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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

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the idiots’ guide to not despising your cousin

Determined to make the best out of the worst hand, Lloyd drags his newly-living pseudo-cousin on the road trip from hell in a desperate attempt to bond. Or get rid of each other for good, they’re not sure yet.

(This requires...a tiny bit of background, part one being that a while back i received a request for “more lloyd and sharks”. Except i misread it as “morro lloyd and sharks” which was like, odd, but i went with it and somehow ended up with 12K words of...this fic, that’s definitely 90% crack. Which brings me to part two, which is that this takes place in an entirely hypothetical au where Morro made it through the rift in s7, or somehow he’s alive the details aren’t important shh)

In his defense, Morro never would have been caught dead in this situation if he hadn’t traumatized his sort-of-cousin by possessing him two years earlier.

…alright, that’s not really a defense, but it’s the only explanation he has.

“I’m just saying,” Lloyd is…saying, as he jabs his pointer finger at him. “I could’ve been a whole foot taller if you hadn’t starved me. You stunted my growth, listening to me for five minutes is the least you can do.”

“I did not stunt your growth, you were already going to be a shrimp anyways,” Morro counters, rubbing his right eye as he tries to focus on his book instead.

Lloyd’s eyes narrow. “A whole week. And all you let me eat was half a slice of bread and vodka shots.”

“Would you — shh, it was not vodka!” Morro hisses, his eyes darting wildly around for Wu. His shoulders slump in relief as he confirms that he and Lloyd are still the only ones in the room, and he turns back, glaring at Lloyd. “I told you, it was juice.”

Lloyd glares right back. “I could still taste, you know. I’m not that naïve.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Morro quips.

Lloyd’s green eyes flash a little too much on the neon side, and Morro backs down. “Alright, alright!” He shakes his head. “I’ll listen to whatever kiddie drama you want.”

“It’s not drama,” Lloyd huffs, flopping down on the couch across from him. “It’s a proposal.”

Morro sneers. “Oh, a fancy word.”

Again, Lloyd sneers right back. “Yeah, do you need a dictionary for it?"

In retrospect, it’s probably a good thing Morro possessed Lloyd at that particular point in his life. If he’d had to deal with this Lloyd, and all his newly-found confidence and sass, he’d have dropped him off a cliff much sooner.

“Listen here, you little punk—”

“Oh, now you want me to listen to you,” Lloyd interrupts. “Spoken like a true raging hypocrite.”

“FSM, what do you want?” Morro finally cracks, tossing his book on the couch beside him. It’s clear he’s not going to be getting anymore reading done until Lloyd leaves.

Lloyd beams, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself. “Again, I have a proposal,” he says. “For you.”

Morro already hates this. “No.”

Lloyd continues as if Morro hadn’t spoken. “You should go with me to the coast this weekend.”

“No.”

“The southern coast, so the one like eight hours away.”

“No, what the—” Morro stares at him incredulously. “Why in the world would I ever want to do that?”

Lloyd simply shrugs, as if he hasn’t just suggested the idea from hell. “Because.”

Morro’s going to kill him, tentatively-redeemed status be damned.

“Why, Lloyd.”

Lloyd gets a look in his eyes, the kind that makes Morro shift. “Consider,” he says. “A tornado.”

Morro, unfortunately, does consider that. “There is...merit, to the idea,” he admits, even if doing so pains him.

“Okay, okay,” Lloyd continues, like an enthusiastic salesman with a quota to meet. “Now, consider this: sharks. In the tornado.”

Morro loses any and all faith he’s ever had in Lloyd, which is impressive considering there was nothing there to begin with. “What.”

“Sharks, in the tornado. Like a sharknado.”

Something flickers in the back of Morro’s brain, snatches of a conversation he’d heard from the living room one evening, along with a lot of screeching laughter and pained groans.

“Are you trying to reenact an entirely fictional and entirely garbage movie,” Morro says flatly, mentally crediting Cole for that particular phrasing.

Lloyd’s lip juts out. “No.”

“That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it,” Morro rolls his eyes. “No. Find someone else to be stupid with you. Kai should be down, he always is.”

Lloyd narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t take the bait. “Will you just — at least hear my final point,” he pleads.

Morro stares into the vast abyss of the ceiling panels, and already regrets answering. “What.”

“The look on the others’ faces.”

Morro pauses again, desperately trying to stop himself — but it’s too late. The looks have been imagined.

Lloyd grins, sharp teeth poking out at the edge of his lip. “Now — the look on Uncle Wu’a face.”

Oh, curse everything. Morro’s coming dangerously close to being made a fool by an idiot shrimp who calls himself his cousin. He quickly backtracks.

“Noted, but that doesn’t explain why you’re asking me.”

“Because you’ve got the wind power for the tornado, duh.” Lloyd makes a face. “Also because the others will probably say something like it’s too dangerous, or a high risk, or some other nonsense like that.”

Morro highly doubts that Jay, or even Kai, of all people, would turn down the opportunity for such potent idiocy, but he does believe they’d tie Lloyd to a pole to keep him from rushing a shark.

“So you’re asking me, out of everyone else in this realm, to drive eight hours — eight — with you to some coast in the middle of nowhere — which includes water, by the way, so that’s already a strike — just so you can recreate some awful B-movie scene?”

“Yup,” Lloyd says. “And maybe drop the whole thing on my dad’s head, if we can find him.”

“Right,” Morro sighs. “Just being clear.”

He drops his head back, staring at the ceiling again. It’s the idea from hell, for certain. Morro would hate himself every minute of it, if he were to agree.

But the idea of hitting the road — of escaping the monastery — does sound tempting.

It has, admittedly, been rather boring at the monastery. Morro’s interactions with the ninja, while not as aggressive as they’d been originally, tend to be strained at best. On the better days, Morro finds the most entertainment in listening to the increasingly creative ways Kai threatens to end his existence with, should he either step out of line, or within a set boundary around Lloyd. Both of which Morro threatens to break by going along with Lloyd’s plan.

Actually, Morro muses, that’s more of a reason to go than to not. Kai’s head might potentially explode if he were to wake up and discover Morro had taken off across country with Lloyd, and Morro would get the added bonus of seeing him chew Lloyd out for being the one to suggest it. So there are definitely pros.

None of them, of course, override the fact that he’d be spending eight hours, in a car, with Lloyd and Lloyd alone. Both ways.

“Eight hours is a long time,” Morro finally says.

Lloyd’s expression drops, before his eyebrows crease stubbornly. “It’s eight hours you wouldn’t spend being hounded by Uncle Wu to train with us.”

Morro cringes. Lloyd has clearly prepared his arguments for this one with devastating accuracy. But still, eight hours. With Lloyd—

“If you do this, I’ll stop tying all your shirtsleeves together when they’re in the laundry,” Lloyd adds.

“That was you?!” Morro exclaims, indignantly. “Nya told me the dryer did that on its own!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Lloyd shrugs. “You probably…shouldn’t take Nya’s word on a whole lot of stuff any time soon.”

“Now you tell me,” Morro mutters, sinking further into the couch and bemoaning the universe on the whole.

Lloyd scoots forward on his own couch, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please?” he says. “It’s just this once. Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

Morro meets his eyes shrewdly, chewing on his cheek. He’ll regret it, for certain. Probably hate himself and the universe on the whole the entire weekend. But…he does, rather drastically, owe Lloyd. And he is trying to — ugh — make things right with him.

(As if that’s something that can be done.)

And at least there’s the promise of Lloyd leaving him alone.

Morro lets out a long, weary groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But you’re paying for gas.”

Lloyd gives a whoop of victory, before desperately trying to stifle his excitement. “You pay for stuff?” he cackles instead. “Lamest villain ever.”

“Get out,” Morro snarls, hurling his book at him. Lloyd dodges with ease. “Before I change my mind and murder you.”

***********

Lloyd secures a vehicle with a speed and easiness that almost makes Morro doubt which one of them is the reformed criminal. Then he remembers that, technically, they’re both reformed criminals, even if Morro’s ‘reformed’ status is still under hot debate (by himself included).

As it also turns out, Lloyd happens to have a not-so-reformed criminal friend as well, who Morro unfortunately recognizes when he hands the keys over to them.

Ronin abruptly cuts off in his lecture to Lloyd about engine safety as he spots him, his face paling. Morro pauses mid-step, mentally wishing he’d just made Lloyd carry the six packages of Oreos out to the car himself. Lloyd simply smiles, like the oblivious airhead Morro wishes he truly was.

He’s not, though, because the look in his eyes says he’s having the time of his life with this.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention,” Lloyd tells Ronin easily. “Morro’s the other person I was talking about.”

Ronin stares between the two of them, and looks as if he’s lost about five years of his life. “How hard do they hit your head in practice, kid.”

“Not hard enough, apparently,” Morro mutters. Ronin pins him with a glare, and despite his better judgement, Morro shuts up.

“It’s all good,” Lloyd assures him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“For some reason, I got trouble believin’ you, kid.”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” Lloyd huffs, snatching the keys from him. “I’m the Green Ninja. Also, if you tell the others about this I’ll start busting your Thursday night runs.”

Ronin’s expression sours. “Alright, alright, if you wanna go on a suicide road trip, go on a suicide road trip. Just keep me outta it.”

“Gladly,” Morro grouses, shouldering his way between them so he can dump the cursed cookies in the van already.

Ronin watches him through narrowed eyes, and makes a threatening gesture. “If you even try and come back alone…”

“He won’t,” Lloyd says, before Morro can reply. “Promise. I have it all under control.”

“That’s what you all say every time,” Ronin grumbles.

