise her hand to protect him like she did that day, only to remember she hasn’t felt the hum of power, nevermind summoned the glow of golden light to her fingertips, since they destroyed the Calamity six months ago. She’s a star burnt out with nothing to show of her once formidable brilliance, but an ugly scar on her hand.

“All of it?” Impa asks, calmly.

Link nods.

“Even the Divine Beasts?”

“Especially those,” he asserts.

He has yet to make eye contact with Zelda again since the smile; that red herring of a smile that had her daydreaming while he nocked a kill shot. She gives up on trying to summon his gaze with her mind and glances desperately at Impa. The keeper of their histories, a guardian of lost tapestries and lessons of the past, a voice of reason in the hundred year storm—

But Zelda sees none of the women she thought she knew in the way Impa considers him. She’s got her head tilted pensively, like she might actually be contemplating what Link has said, which is impossible because he is suggesting they dismantle all the ancient relics of her people.

Impa rotates her gaze out to the crowd and extends her hands to welcome the discussion, looking like a statue of the Goddess herself. Zelda’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach with a splash. She wants to scream, at both of them, but the continued and calm silence of the crowd is starting to feel less like they are preparing to strike and more like Link’s found the hidden door they’ve all been searching for. An emotional outburst could compromise the cogendy of any argument she might make.

Goddess, she can still hear her father’s voice in her head after all these years.

“Where would it all go?” Reede finally asks.

Link crosses his arms over his chest, thinks about it for a half a second –1 like they are talking about something as simple as mending a pasture fence – and offers, “Sheikah Slate has a limitless inventory. Load it all into the Slate and then get rid of it.”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“Smash it with a hammer?”

Purah gasps. “That would be such a waste, Linky! We still haven’t unlocked a quarter of the Slate’s potential.”

“You’ll build something better.”

“Like what?” Robbie says, visibly shaken and pale.

‘That’s your thing, isn’t it?’ Link signs.

“If I may, wouldn’t destroying the Sheikah Technology prolong restoration efforts?” says Hudson of Tarrey Town.

Link nods.

“Did you yourself not benefit from the technology during your travels?” Traysi asks in a strangely formal tone. She lifts a pen and paper out of her lap without looking away from Link.

He shrugs and Traysi’s expression sinks. She must be remembering he’s Hyrule’s worst interview subject. She rolls her shoulders back and tries again.

“Wasn’t it Sheikah Technology that saved you from death?”

An unbearable amount of guilt seethes out from wounds deep inside Zelda. Questions she’ll never feel brave enough to voice echo in the silence that follows Traysi’s: Did I make the right call? Is it what you wanted me to do? She can’t see his face, but she imagines it is unsettlingly neutral, as it always is in crucial moments of outrageous tension.

Do you resent me for what I did? She’s screaming inside her head, glaring at the back of his skull. Unbearable heat swirls in her chest like dragon’s breath. You must! Just say you do!

“It trapped his soul inside his body,” King Dorephan says.

Link’s body flinches. It’s microscopic. Zelda only catches it because she’s so focused on him, but she sees it, and pain blooms in the very center of her chest.

“Mipha’s soul was trapped inside Vah Ruta after all these years, too.” King Dorephan continues. He is a monolith of a presence and yet, when he speaks about his late daughter, somehow, he’s transformed into something smaller and broken. This is the price of a long life. The Rito who flew with Revali, the Gerudo who marched with Urbosa, the Gorons who laughed with Daruk; they have all since passed. If there is grief, it is distant and therefore, instinctively more bearable. Only the Sheikah can begin to relate and still, with the Champions, the Zora stand alone. Zelda’s here. The Sheikah’s Princess returned.

The title suddenly feels too heavy again.

“Father, her body was gone,” Prince Sidon says gently. He has tears in his eyes. Unapologetically emotional as ever, and instead of responding with rage or shame, the great King of the Zora places a hand on Sidon’s shoulders. His eyes, set beneath the mighty crown of his people, swim with tears as well.

Zelda wilts with envy.

“The Zora second Link’s motion to destroy all Sheikah Technology.”

“We-we would be forfeiting artifacts that have withstood the test of time and have proven immensely useful,” Robbie proclaims. For the first time, he looks his age. Shaking where he stands, shoulders crested with fatigue, his hands braced on the back of Purah’s chair.

