#have a neck rub thing now because of bioware

[snowberry-pie]

autism and adhd friends it’s survey time. what Mannerisms and Behaviors have you picked up from characters in media. ill start my most memorable one was when i was 14 and still learning how to mask and i hissed at someone after watching good omens

[o-captain-elcapitan]

Steel Horses - Prologue

Title: Steel Horses Author: ElCapitan Game: Dragon Age Characters/Pairing: M!Adaar x Dorian Disclaimer: All recognizable content belongs to Bioware

Summary - 

Valo-Kas M.C. is not a 1% motorcycle club. The security work that they do is above board, legal and licensed, squeaky f*cking clean. What their clients get up to, however, is none of their business. And their strict "look the other way, ask no questions" policy is what keeps them in business. That is until a new Tevinter client puts the MC in federal cross hairs. Ozet Adaar wants to protect his sister and save his club. When a Tevinter ambassador knocks him on his ass his heart is pulled in yet another direction and there's nothing more terrifying than knowing that he can't protect them all. His twin, Ozena, might consider herself "barely a mage" but that's still enough to damn her if the wrong people find her out. Federal scrutiny is the last thing they need. Maker only knows if they can shake it with their lives in tact.

Read on Ao3

A/N: I realize that this is an extremely niche AU, so I won’t accrue much of a following on this one. But if you like Sons of Anarchy and Dragon Age, and want the mutant bastard child of that unholy union, maybe give this a look?

It wasn’t the harsh shove to his shoulder that knocked Zet down, but the kick to the back of his knee that went along with it. He caught himself on his hands and glowered back at the door as it slammed shut behind him, chest rising and falling at a furious tempo as he grit his teeth and reined in his anger. If there was ever a time to keep his cool, it was now. 

“Amatus.”

Focus snapping away from the door, panic flash froze his blood. There was a lone figure seated under the low hanging phosphorus bulb, which had been sent swinging by the slammed door and was now making the room’s shadows dance. Clothes better suited to an art journal than a fashion magazine were rumpled and torn. He looked like he’d been yanked from a runway and dragged behind a truck going 50 down inner city backroads.

“Dorian.” He scrambled onto his feet and launched himself the two yards between them, falling on his knees in front of the russet skinned human and desperately staring up at his down turned face. Anger like he’d never felt before burned too cold to melt the ice crystallized in his veins. It fogged his mind, the chilled mist of dry ice fuming dangerously in his chest.

Zet lifted his hand to Dorian’s face but hesitated before touching him. His hand hovered centimeters from the crimson gloss of his skin, steady despite the guilt clawing his chest open. On a growl he swore, “I’m going to kill every last one of them.”

They’d hurt him, his beautiful Vint, they’d dared to put a fucking hand on him. His face was ballooned and bloody, beaten so badly that his right eye was swollen almost completely shut. The blade straight line of his nose was bent. Sinfully soft lips --that Zet had taken to trailing calloused fingertips over-- were now split, fat despite the blood covering his whole face so thickly his neck and shirt were drenched in it. Soaked crimson from the collar of his shirt down his chest, blood had even dripped onto his pant legs.

It flowed from the cut on his brow and trailed down his temple to blend with the gash on his cheek. More blood poured from his broken nose, joining the trickle from his split lip. Blood dripped along his jaw and down his neck in a slick scarlet that matched the red closing around Zet’s vision. When they got out of this room someone was going to answer for this. Someone was going to pay for hurting him.

Grunting, Dorian lifted his head just high enough to meet Zet’s gaze. He stared at him with fervent grey eyes and bit out a pained, “You came.”

“Of course I came,” replied Zet on an incredulous scoff. He crawled closer, pushing himself between Dorian’s spread knees. He reached up to his face again, wanting so badly to cup the man’s cheek in his hand, but reluctant to hurt him any more than he’d already been. Instead Zet pushed the damp clumps of Dorian’s hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear, softly murmuring, “You didn’t actually think that I wouldn’t come for you, did you?”

Dorian leaned his face into Zet’s hand as it lingered near his ear, wincing only slightly as he nuzzled into his palm, eyes shut, breath shuttering. “I hoped you weren’t fool enough to walk knowingly into a trap.”

