#admittedly i cheated a bit but i gotta leave SOMETHING for the fic!!!!

[v-arbellanaris]

PLEASE share about the Cullen Cult Arc

sighs. this is my second time writing this post ;~; literally why does the autosave option exist if tumblr doesnt actually bother to autosave anything, i dont fucking get it.

this is going to be much briefer than the original post i wrote because im still REELING over how tumblr just ate the entire fucking post. its fucking gone. and idk if i have the energy or mental capacity rn to rewrite the whole thing. basically, this arc - which is the arc i developed for him in vee verse - is the arc i think cullen should've had in dai.

firstly, i'm not retconning anything he said or did in dao or da2. this is because those things serve a narrative purpose. cullen is a good templar - that's the entire crux of the problem. he exists in these two games as a narrative tool; he represents the views of the chantry. as such, anything you do with his character arc cannot be divorced from the reality of the mage/templar conflicts, and the glaring issues of the chantry and must, actually, address and involve those things, because cullen is a product of his surroundings. i'm not saying this to minimise or give him excuses for anything he's said or done, but that is made true for him by his very positioning in the narrative as being the chantry's voice. for most of my playthroughs, which lean pro-mage, cullen is an antagonistic force - he has to say and do horrific things, and it would be stupid for me to retcon the horrible things he did.

secondly, my main issue comes from his writing in dai - probably to no one's surprise. i am not unopposed to having a redemption arc for him in dai - this is villain-fucking the blog, sorry not sorry - but the problem is that he does not have one. to have a redemption arc, the following two things needs to happen:

the realisation/acknowledgement/knowledge/whatever that he caused harm to people with his actions/inactions

addressing the False Belief that he has embraced that has previously justified his harmful actions/inactions in order to accept the Truth (this is just basic character narrative construction).

and dai fails to do both of these because the writing team in inquisition is physically incapable of admitting the chantry is wrong and has done wrong and will continue to do wrong. they are physically incapable of looking at fucked up power dynamics and clear cases of oppression and not going "but what if the oppressed people. wanted to be oppressed. NEEDED to be oppressed, even."

which leaves his character arc - whether you want to consider it redemptive or not - confusing. he's trying to shake a lyrium addiction? sure, okay. but why is he addicted to lyrium? why is being addicted to regular ol' lyrium bad? it's not blue lyrium that killed meredith, it's not blue lyrium that corypheus and samson are using.

you get confusing things like cullen's entire character arc being centered around lyrium addiction... but no one seems to give a shit if the inquisitor takes lyrium and becomes a templar, except cullen. you get confusing things like cullen's entire character arc being centered around recovering from lyrium addiction and the templar route in dai and you get to the scene where all the templars get their lyrium draughts. the ceremony and chanting and celebration around getting the lyrium, when barris takes his draught, which is frankly revolting. but it highlights the inconsistency - lyrium, this scene tells us, is good. because the templars are good, and they use it for good. yet cullen's entire arc is about overcoming his lyrium addiction, but don't worry!!!! templars are still good and lyrium is still good. its fucking INCOHERENT!!!!!!

he is addicted to lyrium because that is how the chantry maintains absolute control over its templars. it is a mind-altering substance that causes paranoia, which the chantry specifically takes advantage of and feeds with their all mages are inherently dangerous rhetoric, which is a false rhetoric, as i've pointed out before. but instead of acknowledging any of that, dai's writing goes "lyrium is Bad because [mumble mumble] and its So Important that he doesn't take it so that [mumble mumble]".

because the story is physically incapable of uttering anything even vaguely critical of the chantry.

so, this covers my main issue with his writing in dai. i would ideally try to fix it - without retconning anything he did in dao or in da2. this is what the cullen cult recovery arc is referring to.

i'm not going to go into it in too much detail but the templar order - inclusive of the seekers - fits a lot of the parameters of a cult. specifically, the BITE model, but also this checklist, and a whole bunch of other parameters i found when researching into cults for this specific reason. (which. makes sense. seeing how the orlesian chantry is was also technically a religious cult that becomes the main religion of the lands by actively slaughtering all the other sects)

but what's particularly interesting about it specifically is that, in-world, no one else seems to think it's a cult. for all of cullen's views, he is not the extreme end in da2 - alrik is. meredith is. what's particularly disturbing to me about cullen's point of view is that because he's a product of his environment, because he's a narrative tool representing the chantry's views, cullen's opinions and actions are actually a normality test. people in thedas don't find cullen's views repulsive because most average joes in thedas agree with him. i think it's easy to forget cullen isn't the outlier in-universe - we are.

but, canonically speaking, this is what happens: cullen, like most good antagonists getting a redemption set up, misses his chance to Embrace Change at the end of da2. he sides with meredith too late for it to matter or make a difference - mages (who you learn on the templar route, he's not exactly eager to kill) who he's supposed to protect are already dead. but what happens in kirkwall shakes him to his core and he looks to leave the order entirely - a good step.

the problem is that he leaves the order to join the inquisition. the inquisition, which is headed by the left and right hands of the divine. the right hand of the divine is a seeker herself. the inquisition is spearheaded and justified by the divine, who he has been trained for most his adult life to be subservient to. the divine who formed the inquisition to replace the templar order and hired him to essentially train and recreate the order.

worse, still. no one thinks he did anything wrong. kinloch was not his fault, it was the fault of greagoir and the older templars who were simply not vigilant enough, meredith told him. how he acted to keep order in the circle and the city after the viscount was executed is admirable, cassandra tells him. he was only following orders, leliana admits grudgingly, he stood up for what was right when meredith went too far. no one thinks he did anything wrong, because he is a good templar. because all the atrocities he committed were not committed against people - they were committed against mages, who are not people, not like you and me.

cullen hops from one cult to the next. the inquisition is the exact same thing he's always done and known, just repackaged - quite literally, considering the inquisition's symbol. but canonically, he thinks it's something different. he wants it to be different.

it's not, though.

so, the thought process behind my thoughts for him boils down to this: how does he get the language to describe exactly why this is wrong? how does he get the language to describe why it matters, why it's important, that he hurt real people? how does he get past the Lie that he believes - that he has to be a good templar, to stop anything like kinloch from happening again, since kinloch happened because they weren't vigilant enough, because they were too sympathetic to mages?

his arc shouldn't have just been about overcoming lyrium addiction. his arc should have been a story about recovering from being part of a hate group, a story about recovering from part of a cult.

there's several ways to go about it, i think. and if you want to specifically know how i'm going to do it, you guys should encourage me to write vee verse 😌

[neonponders]

I FINALLY uploaded again to my first Harringrove fic ever, so here’s an easy way to read ch. 1 since a lot of people here don’t know me from Dracula Has a Mullet haha

Read on ao3 here ~

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. It’s just not everyday that you walk in on someone fingering Alexandra O’Neil with their teeth—fangs—in her tit.

There were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately. Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire?

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Billy has the grace to extract his freaking teeth with a semblance of being surprised. “I didn’t know you had that kind of mouth, Harrington.”

Steve waves a scolding finger at him with all the gusto of a drunk, and he has the solo cup to justify it. “Put those away! She was homecoming queen last year. Jesus, have some class.”

“You serious?”

Steve downed the last of his beer and Jäger with a grimace, his voice going raspy. “Look, I’m not one to judge a lady’s standards, but really, Alex…Alex?”

The lady in question was so blissed out she looked like one of those unnaturally stupid women in every Dracula movie. Billy actually moved aside as Steve pulled her away from the wall—away from Billy—to try and talk to her. Righting her dress with quick yanks, he covered her gorgeous, if small, breasts and gave her a shake. “Alex! Hey!”