“When they function properly,” Teba’s chimes in. He has the kind of call that booms across the Tabantha sky. A few Ritos whistle in consensus. “Vah Medoh terrorized our people for decades. Too many Rito warriors took their final dive after it claimed the sky for the Calamity.”

“It didn’t get you though, Dad,” Tulin says.

Teba grins, “Right. Thanks to Link. Kaneli?”

“The Rito soar with Link.” Kaneli flashes his massive wingspan. “Destroy it all.”

“Forget a hammer, the Gorons will take care of anything that needs smashing,” Bludo grunts.

Yubuno clenches his fists and blows out a sphere of molten light around him. “Yeah, goro! We got this!”

“We passed many guardians and shrines during the march here from the desert. They are a map of tremendous loss across Hyrule. The Gerudo cannot remember a time when this technology was useful. We only know its devastation. It is time to let the past go. Hyrule is ready to move forward.” Riju sets her hands on her hips and nods in Link’s direction.

“Our research…we would be throwing it all away!” Purah cries, and like Robbie, she’s looking her age. Six and completely devastated the grown ups are planning to take away her favorite toy.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Purah, Robbie, but weren’t the shrines and the Slate originally created specifically for Link? For the chosen hero?” Impa asks.

“Yes, that is correct,” Robbie says.

“And we all believe Calamity Ganon is finally vanquished, yes?” Impa turns to look at the crowd.

“Mipha’s Grace.” One of the elder Zora crosses his fins at the same time Buliara and the other Gerudo soldiers raise their spears. Teba whistles and the Hylian’s offer the sign of the Goddess with their hands. It is a resounding and unanimous ‘good riddance’.

“So, with this in mind, have the shrines and the Slate not served their purpose?”

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Robbie says. Purah starts pouting. Zelda can see the defeat starting to take root around the Sheikah researchers. Feels it starting to wrap around her own ankles. She feathers a hand up to touch the spot where her voice is trapped in her throat. All those years resisting her father’s guidance and now, it’s the one thing keeping her from damning herself. To this group, so revitalized by new hope, united and rising from a hundred years of ruin, her proposal of clinging to their ashes might feel like poison.

Like malice.

“I know it feels like a waste, dear sister. Robbie. But I ask that you both consider the possibility this is not another squandering of our efforts.”

“It’s the fulfillment of them.” Paya’s voice is exceptionally steady. She folds her hands over Robbie’s and helps him peel back his fingers from the back of Purah’s chair.

“The Zora will continue to look to the Sheikah for guidance,” Sidon says.

“It would be foolish to ignore the knowledge of the Sheikah,” Kaneli agrees.

“Like Link said, this is our opportunity to build something new for Hyrule.” Yubono pumps his fist in the air.

“Something better,” Riju adds.

“We will all have a hand in rebuilding Hyrule. From the ground up this time.” Hudson rubs his hands together like he’s ready to get started.

Tulin lets out a cheer. His voice is youthful and hopeful and infectious. The perfect song for the future of Hyrule. A few out Rito echo him and then the Gerudo join in. Then the Gorons, and the Zora and the Hylians. Impa holds her arms out to Purah and both she and Robbie lunge forward to embrace her. Link claps a few times and then finally looks over his shoulder at Zelda. His eyes are brighter than luminous stones.

He has no idea what he’s done.

The smile was just a smile. A pathetically desperate misinterpretation on her part. He smiles because he’s polite, not because she’s something special or they are together in any of this.

Link died on the field that day. And with him–

The pages slip from her hands. Her proposal scatters across the grass at her feet.

She scurries to gather them up and Link immediately takes a knee to help her. Zelda snatches the pages back into her chest and recoils like the wounded animal she is. He blinks at her, a wordless question forming on his lips. The hand outstretched for the pages turns over slowly to offer his palm to her. He’s trying to help her up without any idea he’s the one who put her here.

“What says the Princess of new Hyrule?” It's Traysi’s voice. Probably ready with her pen, eager to draft a report and spit the plan for the restoration out to the Rumor Mill by sunset.

Her hands are shaking. Dozens of eyes on her, fire in her throat, nothing but a scar on her hand. She glances down at the mark, a nameless cluster of triangles. In stasis, she decided they represented the holy Springs. For a time, she held all three in her hand, but Courage and Power only flowed through her. For some reason, predetermined by fate that has proven nothing but cruel, she is the vessel for Wisdom.

And Wisdom tells Zelda her thoughts have no value. They never have. She looks around at the faces of her people. Unknowingly, they’ve not only stolen her newfound sense of purpose–they are making it forbidden.