He forced a weak smile onto his mouth. “Come on, babe, you know me better than that.” The pained grimace that followed Dorain’s scoff wiped the small smirk from his mouth. Still too reluctant to hurt him to touch him the way he wanted to, all he could do in that moment was hold Dorian’s cheek in his palm and stare at him ruefully. “You’re only here because of me,” was Zet’s quiet rebuke, each word drenched with more guilt than Dorian’s shirt was with blood. 

He was supposed to protect the people that he loved. How could he had let things get so out of control?

He turned his face in Zet’s hand and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm, holding his breath until the pain of it passed. “I knew what you were when this started, Amatus, and I fell in love with you anyway.”

Not at all liking the finality of Dorian’s tone, the “thanks for the good times” he could feel waiting in the wings, Zet pushed off from his knees and rounded the chair that they’d propped him up on. Ears too full of his heartbeat for him to hear his own thoughts, he inspected the zip ties securing Dorian’s wrists behind his back.

In that second he wished he was more like his sister. Ozena would know what to say to deflect the semi-fatalistic tension coming off of Dorian in waves. She’d have said something like, ‘I warned you you would,’ or ‘yet, supposedly, I’m the fool.’ In the face of Dorian beaten bloody, tied to a chair, and disconnected from his magic, Zet was too caught up in his urgency to bother with sass. They didn’t have a lot of time, and he needed to get Dorian out of here more than he needed to break the tension.

“The others are coming,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled at the sturdy nylon material securing Dorian’s wrists together, testing their give. Confirming that there wasn’t much, he removed his keys from his pants pocket and searched the key-ring for the folding knife hidden within the glinting metal pieces. 

“Here I thought you were the cavalry.”

The zip ties snapped with a little effort and a grunted, “I’m the distraction.” He thumbed the knife back into place then shoved his keys into his pocket.

“Don’t I know it.” Dorian moved his arms in front of him and rubbed at his wrists. He pushed himself out of the chair with a groan only for his knees to buckle under his weight. 

Zet stepped in in an instant, his hand grasping firmly at Dorian’s elbow and holding his weight as the mage found his footing. He watched, guilt-ridden, as Dorian hissed and held his ribs. Voice a low timbre that was more vibration than sound, he swore, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

Blinking the blood from his eyes, Dorian turned his gaze up at Zet and tried for that smirk that had once come so easily to him. “Don’t you mean ‘us’, Amatus?”

He stared into those grey eyes for a long, silent moment.  No . The confession caught in his throat and choked him. Zet wasn’t likely to make it out of this alive and, so long as Dorian and Ozena survived the night, he was okay with that. Before he could say as much to the mage reading the truth in his face as clearly as if he were saying it out loud, the door to the room opened. The darkness on the other side was broken by a red glow before his eyes could adjust. But it didn’t matter. He knew what he was facing, and he knew he’d face worse if it meant saving the man he loved. 

He reached blindly for Dorian’s hand, needing the comfort more than he did his next breath. “Stay close,” he muttered when he meant to say, “I love you.”

___

I hope you liked it <3 Reblogs are love, reblogs are life. 

[sugarbubbleslove]

Chapter 3: Jealously is not a good look

Chapter 3: Jealously is not a good look

Timeline: Kadara

One thing – can I point out the height between Liam and Ryder is ridiculous. In some, she looks like the same height as him, in others, she seems tiny next to him – make up your mind Bioware!

And this delves into the more smuttier side

CX posted at AO3, LJ, & Sugarfudge

Chapter 1: These Frustrating Unwanted Feelings

Chapter 2: The drawbacks of being intimate  

Chapter 4: Coming Soon

It was Peebee's wolf whistle that brought his attention away from his data pad and he looked up to see Sara making her way into the Research Center dressed in black mid-calves leggings, there was lace at the hem and a white off-one-shoulder mid-thigh top, a simple silver belt cinched at the waist..

Her dark hair was loose from its ponytail, framing her face in gentle waves and she was currently putting simple diamond earrings in.

"Nice outfit, Kid," Drack told her. "You did good finding these, Vetra."

"Do not ask when I got them," Vetra held up a hand to Cora as the commando turned to look at her with a curious expression. "Even I am still surprised that I was able to find these."