He could hear—could feel it, more like—Billy moving behind him in the dark room. Steve had come up here hoping to claim the guest room before someone used it to hookup from the party downstairs. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up from a mid-party nap to someone being blown, but sometimes it’s the price one pays for free liquor and an ounce of decent sleep.

“What’s wrong with her standards? Huh, King Steve?”

The voice is right behind him, so close that the damn vampire has to rear backwards when Steve whirls around. “What kind of vamp name is Billy? Wait, that’s short for something—”

“If you call me by anything else, I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your teeth.”

“You’re not charming like vampires,” Steve practically complained. “Gotta work on that. Everyone gossips here. Folks will know you’re toothy like…” He fumbled a clumsy but sharp snap of his fingers.

Billy made a derisive sound before his voice crooned, “Seems like I’m flying just fine under the vampire radar, then.”

He was heaving Alex back up from where she had slumped against the dresser when Steve released her. Steve raked a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a slog through the alcohol, but he surmised that he could not take her away from this guy. Case being: Steve was far too drunk to logically drive, and to where? It was her house.

“You. You gotta go.”

Billy huffed one of his low, mirthless laughs. Instead of setting Alex nicely on the bed, he just kind of dumped her there. She let out a sort of dumb-giddy moan as she face planted a pillow and he faced Steve. “Excuse me?”

“You’re, like, biting people at a party!” Steve realized somewhere between his tone and his slight—or perhaps exaggerated, it was hard to tell at this point—sway, that Billy was far more sober than he felt.

Not the time to play hero but whatever.

Billy slowly stepped toward him. “There’s plenty worse at this shit house than me, Harrington. Worst weed I’ve ever had. And that shit whiskey’s been so watered down, it’s nothing but wheat water.”

“Hey!” Steve was poking two fingers at him before he meant to. “They just renovated the place and I got well paid for the tiling and paint!”

“So you’re the reason everyone’s been tripping over the same spot in the kitchen?” Billy huffed.

“And the whiskey’s not so bad if you chase it with grape juice. It’s like toast and jam water. Whatever, no one’s here for your holier-than-thou, California bullshit!”

Billy was caught by surprise that time. His whole expression lifted, brows and eyes widening as he repeated, “Holier. Than. Thou. That’s the kind of shit you pick up from books. I didn’t know the king could read.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grimaced, really just wanting to get Alex tucked into bed and maybe join her. “You’ve been riding me ever since you got here.”

“I definitely have not been doing that,” Billy retorted and then smiled. “What, you offering?”

“Was she?” Steve cornered, drawing himself up to his full height. Admittedly, not much taller than Billy, but small victories lead to great heights or something.

Billy wiped his mouth and Steve’s eyes plummeted to those lips. “Yeah, she was. She pulled me upstairs, or is that so hard to believe, blue balls?”

“It kind of is, yeah,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “Alex has asthma. Like, inhaler tucked in her bra at prom in case the slow dance was too much. She’d never get with a chain smoker like you.”

“She would if her high school sweetheart cheated on her with the first college bitch he found.” One of Billy’s eyebrows perked up with his shrug. “I’m a favorite for ladies looking for a rebound.”

Steve grimaced. “Derek cheated? How do you know that?”

“That’s between her and me,” Billy said, stepping forward again. “But I hear you’ve been due for a rebound for a while, Harrington.”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy. It wasn’t even Nancy, really, but he didn’t want to talk about anything regarding his sex life or lack thereof. Steve diverted, “I want you to leave. Go find someone else to—whatever the hell this is.”

“Well. You’re right here.”

“Not me, dumbass. I told you to leave the house.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Billy smiled. “What? You’ll let me beat the shit out of you again? We had an audience last time too.”

“I wouldn’t be too cocky about last time,” Steve groaned, beginning to take a step back. “The way I hear it, Jonathan had to mop you off the floor after—”

Billy wasn’t listening. His eyes were on Steve’s neck and the only gut wrenching, instinctive thought Steve had was weapon. It came in the form of a glass lamp, which he wrenched out of the wall to break over Billy’s head.

The hard thud of thick glass hitting before the shatter and glass raining over the floor had Steve gaping at him. Billy stood very still. Way too still. Steve wondered if he had knocked him out, but his legs hadn’t unbuckled yet.

Then Billy lifted dark eyes beneath his mess of a fringe, pupils blown wide. Steve continued to stare at him with the mechanical parts of the lamp still in his hand. “Holy shit, you didn’t even flinch! You’re supposed to dodge when furniture’s coming at you—”

Billy gripped the wrist holding the parts and wrenched him so far that Steve couldn’t react to Billy’s other hand on his pants. Heaving him up by his belt, he slammed Steve onto the table from which the lamp had originated. Music thrummed around them, the very beams in the walls vibrating. Steve defied the laws of his denim pants by folding his leg against his side to kick Billy in the gut. Ragged sounds from both of them went unheard by the party below. Steve slid like a heavy tablecloth to the floor with Billy likewise winded and crouched in front of him.

“Why…” Steve tried, rubbing his chest and hoping his talking lasted long enough for him to decide whether running or trying to pin Billy down was the best decision. “…can’t you just…not do this? Whatever alpha bullshit game you think life is.”

“Some of us don’t want to go through life with your dashing prince crap,” Billy spat.

“You think I’m dashing? I couldn’t tell, I passed out the last time you punched me in the face.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah. You’re just as soft as I remember.”

He was moving again and Steve felt a wild, foolish—downright stupid—thrill to try something else. “You need to leave, man. Really. I know a party of blackout graduates might seem like easy pickings, but Hawkins is different.”

“You don’t know shit about different,” Billy growled. “You’ve never seen grass outside this bum fuck of a town.”

“I’ve been to Disney World. And New York City. There’s gotta be some hospital nurse you can swoon into letting you raid their blood bank?”

He couldn’t tell if Billy was getting angrier or not. The man was always angry, seemed like. “I’m not drinking from a freezer. Now shut the hell up. You’ll enjoy this like your homecoming queen.”

A last ditch effort, diving in the direction of the door, but it wasn’t the first time Billy had been on top of him with murder in his eyes. Steve’s hands fumbled at Billy’s face, but then his wrists were pinned above his head and a panicked whine escaped as Billy’s hot, humid breath found him.

Steve went slack. They always do. Billy had figured out that something in his teeth or saliva sedated those he bit, and more. A whole lot more. It made a good flirt into a hell of a time. Alexandra of the Hawkins Homecoming Court had already come on his finger when Steve, of all people, waltzed right in.

It made hunting annoying. It made hunting fun. He had to be picky; didn’t want anyone he couldn’t look at for longer than three minutes moaning all over him while he tried to feed. His looks did most of the work. The right dash of charm here, a nice compliment there, and then his fangs did the rest.

Steve was hard under him. Billy felt the distinct push of his jeans against his own ass while he slid his fingers under Steve’s nape. Lifting his neck, he made sure the moron’s windpipe stayed open, as well as lifted his meal closer to his mouth—

A strange sound came from Steve. Billy’s eyes flicked to his face, but when that labored breathing sound happened again, he sat up and stared. Steve was crying.

This had never happened before. Those doe eyes that all the girls had ranted about when he first drove into Hawkins were red and squinted as moisture slid over his temples. Billy even checked to make sure he wasn’t sitting too heavily on his dick or something, but the gears of his brain slid into place.

Steve usually wore sunglasses at parties. Billy couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Are you a drunk crier, Harrington? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He gripped Steve’s jaw, but his whole head lolled, those eyes barely finding him through the daze. “I just wanna sleep,” he said quietly. Fresh tears raced into his hair as he passed out.