And now they are asking for her blessing.

She swallows what feels like acid and looks back at Link. At some point in her reeling, she’s risen to her feet without realizing it. He remains on his knees, looking up at her with an innocent tilt of confusion, Master Sword strapped to his back. Her body blocks out the sun and casts a looming shadow over his face. The pasture falls away from her. She’s surrounded by cascades of water and trees twisted with age and swarms of fireflies. Beneath her feet, an altar with a space for a traveler’s gift lifts her even higher above him. Zelda tries to keep the horror from washing over her face, but the restraint necessary only makes her feel like she might turn into stone.

Is it a crown they want her to wear or a halo?

Zelda gathers herself and says the only thing she can summon from the depths of her panic, “May the Light of the Goddess shine upon you.”

—-

The Summit lasts four days. Link has all of the shrines, towers, and the majority of the remaining guardians already mapped out on the Slate, so it is only a matter of divvying up the work. Each group is responsible for their assigned regions and are free to do what they please with the guardian parts once the cores are removed. The Gerudo and the Zora verbalize their intent to destroy all the Sheikah tech in their territories, but the Gorons, Rito, and the Hylians (who stand the most to gain from recycled materials) plan to repurpose.

The plan is to harvest the ancient cores and store them in the Slate. Link will travel across Hyrule to load the cores into Slate, along with any unwanted materials it has the capacity to absorb. Once the guardians are taken care of and they figure out how to dismantle the shrines, they’ll destroy the Sheikah Slate, smother the ancient furnaces, and bury the Divine Beasts. They will reconvene as needed to collectively approve next steps. The Sheikah are tasked with what to do with the towers because everyone agrees there is value in preserving a modern mapping system as long as a new network is created.

It is Link’s task to figure out how to handle the shrines since he is the only one who can enter them. He disappears into the shrine near his house the first night only to emerge several hours later, circling it like a wolf. He eventually settles down and appears to just glare at the terminal until the sun rises. He does the same thing the following night and the night after that. Zelda knows this because she’s been watching him from Purah’s second floor window.

Seeing him struggle with it doesn’t make her feel better (okay, it helps a little), and it’s hard to stay upset when she sees how well-received his recommendation is; how necessary it feels for the rest of Hyrule to start planning their future. It’s just when this anger completely deflates, she knows she’ll be left to deal with what actually lies beneath it, as is often the case with her anger, and it’s a sorrow she’s afraid she will drown in.

“He’s still at it?” Zelda jumps back from the window at the sound of Purah’s voice.

“What? Link? I wasn’t–” Zelda sputters.

Purah waves her tiny hands and tip toes across the floor to a desk. “Don’t worry about it. He’s a fascinating subject.”

“Why are you up so late?” Zelda wraps her arms around herself. Purah gets a guilty look, but as Zelda draws closer, she hears a soft, excited hum coming from the researcher. Like Zelda’s presence alone lit some internal fuse and Purah is on the verge of bursting into sparkles.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

Zelda knows this is a dangerous game, Purah used to say the same thing a hundred years ago, right before she launched into an explanation as to why the western castle wall was damaged, again.

“Did you break something?”

“No!” Purah sets her fists in her hips, insulted.

“Are you going to?”

“Princess!”

Zelda lifts her eyebrows.

“Come on, do you want to see what I’m working on or not.” Purah stomps her feet very softly in an exaggerated manner, obviously trying to keep the noise level down.

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

“Pinky promise! I mean it, I need you to have my back like old times. You were the only reason my research didn’t get shut down back then.”

“It was threatened.” Zelda smiles at the avalanche of memory that befalls her. It didn’t feel funny at the time, – lying to her father, tempting his wrath – but it felt good to protect something she was equally as passionate about.

“I know.” Purah rolls her eyes.

“Multiple times.”

“I know! So, so, so?” Purah holds up her pinky and wiggles it at Zelda. Zelda rolls her shoulders back and sighs.

“Okay, pinky promise,” she says and loops her finger with Purah’s.

Purah flings open a wide drawer filled with blueprints. She throws the top half of pages to the floor with enthusiasm, mumbling about how Symin can pick them up later, and rummages around the rest with a hushed frenzy. Zelda spots a copy of the new Hyrule map from the Summit with the restoration territories outlined. Purah’s already marked all the Sheikah tower locations and made notes on possible spots for relocation.

Even she’s found a purpose in the path forward.