"Are these your normal human clothes?" Jaal asked from where he was standing next to the Development and Research section, clearly browsing for another weapon to create.

"In the Milky Way, yes," Cora told him and he nodded.

"So what is with the get up?" Peebee asked. "Got a hot date?" She winked.

As jealously surged through him, he carefully kept his expression neutral.

Sara merely sighed as she finished putting the earrings in then ran her hands over her top, smoothing it out.

"I am currently Reyes' plus one to Sloane's party," she informed them. Liam bit back the growl at the mention of the man who kept flirting with Sara, while reminding himself that he had no claim to Sara.

They were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. It was just something fun between them. If that was true, then why did it feel like daggers to the heart?

"SAM, are you sure I can't bring my gun?" she asked.

"Sorry Sara," Liam brought his Data-Pad back up to hide his smile, Sara had been very vocal in SAM dropping the Pathfinder title and using only her name, "But it is the rule on Kadara and you are merely going to a party, not a fight."

"Everything can be a fight," Sara muttered.

"If you do not wish to go, why are going?" Jaal asked; bewildered as ever when it came to the Milky Way of things.

"Because I need an Outpost on Kadara," Was Sara's response. "These people are not flourishing under Sloane's control and most of them regret the fact they even had revolted in the first place. We were late!" Sara stressed. "We were late and those people lost hope. So it is up to us to fix that." She sighed. "And if it means I need to be nice to 'Her Highness', damn it, I will play nice."

Liam snorted before he quickly covered it up but not before he saw everyone look in his direction. Sara merely arched an eyebrow at him, her dark green eyes challenging him.

"I think you can play nice when you want to," Liam remarked, keeping his tone casual.

"Really?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. There was a glint to her eyes and the distance between them somehow deepened.

And he is not even sure how the distance even came about in the first place. All he knows since they landed on Kadara, they didn't work well as they used to.

Privately, he wondered if it was because of the obvious attraction Reyes had for Sara, and how she seemed to response in such.

Damn it, he swore he wasn't going to become the clingy boyfriend, that was something she didn't need. They were friends, pure and simple.

Liam came out of his thoughts to see Sara had turned her gaze to Cora, nervously running a hand through her hair, remembering what it was like to have his hands running through those dark locks.

And he mentally kicked himself. He did not need that issue right now.

"Look," Liam stood up and walked over to the center, placing his hands on the table. "You can do this," he looked straight at her and she looked at him, startled, "You have gotten us this far, now you just needs to trust yourself that you can get yourself further."

She slowly nodded before a soft smile crossed her face and for a moment – just that moment – it felt like they mended their bridge.

"So you go out there, and you play nice-" Liam stopped short when he realized he was looking at her in the eyes rather than down and frowned. "How are you-" he gestured with his hands.

Sara's smile broadened as she started walking around the table, clicking coming from her shoes before he spotted the shiny black heeled shoes she wore – spiked heels, to be exact – and swallowed.

"Vetra was also able to help find these shoes too," she informed him. "Like them?" She asked, displaying her shoes. Like them? He didn't think there was a word to explain how much he really liked those shoes, especially on her.

"They could be very useful as a weapon, don't you think? I could always stab someone with the heels."

"No Sara," both he and SAM intoned, making her pout – cutely – while Peebee laughed, hopping to sit up on the counter, ignoring Cora's indignant swats.

"Maybe you should stop teasing them before they decide to ground you," Peebee warned her.

"It could work," agreed Sara before a grin flitted across her face, "Could you imagine Reyes' face if I were to tell him that I was grounded and thus was unable to be his 'plus one' tonight?"

"Again, if you really do not wish to go, why are you going?" Jaal sounded so exasperated that Liam had to feel sorry for him. Sara merely sighed before she shook her head.

"It's alright, Jaal, I'm leaving," she walked by Liam and he caught a scent coming from her that he did not know and realized she was wearing perfume.

He frowned softly. For someone who claimed to hate Reyes, she seemed to be going out of her way to dress up and jealously coiled in his stomach as a result.

"So," her voice broke into his thoughts and he looked to see she was looking at him with unreadable eyes, "I better get going."