[sushiburritonoms]

@ofcoming4th requested from the AU fic list:

43: falling in love with their best friend’s partner au

There's many characters I can see cheating, but Din and Luke aren't two of them. So have soft pining and breakups instead.

They could all hear Bo screaming at the top of her lungs at Din in the parking lot next to the bar, even over the obnoxiously loud bar music.  Thankfully it was loud enough so he didn’t hear the exact words, but the rage and shrill peaks of their argument still made their way over to Luke. He slumped further into his seat, cradling his right stump close to his chest, and did his best to pretend he heard nothing.

Wedge made no such effort. His boyfriend was leaning towards the slightly open window with Boba.  “It’s the kid argument again,” Wedge said with a shake of his head.  “Damn, Din, you gotta let that go.”

“He needs to dump the bitch,” Boba growled. “I’m sick of him putting up with this shit.”

“Agreed,” Cara said from her seat across from Luke.  “It’s fine if Bo-Katan wants that child-free life, but don’t keep Mando from it if that’s what he wants.”

Fennec took another sip of beer. “How did this even come up? I thought we all agreed not to talk about crotch droppings and other domestic shit.” She had arrived late, just in time to see Bo-Katan drag Din out by his leather jacket.

“Crotch droppings,” Cara snorted. “Ha--good one.”

Boba pointed a finger at Luke. “Fucking Skywalker’s fault.”

Luke sighed. “All I said was that I was watching Ben this weekend.” He slumped further into his seat when he saw Wedge twitch at the mention of his nephew.

Ok, maybe it was his fault. Children were a sensitive topic for both Bo-Katan and Wedge and he’d already had a massive row with his boyfriend earlier about his agreement to watch Ben for the weekend. Luke knew better. But when Din had asked what his plans were he’d just let the words slip out of him. Truth was, he liked having Ben around. He couldn’t help it if Wedge was uninterested in playing Uncle to an (admittedly difficult) child.

More than that, it wasn’t fair to Luke. Leia and Han deserved a break from being parents once and a while and there was no one else his sister could turn to besides him and Chewie. Chewie was in Oaxaca for the month visiting his family, so that left Luke. He’d already arranged it so he would watch Ben at Han and Leia’s house, leaving Wedge alone in their apartment for the weekend. What more did his boyfriend want from him?

There was more shouting outside--this time it was Din’s voice.  It must have been a bad one if Din was raising his voice enough for them to hear it.

“This is why I keep my gay ass out of the whole family conversation,” Cara sighed. “Kids are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Kids are fine. Dealing with parents is the real nightmare,” Boba said, surprising them all with the seriousness in his voice.

“Kids are expensive, loud, needy, and too much work,” Wedge countered. He wasn’t looking at Luke but he felt tense all the same.  “I can reason with adults more than I can with kids.”

“HA! You’re telling me you’d rather put up with Solo than his kid?” laughed Boba. “I’ll take Solo Jr any day.”

“I happen to like Han,” Wedge grumbled.

‘He really doesn’t’, Luke thought sadly.  Han and Wedge were barely cordial these days. Maybe once, back when Luke and Wedge were still flying together in the same squadron, but now that Luke was out of the Air Force and living as a civilian things were strained between his family and Wedge.

Basically, everything about Luke’s life was wrong since his accident. Losing his hand turned out to be the easiest thing to adapt to because he’d had lots of physical support from his medical team, his liaison with the VA, and his family. Sure, his prosthetic wasn’t great, but he’d adapt, and now that he was out of the Force he could smoke his pain away. Nobody expected him to get a job right now and the inheritance from his mother was more than enough to scrape by.

What he hadn’t adapted to was the new strain in his relationship with his boyfriend. Wedge was still enlisted and could be redeployed at a moment’s notice.  Their apartment on base meant that Luke was constantly surrounded by the life he’d been abruptly ripped from and it hurt to see men and women walk by in blues or to hear the screech of fighter jets constantly overhead.  He felt like a damn military spouse, buying food at the commissary every Friday and getting sucked into random conversations about the rising price of beef.  He knew that Wedge desperately wanted Luke to reconsider the Force’s offer to transfer him to the USAF Test Pilot School down at Edwards, but he had no interest in retraining for aerospace.  He wasn’t smart enough for NASA or SpaceX either.

He wasn’t a hotshot anymore. Why was he still living like a parody of one?

Luke came back to himself when he felt Wedge squirm beside them. “I think they’re done,” he said quietly.  Luke listened and sure enough, he heard nothing but country music belting from the bar’s stereos.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” asked Cara.

“The bitch better not,” Boba hissed.

“Maybe someone should go check to see if they’re gone?” Fennec suggested.  “Otherwise we’re paying for their tab.” The table groaned.

“I’ll go,” Luke said as he stumbled to his feet.  It was his fault Din was in this situation, to begin with. He looked to see if Wedge was going to argue but the other man was already focused on trying to badger someone to play darts with him.

That used to be their thing before Luke lost his throwing hand.

Fuck, his life was pathetic.

He marched out of the bar, dragging his jacket behind him. The cold autumn air hit him like a slap to the face as he stepped outside.  The sun was gone and the only lights around were the bar and one sad streetlight several feet away from him. Luke squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he looked around for a familiar black leather jacket or blue dress. “Din? Bo?”

A flicker of light appeared at the edge of his vision and Luke turned to see Din lighting up a cig while leaning against the wall of the bar.  “She’s gone.”  There was no emotion, no heat, behind his words.  The only thing illuminating Din was his lighter and it cast shadows that distorted his face, hiding his facial features like a mask. It was hard to see if he was truly upset by Bo-Katan’s absence or not.

“I’m so sorry. I knew better than to bring Ben up--”

“You did nothing wrong.” Din took a deep drag.  “Don’t apologize.”  Din leaned his head back and Luke could hear the soft thump as he hit the brick wall.  “You wanna…” Din held up his cigarette carton and let his words trail off.

“Sure.”  Luke struggled to pull on his jacket one-handed but Din waited patiently until he was covered. He let Luke pull out a cigarette before he put the carton back into his pocket and pulled out his silver zippo so he could light it for him.

Luke promised Leia he’d try to cut back, but every time he went out to a bar the cravings hit him like a tidal wave.   There was something about being in a dark loud bar with friends that made him crazy for the first rush of nicotine in his system. As he took a long drag he almost moaned at the sensation of smoke curling up deep inside of him. It seeped out of his nose and dragged with it the minor aches and pains that he constantly lived with. That was probably why Din kept it up too.  You could watch a tiny bit of your life pull away from you and curl up into the evening air.

They were silent for a good long while, just taking turns blowing smoke and listening to the raunchy laughter of the servicemen and women inside.  If not for the ever-present awareness Luke had of his missing hand he could almost pretend this was a year ago, before his crash, when Din and Bo-Katan were having a good patch and contemplating marriage.  When Wedge still looked at Luke like he wanted him and when he could just fly away from all his problems. Just him and the endless sky.

“She’s really gone,” Din said finally, breaking the silence and Luke’s self-pity.  He flicked away the butt of his cig and turned to look at Luke.  “It’s over.”

Fuck.  Luke took one last greedy hit before he stomped the rest out with his shoe. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“I’m not.”  Luke could see Din’s eyes tracking him in the darkness, carefully watching his reaction.  “We should have ended it a long time ago. I knew she was never going to change her mind about getting married and starting a family. That’s just not Kryze.”

Luke couldn’t imagine Bo-Katan as a mother either. He’d never wanted to frankly, and had never seen what Din saw in her. It wasn’t just because he was gay either. “She didn’t deserve you anyway.” On this, the entire friend group was in agreement. Din had lousy taste in women and men.