Purah fans out the papers hidden at the very bottom of the drawer out on her desk. “I’ve expedited my experiments with the Anti-Aging Rune. I just want to reverse this,” she gestures to herself extravagantly, “and then they can do whatever they want with the Sheikah Slate.”

“You’re going to return to your original state? You’ll be over a hundred and–”

“No. I just want to look old enough so people stop telling me I need to take a nap whenever I raise my voice.” A beat. “And I want to be able to reach the jar Symin hides the honey candies in.”

Zelda scans over Purah’s design, which calls for the Guidance Stone, the Sheikah Slate, and something called ‘cellular maturity milestone marker’ coding.

“Does Impa know you're working on this?”

“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than seek permission, Princess. And besides, I’ve already got ideas for a better Slate with an even better name, so that should buy me a royal pardon if I need it, right?”

As if Zelda holds any authority in any of this.

Zelda backs away from Purah’s desk and the ugly feelings of jealousy starting to bubble up inside her. She ends up back at the window and turns her face to the cool night air. Link’s pacing in front of the Shrine again.

“Do you think he’ll figure it out?” Zelda asks.

“The shrines? Yes.”

“He’s always been good at puzzles.”

“Yeah, but so have you. Aren’t you going to help him?” Purah quips innocently. With the way her hushed voice carries in the night, it’s like she's speaking from Zelda’s shoulder.

—-

Zelda hasn’t spoken to him since the first day. If he’s noticed, he hasn’t made it known. He’ll occasionally catch her eye and smile, but she’s learned not to read into that anymore and hardens herself to any tenderness that attempts to sidetrack her thoughts.

Purah asks her to retrieve the Sheikah Slate from Link when he’s done with it so she can run a trial on the Anti-Aging Rune before Symin wakes up. If nothing else, it gives Zelda an excuse to wander down to the shrine while she’s still deciding if she wants to help him.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the terminal gate with his chin in his hand when she approaches. The Master Sword lays unsheathed beside him. Weathered and dull, unable to glimmer even in the moonlight. Like her, it hasn’t glowed since the final battle.

It takes a second for him to return from wherever his thoughts are, but she can tell he’s been aware of her somehow since she started climbing the hill up to the shrine. He paws his chin with his fingers and then flops backward in the grass at her feet with a frustrated sigh.

“Can’t figure it out?” She asks.

He puffs some hair into his bangs and signs, ‘Not yet.’

She sits down beside him. “Do you think there is a core inside?”

He crinkles his nose and shakes his head.

“You told me you think the Shrines, like Divine Beasts, run on some kind of spirit-based energy, right?”

He nods.

“But when you clear a Shrine, the spirit of the Sheikah Monk inside disappears?”

“Right.” Link sits up on his elbows and rolls his head around his shoulders.

“But the Shrine stays semi-active, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t that imply a power source remains?”

Link shrugs. Zelda follows the curls of cerulean along the walls of the shrine up to the peak where the Sheikah Eye glows. The symbol always brought her comfort. The presence of a friend, the company of like minds—a buffer of protection against the unbearable amount of pressure building on her shoulders since the day she turned seven. But the symbol feels different now, as most symbols tend to do with time. It doesn’t bring her much comfort. It’s just another thing from her past she has to let go of; the sign of something else evolving without her.

It stares unblinking and focused on some distance point she can’t see.

He taps her on the shoulder to pull her attention back to him. A tiny pulse of electricity moves from his fingers down into her belly when he seems to appraise her face before he signs.

‘Any ideas?’ He looks tired. Overdue for a visit. She can feel sleep reaching for her as well. Her attention drifts back to the Sheikah Eye and she imagines it closing shut. Resting like they both should. Like she could if she had a bed.

A home.

“You said you think the Shrines work like the Divine Beasts? So in theory, those stopped working because our friends—” Grief, unexpected and sudden, crackles in her voice. She clears her throat. Pivots. “You can’t use their gifts any longer, right?”

Link flexes his fingers slowly. Like he’s just missing something that keeps passing through his fingers. “I let them go.”

She thinks about what King Dorephan said about the Shrine of Resurrection and Link’s soul. How he had been unable to die because the Shrine kept his soul tethered to his body while the waters healed it. She thinks about eyes closing and Tulin’s cheering and the sadness that comes with at last fulfilling one’s purpose.