"Yeah," He nodded, "Have a good night."

That glint in her eyes showed again before she shook her head and spun around on her heels, walking away.

His eyes dropped down to take in the arch of her back, thanks to her heels and showing off her shapely ass.

"I will get SAM to let you know if I need to be bailed out tonight," Sara told him without a backward glance, giving them a wave before she exited the ship, leaving behind a group part amused and part worried.

"She wouldn't really get arrested, would she?" Cora asked, sounding unsure.

"Don't worry," Drack spoke up with a laugh in his tone, "If she gets arrested, I'll bail her out." With that, the old Krogan made his way into the lift, obviously making his way down to the gallery.

The others slowly filtered out, leaving Liam alone with his thoughts and he wondered if he was ever going to stop screwing things up.

"You know," Peebee's voice made him look at her and she winked at him, "Jealously is not a good look on you." She walked away, leaving Liam staring after her before he sighed, raking his hand through his hair.

No, jealously was not a good look on him.

Liam made his way to his room; he needed a vid, and a couple of beers, in order to put this out of his mind.

He wasn't sure how long he had been watching – alternating looking at his data pad – the vid when SAM came to life, having gone silent while Sara was off the ship.

"Liam, Sara is back from her date," SAM informed him and he rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to keep me updated on her, you know?"

"She is coming your way."

"What?" he bolted up from his couch.

"And she is swaying unsteadily on the catwalk. She even gave Kallo a fright as she entered, announcing she was home."

That made Liam snicker for a moment before he rolled his eyes. Was SAM playing matchmaker or something?

A knock on the door made him realize that Sara had made it to his door and a brief panic surged through him before he forced himself to take a deep breath and headed over to it.

With a swipe of his omni-tool, the door beeped, unlocking, to reveal the Pathfinder on the other side of the door, gazing at him with those green eyes.

"Hey!" He forced a smile onto his face, "How was the party?"

She merely stepped forward, making him step backward, her scent threatening to intoxicate him.

She grabbed his top, pulling him in for a kiss, making his eyebrows shoot up before he groaned, sliding his hands around her waist, and pushing her up against the door.

She moaned appreciatively and it sent a jolt to his groin before she purred into his mouth, rubbing herself against him. Painfully, it reminded him just how long it had been since they last had been together.

Her hands slid upward so her arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Her shoes made her the perfect height. Not that he didn't mind when she would have to reach up on tiptoes, he really liked it when she had to go up on tiptoes.

Sara broke the kiss to breathe when he smelt the alcohol on her breath and warning bells went off in his head.

She pulled him back down for another deep kiss, making his eyes roll up into the back of his head as he nearly gave in but found the strength.

"Whoa, Sara," he pulled away, "Listen, you're drunk-"

"You are a jerk!" She pushed at his chest. "I got dressed up! I'm in freaking high heels – heels that threatened to break my ankles – and you couldn't even say I looked nice?"

A sob hiccuped from her, making Liam stop before he looked down at her face to see her eyes were slightly glassy but there was no cloudiness.

She was not drunk.

Liam did not know whether to laugh in relief that he was not taking advantage of someone who was drunk or to yell at her.

"Liam?" her voice brought him back into looking down at her to see she looked lost and he wondered, maybe there was two sides to the bridge after all.

He sighed, his hand running through her dark hair before he leaned in, resting their foreheads together.

"We were stupid," he told her wryly, with a smile. She huffed.

"You stopped touching me," she pointed out. "When we arrived, you… you pulled away." She sighed. "And I let you because it was easier than to confront you."

There was something in that tone, and Cora's words about how her previous relationships were nothing to write home made him wonder just what was in her past for her to believe that.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

"I'm sorry too," she told him, a hand brushing back her bangs, "Especially for ambushing you like that." Her eyes flitted to the side briefly.

"No, no," he cleared his throat, "No need to apologize for the ambushing, ever." She bit her lower lip, a sure sign she was embarrassed. "Look, shall we sit?"

It awkward, this was awkward and Liam felt like hitting himself up the side of his head as he tried to untangle his tongue.

"That would be great," at least she seemed as nervous as he did as they both made their way over to the couch.