“Cliché, Skywalker,” Din teased him.  “Are you gonna offer me some wine and chocolate next?”

“Nothing wrong with drinking wine,” Luke shot back.  He had a bottle back ...home.

Home with Wedge.  Luke’s face fell as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

“Hey.” Din nudged Luke with his shoulder. “You ok?”

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

Din shook his head. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Is therapy going ok?” Din looked concerned now and Luke was overcome with a wave of affection. Here was Din, freshly dumped by his long-time girlfriend, and yet he was worried about him.

“It’s going.” Luke waved his stump for emphasis. “Still waiting for my cosmetic hand.  You know how the VA is.” Incompetent and full of red tape.

“It’s been six months,” Din said with a frown.

Luke shrugged.

“Can’t Wedge pull some strings for you?”

“He’s a Captain, not a miracle worker.” Plus that would require Luke and Wedge to actually talk about his missing hand instead of dancing around it.

“You’re not talking to him again, are you?” Din’s fingers twitched and he knew that the other man was longing for another cigarette.  But they were both trying--and failing--to quit so he probably would stand in pain until the craving completely overwhelmed him...five minutes from now.

Luke sighed. He knew Din would see right through his answer. They’d known each other for years now since Luke first hooked up with Wedge after Iraq. Din had been one of the few friends that bothered to visit Luke in the hospital right after his crash.  He’d come as often as his duties would allow, bringing him magazines, snacks, and plenty of base gossip. He’s been Luke’s lifesaver and after he was finally discharged he found himself dragged into Din’s orbit more frequently, standing next to him as they held up the walls of every bar in town with a cloud of smoke. Din knew the basic details of his deteriorating relationship with Wedge; more than anyone else except maybe his sister.

“There’s nothing left to say,” Luke finally admitted.  Nothing that they hadn’t already dissected, fought, and screamed over.

“Luke.” He felt Din’s hand on his shoulder and he looked up into sympathetic brown eyes. “You two either need to get some help or finally end it.” He lessened the harshness of his words by offering another cigarette to him with his other hand.

Leia was going to kill him.

Luke let Din put the cig in his mouth and light it for him.  The intoxication of the smoke and the closeness of his friend made him dizzy and lightheaded. Din reeked of smoke, leather, and stale beer, and yet it was comforting all the same.

“We never talked about any of this,” Luke admitted. “I never thought I’d leave.” Except maybe via a body bag. He knew Wedge felt the same way, as did nearly everyone in Luke’s squadron. That’s why their visits had been short and performative after his accident.  His squadmates pitied and feared him...and he didn’t blame any of them for that.

“Well, I’m done.” Din lit up and turned to blow the smoke away from Luke’s face. “I’m done with all of this shit. I’m discharging and going back to college.”

“Y-you...really?” Luke stuttered. He knew Din’s IRR was almost up but he just assumed he’d re-elist like all of their friends.  “You’re gonna leave Boba and Cara?”

You’re gonna leave me?

“Fett, Dune, and Bo are lifers. I never saw myself extending even this long.  That last fight, it wasn’t just that I wanted a family and Bo-Katan didn’t. She’s committed and this is just a job for me.” The look on Din’s face was peaceful. He met Luke’s confused eyes with calm focus.

“Oh.” Luke didn’t know what else to say. Good on you? Good luck?

Din sighed. “Wedge is one of them.” Din jerked his head towards the wall of the bar. “He’s never gonna leave until they give him the boot. You know that right?”

Luke nodded wordlessly. Until he lost his hand he’d thought he was one of them too.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life. Just do me a favor.  You listening?” Din paused until Luke squirmed uncomfortably and nodded. “Try to put yourself first for once in your life. You deserve more than this too.”

Then Din stepped away. He threw the end of his cig on the floor and stomped it out.  “I’m gonna head out. You can tell the others everything, I’m sure they’ll all be thrilled.”

Luke shook his head to try to find his voice again. “Hell no, I’m not telling them you’re leaving!” Fuck that was going to be a disaster conversation.

Din laughed. “Ok fair enough. Just tell them about Bo. Cara will owe Boba $50 so she might as well get paid now before the idiot spends it all on booze.” Then without waiting for Luke to reply, Din started to walk towards his bike with his hands in his pockets.

Luke watched as Din walked away, with his head held up high. He looked lighter already. Letting go of Bo-Katan must have settled the anguish that had permeated his entire being for months now. It was strange, Luke had grown used to seeing Din with slumped shoulders and downturned lips. Whenever he had visited him at the VA, he’d always looked so beaten.  But now, he was walking away like a new man.

More than that, he looked like the old Din again. The one Luke had once found very attractive before he’d gotten too involved with Wedge to notice other people around him.  It was like watching someone reappear in his scope of vision while he was in the cockpit of his fighter, or like watching a bird reappear from the clouds.

“Din!” Luke shouted.  He watched as the other man turned back. He meant to say something appreciative, a thank you for the smokes and the advice. Instead what slipped out of his lips was, “I’m taking Ben to the zoo this weekend! Do you want to come?”

He didn’t know what exactly possessed him to say that, but it was worth it to see Din’s face break out into a real honest-to-god smile. “Yeah, sure. Text me!”

He watched Din until the man disappeared with a loud roar of his Harley, until his cigarette was ashes in his fingers and he felt his own smile finally fade away.

---

Previous responses

28. Knocking on the wrong door (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan)

38.cop/person getting a speeding ticket au (Din/Luke)

30: tourist/knowledgeable local au (Din/Luke)

19. parents meeting when they take their kids to class au (Din/Luke)

15: meeting in the E.R/A&E au (Din/Luke/Boba)

40: Soul destroying exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (Din/Luke)

25: Library/Avid Reader AU Part I (Din/Luke)

Library AU part II (Din/Luke, Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon)

[saturnwritings]

one drink too many

—after getting a bit too rowdy on a girls night out, it’s up to bakugou to take care of you when things go south and the night dwindles to a close.

pairing(s): bakugou x reader (established)

word count: 2735

warnings: bad decisions made by consumption of alcohol

a/n: special thanks to my irl friend kim for suggesting this!! and uhh,, if y’all wanna give me sum nice juicy requests i would be happy to 😎 also my first bnha fic!! kinda weird since bakugou isnt really in my list of best boys (hes like b or a tier ngl 😔 but my friend really likes him also this was v fun i starting writing at 2 and ended at like 11 but im really proud of it)

“Hey y/n! You almost ready to go? The Uber’s almost here!” 

As you held your phone up to your ear, your eyes widened. You had almost completely forgotten about the girls night out you planned, despite already being dressed. 

You promised your boyfriend you’d hang out with him before you left, so there you were: all dressed up in your fancy, going-out clothes watching Bakugou train in the on-campus gym, that is, until you got a call from Mina, which completely snapped you out of your daze.

To be honest, you could watch Bakugou train for hours, days even. The way his body moved with such determination, wow, your eyes were glued to him. Even from where you sat against the wall of the empty room, you could see his muscles flexing with every move - but you had planned this outing weeks ago and the girls would kill you if you ditched them to watch you boyfriend work out of all things. 

“Oh, yeah! I’m… on my way! I’ll see you at the entrance.” You quickly responded as you hung up. stood up and grabbed your small bag. You called out to Bakugou, who was so engrossed in fighting a punching-bag that he didn’t notice you walk over to him. 

“Hey, Katsuki, Mina just called, I gotta now,” you placed your hand on his shoulder as you tip-toed to give him a small kiss, “Don’t stay up too late training, okay?” You paused for a second, “And try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.” You teased with a small laugh. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Tch, whatever, loser.” He said, breaking eye contact, though there was no trace of malice in his voice.