“Can I see the Slate?” She asks. Link unclips it from his belt and slides it over to her in the grass. Purah would slap him if she saw just how casually he handles it. Zelda wants to tell him to be careful, that Purah might be tall enough to reach his face soon, but she has a pinky promise to keep, and the Slate will be gone before too long, anyway. She weighs it with her hands a few times and then stands to approach the terminal.

“How do you activate the Shrine if there isn’t a slot?” She feels Link come up beside her. He leans over and mimics holding the Slate over the Sheikah symbol with an empty hand. The hair on her arm stands on end in his closeness. Will this feeling ever go away? Or will it always feel like she is about to be struck by lightning whenever he’s near?

“Have you ever tried to do it again once the Shrine is activated?”

“No.”

Zelda lifts the Slate up to the terminal. Nothing happens. The shrine glows calm and blue, the door stays shut, the Slate screen blank–as she suspects it would. She bites her cheek and hands the Slate back to him. “You try.”

The second he holds the Slate over the terminal, the light at the center of the Sheikah Eye blinks once, calling the Slate to life. He turns over and inspects the screen. The name of the Shrine, which Zelda assumes is the name of the Sheikah Monk whose soul powered it for thousands of years, has a check mark next to it. She assumes it is because Link completed the trial inside.

Below the name is a single, pulsing command:

> Rest? <

They snap their heads up to look at each other at the same time.

Link’s shoulders collapse. An irritated puff air escapes his nose.

Zelda leans over him, presses her thumb against the word, and watches it dissolve into the darkness of the screen. The steel shifts under her feet, and they immediately scramble off the back of the entryway because the Shrine has started disintegrating around them. Link wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him so his body breaks their fall when they hit the grass.

They watch the last bit of light in the Sheikah symbol disappear into nothing. In a matter of ten seconds, the only evidence the Shrine was ever there is a round footprint of dirt. There are no materials to sort through, no cavern to fill in. She shifts and sits between his bent legs, frantically turning on the Sheikah Slate where, on the digital map of Hyrule, the symbol marking where the Shrine was is completely gone.

“I…I can’t believe that actually worked!” She laughs, collects herself, holds the Slate out at another angle and laughs again.“You were right about the spirit energy,” she insists. Funeral pires, ashes in the wind, a deliberate letting go; one way or another, a soul needs to be put to rest. Otherwise, it just spins like a windmill blade even after the wind is gone.

“How did you know?”

“I’m just good at solving puzzles.” Purah deserves a honey candy for reminding her of that. “It will speed the restoration up significantly if that’s all you need to do…” Her voice trails off slowly. He’s got his head next to hers, eyes fixed on the Slate in front of them. It takes everything inside her not to fold back against him, so viciously desperate for touch – for his touch – her hands start to tremble with urgency. The last drop of anger left inside her vanished with the shrine. And as predicted, the misery left behind is deep and agonizing and it goes by another name:

Loneliness.

#totk spoilers #totk #totk fanfiction #totk fanfic #totk zelink #botw zelink #botw #breath of the wild #loz #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #loz totk #zelinkweek2023 #zelinkcommunity #bahbahhhart #bahbahhhwrites #begin again

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pinkyjulien · 7 days

Text

Learning that apparently people hate Reed is so wild to me

He reminds me a lot of Goro, in a way? Surface level reading here; they're both corporate tools who uses V as an asset to get what they want, what they need (the relic for Goro, So Mi for Reed) to appease whoever is holding their leash, they both live for their ""boss"" (Arasaka for Goro, Government for Reed) that's their whole purpose

Reed strikes me more of a lone-wolf, he has more "freedom" than Goro (who rushes back to Hanako as soon as V saves him from death after the parade, rushes back to his cyberware and to his ""home"")

They're great characters, their writings is amazing- they show a lot of nuance and humanity when you dig pass their blind automatic loyalty and cold armor

Knowing how overwhelmingly loved Goro is, I always assumed it was the same for Reed, because again, to me, they're really similar (and yet so different) but can't say I'm surprised gfhhgf

#I love talking about different characters and exploring their dynamics their writings etc #I just don't talk about it online because people sucks and can't handle opinions different from theirs lmao #I love all of the characters in CP77 - they're so fucking Great in their writings y'know it's OUUUUUH. OUUUUH right into my veins #Phantom Liberty is an amazing expansion BECAUSE there is no -pure sanitized good person- tm #everyone is grey - there is no good or bad choices #and people gotta stop being weird over black characters for fucking real #throwing excuses when literally the same background roots and tropes are used in others characters and those are extremly loved #gfhjghjf don't mind me that's just :I disapointing #cyberpunk 2077 #blah blah

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wanderingaldecaldo · 5 months

Text

I've been posting Ros and Val without any context or backstory because my brain has been going brrrrrrrr too much to write anything proper besides drabbles, and a couple of unrelated oneshots. I'm still figuring out their story but I've discovered some of the major beats and wanted to get it down for my future self, as well as anyone who's following along at home.

