#also go check the game out :3

[daily-axolati]

day 150!

guess who finished playing underhero! :3

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[the-sunlit-earth]

a lot of clipping to fix, but hey I got it moving at least! I'll get the Telvanni robe properly physic'd if it's the last thing I do >:0

[haomnyangz]

saw somebody in the tags of my green eyed ven post say that roxas shouldve had one green eye and one blue eye since ven (HE DOES ITS CANON HE DOES) has green eyes and sora has blue eyes and i thought yes i will incorporate this into my belief system

[the-physicality]

2007, conference finals phoenix vs san antonio

[bmpmp3]

how did i not know there was an amnesia: memories musical..... an entire decade ago...................................................

[sipsteainanxiety]

mha nation how yall doin

[insomniaticvoids]

I love horror games they are high key a core part of my existence and artistic inspiration. And as such it does mean I an unsettled by werid things not really average stuff. It's kind of hard to be scared of many normal things working customer service and also having the habit of breaking stuff down cause Ohoho lore moment.

Grotesque doesn't mean scary, features or startlement doesn't equate to scary. It's association for one person a thing can be terrifying while another well boring.

It's I think a reason why Japanese visual horror novels work so well is that they don't rely on purely apperence of things to make someone scared. There's more to it. It's not just jumpscares but a slow or quick imposing dread and stakes placed and given to you the player. That being said that is probably the reason beside ohoho story and design that I adore Shiin/Death mark. Yep always comes back to this series.

Like I do not equate scary monsters with fear but the designs and love of details and story written and designed is a bit to good that I have to make sure to not be in a can have psychosis go nuts cause the game is a bit to good at design my brain goes ah here let's do this in real life. There's a level of skill to making designs so fearful that they stick in your brain long after you play a game. It has to stand out and man Death Mark actually nails that.

[sentientsky]

"Recoil from any help" uh oh. the dating sim game is calling me out on my irl trust issues

[heloflor]

Recently re-stumbled across the cutscenes of "Yoshi's Crafted World", this is basically my takeaway from them.

[arolesbianism]

Sits in shambles I didn't read maybe Jorge's id correctly in the mysterious hermit logs the first god knows how many times I read them and only just now realized that it's the same id as the scientist that speaks in the agricultural notes log why must I be so bad at reading

[rudylloyd]

lmao what the FUCK did I miss, dsaf fandom??

[brainrotzora]

these things are always happening to the ones i like :////////

anyways the lighting in this dungeon is so nice

didn't get any good pics bc i was too busy dungeoning but so pretty...best dungeon music so far goes to snowcloak though btw

[forcedhesitation]

I finished act 2 again, but properly this time. and I cannot even begin to put into words how satisfying and beautiful all of that was. I loved act 2 the first time I played, but figuring out how to save the last light this time, properly completing halsin's quest, storming moonrise towers with jaheira and her harpers, seeing aylin reunite with isobel...all of it. I love it even more. and the beginning of act 3 feels all the more rewarding, having fixed my past errors.

[timptoe]

Two Lovesick Idiots

I was inspired by this lovely art of Shepard and Kaidan drawn by the incredible @sinclairsolutions - so with their permission for running with this idea, my first fic in twenty years:

----

Citadel, Silversun Strip, Anderson’s apartment Two weeks before the end of the Reaper War

Tali drops it unceremoniously on the coffee table in front of them, with the air of someone who has both lost a bet and is still somehow smugly triumphant.

“Here.”

Shepard cocks his head. From his position cuddled into Kaidan’s side, the motion causes his closely-shaved scalp to tickle the underside of Kaidan’s chin. 

“What?”

Leave it to Shepard to sound both irritated and intrigued at the interruption. Kaidan kisses the top of his head in amusement.