Ronin finally leaves them in peace, muttering something about ‘leaving his Thursday nights alone' before taking off. This leaves Lloyd and Morro and the incredibly hideous minivan, alone. They look at each other. There’s a moment of silence, before they both scramble wildly for the driver’s seat. Morro beats Lloyd out by a half-second, grabbing the steering wheel and shoving him back with a smug smirk. Lloyd glares at him.

“I’m driving,” he demands.

“As if you’re old enough to have your license,” Morro scoffs.

Lloyd narrows his eyes into slits. “At least I was born when cars actually existed.”

“Ooh, I’m old, how will I ever recover,” Morro mocks. “I got here first, I’m driving. Suck it up.”

Lloyd’s face screws up, and for a half-second Morro gleefully thinks he’s about to pout like a child.

To his disappointment, Lloyd blows his breath out, stands up straighter, and plays dirty.

“You take control of the car, you take control of my body, ” he shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I guess that’s just how it is with you, huh."

Morro’s hands grind where he clutches the steering wheel, and he resists the urge to smash his head against it. “Have you ever heard of abusing your power.”

“Have you ever heard of abusing me.”

“Oh for FSM’s — you can drive, fine!”

***********

They’re roughly an hour out from the monastery, when something strikes Morro as odd.

“By the way,” he says. “How did you convince the idiot quartet to let you go?”

“Don’t call them that,” Lloyd says sternly, glaring at him. “And, uh, I didn’t.”

Morro blinks. Then Lloyd’s meaning sinks in, and he lets out a long, pained exhale. “You do realize,” he says. “That they’re going to have multiple heart attacks, then hunt me down and murder me as prime suspect, right.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lloyd assures him, cheerfully. “I left them a note.”

***********

Kai stares at the slightly-crumpled scrap of paper in his hands and wishes, not for the first time, that Garmadon or Wu or Misako had put in just a little more time in raising Lloyd, so he could blame them for this and not his own example.

Alas, Kai is only able to bury himself in so much denial.

“What’s that?” Cole asks, striding into the kitchen behind him. Kai hands him the note, wordlessly. Cole frowns as he takes it, trying in vain to flatten the edges.

“‘Hey guys, heading out with Morro for a couple days, going to’— something something…sharks?” Cole blinks at the note. “Geez, might need to look into Lloyd’s writing education agai— wait, he’s heading out with who for a couple what.”

“Read the rest,” Kai says, his eyes glazing over as he stares across the kitchen.

“Okay, uh… ‘—taking the van’— we have a van? — ‘shouldn’t go too far, don’t worry.’” Cole’s eyebrows shoot up as he reads on. “‘Also my phone’s dead and I forgot the charger. Sorry.’ He wrote this while he was still here, he could’ve grabbed it!” he exclaims.

“I’m going to slaughter him,” Kai states.

“Uh…which one?”

“Whichever one doesn’t run fast enough.”

***********

As it turns out, Lloyd’s plan consists of a little more than just driving six hours to some random beach in the middle of nowhere. This is unsurprising, as Morro’s been expecting Lloyd to spring nonsense on him at any given moment.

Having lived in his head for a brief stint, Morro also finds it unsurprising that Lloyd’s plan isn’t actually a plan.

“So the tornado thing is easy, obviously, unless your powers suck,” he’s saying. Morro shoots him a look he hopes conveys the depths of his annoyance from where he’s at the wheel. Lloyd switched with him back at the last gas station, having grown fed up with Morro’s lack of skill in reading maps.

It’s not Morro’s fault his reading comprehension rests around that of a nine year-old’s. Like Lloyd’s any better.

“Gonna take that as a ‘maybe’,” Lloyd mutters to himself, squinting back at the map under the above-head car light. “It’s the shark part that’s going to be a little more tricky.”

“I hear they like blood,” Morro says. “I can always skewer you a little, then toss you in. That should do it.”

“Har har,” Lloyd replies, drenched in sarcasm. “That’s obviously not the route we’re taking. Besides, it’d be mean to lure the sharks out and not actually have anything they can eat. I’d probably end up poisoning them or something, with my mutant Oni blood.”

Morro stares at him long enough to nearly run them off the road. He jerks the car back on track just in time, shaking his head and despairing.

“I was thinking, since there’s already an elemental master of nature, maybe there’s like, an elemental master of animals?” Lloyd continues. “Then we could ask them to help us out.”

“Oh, I’m sure some random master would love to help us out,” Morro drawls. “An undead criminal who tried to unleash hell on the country and the son of Lord Garmadon.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd huffs. “People actually like me.”

“Shocker.”

Lloyd ignores him. “Plus, you’re not even undead anymore,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re just regular boring alive, now.”

Morro opens his mouth, because he’s got a lot to say about that, then realizes he doesn’t quite have the words for it, aside from hanging his mouth open like an indignant fish. He shuts it, and Lloyd plows on.

“Do you think we should look for the master of like, fish or something, instead?” he questions, frowning. “I mean, I don’t even know if there is a master of animals, but if there is, sharks are technically fish, and fish are…well, I guess they’re animals too, but what if there’s like, a distinction, and all the hypothetical master of animals can summon are mammals, and we drive out of the way for nothing?”

“I will pay you,” Morro says, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “I will pay you so much to shut up.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” Lloyd decides, ignoring him. “Plan B it is, then.”

Morro doesn’t want to ask. That would be inviting Lloyd to run his mouth again, and Morro doesn’t hate himself that much.

But he does, regretfully, want to know how he’ll be meeting his fate.

“What’s plan B?”

“So there’s this park,” Lloyd says. “For performing animals.”

***********

Morro and Lloyd are still arguing by the time they pull into the motel parking lot for the night. That had been a different argument altogether, but as they’d had to sneak out around midnight to get on the road successfully, neither had really wanted to keep driving through the early morning hours.

“—no, no, I cannot make this clearer, no,” Morro growls. “I am not breaking into some — some stupid amusement park, just to steal their dancing sharks or whatever.”

“Oh come on, it’s stealing! That’s like, your favorite pastime,” Lloyd shoots back. “A shark is nothing compared to body-snatching.”

“That’s not going to work on me again,” Morro seethes.

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd taunts. “Why not? Did your morality meter run out?”

“My what—”

“I can never dye my hair black because of you,” Lloyd continues, eyes narrowed. “I will never know the teenage joys of horrifying your family by dyeing your entire head jet black, because of you.”

“It didn’t look that bad,” Morro defends.

“I’m talking about the trauma!” Lloyd snaps.

Morro pauses. “Your trauma, or theirs?”

Lloyd opens his mouth, then frowns. “Min—their— both, both traumas!”

While Morro wants to scoff back that having to endure the sight of Kai’s hair is equally traumatic for him, he also recognizes that Lloyd has a point. Which is inconvenient, because Lloyd’s beginning to use that point against him a little too well lately, but considering Lloyd also still wakes up screaming in the night because Morro’s given him chronic nightmares, he decides not to push back against that point.

Because he’s a nice person, like that.

He does, however, attempt to push for sense.

“Stealing a shark from a theme park is still theft,” he argues under his breath, as they make their way toward the motel check-in. “Isn’t that something you’re against?”

“Theft, yes,” Lloyd replies. “Freeing wrongfully imprisoned sharks from slavery, less so.”

“Oh, so stealing is an act of philanthropy when it’s you.”

“Wow, look at you, breaking out the big words.” Lloyd’s teeth grind together.

“Yeah, you need a dictionary?” Morro sneers back his words from earlier.

Lloyd looks as if he’d like to throttle him, but fortunately for Morro — or unfortunately, as he’d like to see him try — the receptionist at the check-in desk is staring at them with wide eyes now.

To be fair, Morro imagines they make quite a contrasting pair: Lloyd with his light hair in his green hoodie and green high top sneakers, and Morro with his black hair in his black shirt and black jacket and black jeans and black high top sneakers.

At least Lloyd’s basketball shorts are like, a grey color. For contrast, not that Morro cares.

He does care that they’re both wearing high top sneakers, but that’s only because it’s annoying.

Lloyd finally straightens, transforming instantaneously into a bright, innocent-eyed ray of infuriating sunshine. “Hi!” he greets. “Can we get a room for two, please?”

“Oh,” the lady blinks, clearly blinded by the intensity of Lloyd’s beaming smile. “Of course, sweetheart, one moment.”

Morro fights back the urge to inform the receptionist that Lloyd is actually a half-demon monster who could and would drag her on an eight-hour road trip from hell, with the sole purpose of stealing sharks.

He resists, though. Since he’s a nice person, like that.

The receptionist hands them the keys with ease, but it’s only as Lloyd struggles to get the room door open that the reality of their situation hits Morro.

Lloyd finally swings the door open, and Morro stares in horror at the small room. “Wait, we’re sharing a room?”

“Uh, yeah?” Lloyd shrugs. “Unless you’ve got the money for two, ‘cause I definitely don’t.”

Morro’s jaw creaks. Lloyd knows full well he has about three cents to his name. “Tell me there’s two beds.”

Lloyd scoffs loudly. “Please. I’m not completely insane.”

Morro would beg to differ, because he’s got them sharing a room, but he’s true to his word, at least. While the room is about the size of a glorified closet, there are two single beds, neatly arranged side by side. In silent agreement, the first thing Lloyd and Morro do, after tossing their bags down, is shove the beds as far as they can from each other against the opposite wall. The bedside table relocates nicely as a barrier in the no-man’s zone between the two. Morro would prefer, say, a five-feet thick vengestone wall between the two of them, but sure, the bedside table thing works.

They make camp on their respective beds after that, Morro skimming idly through his book while Lloyd flips through the little leaflet on the bedside table. He frowns, swinging his legs at the edge of his bed.