***

The bar was never really your favorite place to be. It was sticky and smokey and loud and there was always a person who stood a little too close to you on the dance floor. Thankfully, you always managed to have a good and fun time and loosen up with a drink or two. And if all else fails, the bar you went to wasn’t so far from the dorms, around 15 minutes by car, so you knew if you really wanted to leave, it was no problem.

After a couple sessions of dancing with Mina and Hagakure, and probably too many rounds of shots with Jirou and, surprisingly, Yaomomo, you found yourself stumbling towards a nearby pool table, despite being surrounded by guys already engaging in a match.

“Hey! Can we, uhm, use this after you?” You slurred, probably sounding like roadlike. The guys took a second to exchange glances, then started laughing hysterically. You grew puzzled. 

“Oh,” One guy looked you up and down, “You know how to play?” You frowned. Even in your drunken state you could tell he was being condescending. You huffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean, you’re a girl?” He said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Girls don’t know how to play pool.”

“Oh yeah? Well then… I challenge you to a game!” You said as you crossed your arms over your chest and lifted your chin. You didn’t exactly think this plan through, seeing as though you weren’t really in any shape to play competitively and seriously, but drunk you was not about to take shit for a sexist stranger. The man quirked his eyebrow, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

“Okay then,” He said with a chuckle as he handed you a pool cue, “Game on,” He paused and mocked looking pensive, “and good luck.” Something about his smile didn’t sit right with you. You scoffed. By then, all your friends were gathered around to watch. 

They knew how competitive you got, and while they should probably stop the showdown to prevent bad things from happening in the near future, it was good entertainment.

After a while of playing, only the 8-ball was left; it was your turn. Feeling very buzzed, you lined up your cue and tried focusing on one of the pockets, however it seemed as though your vision just dropped to -5 and you were looking at the Eiffel Tower from Spain. In simpler terms: you were fucked. 

As much as you knew you wouldn’t be able to win, your stubbornness didn’t allow you to back out or admit defeat. As you were about to hit the ball, you felt someone behind you slightly nudge your cue, causing the ball to roll off course and instead it hit one of the walls. You gasped and looked behind you and sure enough, there was your opponent, looking extremely satisfied with a smirk on his face. 

“Hey! You cheated, what the hell?!” 

“Hm… did I? Or was I just right about little girls not being able to play pool?” Anger bubbled within you.

“No!” You shouted, “Absolutely not, you so clearly cheated! You knocked my stick and… made the ball go… somewhere else!” The mix of alcohol and anger made it a bit hard for you to think straight, and trying to think honestly gave you a headache.

“Woah! Getting pretty feisty, huh. Try to manage your emotions more, then maybe people might start taking you seriously.” He and his friends laughed. You were so taken aback that all you could do was scoff as you looked at him with disgust.

Now, sober you would definitely not approve of what you were about to do. No, normally you were composed and knew how to handle yourself; drunk you had a different plan. You growled (you had apparently picked it up from being around Bakugou so much) as you stomped over and shoved him. 

Everyone around you oohed, Uraraka and Mina exchanged nervous glances. Uraraka was close enough to you to know when you were being reckless, and Mina, usually forced into being the mediator for your and Bakugou’s arguments, knew you wouldn’t back down from a fight.

As you were about to beat this guy up, you felt Mina grab your arm and pull you back to the rest of the girls. 

“Hey! What’re you doing?” You struggled to rip your arm away from Mina’s grip, but she was steady and, admittedly, more sober. All the girls collectively sighed, and it was Mina who spoke up at the end.

“y/n, you’re out of control. You can’t just beat a random guy up at a bar just because he cheated at pool! No matter how sexist that piece of trash is…” She seemed to mumble the last part, “Let’s just try to have a fun rest of the night, okay?” She gave you a small smile as she rested her hand on your shoulder. You huffed.

“No, he deserves it! Piece of… poop,” You crossed your arms childishly “You can’t stop me!” You stormed off back to the guy, intending to give him a piece of your mind while Uraraka followed with a worried look on her face as she attempted to diffuse the situation.

“Ugh, it’s no use. She won’t listen to us!” Jirou groaned. Deep down, the girls knew that the guy deserved it, but beating him up wouldn’t solve anything and it was definitely not the mature or right thing to do, they were training to be heroes, after all. The girls were all deep in thought when Hagakure spoke up.

“Let’s call Bakugou, y/n always listens to him! Or maybe he can just carry her home if she won’t!” The girls pondered this for a second. Momo sighed.

“Unfortunately, that might be our best option,” She glanced at Uraraka standing between you and the guy, “It’s not like we could manage to get her into an Uber or on the train, let alone carry her all the way home.” All the girls seemed to have come to an agreement. They decided Mina should call Bakugou, they hung out the most and she was the person who Bakugou would most likely pick up on. 

Mina pulled out her phone and looked for the contact, holding her phone up to her ear as it rang.

“Hey Bakugou… Uhm, so there’s been a situation.”

***

After what seemed like hours, but was actually 10 minutes of trying to calm you down and hold you off long enough for Bakugou to arrive, he finally did.

The girls were in the middle of holding you back, when, out of nowhere, a hand gripped your arm strongly and pulled you away. You heard the girls sigh in relief as you were about to chew out this guy as well, when you looked up and saw none other than your boyfriend starting at you with an intense look. You became nervous before growing confused: What was Katsuki doing here? It’s girls night… he’s not a girl is he? Your drunken mind was very frazzled.

“Wait a second… what’re you doing here?” You slurred. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Tch, dumbass. Come with me, we’re leaving.” You gasped with betrayal.

“Nooo, ‘Suki I don’t wanna go! I gotta… beat his ass.” you hiccuped, followed by a very intoxicated giggle. Bakugou scoffed.

“No. You’re too drunk right now, you’re gonna do something stupid,” He said as he pulled you out of the bar by your arm, “We’re leaving.” You whined, on the verge of a tantrum, but you knew Bakugou’s word was final. You let your shoulders slump as he guided you outside, Mina followed. 

“Thanks for getting here so quickly, Bakubro, it’s hard to handle y/n when she’s like this…” Mina said, rubbing her neck awkwardly. You shifted as Bakugou held up by the waist, your arm slung around his shoulders.

“Whatever, she makes stupid decisions when she’s drunk, it’s a pain in the ass to take care of her,” He was lying, of course, he loved taking care of you, drunk of not, this was mostly for appearances’ sake. 

Mina didn’t buy it though, she knew that even though it was always you taking care of Bakugou and calming him down everyday, Bakugou cared deeply for you and did the same. Internally, she found the switching of dynamics very endearing. 

“We’re leaving, I’m taking her home.” Bakugou said, suddenly. 

“Oh, okay. Let me just get the girls and we can go-”

“No, it’s fine, just… stay there, I guess.” Mina was baffled as Bakugou looked away, “Just, ugh! Whatever, I’ll take her home, you can stay here.” He blurted out. Mina was very taken aback.

“Oh… okay then! Thanks Bakubro!” She said as she pushed the door of the bar open and headed inside. Bakugou sighed, he was too soft when it came to you. He looked back at you, practically hanging off him, and fought the urge to sigh again.

Your hair was a mess and your outfit was rumpled, you would also groan occasionally, most definitely from a headache. Being able to be outside and get some fresh air really made you realize how out of it you were, Bakugou noticed as well as you swayed slightly. You looked up and caught Bakugou staring at you, you tilted your head in confusion.

“Wait… ‘Suki? Wha-” Bakugou narrowed his eyes in confusion, waiting for you to say something, “When did you get here? I was inside, and you were… not inside” You stared off into space for a second before coming to, “Woah…”

“You were being stupid, I had to come save your ass from being beat.” Bakugou replied, rolling his eyes, “C’mon, we’re going to the station.”