Their story follows PL fairly closely with a few places where I took some creative license. Val and Ros hook up at the safe house, and it takes Reed a little longer to get everything organized, giving them a few days together in Dogtown before Ros is spirited back to D.C.

Lemme just wipe off your cheek real quick...

Val needs family. She doesn't know it, but that's why she gravitated to Jackie and Lupe. It's why she calls Panam for help in her canon. Rosalind represents family in a different way. She's the mother who knows what's best, who cares about "her" people, and Val doesn't realize how much she needs that attachment. Several times during the rescue, Ros displays affection and concern for her—when the building collapses before the Chimera fight, during the Relic malfunction—and combined with the mission to keep her safe, it triggers something deep inside V, a loyalty that she doesn't understand.

Rosalind, on the other hand, just lost a lot of crucial advisors. While we don't know who was on board aside from So Mi, we can guess that there were high ranking staffers, such as communications, security, and campaign, plus her own personal assistant and Secret Service agent. She has no one. She is vulnerable with V, admitting that she doesn't know what to do, that she has no one; and V's response is to remind her that she's there, and she's determined to get her out of the situation. Loyalty is something Ros values highly, and here is this merc tasked with saving her, but who sees the situation as more than just another gig; who has become personally invested in protecting her. It's intoxicating to have someone who's unflinchingly loyal to you, and who has seen the real you.

Once they reach the safe house, things escalate because of the mix of all those emotions, plus all the adrenaline and endorphins from the escape. It becomes more than just a hookup, but because of their situations (Ros's, let's be real), they both know it's an untenable relationship. Their time is bittersweet because of that knowledge.

Just squint a little and the Dogtown apartment isn't that bad!

Continued after the cut...

Later after the events of PL, they stay in touch, and there is affection between them still. Ros reaches out by text for fashion advice on the magazine shoot. They both agree that V isn't the right person for the job, but Ros knows she'll at least be honest. Later the acting campaign manager thinks having Ros take photos with the merc who saved her life in Dogtown would be good ad material, so Ros recruits V to the photo shoot.

Note: add at least one eagle for the "real" patriots

V uses the photo shoot to her advantage and successfully lobbies for the dinner date Rosalind promised. They have it that evening at Embers, as it's easy to secure for VIPs. Ros wants to know what V expects, because surely she can't think there is hope for a real relationship; but V wants whatever she can have. At this point, she knows she's crazy about Rosalind, while Ros is in denial herself over how much she cares about V.

“Where do you think this will go, V?” Rosalind's voice is soft and melodic. She doesn’t know, doesn’t care. She needs something, will take anything. “Hopin’ the first stop is my bedroom,” V says and gives her cockiest grin, but it quickly fades. “After that? Kinda up to you, yeah?”

They spend the night together and Ros decides to give it a try. They officially start seeing each other, but in secret and only when Ros has reason to visit NC. The new mayor provides a good excuse, so Ros visits under cover of extending diplomatic ties, and providing an opportunity for date night with her merc.

It's good to have powerful friends, like the new mayor of Night City.

After a few months of this, they slip up and the media catch wind that the President is spending time with the merc who saved her life in Dogtown. The campaign manager wants to use the media frenzy by spinning it as Rosalind recruiting V as her personal bodyguard, while still encouraging theories about their secret romantic relationship so the screamsheets will go crazy over it.

Eventually people are gonna notice when AF1 keeps showing up in NC airspace.

At that point V is ready to upend her life for Ros. She agrees to the plan and moves to D.C. The media eats it all up, and suddenly the only thing the NUS cares about is whether the President and her merc are fucking (they are). Eventually they transition to openly dating, and the President's approval rating shoots up by having a partner who humanizes her and makes her more likeable.

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oltammefru · 3 months

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IS4 is coming out soon so I'll post some things about IS4 I've heard from CN players. Some of these are probably outdated and no longer true. Also fair warning that these things are very D15 IS4 skewed because the people who told me these are D15 players.:

Endings are actually consistent (although I've been told double ending is decently hard?).