“D’you think we should just order dinner in?” he says.

Morro ignores him, continuing to thumb through his book. He hasn’t been particularly hungry since they finished an entire package of Oreos somewhere around the second hour in.

Not one to be discouraged, Lloyd continues anyways, mumbling to himself. “It’s a little late, but it looks like there are some pizza places that’ll deliver here…”

Morro frowns. “Pizza’s that cheese bread stuff, right?”

Lloyd goes silent. He stares at Morro, his expression frozen. “What.”

Morro shifts, uncomfortable at the stare Lloyd has on him. “What?”

“You’ve…never had pizza?” Lloyd finally gets out, as if the very idea is horrifying.

“No?” Morro offers. “You know I don’t eat dinner with you all. I certainly don’t eat your disgusting greasy junk food, either.”

“Disgusting — you’ve never had pizza,” Lloyd repeats, scandalized. “That’s what’s disgusting here. We’ve gotta fix this. Not even you deserve to go your life without pizza.”

“I’m touched,” Morro drones.

“Shut up, and pick out a topping.” Morro yelps as Lloyd suddenly materializes on the bed next to him, shoving the leaflet in his face. “So the standard go-to is cheese, ‘cause you can’t go wrong with that, but pepperoni’s pretty across the board, too. Kai and Nya like little peppers on theirs, so if you like spicy stuff that’s the way to go, but Cole swears by bacon bits, and Jay likes both. Zane likes the vegetable kind, but that’s just ‘cause he’s weird, so there’s that and pineapple, if you’re a mutant—”

“I’ll take the pineapple,” Morro blurts, in a desperate attempt to cut Lloyd’s babbling off.

Lloyd wrinkles his nose. “You’re not gonna like it,” he threatens. “But I’ll get us one of those split pizzas, so we can do like, two slices of pineapple, then the rest can be cheese and pepperoni, I guess, if that sounds good?”

“I literally could not care less.”

“Taking that as a yes!” Lloyd says, cheerfully. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Wonderful,” Morro grimaces. “Now get—” he shoves Lloyd, sending him sprawling to the floor with a yelp. “Back over on your side.”

It takes an unfortunately quick time for the pizza to be delivered, so Morro doesn’t have the chance to pretend he’s fallen asleep before Lloyd’s invading his space again, shoving the pizza in his face.

“Try it,” he demands. “One piece, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“That better be a promise,” Morro grouses, but he takes the slice he’s being offered, holding it gingerly between two fingers. He makes a face. “This is what you’ve been going on about? I can see the grease dripping off it.”

Lloyd rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Just try it, geez. What are you, chicken?”

“What are you, five?” Morro retorts. He relents though, ever-so-carefully taking the tiniest of bites.

He pauses. Lloyd watches him expectantly. “And?”

Morro knows exactly what Lloyd wants to hear, and he’d eat rocks before he’d let him have it. Unfortunately, his tastebuds are arguing a different case.

Morro doesn’t reply, but he takes another bite, this one considerably larger. FSM be cursed, it’s good.

“Haha!” Lloyd crows, rocking back where he sits cross-legged on the floor. “You love it! I knew it.”

“I do not,” Morro argues. The mouthful of pizza he has doesn’t exactly sell his point.

“Do too,” Lloyd grins, taking his own slice.

Morro hesitates, then goes for another slice, giving in. “The pineapple stuff is pretty good,” he admits, reaching for the fruit-laden pizza. Lloyd chokes, his triumphant smile evaporating as his eyes go wide in horror.

“No. No, you can’t. I know you’re deranged, but you can’t be that far gone—”

“It’s good,” Morro shrugs, taking another bite.

Lloyd gags, looking as if he’d like to cry. He settles for a sigh of despair instead, reaching for one of the slices of cheese. The edges of the crust are a bit blackened, but Lloyd doesn’t seem to mind.

“When I was a kid,” he says, as he catches a trailing string of cheese with his fingers. “Burnt pizza was my favorite thing ever. It was super easy to get, if you hung out behind the restaurants. They’d always throw them out in boxes and stuff, so it wasn’t as gross to swipe outta the trash.”

Lloyd’s eyebrows furrow, and his expression drops. “Uh, I mean, sorry. The guys get weird when I talk about that stuff, ‘cause it’s…weird, I guess.”

Morro eyes him. Far be it from him to reassure Lloyd, but — “I don’t think it’s that weird,” he says. “I’d snag stuff from the trash all the time when I was on the streets.”

“Really?” Lloyd’s expression brightens. “That was how I always ate when I was hanging in cities! Smaller towns not so much, since you could swipe stuff from food stands easier there.”

Morro nods in agreement. “The bigger cities are a lot better for scavenging, but smaller villages are where it’s at for stealing. People let you get away easier there.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Lloyd exclaims. He shakes his head, muttering to himself. “I knew it wasn’t that weird. The guys just like to overreact all the time.”

“Tell me about it,” Morro snorts. “Wu’d always act like I’d kicked him in the shins when I brought that sort of stuff up.”

“Sounds like him,” Lloyd giggles, before lapsing back into silence as they both finish the pizza.

If Morro didn’t know any better, he’d call it comfortable.

***********

Sleeping, however, is not comfortable.

Morro stares up at the ceiling, his eyes wide open. Across the room, Lloyd does the same from his own bed.

“Go to sleep,” Morro finally says. “You’re creeping me out.”

“You go to sleep first,” Lloyd responds, after a minute.

Morro grits his teeth. “No, you.”

“What, so you can murder me?” Lloyd hisses.

“I’m more worried about you murdering me!” Morro hisses back.

“You’re the ex-criminal. Maybe I don’t wanna wake up to the Preeminent at my throat.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to wake up with the Serpentine at my neck.”

“Oh, shut up, you hypocritical jerk—”

“You’re the one with a blabber mouth, you stuck-up wannabe-martyr—”

***********

In the end, neither of them wake up with slit throats. Neither of them wake up with marker all over their face, or tied up in their own sheets, or halfway out the window, either. It is, quite possibly, a miracle.

***********

“Well, Lloyd charged a pizza to my credit card, so we know they’re alive, at least,” Cole sighs.

“He took your credit card?” Nya frowns. “I thought Morro was the one who— you know what, never mind, Lloyd makes perfect sense.”

“He redacted the location, too,” Cole taps wearily at his phone. “Wow, we really did raise a child criminal.”

Kai moans into his hands where he’s slumped over at the table, hunkering in the pits of anxiety-induced despair.

“Y’know, it’s not too late to chase them down,” Jay remarks. “Could be fun, we could all join in on whatever awful road trip they’re having.”

“Sensei Wu said we need to let them go,” Cole mutters. “So they can ‘work things out’. That, or he wants to collect on their life insurance early.”

Jay makes a face. “And we’re listening to him…why?”

“Lloyd disabled location services on his phone,” Zane says, dully. “And since the van was procured from Ronin—”

“We have no idea where they are,” Nya growls. “I’m going to slaughter him.”

“Morro, Lloyd, or Ronin?” Jay asks.

Nya exchanges looks with Kai. “Whichever one doesn’t hide well enough.”

***********

“So if we’re looking at this logically, I think our best bet is to just sneak in the park as tourists, so we blend in with everyone. It’s a pretty busy time of the year, so we should go unnoticed—”

“Next exit.”

“—and then we’ll be able to — huh?”

“Next exit. On the left.”

“The left? I thought it was the right. Are you sure you aren’t reading the map upside down again?”

The vein near Morro’s forehead throbs. “I’m not, now get in the — get in the left lane, Lloyd, or we’ll miss it!”

“I swear, if you make me U-turn in the middle of the highway again…” Lloyd grits out, but he sends them careening across the freeway, darting into the left lane just in time to make their turn. Morro clutches the armrest with white knuckles, desperately trying not to cover his eyes with his hands like he has every other time Lloyd’s driven.

“You drive like a maniac,” Morro finally gets out, as Lloyd pushes the car well over the local speed limit. “Whoever let you have a license should be jailed.”

“Wimp,” Lloyd mocks. “I don’t wanna hear it, with how you and your whack-job ghost pals would drive around.”

“That was different,” Morro grinds his teeth. “We had reliable vehicles and I was too dead to care. This is a bucket of bolts, and I’m unfortunately alive enough to not want to die in a fiery inferno because you crashed us head-on into a semi truck.”

“Seriously?” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “You sound like Uncle Wu.”

Morro turns to stare at him so fast his neck practically cracks. He continues to stare at Lloyd, his mouth half-open, too viscerally horrified to form a response.

He finally manages a croaked, “Take that back.”

“Nope.” Lloyd is grinning.

“Take it back, I sound nothing like him—”

Lloyd says nothing, still grinning. Dying in a fiery inferno is sounding better by the minute, if it means dragging Lloyd down with him.

“So anyways, as I was saying,” Lloyd continues, as they pull into view of the park. “I think we should slip in the park dressed like tourists—”

“Mm-hm.”

“—with tickets that I can buy on Cole’s credit card—”

“Classy.”

“—which’ll give our location away, ‘cause there’s no hiding that, but we should be clear out of here by the time he checks anyways—”

“Nobody cares.”

“—alright, alright, so we’re in as tourists, then we just…grab a shark and, uh, borrow one of their big moving trucks, I guess.”

Morro stares at him. “Borrow. The park’s semi truck they use to move sharks.”

Lloyd winces. “Well, we can’t fit the shark in here.”

They both give the minivan a once-over, and cringe in unison.

“So let me get this straight,” Morro rubs his temple as Lloyd pulls them into the parking lot, pocketing their tickets with the slightest expression of guilt and a whispered ‘Forgive me Cole’. “Your plan is to just…walk into the park, pretending we’re totally normal people, then somehow stuff a shark in a truck and — and what? Bust through the front gates?”