“Station?”

“Train station.” 

“Ohhh… okay.” You guys stayed quiet until you arrived at the steps of the train station, only minutes away from the bar; Bakugou thought it was better than waiting for an Uber.

“Give me your bag.” Bakugou held his hand out expectantly.

“What? No! You could… steal something!” You said, shaking your head childishly.

“y/n come on! We need to get your IC card to go on the train, then we can go home.” Bakugou said, as if explaining something to a child. You thought for a second.

“Fine, here!” You took your bag off your shoulder and almost shoved it into his hands. He rummaged around before pulling out your wallet. He sighed in relief when he saw your IC card, thankfully, you had it on you at all times. Bakugou pulled out his own and guided you to the gates. 

“Ugh, why wont this stupid thing work?!” You said, scanning your card in the completely wrong place and shoving at the turnstiles. 

“You put it here.” Bakugou guided your hand to the scanner and gave a nudge as an indicator to walk through. He gave an affectionate eye roll when he heard your little ‘woah’. As much as a dumbass you were when you were drunk, he loved being able to take care of you in return for all the time you took care of him.

The carriage was near-empty and, thankfully, silent. Bakugou knew what loudness did to your headaches, and he really didn’t want to experience it right then. Due to the carriage not being busy, you were able to get seats next to each other. 

After the train started, your head naturally fell onto Bakugou’s shoulder. It seemed as though the train ride was too short and too long all at once; the moonlight was illuminating your face and your eyes were closed. He could feel the soft rise and fall when you breathed. Things like this had happened many times before, but Bakugou could never really get over how peaceful and ethereal you looked, despite being very drunk. He felt as though he could stay in that moment forever. 

He looked in the opposite direction so you couldn’t see his blush.

A short walk later and you guys were at the dorms. You stumbled into your room with Bakugou supporting you. 

“Ugh!” You groaned as you collapsed face-down on your bed. Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“No, y/n, you have to get ready for bed first before you sleep,” You responded with a groan as Bakugou lifted you up to sit upright, “Wait here.” 

A while later, Bakugou re entered the room with supplies in hand and was pleased to see you hadn’t moved, you were probably too tired to cause any more mayhem. He set the things down on the bed next to you and started to work. “Stay still, okay?” He said, you hummed and nodded slightly as a reply, already half asleep. 

Meanwhile, Bakugou took a cotton pad soaked in make-up remover and wiped it all over your face, then applied the several skincare products you had in what he hoped was the correct order and area. He had watched you enough times to have a basic understanding of your night routine, but still wasn’t quite sure of himself.

After doing your skincare, he walked over to your closet to pick out some comfy pyjamas for you. As he was filing through, he took note of the several hoodies he had previously dubbed missing, however he took one out anyway. He handed you the hoodie, expecting you to know to change. Instead, you made grabby hands at him and whined.

“‘Sukiii, I’m tired.” Bakugou sighed.

“I know, dummy, but you gotta change first, okay?” You grumbled but started to undress, before getting stuck in your clothes and Bakugou needing to help with what seemed like the 100th sigh of the evening.

Finally, you were dressed and Bakugou tucked you into bed, sitting on the covers next to you. He recounted the night, starting with getting a call from Mina saying you got into trouble and were able to fight someone, then running to the bar to save your ass and taking you home. He shook his head slightly.

“And you told me not to get in trouble,” He said, mostly to himself, he thought you were asleep, or just couldn’t understand him at this point.

“It’s not my fault! It was that guy, he was… doing stuff.” You puffed out your cheeks and furrowed your brows. Bakugou gave a small laugh and smile. 

“I know, dumbass.” When he looked back at you, he was met with your closed eyes. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, and before leaving the room, you had woken up just enough to hear him say goodnight.

“I love you, loser.”

bonus - the next day

mina: yo how’d u get to the bar so fast

bakugou: i ran wdym

mina: coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool

[renwritesstuff]

bird's opening

A collaboration fic/art story with the lovely @fishbone76​

It started as just a friendly game of chess between the Normandy’s two resident geniuses. But then their significant others got involved and almost ruined it.

Also on AO3. Approximately 3,487 words.

Hand at her chin, Samantha Traynor studied the chess board in front of her. The glowing interface was looking a bit blurry around the edges, her mind swimming as she gave a few long blinks. Sam’s spot at the Skyllian Five table in the Port Observation Deck was surrounded by a collection of empty liquor bottles, her other hand gripping a half-consumed cocktail.

Her opponent purred from across the green-topped table. “Are you sweating, Specialist Traynor?” Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy drummed a pair of fingers impatiently.

“Not at all,” Sam retorted as she reached forward to nudge a pawn. “Just trying to decide if I want to win this in 10 moves… or 15 to give you a little boost of confidence.” Her smile was lazy and—admittedly—a bit drunk.

“Big talk,” the quarian slurred, her inflection a little lower than normal. “Considering you said this was ‘in the bag’ four moves ago. What does that even mean?”

Well, right now it actually means “drunk.”

“It’s just a silly idiom that—forget it. Your go, Admiral.”

There was a dull tapping sound on Sam’s right that she ignored with another sip of her drink.

Tali’s white eyes flicked over to the side before returning to the chess board. “Should we let them back in?”

“Absolutely not,” Samantha said with an emphatic shake of her head.

The quarian gave an apologetic shrug at the glass panels that made up the entrance to the small poker cubby of the recreation room.

A muffled “Oh come on!” could be heard from the other side of the glass.

Hovering there, faces pressed up against the locked doors, was Commander Jane Shepard and (General?) Garrus Vakarian. Also perched on Jane’s shoulder was her hamster, Lil’ Dude. All three looked positively pathetic standing around unable to enter.

Garrus scratched a digit against the glass again for another pleading tap. He lowered the rumble in his voice. “…come on… We’ll behave. It was just a little friendly wager between significant others.”

He nudged an elbow at Shepard, who nodded in agreement. “Sure. Yes. Friendly. We were just really excited over how friendly we all are.” She gritted her teeth in a grin. “…and how much you’re going to win, Sam!” Her palm slapped drunkenly on the wall in encouragement.

“Hey!” Garrus squawked back in outrage. A heated argument started (continued, rather) just on the other side of the glass.

“I was so close, Shepard! Then you had to open your big, fleshy mouth!”

No you weren’t even close, Garrus.

“You’re the one who got us kicked out in the first place! Because, and I quote, ‘Tali is gonna wipe the floor with that squishy Comms nerd.’”

“Well she is! All humans are squishy! …except you, of course.”

…I mean, he’s not wrong but it still hurts…

“Is not! Did you see Samantha at that Kepesh Yakshi tournament? No! You were dicking around in the arena. She was incredible!” Shepard gushed as she waved a threatening fist at Garrus.

Oh, thank you, darling. I knew I kept you around for a reason, Sam inwardly smirked as she sipped her drink.

The two chess players shot each other a withering look and rolled their eyes in sync.

…Earlier that same day…

Samantha had laid a kiss on Jane’s cheek as she finished zipping up her uniform. “Don’t wait up, Shepard.”

Shepard looked up from where she was playing with her hamster on her desk. “Unh? Where are you off to?” Lil’ Dude sniffed the air in Sam’s direction with a curious head-tilt.

“Oh, just a little chess game,” Sam said airily. She waved the holo disc in her hand for good measure.

“You’re cheating on me?” Jane asked, eyebrows arching and lips pursing in mock-offense.