The primary enemy gimmick of the theme is absurd mobility, so good slows and immobilizing effects are very good.

There's no more +res at higher difficulties and casters are a lot better than they are in IS3. They're still generally one of the weaker classes though, since they are now living in Reed's (flame) shadow instead. Mostima is still goated.

It actually plays like a roguelike in that there's so much more room to pick operators based on what collectibles you get rather than the optimal picks still mostly being the same regardless of relics (in earlier ISes.)

Boss 2 is an anomalously easy boss one and is generally considered to be easier than Boss 1. One person in particular told me that D15 Ending 2 Boss 2 is easier than IS2 normal mode phantom (just comparing boss to boss, the side enemies in the IS4 D15 ending 2 stage are definitely harder.) I'm not sure if I quite agree with that statement but it seems quite reasonable (you can stall this boss with 1 defender 1 medic at D15.)

One of the endings requires picking up a collectible which affects (by which i mean increases) the enemy spawns for every subsequent map. I think is a really neat way of doing an ending collectible but also like holy fuck that's an impressive amount of work done for like just one ending.

With how foldartals work it's much easier to avoid specific hard stages since you can actively change the layout of the map to some degree, although the hardest stages in is4 are somewhat harder than in is3. (this was said before expansion 2 I'm not sure if that's still true.)

Cuora has a fair argument as a top 10 operator at d15 and actual defensive defenders are really strong in the gamemode in general. (I think this one might be outdated.) Horn is not terrible but definitely a lot worse. Jessicalter has a reputation as an incredibly versatile unit that synergies with a ton of otherwise generally not that great collectibles.

Pre-expansion 2 D15 IS4 is generally considered to be a lot easier than D15 IS3. CN players complained hard enough about all of this that they added alternate (which is to say, harder) versions of all the bosses The ending 1 boss also seems to be widely disliked among D15 players (mostly for being boring. I very much see where they're coming from this boss does not seem very good and I'm already expecting to not like it.)

There's a lot more variety in the starts you can play. Someone played Carnelian start in one of the CN IS4 tournaments. I've been told about someone playing Hoederer start and having it be reasonably ok.

Taking advantage of the new investment system is sort of annoying since normal gameplay generally involves taking out way more than you put in and you so should play IS4 with MAA to fill your investment if you care about that.

Between how anti-interference index works and how much much stronger shops are, it's way easier to get to a critical mass of really good collectibles. There's a video on bilibili of someone getting 103 collectibles.

Healers are far far more important in IS4 than IS3 (in which they were barely even necessary). As far as a specific focus on healing goes, Eyjalter is considered the best healing option despite IS4 being very elemental damage light. (which I think says a lot about her, that she's far far better than IS4 than IS3, this is because she isn't actually an elemental healer and her ability to elemental heal is a relatively small part of her kit, despite what her "subclass" might say.)

The IS4 analogue of the rejections system provides team wide debuffs instead of individual ones.

Surtr finally manages to be a good unit. Qiubai is one of the best guards. Popukar is the best 3 star guard. Beagle is generally the best 3 star defender. Dorothy is very good.

The ending badges on each of the squads have multiple variants, the highest one requires at least D10. Post expansion this goes up to D12.

Deep investigation still doesn't have difficulty select. Maybe can we get it by IS6 or IS7.

Reed2 is generally the best starter before expansion, Degenbrecher after. Lava/Spot/Kroos is a pretty good start team that I think does everything f1 leakless except 1 or 2 emergencies.

Early rushes are more prominent, especially in contrast to IS3 where opening never really requires vanguards (with the exception of like 2 stages total.)

Hope is way way way way more plentiful than any of the previous ISes.

#arknights #is4 #integrated strategies #cn spoilers #also ama if you want any questions about is4 you wanted answered but also i might not be able to answer

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deusvmachina · 7 months

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I'll say it with my whole chest that I believe that Songbird lying to V about the neutral matrix was never done out of malicious intent. She knew the risks of reaching out to V—for putting her faith in V out of sheer desperation and involving them in what would become a dire and bloody escape. She just wanted to stop losing more of herself physically and mentally to what's beyond the Blackwall, to stop being a weapon of mass destruction for Myers. A tool for the NUSA.