“I was more thinking we could swipe park uniforms while we’re in there, and sneak out like Star Wars,” Lloyd says, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands.

Morro buries his face in his hands. “I despise everything you are.”

“It’s a solid plan!” Lloyd defends, kicking the car door open. “It’s better than anything you have.”

“Planning for something this stupid would burn my brain cells to a crisp,” Morro grumbles, sliding out of the van. He eyes the vehicle, something occurring to him. “By the way. If we’re busting out of here in a park truck, what does that mean for this thing?”

Lloyd pauses, as if that thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Uh…” he sweats. “I’m, uh. I’m sure Ronin’s done something bad enough that he deserves us leaving it here.”

“We’re going to come out of this with so many people after our heads,” Morro exhales.

***********

Morro lets Lloyd snag them clothes from a nearby gift shop, which is probably the worst mistake he’s made in his life. Whether Lloyd is still aiming for a bit of revenge or his fashion sense really is just that appalling, the outfits he picks out for them almost succeed at burning Morro’s eyes out on the spot.

“What is this,” is all he manages to get out, staring blankly at the bright yellow, button-up shirt he’s holding in his hands. It wouldn’t be so bad, if it didn’t have ugly orange flowers and pineapples printed all over it as well.

“It’s what you get for liking pineapple on your pizza,” Lloyd quips, as he pulls a garishly orange t-shirt over his head. His shirt has “I Went to Oceanworld and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt” printed on it in bright pink script, which is at least better than the ugly flowers Morro gets. On the other hand, Lloyd’s stuck with a pair of truly hideous, neon blue running shorts, while Morro at least gets navy cargo ones, so there’s that tiny victory.

“Also, these were the best options they had,” Lloyd winces, having caught a glimpse of himself in a shop window as they head toward the park entrance, a crowd of people already starting to form around them. “Here, put these on.”

Morro stares at the purple sunglasses Lloyd’s handed him. “Absolutely not.”

“This too,” Lloyd ignores him, shoving a neon green baseball cap on him. “See, I’m letting you have the green one, ‘cause—”

“If you even finish that sentence, I’ll drown you in the first fish tank we see,” Morro grits out, shoving the sunglasses on. Lloyd just gives him a sunny smile, tugging a vivid pink baseball cap over his hair. He, at least, looks like he fits in here, with his idiot smile and the way he almost starts bouncing as they mingle in the crowds. Morro, on the other hand, feels much as if he sticks out like a sore, sweaty thumb.

“You know, I might actually take you up on that drowning thing,” Lloyd mutters as they drift further into the park, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “If only so I end up in the water. It’s so hot.”

“Makes me miss your grandfather’s tomb,” Morro mutters beneath his breath. Lloyd spears him with a glare out of the corners of his eyes. “What?” Morro defends. “It was at least cold there.”

“I remember. I almost died ‘cause of it,” Lloyd growls, his eyes flashing in warning.

“Pretty sure you were more likely to die of starvation by that point,” Morro remarks easily. “But you were already a twig to begin with, so—”

He cuts off with a strangled shout of pain as Lloyd shoves him face-first into a sign, his nose crunching against the metal. Morro pulls away angrily, only to come face to face with a truly hellish, grinning shark on the sign, pointing its deformed fin to the right. Just below the awful shark is a small, printed square that points ahead, reading Park Maintenance: Transportation.

“Just so you know, I’m going to roundhouse-kick your teeth out for that later,” Morro tells Lloyd calmly. “But I think I’ve found our stop.”

Lloyd’s expression switches from Oni hell spawn of doom to enthusiastic devil child in a heartbeat. “Oh, seriously? That was fast.”

“Aw,” Morro sneers. “Did you want to stop by the kiddie park before we left?”

Lloyd’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t spare Morro a second glance. “Nah, but I wanted a picture of you in that shirt to immortalize. Kai’ll get a kick out of it.”

Morro pales rapidly. “No. No, Kai does not hear a word of this. This stays between you and me forever and then we die. Kai. Never. Knows.”

“I’ll keep it quiet if you give me your credit card.”

“Ha! You know this entire family’s broke.”

Breaking into park maintenance is laughably easy — or it would have been, if they weren’t dressed in the ugliest, most obvious colors possible. They make it through three different doors on the excuse that they’re “poor, lost cousins whose uncle left them to die”, but after that they have to start knocking people out. Morro debates arguing for murder, because witnesses and all, but covering their stolen uniforms in blood before they even have the chance to wear them is probably a bad move.

At least the uniforms are a decent combo of white and sky blue, instead of a criminal offense on the eyes.

“Just like Star Wars!” Lloyd exclaims happily, as they sprint for the truck.

It takes every bit of Morro’s willpower not to lock him in the nearby fish tank. He doesn’t, though, because Lloyd somehow manages to locate the one shark actually scheduled for transport, which means all they have to do is subtly distract a few more employees and steal the truck before the furious horde of security guards on their tail catch up and send them both to the Departed Realm in style.

“I said subtly distract them!” Lloyd cries, as Morro neatly finishes chopping his hand into the last employee’s neck, sending him into blissful unconsciousness. “Not that!”

“Do not take the moral high ground with me now,” Morro snaps at him. “I saw what you did to the other security guard, you absolute menace.”

“That was different, can we just— oh, good, the shark’s in the tank and everything,” Lloyd pants, flicking through the little camera view screen on the truck dashboard. “And there’s the exit gate, and there’s — oh, there’s security coming to kill us.”

“What?” Morro yelps, craning his head over. “They shouldn’t have gotten through the door that soon, we haven’t even found the keys yet!”

“Don’t need keys.” Lloyd slides down, prying the compartment beneath the steering wheel open, exposing a mass of complicated wires. “Strap the shark in and lock the back doors,” he orders, as he starts pulling at them. “I’m gonna hot wire it.”

Morro has about a thousand and two questions for why, exactly, Lloyd knows how to hot wire a car, but he immediately decides he doesn’t want to know. Well, he kind of does, because it’s possibly the only cool thing Lloyd has revealed about himself, but running for their lives from angry, underpaid park employees doesn’t seem to be the best of times.

Morro sprints around the truck, yanking the doors open fully and hoisting himself into the trailer. The shark appears to be whacked out of its mind on what Morro’s guessing is a tranquilizer, floating happily in its little tank, and Morro desperately hopes that’s not about to change with the chaotic horror that is Lloyd’s driving.

“Hang tight, fish,” Morro mutters, as he tightens the box straps. Satisfied it won’t come loose, he stumbles out of the trailer, his hands shaking with adrenaline as he slams the truck doors closed, before skidding around the asphalt for the passenger seat.

“Any day now, Lloyd,” he urges, watching the first of the guards come into view in the car mirror.

“Almost got it,” Lloyd hisses, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he yanks at the wires beneath the steering wheel. “Drat, these things are so much more complicated than smaller cars—”

“Lloyd, believe it or not, I really don’t want to kill anyone today.”

“Got it!” Lloyd exclaims triumphantly, slamming the panel closed as the car hums to life. He slides back up into the driver’s seat, throwing the gearshift forward. “Buckle up, this is gonna be fun!”

“You and I have—” Morro swallows a shriek as Lloyd guns the truck forward, his head smacking back against the passenger seat. “Entirely different definitions of fun.”

“You just don’t know what fun is,” Lloyd accuses as he presses harder on the gas, angered shouts from the security guards echoing behind them.

“I know it’s not what you’re doing,” Morro shoots back, as Lloyd smashes them through several plastic barriers.

“What? How is this not fun?” Lloyd gestures with one hand, the other veering the steering wheel to the right and sending the truck careening through the park exit, narrowly missing the transport shuttle.

“Fun is me having control of this thing,” Morro grits out. “Or having control in general. You know, like how I controlled you.”

Lloyd’s head turns to him, his eyes narrowing. “You are not bringing this back up now.”

“What, it’s fun— eyes on the road, eyes on the road!”

***********

By the time they make it on the interstate, well out of the city traffic, Morro’s lost any doubts he’s ever had that Lloyd is the actual blood descendant of the First Spinjitzu Master. There’s just no other way to explain how they manage to evade the entire park’s security staff as well as the local police without trouble, other than divine intervention.

As all things do, though, even divine intervention runs out. Unfortunately, it’s at the same time that Lloyd and Morro’s adrenaline high runs out as well, leaving them both exhausted and heavy-eyed. And also considerably short-tempered, so when Lloyd fails to spot the pothole in the dark and punctures their front tire, Morro’s already dangerously close to his breaking point.

It’s never a good place to be, when he’s around Lloyd.

“I swear, it’s in here somewhere,” Lloyd says, his eyebrows furrowing as he roots through the glove compartment again. “This is an official park vehicle, they can’t not have a manual.”

Morro doesn’t comment, too busy trying to slide the tire jack in place. It’s his fifth attempt so far, and the failures aren’t exactly helping his rising temper. It wouldn’t be quite as difficult if the road they were on wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, perched at the edge of a steep ravine. But it is, and the tire jack clanks out of place as Morro misses yet again.

“Aha! Got it. It doesn’t look too difficult, actually.”

Morro grits his teeth. How no one has murdered Lloyd for his unfailing optimism yet is beyond him. Utterly beyond him. Especially when it’s his fault in the first place.

“All we really need is to get the spare out from underneath,” Lloyd muses, skimming through the manual. “Then we should be good.”

“Stop saying we,” Morro finally snaps. “We did not destroy the tire. You did.”

Lloyd blinks, then frowns. “You didn’t exactly help,” he murmurs beneath his breath, bending down near the flat tire.