Sighing, Sam dropped her shoulders. “There’s no tactful way to say this but: you’re rubbish at chess. A quick learner? Absolutely. But still rubbish.” Waving the holo disc again, Sam gave Shepard a reproachful stare. “I just wanted to have a few drinks and play a few rounds with an opponent who promised a challenge. Your pawns can resume toiling under my regime tomorrow, darling.”

The hamster in Shepard’s hands gave a few squeaks. Jane nodded. “I agree, buddy. That still counts as cheating. …Who is he? Or she? Or they?”

“She,” Samantha confirmed, “…is a fellow brilliant tactician in need of some girl talk. And to cut loose a little. She spends way too much time in the drive core.”

Donnelly and Daniels are starting to think she lives in there.

“Ohhhh,” Shepard intoned with a nod. “Tali. Well, don’t get hammered or anything. She’s gotta liaise with the quarian fleet in the morning. And she really can’t hold her liquor.” She kissed Sam’s cheek back and returned to her hamster, who had resumed stuffing his cheeks with food pellets.

“I promise I’ll return the Admiral to you in one piece,” Sam promised as she strolled out of the cabin.

I can’t promise the same for her ego. Because I am going to destroy—

—whoa whoa whoaaaa. Calm down, Traynor.

Inhaling a few breaths through her nose, Sam centered herself as she tapped the call button for the elevator. The familiar tingle of excitement ran down Sam’s spine: the thrill of competition. Of battle. Of potential victory.

She met Tali in the Port Observation Deck with a polite handshake. Sam took up behind the bar to make them some drinks, her mental catalogue of cocktails decently adaptable to dextro-compatible liquors.

Within a few minutes, she had assembled a dextro-equivalent drink to a Long Island Iced Tea for Tali and a Seaside Sunrise for herself.

“It feels like forever since I had a night off,” Tali remarked as she fumbled with inserting a straw through her mask port.

“I know the feeling,” Sam concurred. “Seems like it’ll just fall apart if you’re not there keeping an eye on things, hm?” She clinked her glass against Tali’s in polite toast.

“Oh Kee'lah, tell me about it. If it’s not the fleet, it’s all the fine-tuning the stealth drive needs to stay ahead of the Reaper suites. Or Garrus wanting…” Tali trailed off, her eyes dimming in what Samantha assumed was a blush.

“Oh, right,” Sam chimed in knowingly with a wicked smile. “You and Garrus. How is that going, by the way?”

A rumbling voice interrupted just behind them along with the sound of doors swishing open. “How's what going?” Garrus asked, his mandibles twitching in a grin. The turian was dressed casually for a change, a blue and gold-trimmed suit hugging the hard lines of his carapace.

“Nothing, you bosh'tet,” Tali quipped back amiably. “Don’t you have a big gun to calibrate?” She checked her Omni-tool before tilting her head sarcastically at Sam. “I mean, it’s probably been 30 seconds since it was last calibrated.”

Sam chuckled. “Possibly even 40. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Garrus scowled and crossed his arms. “You’re one to talk. You fuss over the drive core like you birthed it yourself.”

“We both have our favorite children,” Tali purred with a smirk. She clinked her glass against Sam’s once more.

The Comms Specialist breathed a mock-irritated sigh. “Please, please. You're both pretty.“ …Tali is prettier… “…By which I mean: pretty good at your jobs.”

Both aliens made scoffing-exhale noises at the same time.

Sam gestured over her shoulder to the empty room across from the Port Observation bar. A green-topped poker table took up most of the glass-enclosed space. She drummed her fingers on the chess holo disc in front of her at the counter. “Shall we, madam?”

“We shall!” Tali chirped back as she slid off the barstool and sauntered her way over to the table. She settled into one seat with Sam following close behind. Garrus remained at the bar, the lanky figure scratching a finger on his chin while he perused the collection of liquors.

The pair assembled at the table and logged in to the glowing interface, a familiar eight-by-eight grid populating with pieces.

“Do I need to give you a refresher on the rules?” Sam asked, her eyes twinkling in challenge.

“Please,” Tali said with an eye-roll. “This is a children’s game on the flotilla. Along with some number game that the volus play. I forget what it’s called.”

Hmph. “Children’s game.”

I will destroy you, Vas Normandy.

Studying the board layout, Sam sighed in pleasure at the cool familiarity of her favorite game. “What about Kepesh Yakshi?” She offered.

A sputtering noise through Tali’s straw followed a cynical squint of the woman’s eyes. “That holo game the asari are obsessed with? It must be nice to have so little to contribute to your people that you can play a game for a living.”

Nevermind. You have redeemed yourself. You’re all right, Tali'Zorah.

A deep laugh rumbled in Samantha’s belly as T'Suza’s defeated face flashed in her mind.

…T'Suza…

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s an interesting game, I’ll give the asari that. But yes, some of us have little things like military service to do while saving the galaxy.”

“Hear hear,” Tali cheered with a slurp of her drink.

The game started off well enough. Tali was an aggressive opponent with surgical precision for picking off Sam’s pieces. It was exciting, actually. The quarian had a quick, adaptive mind and was keen on heading off some of Samantha’s best strategies while offering some interesting twists of her own.

Meanwhile, Garrus was rather useless milling around in the background. Apparently, he had taken the “you calibrate too much” jibe a little personally because the turian refused to leave the Port Observation Deck. He took up post at the bar for a little while, sampling liquors and making mixtures of his own until he found something he liked. Then he lounged at the low couch, absently thumbing through a datapad while throwing surreptitious glances over at Samantha and Tali while they played.

Eventually, the turian groaned in boredom and ambled up to look over their shoulders.

It was a tense final showdown. Tali had the better coverage but Sam had made an aggressive push into her territory with the white King on the run.

“Checkmate,” Sam announced with her last move. Ironically, a pair of black pawns managed to pin down the King in a corner.

The quarian swore a “bosh'tet” under her breath as she slapped a hand on the table. White eyes flicked up to Sam with a warm glow. She made a measuring motion with her thumb and forefinger. “I was this close. One more move and you would have been at my mercy.”

Chuckling, Sam attempted a sip of her drink but only ice rattled in the empty glass. “Oh I saw that. Well done, by the way. Really kept me on my toes. I took a huge gamble and lucked out, frankly.”

…I wish I was being kind. She very nearly kicked my arse.

“Did you lose?” Garrus rumbled next to Tali, his mandibles flaring.

The quarian’s head tilted in offense, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Yes! It happens!” She glanced over to Sam and jostled her own empty drink. “Shall we make this more interesting with the next game?”

Sam grinned back and stood up. “I like the way you think, Zorah.”

A game within a game was proposed. Mainly involving drinking (a lot of drinking). Garrus volunteered to bartend, though he gave his girlfriend a shoulder-rub along with a peptalk.

“We gotta show these levos who’s boss, Tali. The fate of turians and quarians everywhere hangs in the balance.”

“You mean, beyond the whole Reaper thing currently holding our fate in the balance?” The quarian’s voice trilled with dry sarcasm.

“Sure sure,” Garrus said with a dismissive hand-wave. “That’s really bad. But this! Tali! A chance to show the galaxy what we’re made of!” His grin was lazy under waggling eyebrow plates.

An explosive sigh before Tali’s voice vibrated with amusement. “I'm pretty sure we already did that. At the Citadel. Four years ago. And a year ago. At the Collector Base. And right now. …But sure, Garrus. This chess game will finally solve, once and for all, that dextros are the best.” She shot Sam a head-shake and a wink.

If I wasn’t already taken, I might be in love.

Sam took the time to direct message Jane regarding this development.