"Here," he grabbed another beer from the box and handed it to her, then took it back before she could grasp it, twisted off the lid then handed it back to her with a sheepish grin.

Sara merely giggled as she took the beer and took a gulp.

"So, how was the date?" he asked before he nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of her green eyes blazing furiously at him over the rim of her beer. He really needed to sort his tongue out.

"It was not a date, Kosta," she warned him firmly, "Reyes is up to something and he using me for that end." Liam frowned. "Besides, I got to punch him." He choked on his breath as he spluttered, staring at her dumbfounded.

"You what?" he was hearing things.

"I punched him," she repeated. Nope, he was not hearing things after all. She really had punched Reyes.

"I…why?" he shook his head and she smiled.

"As a distraction," she informed him. "You see, I was his 'Plus-One' so he could ransack Sloane's private storage room. Something about a bottle of Whiskey," she waved her hand dismissively, "and one of Sloane's guards was walking in so I punched him to make it seem like he had drank too much."

She was entirely too gleeful over the fact she got to punch him, something to puzzle over later, he gathered, as she shifted, placing her beer on the table, so she was now straddling him with that glint in her eyes.

"So, I noticed you like my heels," good god, was that a purr in her voice?

"They are nice," was that really his voice breaking? What, was he was a teenager again? Then again, she had been making him feel like a teenager every time they spent time together.

"Or the way my top shows off my ass?" she leaned in closer and he swallowed, his hands on her waist. Had he been that obvious? "Or maybe my perfume?"

There was that heady scent again, her lips brushed against his. Then it dawned on him as he pulled his head away to look at her with wide eyes.

Sara frowned as she leaned back on her knees.

"Is this all for me?" he asked, needing to be sure he was right.

"Yes?" she sounded confused, that little crease in her forehead, "Like I said, you stopped touching me so I kind of wanted to show what you were missing."

Liam stared at her before he laughed a full belly laugh as his head fell back onto the head of the couch.

"Liam!" she gently pushed at his shoulder, coming out as a whine that only made him laugh harder before he managed to bring his head down, trying to calm his laughter. "What is so funny?"

Liam managed to get his laughter under control before he sighed as he stared at her.

Honesty was the best policy, wasn't it?

"I thought you got dressed up for Reyes," he told her simply. Her nose scrunched up as she sat on his knees before she groaned.

"Really?" she looked so bewildered that he tried to hide his smile. "Why?"

"You two seem to get along, and he seems to be interested in you."

She looked even more confused, and then understanding seemed to dawn on her.

"Is that why you pulled away, because he was flirting with me?" She shook her head, "You were giving me an out!"

"Well I…" he stumbled for an answer, unable to find something to refute her statement before he frowned. Had he been trying to give her an out?

"Liam!" Sara sighed before she shook her head then cupped his cheeks. "If I was genuinely interested in someone else, not Reyes – never him – I would break things off with you before I did that. I would never string you along like that, ever. You mean too much for me to do that to you."

Liam let out the breath he had been holding, giving her a wry smile and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head before she met his gaze once more. "You would do the same, right?"

Her hesitation cut through his heart and it just made him wonder once more about her past before he knew he had to assure her.

"It's just you, promise," He held up his right hand, "And if I do find someone else attractive-" which he ever doubted since she had captured his attention since they first met – "I would tell you."

Relief entered her eyes, briefly making him wonder once more about Cora's words when she leaned in and kissed him, cutting off his thoughts and his hands started roaming her back.

She pressed her upper body against his and he slipped his hands down her body, running them over her thighs before sliding under her top to touch her hot bare skin.

Sara let out a breathy moan, his hands skimming her sides until one reached just under her bra, his thumb rubbing the underside.

"No," she pulled away and shaking her head, "No teasing," her voice was part breathy, part warning, "You have been driving me crazier than both Sloane and Reyes put together. You are not drawing this out."

Liam blinked, surprised before he laughed. She never failed to surprise him and she started pushing up his top, her fingers brushing against his hot skin and making him jerk when she started kissing his neck.

They managed to get rid of his top and hers in the process, leaving revealing her white lace bra to him.

"Nice," he took in the sight and Sara rolled her eyes then stood up. Liam took the hint, unzipping his trousers and pushing off his shoes before he settled back in his boxers before he let out a pathetic whine of disapproval as Sara removed those heels.