Morro’s fingers clench around the tire jack, his knuckles white. He is not going to lose his temper. He’s not. He is stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a stolen truck and a flat tire, with no help in sight, with Lloyd Garmadon of all people, but he is not going to lose his temper. It’s a waste of energy.

“Look, just — no, you’re doing it wrong,” Lloyd sighs.

Never mind. Morro’s got energy to spare.

“Would it kill you to shut up? For five seconds?” he snaps, whirling on Lloyd. Lloyd flinches back in alarm, and Morro snarls. “This is your fault, would it kill you to stop making things worse for once?”

Lloyd’s face pales. “I just—”

“We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you,” Morro steamrolls over him, not even giving him the chance to speak. He’s done, he’s so done with this. He’s held it together pretty well this whole time, gone along with Lloyd’s stupid trip for a reason he doesn’t even know, but this is it. Being alive is not worth the effort, at all.

“You dragged me on this, you and your stupid, selfish obsession with pretending everything’ll work out fine, like you’re some little kid,” Morro stabs his finger viciously at Lloyd. “Well guess what? Nothing is fine, and neither of us are kids! We never got to be kids, and we’ll never get to be kids, because your horrible family screwed up and you came along and made things so much worse!”

Hurt flickers across Lloyd’s face, and his eyes look oddly shiny. Morro’s too far into his rant to care.

“It’s typical,” Morro spits. “Absolutely perfect. This is all your fault, I mean it. Everything’s your fault, every single stupid thing that’s gone wrong in my life, if it wasn’t for you—”

Lloyd punches him square in the mouth.

It’s not even the hardest hit he’s ever received, but it’s hard enough to send him staggering back a couple steps. Morro reels, so flabbergasted that he’s unable to form words for a good half-minute. He blinks back tears of pain, staring at Lloyd in indignation. “You — you hit me!”

“And I’m not sorry about it at all!” Lloyd yells, fists clenched tightly by his sides, as if gearing up for another hit. “You deserved it!”

He punctuates this by hurling the tire block at him. Morro dodges easily, his own anger flaring back to life.

“You call that a hit?” he scoffs. “Pathetic. This is why you were so easy to possess, you know—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Lloyd cuts over him, kicking a rock at him this time. “FSM, what’s your problem? I don’t even know why I try with you!”

“My problem?” Morro snaps, true and properly angry now. “My problem is that some pint-sized brat stole my whole life from me, and now he’s out here—” Morro grunts as he throws the tire jack at Lloyd. “Trying to pretend we’re cousins!”

“Oh, your whole life,” Lloyd echoes, derisively. “What is it about the green gi that makes you so entitled? You’re like — you’re uglier than some stupid runner-up in a beauty pageant about it!”

Morro’s teeth clack together like a steel trap. “A beauty pageant?!”

“Yeah!” Lloyd shouts. “You’re like a screaming toddler! Who runs onstage and attacks the winner because they didn’t get first place in a contest for a stupid outfit!”

“It’s not! Just! An outfit!” Morro roars.

“I know that!” Lloyd snaps.

“Then why didn’t you give it to me!”

“Because you don’t deserve it! You’re a jerk!”

“You don’t even want it!” Morro yells. “You get the green gi and you don’t even appreciate it! This is why we’ll never be cousins!”

“Good! I don’t want you as a cousin! I hate you!” Lloyd screeches, throwing the car manual at him. “I hate you, I hate you so much!”

“I hate you too!” Morro howls, throwing the tire wrench. It spirals wildly off-aim. “Gods, you’re the worst—”

“Drop dead, Morro!” Lloyd screams.

“Make me!” Morro screams back. “Bet you don’t have it in you, you sniveling little—”

Lloyd, clearly determined to prove that he does have it in him, neatly cuts Morro off by tackling him around the waist, sending them both flying over the edge of the hill and rolling wildly into the ravine.

The screaming that follows is a lot less angry this time, and a lot more like the terrified screeching of two year-olds on a roller coaster.

***********

“D’you think...hospitals will take..the green gi as insurance?”

“S’worth...a try. Not sure, think…my head might’ve cracked.”

“I think I heard my spine snap.”

“Pretty sure that was my knee detaching.”

Morro winces, closing his eyes briefly before opening them, staring up at the starry night sky. There’s a shifting noise near his head, before Lloyd curses, moaning in pain as it stops abruptly.

As it turns out, the ravine went a bit deeper than either of them had been prepared for. The end result is Lloyd and Morro both sprawled at the bottom of the ravine, staring into the void of space as they rethink their particular life choices up to this point. There had been a brief moment where they both attempted to shove themselves back up to continue their fight, but that dream had rapidly died as they both collapsed back into the grass, groaning in pain.

It did kill his temper rather effectively, Morro will admit. It’s difficult to keep screaming when your ribs feel like they’ve been used as a drum by a baseball bat. So they continue to lie there in silence, before Lloyd finally stirs.

“So that, uh,” Lloyd finally breathes. “That was. A lot.”

Morro winces. “Yeah. That was — I haven’t yelled like that in a while.”

“Aw, man,” Lloyd laughs humorlessly, still staring at the sky. “I don’t think I’ve yelled like that since I was like, eight.”

The crickets around them buzz loudly as they lapse into silence. At least the sky’s stopped spinning, Morro thinks.

“I think. Um. I think I probably crossed a line.”

Lloyd’s voice is so quiet, Morro almost misses it. He doesn’t miss the apologetic tone, though.

Morro’s lips press together as something in his chest twists that better not be guilt. “I..might have, as well.”

Lloyd hums. “I probably shouldn’t have compared everything you went through to a toddler.”

“Well,” Morro pauses, thinking back on it. “I mean. That crack about the beauty pageant was kinda funny.”

Lloyd gives a breathless little laugh. “Wanna know something awful?”

Morro cranes his head slightly. “Hm?”

“I actually stole that from Nya. And she was, uh, talking about Kai.”

Morro’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Lloyd giggles. “It was after the whole thing with Chen — you saw that, right, in my head?”

“Uh...kind of. Sorry?”

“Nah, I don’t care as much about that one. Anyways, he was a mopey mess after it. Nya was kind of bitter. I might have been…a little bit, too. In secret.”

Morro smirks despite himself. “The Green Ninja, secretly bitter.”

“I’ll never be as bitter as you,” Lloyd retorts.

Morro’s smirk fades. “That’s fair, I guess.” He looks back at the sky, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. “Sorry I brought up possessing you again,” he mutters. “That was…probably uncalled for.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd says. “Pretty uncool that you keep doing that.”

“Yeah, well.” Morro sighs. “I’m a work in progress. But still. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it, I think. Not the bringing up the possession part, but the work in progress part.”

“Oh.” Morro chews on the edge of his lip. “Then, uh, I’m also — I’m also sorry I said everything’s your fault.” He closes his eyes tightly. Curse it, the feeling twisting his chest up is most certainly guilt. “That was definitely uncalled for.”

“No,” Lloyd says, quietly. “That’s…that’s fair, too.”

Morro’s eyes blink open, and he cranes his head back to stare at him. “What? No, it’s not. Blame your grandfather, or your dad, or even Wu. Or that, um, giant snake thing, that kept popping up—”

“The Great Devourer?”

“Yeah, blame that.” Morro briefly squeezes his eyes shut again. Oh, this hurts to say out loud. “You’re…you’re still a kid. You’ve been a kid, even if life sucks enough to make it feel like you’re not. S’not fair to blame it all on you.”

Lloyd is silent for a moment, and Morro hopes he’s heard the apology in his words. That’s a new hope for him to have, but it’s genuine.

“Same goes for you, then.” Lloyd’s voice is still quiet, but it’s got that painful sincerity — the kind Morro’s heard before, but never directed at him. “I mean, possessing me wasn’t good, but… everyone deserves a chance to make things right. You’re a kid, too.”

“Lloyd, you know I’m technically like, forty.”

“Yeah, in ghost years. Being dead doesn’t count.”

“Like you’d know.” Morro breaths a humorless laugh. “Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that I went after a kid for getting slapped with the green gi.”

Lloyd inhales sharply. “Could you maybe go at least five minutes without bringing that up? Just this once?”

Morro blinks at the sudden frustration in Lloyd’s voice. “W-what?”

The grass rustles as Lloyd shakes his head, but he blows his breath out, the anger seeping from him. “I just — I’m sick of it. I get that you hate me, but you could at least have the decency to hate me for me,” he says, wearily. “Hate me for like, my obnoxious habit of repeating stuff, or my annoying voice.”

Morro is quiet for a moment. “Your voice isn’t that bad anymore,” he admits.

Lloyd snorts. “You don’t have to lie.”

“No, I’m serious. It doesn’t do that squeaky-toy cracking thing anymore.”

“Well that makes me feel so much better,” Lloyd huffs.

“You’re welcome,” Morro grins. They lapse into silence again, and the grin slides slowly off of Morro’s face. Oh, curse everything, why is his chest still twisting up in knots.

He finally puffs out a weary breath of defeat. “And I don’t…entirely hate you.”

Lloyd is quiet, digesting that. “Huh. Really?”

“Yeah. Hate your stupid gi, though.”

“Oh, same. You have no idea.”

“Starting to get that, I think.”

“Heh. I guess I don’t…entirely hate you, either.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.”

“Disgusting.”

***********

The tire is surprisingly easy to change, when they’re not trying to bite each other’s heads off. There’s no damage to the actual truck or trailer either, so they’re back on the road before daybreak. Lloyd fretfully checks on the shark a minimum of twenty times, but it’s fine as well, peacefully floating in its little tank. He lets Morro drive, in what may or may not be a peace offering, so Morro lets Lloyd choose the music, which is definitely a peace offering. It’s the only way he’d ever willingly listen to the amount of acoustic music Lloyd plays them.