[ says: “I’m feeling left out. Tali has her own cheerleading squad while I just have a liquor cabinet. Care to join me and keep Garrus at bay, darling? Because apparently this is now the battle to end all battles between levo and dextro DNA species”]

There was no response. 45 seconds later, Commander Jane Shepard strolled through those swishing doors. She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, hamster on her shoulder.

“Step off, Garrus. Samantha is gonna wipe the floor with Tali’s hood thing,” the woman announced as she made a finger-wiggling motion at Tali.

The turian barked with delight. “Sheparrrrrrd!”

Oh God. I’ve made a horrible mistake.

Trading shots for chess pieces wasn’t as great an idea as it seemed. Especially without any food in their bellies. Perhaps if it had been speed chess it wouldn’t have turned out so badly.

But it generally took Tali close to 30 seconds to “chug” her shot through her “emergency induction port.”

Still a straw, Tali.

Plus, Shepard and Garrus insisted on helping them select liquors for their shots in an effort to be supportive. A dangerous mixture of drinks were sloshing in their bellies ranging from bourbons to vodkas to an almost-ryncol that Garrus managed to stop before Sam puked her guts out.

“Are you trying to kill your girlfriend, Shepard?”

“What?! I would never!”

“Just because you can drink that krogan shit doesn’t mean anyone else can.”

Almost-poisoning aside, Sam was teetering dangerously in her seat and had to stave off a warm feeling in her belly with willpower alone. She made a terrible mistake about a third of the way into the match and struggled to correct it with pure aggression.

If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.

The second game took close to an hour to resolve… and the winner ended up being Tali.

Fist-pumping the air, the quarian bounced out of her seat and did a flourishing dance to celebrate. “Yes! Evened the odds!” She stumbled slightly and made a drunken pointing motion at Sam. “I’m on to your tricks, Specialist. Clever round that time.”

The peanut gallery was also looking unsteady as well. Garrus and Shepard had taken to linking shoulders and whispering to each other about their girlfriends. They had become downright buddy-buddy… up until the game had ended.

“In your face, Shepard! Tali kicked Traynor's ass!”

“Lucky break! Sam won the first game!”

“Beginner’s luck! Tali just needed a chance to learn all her tells and then clean house!”

“That’s Skyllian Five, you jackass! There aren’t ‘tells’ in chess!”

The two actual players just exchanged sighs while their significant others bickered.

And bickered.

And bickered.

Finally, both women stood up and shouted in harmony. “Enough!”

Garrus and Jane shrank back. Even Lil’ Dude, who was just hanging out on the coffee table, flattened his ears and hid behind an empty glass.

Jabbing an accusing finger into Jane’s collarbone, Samantha growled at her girlfriend. “You’re both being ridiculous! This was supposed to be our evening to enjoy ourselves without the pressure of the galaxy on our shoulders! Any idea what that’s like, Shepard?!”

Tali headbutted Garrus’s chest with her hard mask before she shoved him backwards. “And you! Not everything needs to be some turian crest-measuring contest! If you want a fight, go wrestle with Shepard or Vega in the Shuttle Bay!”

It took some doing, but both women managed to hustle their crestfallen mates out of the poker table lounge area with a couple of well-placed pokes and shouts. Luckily, Garrus and Shepard were so stunned by the accusation that they were already outside the glass partition before they realized it had locked in front of them.

“EDI! Privacy lock! Maximum override!” Sam shouted at the ceiling.

[“I am pleased to assist.”]

Breathing heavily, both women exchanged looks with each other before they burst out laughing.

“Did you see Garrus’s face?”

Tali giggled and held her side. “Shepard looked like a kicked puppy, Traynor! How can you resist that sad face?” She cooed as she waved a finger at the glass.

“Oh believe me, she's well-versed in that.” Sam waved a dismissive hand. “The more she uses it, the less effective it is.”

Gesturing to the board, Samantha smiled warmly. “Shall we break this tie we’ve ended up in?”

“Absolutely,” Tali confirmed as she settled back into her seat.

“You’re the one who got us kicked out in the first place! Because, and I quote, 'Tali is gonna wipe the floor with that squishy Comms nerd.’”

“Well she is! All humans are squishy! …except you, of course.”

“Is not! Did you see Samantha at that Kepesh Yakshi tournament? No! You were dicking around in the arena. She was incredible!”

Rolling their eyes, Sam and Tali did their best to ignore the bickering outside the room.

“Thank you for agreeing to this match, Tali. In spite of…” Sam trailed off as she glanced over where Jane was shaking a fist at Garrus. “…in spite of our children fighting over us.”

Glowing eyes thinning to pleased slits, Tali nodded emphatically. “It was my pleasure! We should do this again sometime!” She shot a glance of her own at Garrus, who was pointing and growling at Lil’ Dude on Shepard’s shoulder. “…though, perhaps without our two biggest fans.”

“Hear hear,” Sam echoed as she clinked her glass against Tali’s on the table.

Exchanging a pair of moves, both women sighed contentedly in the peace and quiet.

Just outside, Jane and Garrus had reached a stalemate of glares.

Lil’ Dude was also in on the stare down, locking eyes with the turian with a scowling “Meep!”

“I hope you’re happy, Garrus,” Jane drawled out with a scowl. Though she looked over at Lil’ Dude and grumbled under her breath, “I can’t believe I’m locked out of my own ship.” Swiping over her Omni-tool, Shepard again tried her Commander credentials.

[“Access denied. Sod off, you pair of gits”] was the angry red message that appeared.

“Okay,” Garrus hummed back after running his hand over his crest in an agitated motion. “Let’s just relax and calm down… I’ll start… I’m sorry I called Traynor a 'helper monkey.’”

The Commander slapped at the turian’s shoulder. “Yea, what the hell, Garrus?”

“I'm sorry! Javik would say that and I thought it was a term of endearment! Like Vega calling Tali 'Sparks.’”

Sighing, Jane crossed her arms and mumbled an apology. “Okay, well, I’m sorry I said Tali couldn’t checkmate her way out of a paper bag. Tali is the best.”

The two begrudgingly shook hands before pressing back up against the glass.

“Can you tell what’s going on?” Garrus asked. “I’ll be honest: I don’t understand this game.”

“I’ve played it before and I don’t even understand what’s going on,” Jane admitted with a sigh.

“Keelah but you do have a talent for mixing drinks!” Tali exclaimed as she drained the last of her beverage through a straw. A rattling-sucking noise could be heard. “You missed your calling, Traynor.”

“Oh no,” Sam retorted with a headshake. “I already attempted this calling in university. I very much enjoyed the mixology part. Less so the 'customer service’ part.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of too many rowdy drunks to count. “I created some excellent precision mixes back in the day, but so rarely did anyone want to recreate them down to the hundredth of a decimal place in fluid ounces.” Feigning a scowl, Sam tossed her hair theatrically. “Philistines.”

The quarian chuckled. “Don’t they understand that quality comes from calibrating exactly the right amoun—?” She froze and shook her head. “—Oh Keelah, I’m starting to sound like Garrus.” Her shoulders dropped fretfully.

Winking back, Sam nudged at the woman’s hand. “You are. But I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Garrus’s muffled voice shouted through the glass. “What’s happening? Tali? Why are you looking so sad? Are you losing? Did you lose?”

Shepard pounded on the door with a slurred cheer. “Yea! Go Sam! Kick her ass! And not just because Garrus called you a 'helper monkey!’”

He said what?! He called me a what?!

That sonofabitch!

Eyes flicking back to Sam, Tali asked in a bored voice while feigning interest in the game. “Should we tell them it’s a draw?”

“Absolutely not,” Samantha replied. She guzzled down her drink before smacking her lips. “I’d rather enjoy the quiet for a few more minutes. Don’t you agree?”

“Hear hear, Traynor.”