finished the lineup for all of sid’s outfits! the second one is the one i’m usually visualising when i talk about him unless i specify otherwise bc of different events that happen within the timeline i’m running with for him
i’m deciding razlo gave him his septum piercing when they were a lot younger (something about bored teenagers) and sid ultimately gave himself all his other piercings when he was finally out from under the EOM’s scrutiny during the period the ark was on its warpath, free to do whatever he wanted without their or anyone else’s restrictions
the “reunion era” denotes the period where he’s finally reunited with razlo a handful of years after everything in octovern went down (this “handful of years” is following my trikids AU). this is also when sid starts to get dysphoric and develops more concrete feelings about his gender so he experiments with his presentation, hence the new clothes and eye shadow. also his dress looks like that bc it’s been on fire of course so there's a lot of length missing from the hem where he's just torn all the charred bits off
i haven’t talked about it much on here but sid’s “downward spiral” stems largely from his inability to adapt to a quiet life in the same way that sheer circumstance forced LR (and especially razlo) to adapt. despite all of razlo’s efforts to include him in his newfound family, sid unfortunately doesn’t manage to settle down and learn how to live quietly. whether it be the boredom of the whole scenario or the visceral uncomfortableness and unfamiliarity of a family life that drives him to leave, he eventually does, and when he’s out on his own again he feels even more untethered than he was the last time he was by himself which leads him wreaking a particularly nasty brand of havok, taking up any merc work requiring his demolitions expertise to satiate his desire for excitement and to fill up the void leaving razlo left in the space where his heart was
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20 // hamper
Sawyer huffed as she looked over formulas and figures, the graphite in her hand tapping an impatient spot into the paper where the dulled tip hit it. Even as she reached forwards for her cold tea (per the usual, she’d forgotten it was there while it was hot), she continued to glare down at the page, her brow set into a focused scowl.
Behind her, errant wings tapped at her shoulder—one, two, forcing her to pay attention to her posture in her chair as the other two skittered across the paper lightly and poked at the material samples that lay atop them.
Sawyer turned in her seat as the raen’s pointed nouliths folded neatly against her back, and the raen reached out to touch the page.
“Frustration and fury. No stranger to the Hawk, but poured into what, the oasis rarely knows.”
Sawyer hummed a note, answering in her comparatively unembellished fashion, “Modifications to those tools of yours. I’ve traded letters with some acquaintances in Sharlayan that were thrilled to see an original iteration of the concept and asked for schematics in exchange for…”
She paused, watching the way her partner’s hand felt aimlessly at the fibers of the page. She had tried to involve Amesha in as many steps of the design process as she knew how to, initially, having her try to attune herself to a great many different crystals and conduit metals, but the parchment-bound stage of design was always… rather one-sided.
She made an angry noise to herself at the injustice of it. As much as she tried to offer Amesha agency—asking what might better enable her rather than assuming, giving her a means to feel her way through a space rather than be led. "Unfettered by sight" as she so often described herself, and yet there were still realms that Amesha was kept from.
“...Hawk?” the raen called, the lengthy pause no doubt causing her worry as she reached out comfort Sawyer with a scaled hand that the hyur took and pressed to her cheek.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment. I… find it unfair that I’ve spent all this time designing these wings of yours and yet I’ve not included you in the design as much as I could. The wood models are serviceable, but only once I’ve gone through iterations upon iterations with little of your input.”
The raen’s head tilted, and though she smiled, she knew better than to placate. She’d learned well than to give Sawyer an empty reassurance when the hyur was set on the idea that something could be improved for her partner’s sake. Honestly, the hyur might have felt more strongly about it than even she did, but she knew Sawyer would argue back, “All the more reason to be a part of the solution.”
Sighing, the raen withdrew her hand and returned it to the page. “Would that quillstroke and letter could be writ into parchment like the river writes a canyon. Engraved upon page as it is engraved upon earth…” With this, her noulith tipped itself into the sheet, pressing a deep line into a corner of the page that nearly threatened to tear.
Sawyer sat up, at first ready to give the raen light admonishment, but quickly stopped herself at a realization. “...That’s less of a fantasy than you imply. I think you’ve quite possibly come up with the first step towards a solution all by yourself.” she mumbled, looking up and around her desk at the various materials there. “Just a moment.”
She leaned forwards to grab for a narrow metal rod, then grabbed for a blank sheet of parchment while she moved all others aside. The shuffle of paper followed by the quiet scraping of metal caused Amessha to wonder quietly what Sawyer was, presumably, sketching onto this new sheet.
“Now,” the hyur said, papers shuffling again. She pulled Amesha’s hand to the table and laid it gently across the parchment, where the raen explored with her fingertips delightedly. “What do you think I’ve drawn?”
Amesha made an unsure noise as she explored, but indeed, she did feel raised lines in the paper. Long, not quite straight, narrowing shapes that met a tight, rounded end. Many of them, fanned out and layered not unlike scales—
“A… bird’s wing?” Amesha questioned, and she could practically hear Sawyer beaming.
“Yes, exactly right,” she said, in that tone Amesha knew meant she’d be spending a while longer hunched over her work table. She was pulled in briefly, a kiss planted on the raen’s cheek before Sawyer excitedly mumbled. “I’ve got some additions to make to my schematics.”
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>> wip day
was tagged a long time ago by @adelaidedrubman, @turbo-virgins and @shellibisshe to share a wip and was tagged by @morvaris and @aartyom to share six sentences from a current wip, thank you so much!! i decided to combine them and rather than sharing a wip, i'll share some information about the broker, a new character i recently introduced into the story of my cyberpunk ocs :) tagging @reaperkiller, @arklay, @steelport, @cultistbase, @faarkas, @swordcoasts, @ladybeniko, @necro-hamster, @strafethesesinners, @henbased, @coffeebucko, @awful-roffle, @bluemojave and anyone else who wants to do this!
A powerful fixer in Night City, operating from the shadows and only known by their alias. Cold and ruthless, focused entirely on wreaking havoc in the existing mercenary world by planting seeds of distrust and paranoia, to pit everyone up against each other. While their interference is still minimal, the long-term consequences can be felt in every corner of the city.
Once a powerful Arasaka asset, the Broker has access to a tight network of assassins- a few highly skilled killers who serve as their security network, all ex-Arasaka as well. Through connections they also have an entire division of Militech in their pocket, and the NCPD tends to turn them a blind eye.
The Broker is a horrible fixer, presenting themself as "one of the good guys" and luring mercs in with eddies and empty promises. With their charismatic nature, they're able to use the backstabbing and corruption in Night City's underworld as a tool to manipulate mercs into thinking no one can be trusted and the entire network has to be destroyed for good, and they themself are the only person in the whole city they can trust; this way, their mercs end up developing a strange dependency on them, meaning they'll do anything they tell them to do without giving it a second thought.
Though once the Broker has lured the mercs in, they stop paying them well and give them little support while they do all their dirty work, uncaring about what happens to them and whether or not they'll make it out alive. The mercs are mere tools to the Broker to achieve their long-term goals, and they even take pride in killing those who dare to disagree with them- turning them into an example for others.
Some time after Vincent has been cured and is no longer actively dying, one of Vitali's cargo trucks is intercepted by a group of his old mercenaries- all people who felt betrayed and abandoned by him after his departure from Night City with Vincent about six months ago, when they left for Arizona in hopes to find a cure. The attack leaves Lauren, Eddie and Mikhail gravely injured and it can be traced back to the Broker; while it is still unclear what their deal with Vitali is, they now seem to be targeting him and his entire fixer network specifically.
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