"I'll wear them another time, right now, they are killing my heels," she told him before she stripped out of her leggings, showing off matching panties and he arched an eyebrow.

"Did Vetra find these?"

"No, I had them in my bag." She resettled on his lap. "It took a bit of time to dig through everything. I really do prefer matching underwear." She kissed him again, rubbing against him and making the blood pump further downward.

Damn it, she was passionate and giving when they were having alone time.

Sara grabbed one of his hands, moving it down further her body until he reached her panties. Understanding, he rubbed against the material, surprised to find they were already wet before he hooked a finger into the material, sliding it off to the side before he touched her.

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

Sara merely nodded as two of his fingers slid into her and she started moving on them. Her head fell back with a moan, especially when he brought his thumb up and slowly rubbed circles, making her gasp, arching her back.

He kissed her chest, following the cups of her bra to tease her before he reached her sternum and dropped gentle kisses, pressing his fingers in a way that made her hands clutch his hair.

He liked it when she would clutch at his hair, tugging it to the point it was nearly painful but just enough to turn him on even more. He never thought he had a hair kink, apparently he did.

And so did she.

He used his free hand, not between her legs, to flip open her bra clasp and it loosen from her chest.

She pulled her hands away from his hair and chucked it from her body, her hands going to his shoulders as he took a nipple into his mouth, getting a gasp from her as she bucked into his hand.

"Hmm, I need more," she pulled his hand away from her, her other hand dipping down past the band of his boxers and she grasped him, gently tugging and he groaned.

He shifted his hips, pulled down his boxers to his knees before she adjusted, aligning them, and sunk down on him. Her lips parted in a gasp as he hilted and her head fell backward. His hands slid up her back before she started moving, she brought her head forward and met his gaze.

Damn it, he had missed this. He missed being with her.

"Liam," her voice broke him out of his thoughts to see her panting as she moved faster, harder, on him. He could tell she was close but he wanted to draw it out.

One arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her further into his body, getting a pleased purr as a result, the other hand slid up her back until he cupped the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, he tugged, gently, to expose her neck, and he kissed it.

Sara gasped, grinding down harder on him as a result.

Liam shifted his hips, meeting her speed. She fell forward, one hand going to the back of the couch, the other buried into his hair.

His lips reached her collarbone and he sucked, hard, before flicking his tongue over the mark he made, her breath hitching before one of his hands slid down between them, pressing and rubbing that spot that always made her shudder.

"Liam!" her hands curled into the material of the couch, her head fell forward, pressing their foreheads together as she fought to breathe as her body stiffened above him before she gasped.

Liam groaned as she fluttered around him, giving that last push he needed before he gripped her hips tight, holding her close before he kissed her chin.

Boneless, Liam sank back against the couch and she slumped against him, her face in his neck as she breathed heavily.

"That was good," he told her lamely. Sara stiffened in his arms for a brief moment before her shoulders shook and she started laughing.

Her laugher was infectious and before he knew it, he was laughing along with her, holding her close. It felt good to laugh again, especially after everything they had seen and done.

The distance was no longer there, he felt closer to her than before and she seemed to feel the same as she lifted her head up to meet his gaze with green eyes alit with happiness, the smile seems to fill her from within and it astounded him.

"That was probably because we stayed away," she told him, pushing back her sweat-soaked messy hair out of her face before her smile turned softer but no less bright. "Let's…" she sighed and gave him a soft kiss, "Keep talking, and no more pulling away."

He smiled, wondering if he was too far gone for her.

And knowing him, he probably was and he didn't even care.

TBC

[sheepnanigans]

Happy Sunday! Are you ready to be heartbroken?

They don't have time alone together for days. Causeway is bothered by how quickly things are passing. They've already been on Concertia for a full week, and the details have blurred together. She sleeps in Valiant's guest room, next to her ex-girlfriend. She lives in a house with half her family, with a pilot she only knows as rescuer, activist, motivator. She eats food she doesn't pay for, and she sleeps, gods alive, does she sleep. For long hours, both the black void of depression-driven slumber and the hectic, vivid color of trauma-laced dreaming. She wakes unrested, and counts the tiles in the ceiling.