The party celebrating the demise of Shepard’s clone has been in full swing for most of the night, and it’s showing no sign of slowing down. Kaidan can hear Vega and Cortez over near the bar gleefully explaining biotiball to a surprisingly interested Javik, who’s just declared how much better the protheans would be then the current primitive teams. Kasumi is trying to teach Grunt how to play the piano, with limited success, behind the couch where Kaidan and Shepard have ensconced themselves. Kaidan can see the dance circle in the kitchen still going strong, though now absent two of its erstwhile dancers.

Both of whom are standing in front of the coffee table, Tali gesturing at what she just dropped, Garrus inscrutable as ever.

Kaidan reluctantly pushes his boyfriend—his boyfriend, heart still skipping a beat at getting to call Shepard something so intimate—off of his lap so he can lean forward to pick up what, by all appearances, seems to be a scrapbook. He dimly remembers heirlooms like this back at the orchard: binders of pictures, chintzy artwork, and scribbles commemorating the reunions or anniversaries or what-have-you of various Alenkos over the decades. None of the scrapbooks back home have the violently purple hue of this one, though. None of their titles are quite like what’s emblazoned across the front of this one, either.

Two Lovesick Idiots.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow. “Tali, what is this?”

“I, uh…okay, it was going to be a present later. After. But this one—“ she backhands Garrus in the stomach, who oofs softly “—told me I had to give it to you now.”

“Okay, but what is it?” Shepard says. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Kaidan nudges him with his shoulder fondly. “It’s a scrapbook.” At his precious spacer’s precious look of confusion, he continues, “It’s for memories, pictures and things. An old Earth practice.”

Shepard turns his adorably confused gaze to Tali. “But why? And how?”

The tipsy quarian groans in response. “Just open it.”

Kaidan opens the cover. On the first page is a full-sized photograph of Kaidan and Shepard sitting in a bar somewhere. Flux, maybe? He traces his finger over it absently. They look so young. The early days of the SR-1, perhaps. Kaidan’s in the foreground, staring into his drink—whiskey, by the looks of it. Shepard’s seated next to him, giving him a soft, almost secret smile. The candid shot is as sweet as it is striking.

All that time. How did I never know? 

A sweet knot of nostalgia settles in his chest, and he smiles at the memory. “Tali,” he starts to murmur, “where did you…”

That’s when he reads the picture’s caption.

“Two Lovesick Idiots Pine for Each Other in a Poorly-Lit Bar,” photo by Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, 2183.

“What.”

Shepard gets to the caption at roughly the same time. But where Kaidan’s knot of nostalgia immediately turns into annoyance, Shepard lets out the most delighted, surprised laugh Kaidan’s heard from him in a long time.

“Tali,” Kaidan says in a measured voice, pointedly ignoring his boyfriend as he dissolves into giggles, “what the hell is this?”

“It’s a gift! A present,” Tali repeats. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Just…a lot of effort went into this,” she says bashfully. “Keep going.”

He turns the page. This one has two photos, separated by a common caption. The top one is a selfie of the late, great Ashley Williams, clearly taken with her omnitool in the SR-1’s mess. Her face is frozen in mid-cackle, while way in the background over her shoulder, Kaidan and Shepard stand near that console Kaidan was forever trying to repair. The picture on the bottom is zoomed in on them, Shepard’s hand nonchalantly resting on Kaidan’s forearm in mid-conversation. The caption reads, “Two Lovesick Idiots Flirt Badly over a Busted Console,” photo by Ashley Williams, 2183.

“Ashley? Ashley was in on this?” Kaidan asks incredulously. This sets Shepard off giggling even harder somehow.

Kaidan glances around. The rest of the party is starting to notice. Fantastic.

“It was actually Ashley’s idea,” Tali responds, tipsy mirth tempered a moment by a sort of fond sadness. “She was the first one to figure you two out, I think. She thought this would be a nice memento once you two…um, what was the phrase, Joker?”

“I believe it was, ‘Once those two get their eyes off each other’s asses and get their own asses in gear,” Joker supplies helpfully from the other couch.