Well…that he’d admit willingly listening to.

They don’t talk much, but it’s a surprisingly comfortable silence, and by the time they pull up to Lloyd’s beach, half finished with the horrendously cheap coffee they snagged from the gas station, Morro doesn’t feel quite as annoyed with the world on the whole.

In fact, he feels dangerously close to being at peace with it, which is obviously unacceptable, so he makes sure to stub his toe at least three times as they maneuver the now-awake and incredibly annoyed shark into the waves.

“Hey, hey, c’mon buddy,” Lloyd soothes, waist-deep in the water as he coaxes the shark toward him. “It’s okay, we’re setting you free. Don’t eat us when there’s much more tasty seafood in the ocean.”

“Maybe Oni is a delicacy for sharks,” Morro suggests, his feet firmly planted on the shore. He’s been assisting with his wind, floating the shark down gently, and that’s already more than enough. “I bet seafood pales in comparison to demon flesh.”

“You’re disgusting,” Lloyd says, but his lips quirk up. “In that case, maybe I should just drop him on my dad.”

Morro snorts, watching as Lloyd finally gets the shark to deeper water, where it swishes its tail happily, clearly overjoyed to be free from its tiny tank.

“There we go,” Lloyd smiles as it swims around him. “Much better, huh?”

Morro watches the shark swim a moment longer, wrinkling his nose as sand digs between his toes. He stifles a yawn, but the coastal winds are picking up around him, gently tugging through his hair and leaving him less tired as his element ghosts over his skin, as if whispering his name.

He’s missed wind like this. The gentler kind.

He finally turns his attention back to Lloyd, and his eyebrows furrow.

“You know this is just one shark, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Lloyd hums happily, letting the shark nose against his hand.

“That doesn’t bode well for your shark tornado plan,” Morro reminds him.

“Eh,” Lloyd shrugs. “I guess freeing a shark is as good as that. I can always get my dad back later.”

“You could dye your hair, that might do the trick.”

Lloyd gives a wry smile. “It wasn’t really about that, anyways,” he murmurs, so quietly Morro almost misses it.

Morro doesn’t know if he wants to try and guess what that’s supposed to mean, so he averts his gaze instead, looking across the quiet, empty beach. It’s removed from the busier parts of the coast, almost abandoned. Certainly not the kind of place Morro would’ve seen Lloyd picking out for a weekend trip.

“So why this beach, in particular?” he finally asks. “Seems pretty out of the way, just for this.”

Lloyd is quiet for a moment, his hands creating tiny eddies in the water around him. His face falls a fraction as he watches the shark swim off, deeper into the ocean, and he dips lower into the water.

“I came here with my dad, once,” he says, quietly. “After he was… back to normal. Without the venom, and all.”

“Oh.” Morro blinks. There’s a lot of meaning behind those words. For some reason, he’s almost frightened to try and decipher it.

Lloyd saves him from it, straightening up where he stands in the water. “So, are you gonna get in, or what?”

Morro blinks, then violently shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. Water and I are not compatible. You know that.”

“You weren’t before,” Lloyd insists. “You are now.”

“What was that you were saying earlier?” Morro reminds him, snidely. “About traumas, and stuff?”

Lloyd’s brow furrows, in what could almost be concern. “You don’t have to,” he says, slowly. “But this is a nice place to start.”

Morro stares at the sand before him, a mere three feet from where the waves stop washing up on shore. He makes a face. It’s not like he’s scared of water. He takes showers, and he’s not afraid to sprint out in the rain if he’s left a book or something outside. But those are just — water in small doses. This sparkling blue hellhole of toxicity is different. It’s saltwater. Saltwater brings back…less than pleasant memories.

Granted, this particular body of toxic seawater doesn’t seem to be quite as deadly at the moment. Lloyd’s skin hasn’t slid off his bones yet, and he’s floating up to his neck in the stuff.

“I’ll pass,” Morro finally says, stiffly. “It’s, uh, a little too rough for me out there.”

Lloyd looks pointedly at where the gentle waves barely lap the shore. Morro grits his teeth. Drat. That makes it rather difficult not to admit that he does, probably, look like a coward. Lloyd tilts his head to the side, studying him with the eerie red eyes he gets sometimes. Morro doesn’t like the look that forms on his face.

“Why,” he says, with a gleam in his eyes. “Are you scared?”

Even though Morro’s seen that coming a mile away, he still reddens. “No.”

Lloyd raises an eyebrow. “Kinda looks like you’re scared.”

“I am not.”

Lloyd squints at him. Then, without warning, he splashes the smallest bit of seawater up toward him. Morro jumps back, with what he’ll die before he admits is a high-pitched shriek, skittering away from the tiny droplets.

Lloyd bursts into giggles, and Morro feels his cheeks blazing. “That was low, you little insect—”

“Chicken, chicken, Morro’s a chicken,” Lloyd taunts over him.

“I’ll kill you,” Morro threatens.

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd flashes his teeth at him. “How’re you gonna do that when I’m in the water?”

Morro’s hands clench into fists as he seethes. “I am not scared of the water.”

“Yes, you are.”

Morro takes a threatening step toward him, brandishing his fist. “I am not a chicken!”

“Yes you a-are,” Lloyd repeats gleefully. “Chicken, chicken—”

“Shut up—”

“Bawk, bawk—”

“I’ll break your spine—”

“Not with your chicken arms you won’t—”

“Enough with the chicken!” Morro roars, shaking Lloyd by the collar of his soaking t-shirt. “I am not scared!”

Lloyd presses his lips together, barely holding back what’s either laughter or another one of those infuriating smiles. “Okay, geez. You proved me wrong.”

Morro blinks. Lloyd looks down, and Morro follows his gaze. He blinks again.

He’s standing waist-deep in the saltwater with Lloyd, waves swirling gently around him. His flesh is not melting off. He is not dying an excruciating death. It doesn’t feel like corrosive acid. It feels like…regular water. Kind of cold, regular water, that smells a little like fish.

Morro stares at the water, letting Lloyd’s shirt go as his arms hang limply by his sides. He didn’t even notice putting a foot in.

“Hey, look,” Lloyd says, brightly. “You’re not dead."

Morro should strangle him for this. Lloyd’s tricked him into the toxic death water by annoying him, and Morro didn’t even notice. He should celebrate this new accomplishment by holding Lloyd’s head under the water until he drowns.

Oddly enough, all he can find it in himself to do is stare at the water with the tiniest of smiles. “I’m not dead,” he echoes, quietly.

Lloyd beams at him, and he doesn’t even want to strangle him for it. Morro stands waist-deep in the water, completely at ease, and feels something odd bubble up in his throat. It’s light and easy, like his chest is filling up with a balloon, and for a brief second, he meets Lloyd’s beaming smile with one of his own.

Naturally, that’s when the beach blows up.

***********

On second thought, the ocean can die.

Morro immediately changes his mind about seawater as he’s knocked beneath a large wave, swallowing a mouthful of disgusting salt liquid. Panic twists around his heart as he flails briefly, before a hand locks firmly around his arm and yanks, pulling him to the surface and dragging him forward.

“—can’t believe this, again?!” Lloyd’s yelling in his ear as Morro splutters out saltwater. “What is it now, someone whose got aunt we got fired?”

“Don’t be ridiculousss, you know your own worth,” a hissing voice laughs across the water, and Morro struggles to find his footing as Lloyd drags them both onto the beach. “Imagine my delight when I realized the Green Ninja was lounging on the beach!”

Morro finally manages to push his sopping hair from his face, and he blinks saltwater from his eyes as his vision clears. Several paces down the sand from them stands a scarlet Hypnobrai, an admittedly intimidating weapon held in its scaly hands.

“Oh, of course!” Lloyd spits. “Stupid green power, would it kill you to let me get five minutes of—”

He cuts off in a yelp as the Serpentine fires at them again, dragging Morro to the sand with him as the grenade blast streaks over their heads, exploding somewhere further down the beach.

“It’s okay,” Lloyd pants, as they scramble to their feet. “This is — it’s all good, it’s just one Serpentine. We can handle this, easy.”

Morro whips his head across the beach. “You do see the other four, right?”

“The other—” Lloyd swears. “How did they all get grenade launchers?”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Morro shouts, as they narrowly avoid another three blasts. The lead Hypnobrai cackles wildly at them, waving his weapon like a war flag.

“How did you even find me?” Lloyd yells, as he and Morro sprint around the jetty for cover, stumbling over the protruding rocks. “This is the middle of nowhere!”

The Hypnobrai grins, sharp teeth flashing. “Oh, we wouldn’t have! But I recognized the name on the credit card used at the gas station. To be honest, I was actually expecting the earth ninja.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Lloyd cries. “What kind of karma—”

Morro grasps him firmly by the shoulders and yanks him down, just before another streaking blast of flame can take his head off. Morro cringes as the ensuing explosion rocks the ground beneath them, his ears ringing.

Lloyd crouches lower beside him, muttering frantically. “I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry,” he’s saying in the vague direction of the sky. “I’ll never steal anyone’s credit card again, I promise, I’m sorry—”

“Are you — apologizing to your grandfather right now?” Morro gapes at him.

Lloyd throws his hands in the air. “This has gotta be someone's fau—alt, move!”

He yanks them to the side as another blast narrowly misses them, almost knocking them clear off their feet. Morro grits his teeth, frustration spiking.