Bear won't take her calls. When she goes to the garage to see him, his coworkers invent places for him to be. His avoidance speaks louder than he ever could. Causeway sends him texts, good morning and good night. She sends him pictures of flowers. He never responds. If not for read receipts, Cause might think he stopped existing just to get away from her. She knows his grief is more powerful than a dying star, but she also knows that her texts and Valiant's presence on the satellite are his only tethers. Bear needs tethers.

"I have good news," Mosquita says one morning, as they are finishing breakfast. She sits on the edge of an armchair, addressing the room as a whole. "Chang Wenyan is at a safehouse."

Roundworm, from her place at the table, nods. "That is good."

"I also have bad news," says Mosquita, though her tone hardly wavers from it's normal standard of pep. "Peréz thinks there's something wrong with his port. Apparently he's been having headaches, mood swings, that sort of thing."

"He spent four years in a federal prison," Luli says. "Mood swings seem like a normal reaction."

"They seemed very upset," Mosquita shrugs. "They said they thought the government may have downloaded something into his brain, if that's even possible."

"That doesn't sound possible," Luli frowns. Cause shifts in her corner of the couch. It takes a colossal effort to brings herself into the conversation.

"I don't really know how all that works," Mosquita says.

"No one does." Causeway swallows a yawn. "How the brain interacts with organic tech is a fucking mystery, and street mods are always a risk. It's like taking drugs from a stranger, so who knows what the government did to Chang in the four years they had access to his port."

"But I thought bioware only worked as long as it was plugged in," Luli says.

"That's what everyone thinks, yeah, but we don't actually know." She picks at a hangnail on her pointer finger, wondering if the government did anything to her, all those times she was unconscious. Does tinkering in someone's brain count as torture, or did Luli's interference prevent that cruelty too? "Ask anyone in the scene and you'll hear horror stories of digital sickness; memory loss, outbursts, psychotic episodes."

Luli looks appropriately uncomfortable. Causeway tries to give her a sympathetic smile but her expressions were already difficult to control around Luli and it's only gotten worse since they crammed their bodies together and still haven't talked about it.

"The General wants us on Qucumatz as soon as possible," Mosquita says. "And they asked if I could bring a computerman."

"Sorry," Causeway tells her, and finds that she means it. "I'm not ready to jump back in, yet."

"I'm not going, either," Luli says, and Mosquita startles. "I want to stay with Causeway."

The room chills faster than should be possible. It was said so casually, as if Luli didn't know the hurt it would cause, as if it shouldn't come as a surprise that she chooses something over the revolution. Mosquita stares at her for a moment, then shifts her accusation to Causeway, who only shakes her head, an explanation well beyond her reckoning.

"But…" Mosquita's brow furrows. "We need you."

"You knew I was only in this for one reason," Luli tells her.

"But we need a doctor," Mosquita insists and her voice pitches high, just this side of urgent. "Especially if he has digital sickness, we need someone who worked inside Helioal hospitals."

"I'm sorry." She tries to sound patient, Causeway can tell, and patience was never something she had in stock.

"I can find you a government doctor," Roundworm says. She has the tone of a mediator, parental and firm.

"That's not the point." Mosquita glares at Luli, such anger in her broad shoulders, in her tiny, dense frame, she looks like she may burst. "You know, it was bad enough that the famous Valiant and her famous Bear didn't want to help, but you? After everything?"

Luli frowns, her mouth half-open, nothing to defend herself with.

Mosquita pulls her lips tight, shakes her head. "I thought this meant more to you."

"That's not fair—" Luli pleads, but Mosquita gets to her feet and goes out the front door without another word. A moment later, her GPS pings alive on the tablet in the kitchen. Luli curls her feet under her, and huffs. "She knew. I told her all I wanted was to free you."

"Okay," Causeway mumbles.

"I never made any promises to the Militia."

"Okay," she repeats.

"She's even more idealistic than you." Luli still scowls. Causeway doesn't know if that's supposed to insult her, so she just slumps down into the couch and closes her eyes. She's grateful Valiant wasn't around to see the show.