Kaidan doesn’t like Joker’s shit-eating grin. Or the hot feeling of the blush that erupts over his own face. He especially doesn’t like that his boyfriend is still giggling.

Said boyfriend snorts in between giggles, “Yeah, that sounds like Ash.”

Tali looks a little unsure, shifting from foot to foot. “Are…are you mad? Is this okay?”

Kaidan’s suddenly very aware that most of the party have crowded around the couch, peering with interest at the scrapbook. Well, mostly they’re staring at their giddy commander.

When it’s just the two of them, Shepard’s learned how to let down his guard. He smiles more, laughs more. The war has taken its toll on him—him more than most, especially after everything in the last three years—but in the privacy of Shepard’s cabin, Kaidan has worked hard to give him space to just be happy.

So anything that makes him happy enough to giggle like an idiot? Around other people, no less?

He shakes his head and gives Tali his biggest grin. “It’s incredible. Thank you.”

Her posture relaxes. “Everyone helped.”

They start flipping through the pages. 

“Two Lovesick Idiots Find an Excuse to Touch by Scraping Plant Goo Off Each Other,” photo by Garrus Vakarian, 2183.

“Hey, we were worried that stuff might be corrosive!” Shepard says defensively.

Kaidan chuckles. That hadn’t been…strictly true. More like, he wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity to be in Shepard’s space. Sure, his face in the photo is the picture of seriousness as he plucks a piece of tentacle off of Shepard’s chestplate, but he remembers how hard he had to concentrate not to look at Shepard’s lips instead. 

“Neither of you offered to clean Thorian gunk off my armor,” Garrus grumbles.

Tali pats his arm.

“Two Lovesick Idiots Don’t Know How to Drive a Fucking Tank,” photo by Ashley Williams, 2183.

“He’s the one that can’t drive, not me,” Kaidan objects, pushing his again-giggling boyfriend away.

“It does not appear that you are attempting to stop him, Major,” EDI muses from where she’s settled next to Joker.

And indeed, Ash somehow captured a shot of the Mako’s cockpit from the back. Shepard has one fist raised in celebration, while Kaidan’s head is turned in mid yell. There’s no mistaking the fondness on his face, though.

There’s also no mistaking the fact that only sky, no ground, is visible through the Mako’s front window. 

“To be fair, Liara isn’t stopping them either,” Cortez says from over Kaidan’s shoulder.

To be fair, Liara’s passed out from stress in the photo, blue face tinged slightly green as it lolls to one side in her safety harness.

Present-day Liara just sighs.

“Two Lovesick Idiots Have the Mother of All Lovers’ Spats,” photo captured by Horizon security feeds, obtained by Miranda Lawson, 2185.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, really?” Kaidan says incredulously. “We’re commemorating that moment?”

“Eh, you two made up,” Miranda says from the other side of the room, raising her drink in a mock toast, mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Two Lovesick Idiots Have the Mother of All Lovers’ Spats, Part Two,” photo captured by C-Sec security feeds, obtained by Kasumi Goto, 2186.

Kaidan rolls his eyes.

“Eh, you two made up,” Kasumi’s voice echoes with a laugh.

Picture after picture just like that, chronicling the dance that he and Shepard have been doing around each other for the last three years. And not just pictures, Kaidan realizes.

Some of the pages have text, hard copies of omnitool message chains:

== 2183.05.03 snippet from group chain == Ashley: did you see how red LT’s face got when Shepard complimented him in the debrief? Tali: It was so cute! Ashley: fuckin nerd Ashley: him, not you Garrus: He didn’t do anything, though? Just managed not to faint from Shepard’s driving? Liara: That is harder than one might think. Ashley: pfffft Wrex: why am I in this group

== 2185.09.12 snippet from group chain == Jack: okay but seriously the two of them used to be a thing, right? nobody gets that mad at someone they’re not duckin Jack: fuckin Jack: FUCK Tali: it’s…complicated Samara: We are often cruelest to the ones we love. Mordin: Unresolved sexual tension often a source of adrenaline. Recommend putting a picture of Alenko in the shuttle before missions. Could increase Shepard’s battle performance. Garrus: No Tali: absolutely not Grunt: Unresolved sexual tension heh heh heh Wrex: goddamn it, why I am in this group too

Other pages have short handwritten notes from their friends.