She joined their ranks to keep herself out of trouble for breaching that Militech data fortress (among other things I'd imagine). And she was probably hoping it was a huge opportunity to become one of the best netrunners with all of this top-of-the-line tech at her disposal but she just didn't realize back then that she'd be pushed into breaking international laws or be forced to reach beyond the Blackwell to the immense power beyond. She paid the price tenfold. So yeah, players can be mad that Songbird dangled a carrot (the cure) in front of V's nose. Most people likely are mad or feel played and that's valid. But the choice is there to not take that anger out on someone just as desperate to survive as V is and have them push through to the end and help as they had promised. V states several times throughout the game that they keep their word and do what they say they will do. V and Songbird are mirror images of each other: Songbird losing her memories/identity and organic body to the AIs just like V's brain is being forcibly overwritten by the biochip and her body is slowly degrading. During that conversation she and V had on the couch and through texts, Songbird expressed how she couldn't trust anybody in the FIA. She was alone. Wanted a way out.

Even Reed who thought he could help her was only making things worse. So when she discovered V and their dilemma (probably after she delved into the Cynosure Project is my guess), I say it's what drove her to finally break the (wires) and chains she'd been bound with. She devised a plan with Hansen—always two steps ahead as Reed had said—and reached out to V on the day of reckoning knowing them being in the same boat would be enough to make V fight like hell. It's possible she knew about V for weeks or even months prior. V can question (sorry, forget which part of the game they mentioned this) if perhaps a 'backdoor' was created when she went past the Blackwall with the Voodoo Boys. Songbird then used the Blackwall protocol to tap into the Relic, as confirmed by Slider.

The stakes were too great so Songbird withheld the truth, not wanting to chance V refusing to help her otherwise. She didn't have anyone else, didn't have much time left either so she lied.

I think it boils down to this: V can decide to put someone ahead of her own survival and sacrifice that guaranteed cure OR she can be just as shitty as Myers and let Songbird be the pawn that's sacrificed. What separates humans from anything else is how we are driven by our emotions and our hearts. We take leaps of faith and we make mistakes but what matters is the content of our character. Sometimes 'doing the right thing' isn't doing the right thing.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. And I leave you with this quote:

"I always marvel at the humans’ ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces." —Markus Zusak

#cyberpunk 2077 #phantom liberty #song so mi #songbird #this got long lol but yeah #think i got in a solid chunk of what i wanted to express #tlou2 made me try and view a game and its characters from all perspectives #the same can apply to irl ofc but there are gamers who aren't willing to see shit beyond the outcome they wanted #you fail to understand the depth of the story if you're too caught up with one side and bc of your faves ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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elvenbeard · 6 months

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This point has probably been made already but let me make it again anyway... I dont believe for one second that Johnny is really getting wiped in the Tower ending.

In the very beginning in the President's airplane there's a shard you can read about how they know Johnny's engram is on the Relic. Whether or not V tells anyone at some point they have the Relic in their head (if you do, Prez Rosie seems so so surprised like, nah, not buying it), they probably all know anyway and from the start.

So far I've only played the Songbird ending and maybe there's more to discover in Reed's (I only have little knowledge at this point about the Cynosure or what it's called, most of it from that one Mr Hands gig and the little my emotionally damaged brain could retain from the convos with So Mi xD).

But yeah like... Who does the info that Johnny gets wiped come from? Reed. The same guy that knows so much about this tech that he tells V they'll be back on their feet again in like, a week, or a month. The guy that keeps lying to you and tricking you, the organisation that keeps lying to and tricking you, manipulating you for their own goals and purposes.

Johnny's gonna get wiped, dont come looking for him, it will be no use. We, the FIA, will have absolutely no use for an engram and technology created by our biggest rival company and this definitely could not gain us an edge against them in brewing conflicts to come.

Honestly, wiping Johnny would be the humane thing to do, but looking at Slider, the Cassels, So Mi and Reed themselves... humane isnt how any of these people operate, and just how Reed shouldn't shoot So Mi in the head to capture her, why waste Johnny's engram like that?

#cyberpunk 2077 #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 meta

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aceghosts · 5 months

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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.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #yorinobu arasaka x original character #commander rooney shepard #I won't let fear compromise who I am #OTP: It always comes right back to you #v: cyberpunk 2077 #kate writes #the rooney fic tag #very funny of me to start this fic off with a Samurai song #and then not title it after it #lol #anyway I hope this one turned out okay #it's a real heavy angst/hurt fic with some good comfort at the end #and like Rooney needs help #but they also really need to be hugged

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