She dozes there for some time, forcing herself to ignore the sounds of the day. The apartment is tidied around her, and conversation blends choppily with the images of her dreams. She dreams of purple shapes approaching from the distance, and a high, mechanical vibrato that makes her hair stand on end. She dreams of the mundane, scrubbing the floors of her childhood home, playing video games with unidentified friends, eating hot and sour soup in winter. She dreams of birds standing on top of each other, speaking to each other with Luli's and Roundworm's voices. She dreams of horses and the smell of clean air.

Valiant's touch on her knee brings her back to reality. "Hey there," Val murmurs. "You were twitching."

"Oh," says Cause. She works her tongue around to clear the thick taste of sleep from her mouth.

"It's almost dinnertime," Valiant tells her and Causeway frowns.

"I just had breakfast."

"No, honey, you've been out for a few hours."

The smell of cooked rice fills the apartment and Mosquita, back from her escape, settles into the armchair with a bowl of something warm and aromatic. Causeway can't quite pick up details, still fuzzy-headed and lethargic. She makes room for Val on the couch, but her familiar weight does little to ground Cause's focus. Even Roundworm placing a hot bowl in her lap doesn't help. A picture frame on the coffee table flashes through old photos. She doesn't remember anyone turning it on.

She finds herself staring at Luli, the shape of her mouth as she blows on her food before eating, her wide, forward facing ears poking through her hair, the perfect balance of her reading glasses, the way her tablet illuminates her face. Causeway runs her tongue along her gums and pretends to be hungry. The mere thought of kissing Luli sends a rush of heat through her stomach and vulva. It was a bad idea, she knows that. Getting back together could not have come at a more inconvenient time. She hasn't told anyone about their relationship, she's not even sure if Mosquita knows.

Causeway rubs her mouth and looks at the picture frame instead as it rhythmically plays through Val's favorite photos. Roundworm in dark red lipstick, then a picture of her and Valiant in a patch of grass somewhere, a bottle of ferment between them. Cause has a guess that it's Bear behind the camera. He shows up in the next few photos, all candid, while he's not paying attention. Valiant seems to only catch him while he's working, staring intently at a monitor, or elbow deep in an engine. There is a picture of the three of them together, crammed into a selfie, Val's arm taking up a third of the frame. Objectively, they all look like idiots, but Bear is smiling, so Causeway knows why it wasn't deleted.

The picture frame switches to a photo of her, bent over the center console of the Icelander, a quickskill in her neck and a pen between her teeth. She remembers being on Gascara when it was taken, reprogramming the speech commands in the cockpit. It was right after she'd healed enough to start plugging in 'skills.

"I hated selling that ship," Val says. "First home Bear and I had after we left our moon."

"First time I went into space," Cause says. "I'd only been on airplanes before. Way less thrilling."

A photo of Chicxulub appears on screen, and Causeway goes numb. She knows Bear took this one, too, because Chic is grinning so wide his eyes are crinkled shut, and he reaches with one hand, as if to take the camera. Next is another selfie, Bear's face hidden in Chic's shoulder, and Chic pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Shit," Causeway hisses. "God, I miss him."

Valiant squeezes her hand. "Should I turn it off?"

"No, it's okay." She swallows to stave off tears, sick of crying all the damn time, sick of being out of control.

"Who is that?" Mosquita asks carefully.

"My brother," says Valiant. "That's Bear."

"Who's the other guy?"

Val stares at her. Causeway frowns.

"What?" She looks between Chic's smiling face and Mosquita's cautious curiosity. Could he have looked so different when they threw him into space? Could they have made him unrecognizable? "That's Chicxulub…"

Mosquita's face goes pale. She and Luli exchange a look that only be described as alarmed.

Valiant's voice is hard when she asks, "What is going on?"

Causeway can tell her mind and body are disconnecting, hysteria brewing somewhere in between, from the mere sight of Mosquita's round, terrified face.

"Tell me," Valiant barks. "Now."

"It wasn't him," Luli's voice is a whisper. She speaks to the picture frame, to the parade of images, and to the middle distance, her eyes tracking blankly as she tries to understand.

"What?"

"That's not the man they killed."

Silence swells inside the room. Causeway lets out a noise, like a cry, or a gag, and then vomits into her own hands.

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