“This would be a great time for a plan, oh ninja leader,” he snaps.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” Lloyd’s hands flash green. “Just follow my—”

He gasps, his eyes going wide at something beyond Morro’s shoulder. Morro has a split second of confusion before Lloyd shoves him to the ground, bright green energy blazing to life in a makeshift shield—

Just in time for the next blast to hit him dead on, sending him flying back into the jetty.

Lloyd gives a single, sharp cry before his head strikes the edge of a rock, abruptly going silent as he tumbles to the edge of the jetty, inches from being swept away by the water. He doesn’t move after that.

Morro’s stomach bottoms out, his blood running cold as he’s hit with a sudden rush of terror so strong he almost loses his balance.

Then the rage hits.

Morro turns on the Hypnobrai who fired the blast, his eyes flaming. The snake swallows, suddenly looking pale as he clutches at his weapon.

“Um—”

Morro roars, and the wind turns sharp and vicious, swirling around him in a vortex of fury. The Serpentine shriek in terror as they’re swept up in the gale, Morro’s wind howling as it tears the weapons from their hands. Morro barely hears them, his mind still stuck on the single scream before Lloyd had fallen silent. Anger blazes hot in his chest, and the wind grows bitterly cold, flinging water from the ocean higher and higher. Saltwater splashes against his cheeks, but Morro hardly feels it. He lets the water power his wind instead, sweeping into a furious storm.

He could easily kill them right now — happily, even. But Morro’s been an entire mess of conflicting emotions this weekend, and he’s got more pressing things to worry about, so he sends their weapons flying far out into the ocean instead. He narrows his eyes on them in fury, before hissing out, “Get. Lost.”

They don’t need any help fleeing after that, but Morro still launches them a good thirty feet away. For good measure.

He lets the wind die bit by bit, water splashing back into the ocean. Morro suddenly becomes aware of how his hands are trembling, shaking in the aftermath of adrenaline. There’s a moment of crushing silence in the absence of his howling wind, and his stomach drops.

He whips around, his eyes searching the empty beach desperately. He wasn’t — he hadn’t been thinking of Lloyd when he’d kicked the storm up, but what if—

“Lloyd,” Morro rasps, his throat closing over in fear. “Lloyd, where are you, please—”

“M’here.”

Lloyd stumbles from behind the jetty, coughing up a mouthful of saltwater as he sways dizzily, rubbing his head. “Ow, ow, ow. I’m gonna feel that for—”

Lloyd cuts off in a yelp as Morro grabs him forcefully, pulling him in and wrapping his arms around him. Lloyd goes painfully rigid, his breathing uneven for a beat before he gingerly reaches back, awkwardly patting Morro’s shoulder with his one free hand.

“Uh, M-Morro?”

He clutches him tighter. “Shut up.”

“Mo’o, yer crush’n me.”

“Shut up. You’re terrible. You’re horrible. I get why Kai’s so grumpy all the time. How does Kai not have grey hair. How.”

Lloyd makes a muffled sound of indignation as Morro refuses to let go. He probably looks ridiculous, but he can’t find it in himself to care. A host of realizations are hitting him at once, and it’s making him slightly nauseous.

For a second, Lloyd had been quiet. He’d been still and unmoving, and he could’ve been dead. Which would have been bad, apparently, for Morro, because Lloyd can’t die. Because if Lloyd dies, then Morro won’t have a pint-sized blond cousin to yell all the angsty stuff out with, and if Lloyd dies then who’s gonna drag him out of his self-induced isolating depression and make him try gross food and break the law and actually interact in the world? Morro can’t lose that. Lloyd’s the only person who’s genuinely made Morro feel like a person, he can’t go die before Morro makes at least some attempt to apologize for being horrible in general to him.

It clicks, finally, like getting hit in the face with the blunt end of a shovel. Morro is, without a doubt, terrified of the idea of losing Lloyd. Oh no. Oh, this is awful. Because if Morro’s scared of losing Lloyd, that must mean—

“Aw, you do care,” Lloyd croaks, his voice watery.

Morro, soaking wet and holding the one person he’s wanted to see dead most like an over-sized teddy bear in need of love, wants to die.

***********

“You tricked me.”

“Huh?”

Morro shakes his head, pulling the edge of his blanket up around his shoulders, shifting on the uncomfortable sidewalk that lines the parking lot. They’re both bundled up in emergency blankets they swiped from the truck, shivering in their wet clothes even as the sun climbs higher in the sky above them.

“You tricked me,” Morro repeats. “You tricked me into tolerating you long enough that I somehow got duped into liking you as a person. You irritated your way into my life.”

Lloyd breathes a laugh, before wincing and pressing his hand to his forehead again. “You should talk to Kai, I did the same thing to him.”

“You dragged him on a road trip from hell, too?” Morro wonders if he’s been too hard on Kai.

“Not exactly,” Lloyd says. “I did get him stuck in a volcano though.”

“Typical,” Morro mutters. “I don’t even have trouble believing that. You’re a menace."

“Aw, c’mon,” Lloyd grins. “Didn’t I hear you saying that you liked me as person?”

Morro bristles. “No,” he says, firmly. “That’s your concussion talking.”

Lloyd rolls his eyes. “I don’t have concuss— ow, Morro, stop!”

“Huh. Your head isn’t gushing blood, so that’s good,” Morro remarks, pulling his hand away from the back of Lloyd’s head. “That’s still gonna be a bump, though.”

“My hair hides it though, right?” Lloyd’s expression is slightly panicked. “You can’t see it, right?”

“The bump? No.” Morro gestures to Lloyd’s face. “The black eye? Yes.”

“Oh, no.” Lloyd buries his face in his hands. “That’s it, then. I’m toast.”

“Oh, you’re toast,” Morro scoffs. “Kai’s gonna wring my neck.”

Lloyd lifts his face from his hands, shaking his head. “No. I’ll tell him you saved me. That’ll buy you points.”

“Kai’s gonna love that,” Morro snorts.

“Yeah, well.” Lloyd sighs, pulling his blanket around his shoulders. “What’cha gonna do.”

Morro scoffs, pulling his own blanket tighter over his shoulders. The ocean breezes are still a bit chilly with their damp clothes, but the wind is as peaceful as it was earlier, lulling them both into a sleepy kind of haziness. Morro feels disgustingly at peace with the world again, soaking wet and sitting on a sidewalk in the middle of a half-destroyed beach with Lloyd, but he can’t muster up the energy to make himself feel otherwise. Being at peace for five minutes won’t hurt, he reasons.

“By the way, remind me to check the truck before we return it,” Lloyd suddenly says, yawning. “I think I left Kai’s apology present in there.”

Morro frowns. “His what now?”

“Apology present,” Lloyd sighs, scrubbing at his eye. “For putting him through hell.”

“Him?” Morro gapes at Lloyd. “What about me? Where’s my apology gift for getting dragged through hell?”

“Your apology gift is me not hating your guts,” Lloyd huffs, pulling his blanket fully over his hair, like an incredibly ugly veil. “And like, forgiveness and stuff.”

Morro opens his mouth, then abruptly snaps it shut as Lloyd’s words register. He stares at him, feeling a bit dizzy all of the sudden.

“You — what — forgive—?”

“You heard me,” Lloyd yawns again. He perks up, blinking. “Oh, hey, speak of the devil. There they are.”

Morro just catches the familiar hum of Bounty’s engine before the anchor crashes into the parking lot before them, splintering long cracks in the concrete. Lloyd and Morro stare up at the figures on the deck. Morro swallows.

“You’ve, uh, you’ve written up your will, right?” Lloyd gulps.

Morro shakes his head, wordlessly.

Lloyd gives a nervous laugh. “Okay, good. I haven’t either.” He watches in trepidation as a red figure begins sliding down the anchor chain toward them. “Maybe should’ve done that sooner,” he whispers to himself.

***********

Kai doesn’t murder them, but it’s a near thing. In the end, Nya comes nearer to committing homicide, followed closely by Cole.

“Why mine?” he wails, shaking Lloyd by the edges of his blanket the minute Kai hauls them both onto the Bounty. “Why couldn’t you have snatched Jay’s credit card? He’d at least deserve it!”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd wails back. “I learned my lesson, I promise, I’ll never do it again—”

“For crying out loud,” Nya mutters, watching them both before turning narrowed eyes on Morro. “Well, I was going to murder you, but somehow Lloyd’s still alive.”

Morro’s too tired to even fight back. “He’s like a barnacle,” he says, hazily. “Like — like those parasite things. You let them get to close and you’re stuck for life, those things, you know?”

Nya presses her lips together tightly, but her eyes sparkle in amusement.

“He got you too, huh?” Jay remarks, studying one of the grenade launchers he fished out of the water. “Join the club. Ooh, nice, this has got some real firepower…”

Morro buries his face in his hands. “Just put me out of my misery.”

“Happily,” Kai snaps, his eyes slightly manic from what’s either sleep deprivation or extreme stress. Zane catches him gently, tugging him away from Morro.

“Welcome to the team, I suppose,” Zane tells him, with an easy smile.

Morro groans. He wants to—

Well. He doesn’t exactly want to die. It’s close, but he doesn’t. Not really.

It’s an odd feeling, whatever leaves him off-kilter as he steps below the deck with Lloyd. Maybe that’s just his own sleep deprivation, but still. He snags Lloyd by the elbow before he disappears into his room, and Lloyd pauses, staring curiously at him.

“What you said,” Morro begins, hesitantly. “In the parking lot, about— forgi—that thing.”

Lloyd’s eyes dart to the floor, but he sets his jaw. “That thing. I, uh, yeah. No take backs, right?”

Morro blinks wildly, his tired brain barely able to digest that. “You know you could’ve gotten rid of me out there,” he tries, desperately reaching for sense. “You missed your chance.”