Adjacent to a picture of Kaidan sleeping off a migraine in the SR-1′s medbay and Shepard sleeping in a chair next to his bed, with the caption “Two Lovesick Idiots Are Bad at Sleeping,” photo taken by Karin Chakwas, 2183, a scrawl in silver pen reads: I am very glad that you two have better places to sleep than my medbay now.

Kaidan looks at Shepard. “I don’t remember this.”

Shepard ducks his head a bit, responding, “Not surprised. That one was pretty bad, you were out for a while. I just…wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“By screwing up your spinal alignment?” Traynor says, sitting next to Shepard on the couch and frowning.

Shepard huffs.

On another page, next to a picture of Shepard standing at Kaidan’s bedside in Huerta, seemingly taken through a window, with a caption reading, “Two Lovesick Idiots Have a Very Close Call,” photo taken by Thane Krios, 2186, a note in a different hand reads: It is good to see your soul tu-fira, my friend.

Shepard touches the note, sobering quickly. 

Kaidan furrows his brow. “I don’t understand this one.”

Shepard puts his palm on Kaidan’s cheek, and Kaidan leans into the touch. Shepard gives him a sad smile and says, “Thane. I’ll explain later.”

The final page, though, takes the cake.

The picture’s taken from a weird angle, but it’s striking in a way that stuns Kaidan. On first glance, it’s just a picture of the doors to Starboard Observation as they’re closing. But framed in the doorway, you can see Shepard and Kaidan sitting on the couch, their backs to the door and the camera. The observation window looks out on the starry expanse, silhouetting the pair as Shepard rests his head on Kaidan’s shoulder, Kaidan’s arm around him.

The caption reads, “Two Lovesick Idiots in Love, Fucking Finally,” picture taken by Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, 2186, and for all its tongue-in-cheek snarkiness, it’s the most beautiful thing Kaidan’s seen.

He looks over at his quietly smiling boyfriend and his shining blue eyes. Maybe the second-most beautiful thing.

“Tali,” Shepard says, voice thick with emotion. He stops, swallows, and then starts again, “Everyone. Thank you. This is…unbelievable.”

“What’s more unbelievable is that the two of you finally hooked up!” Vega catcalls, and everyone cheers.

Kaidan rubs the back of his head sheepishly as everyone laughs, looking sidelong at Shepard. Shepard just laughs too and pounces, smothering Kaidan in kisses.

When they come up for air, Tali picks up the scrapbook and says, “Look, see, these rings open up so you can add more pages. You know, if you want to.”

Shepard grins. “Actually, I can think of another photo I’d like to add.”

Years later, amongst the bric-a-brac of a house at an orchard in the Canadian interior, in a row of scrapbooks commemorating the reunions or anniversaries or what-have-you of various Alenkos over the decades, one violently purple scrapbook is given pride of place. And inside, nestled between pages of pictures and printouts and handwritten notes, a specific page sits at what had at one time been the back of the book, but now precedes dozens of recorded memories.

On that page is a picture of Shepard and Kaidan, seated on a couch in an apartment on the Silversun Strip of the Citadel, looking lovingly at each other. On the couch beside them, and arrayed in rows behind them, are some of the people who loved them in that moment, too.

The caption reads, “Two Lovesick Idiots Surrounded by a Bunch of Other Lovely Idiots,” picture taken by Glyph, 2186.

[ajdrawshq]

listening to octopath music and drawing and writing stuff for my octopath pmd au so The Horrors(tm) dont get me