Lloyd meets his eyes again, shaking his head. “Oh, Morro,” he sighs. “Don’t you know the best way to defeat your enemy is to make them your friend?”

Morro stares at him. Lloyd gives him a sharp-teethed grin. “Besides,” he continues. “What’s the point in holding a grudge, when getting you to care about me is much better revenge?”

Morro stiffens. “I don’t care about you,” he protests.

“Nuh-uh, too late now,” Lloyd’s grin widens. “Before you know it, you’ll be calling me cousin. Eating dinner with us. Calling Kai buddy.”

“I would never,” Morro hisses.

Lloyd’s grin is positively sinister. “Oh, you will,” he says. “Because you care now.”

Morro is horrified, truly horrified, to find that saying no to Lloyd’s claim would be a lie. “You’re a monster,” he whispers.

Lloyd smiles brightly. “I’ll see you in practice tomorrow!” he calls cheerfully, before slamming the door in his face.

Morro stares after him blankly, the ugly Oceanworld blanket still hanging limply from his shoulders.

“I hate him,” he finally tells the door, wearily.

Oh, curse everything. Morro can’t even convince himself the door believes him.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #morro #this is so long i'm so sorry #i should probably start just linking these to ao3/ffn #instead of relying on the read more button #but i just!! lots of words!!#can't even write short about morro T-T #my fic

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beautifulweird0 · 4 years

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Forgiving Your Parents

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused, my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

#black #love #hate #generationalcurses #generations #hurt #healing #blackfamilies #blog #monetsway #alcoholism #mother #father

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hollenka99 · 3 years

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The Futility of Talking

Summary: Ghostbur decides Soulbur needs people to talk to.

Warnings: implied suicidal ideation, referenced parental neglect, referenced animal death, nearly drowning (accident unrelated to the first tw)

Masterlist

It takes days of wandering in the woods for Ghostbur to gradually decide he's had enough. It's isolating out here in the open. This isn't helped by the fact Soulbur seems hellbent on avoiding him whenever he is bestowed the privilege of catching a glimpse. Did he do something wrong? If he made Soulbur upset somehow, he'd really love to apologise and work through it.

Friend turns his head at a slight rustle coming from the trees. Ghostbur's face lights up when he follows the sheep's gaze and his eyes land on a calico lazing around on a branch. He commands Friend to stay there. Climbing the tree isn't that difficult so it doesn't take him long to perch on an adjacent branch, hand outstretched to gain the cat's trust. "Hi, I'm Ghostbur. Do you like chin scratches? I know she did." He sits by the steam, pole in hand. He's done for the morning with the trading he set out to the village for. There seems to be more than enough fish to spare here so today is getting more successful by the hour. A squid found itself on the end of his line earlier too. He'll have to work out how to prepare it. He's sure Phil demonstrated once but that was likely years ago. Phil himself has gone off for a short trip and was due to return by this evening. If Wilbur can keep the squid fresh enough, he'll ask him for advice so they can have some tomorrow night. A stray cat has warily made her way towards him. No sudden movements, he remembers. Strays tend to be skittish (this one evidently no exception) and need patience shown to them if you wish to pet one. He slowly offers the cat a chunk of one of the fish. She loves it and it is clear she is requesting more. So he gives in to her incessant mewling. What he hadn't considered during this interaction was how quickly a stray could begin viewing you with affection if you gave them the time of day. Having hung around him while he fished, she inevitably follows him after he packs up to go home. At first, he'd chuckled in a 'ha look at this cat attach itself to me' way. Then she leapt into his little boat and it suddenly grew more serious. Uh, yeah, you might not want to go all the way home with him, little kitty, it'll be a hell of a hike home otherwise. She looks to him expectantly. Ha, okay I know I gave you some fish today but you can't have any more because I need some left to eat myself so it's best if you hop out of- Oh alright you're going to clamber onto my lap, huh? Fine, fine, I'll let you hang out at my house for a little while. Prepare yourself for Tommy though, that kid can be a fairly boisterous at times. Tommy is quicker to greet her than help his brother with the bloody shopping or today's catch. He fusses over her as if she was already their pet. "Oh nice, have we got ourselves a cat then?" "No, they're-" Yes. Yes, they were absolutely going to take in this stray, weren't they? God damn it. "They're going to need a name before we do that." The two of them bounce names off of each other. In the mix are the likes of Pumpkin, Carrot, Rose, Apricot and Amber. Wilbur jokingly suggests 'Basilina' in reference to something which unfortunately leaves Tommy's face blank. Whatever gets suggested, none of the options come across as the right one. "Why do people call orange red?" Tommy asks out of nowhere. "Oh, it's because you're never going to get an animal with fur that's actually red but orange is close enough so you get people saying orange fur is red. Something like that. It's the same way someone might look at a cat and call their fur blue when actually it's more grey with blue tones." "That's dumb." Tommy scoffs. "Hey, apples are red." "...They are, yes." "I want to call her Apple." "I thought you liked Pumpkin a minute ago." "She can be both." "Like a first name-last name kind of deal? Well... I think Appleby might be an actual surname that exists so what do you think about Pumpkin Appleby?" The small boy bursts into giggles. "That's the stupidest name I have ever heard." "Oh really? Well if you're so great at coming up with names on the fly, you do better." He teases. Tommy frowns with concentration as he deliberates on the perfect identity for this ginger cat who has wandered into their lives until he comes up with "Apple Pumpkinson." "Sure." He laughs. "Sure, we'll call her Apple Pumpkinson, I guess. As good a name as any." He crafts the name tag that very afternoon. With the cat clearly not interested in social interaction right now, Ghostbur leaps to the ground. A familiar animal comes into existence. Apple gets a fair amount of attention before complying with his offer of being carried. It's been so long since he had her against his chest. It feels good. "Come on, let's find Soulbur. I'm sure he'll want to meet you." --- There is a voice drifting in the wind from somewhere nearby. Close enough to hear, far enough to not be able to discern more details about its origins. He knows it is most likely Ghostbur trying to chat with him despite all his effort to evade his company. Forgive him for hardly having 'talking through our last interaction' on his hypothetical 'stuff I'd prefer to do today' list. But then again, it could not be. Someone could have somehow breached the boundaries of his private world. Is that possible? He... thinks so. To be fair, he can leave so there must be exploitable fault lines somewhere. Perhaps he should defend himself. Obviously, a threat to his safety can only go so far given that he can't permanently sustain injuries, let alone die again. And fuck knows he never gave much of a shit about physically protecting himself in those last several weeks of life. But look at him waste valuable time deliberating. Shit like that could easily get you killed. Whoever is approaching, they're getting closer. Maybe Ghostbur. Maybe someone who doesn't wish him well. Does he risk trusting the most likely option? Or does he risk coming across as a paranoid weirdo who overthinks the slightest things too often? He's in an open space with no-one else around, in a sectioned off part of the void that no-one visits. Ha, someone could take him out and Ghostbur likely wouldn't find him until tomorrow or whatever. But wants to believe this will have the best outcome as a result of heavily misinterpreting his senses. God, there he goes again, decreasing his chances of properly defending himself from a potential threat in time. Listen, it's probably Ghostbur so don't manifest a weapon, it's probably Ghostbur so don't manifest a weapon, it's probably Ghostbur so don't manifest a weapon. He draws a sword as he whips around. If the pursuer is far away, he has time to switch to something long range like a bow and arrow. Otherwise, he won't have the chance to correct what could be a fatal mistake. "Hi, Soulbur!" The smile drops in shock. "O-Oh." See? Just Ghostbur with Friend tagging along close behind. Honestly, who else would it be? "Ghostbur." Shoulders sag in what could be interpreted as relief or some sort of exhaustion. The sword drops from his loosened grip, vanishing as if it never existed in the first place. He makes no further comment when he notices there's a ginger cat in the ghost's arms. Not just any feline with orange fur either. There is no doubt in his mind who this is. He wants to be flooded with recollections of petting sessions, moments spent unable to leave the spot he was sitting due to a napping lump and times he'd laughed while getting yelled at. Yet no matter how hard he tries, only two associated memories reveal themselves to be prominent. The first revolves around sitting on the large bed, one arm occupied with Fundy while the other drew Tommy closer without causing his brother's hand to slip away from the fur it was emerged in. The other featured the sweltering heat of the Nether and knowing it was possibly the very last place he wished to be at that very moment. "Do you remember her?" "Y-Yeah, I think so." He attempts to crouch but, thanks to still coming down from hyperactive thoughts, he miscalculates his balance and ends up sitting within seconds. Allowed back on the ground, Apple cautiously approaches Soulbur's offered backhand. "Oh." He exhales. "Hi, Aps." His eyes can fuck off. There is no way in hell he's letting himself cry over something that happened years ago. Especially not with Ghostbur present. Instead he focuses on gently kneading the spots behind her ears. "I am so sorry. It's my fault for not monitoring you more closely." "I'm guessing she stayed with Phil after Tommy, Fundy and Alivebur left." "You think we would have left her at home? No, no, no. She's been gone for years. It was back when Fundy was tiny. Tommy was watching him while we made dinner but called us over for something. We could have sworn we covered those mushrooms but Tommy made it sound urgent and we..." Soulbur's gaze redirects itself with a soft sigh. She glances back at him. "Why the hell did you have to go snooping around and nibbling on things you're not supposed to, huh missy?" "I don't know why but Tommy got it into his head it would be cool if we buried her in the Nether. Pretty sure we were too emotionally drained to say anything other than 'fuck it, why not'. There was a warped forest not far from where the nearest portal landed us so we left her under one of the trees. Did you like that? I know it was a bit warmer than you'd expect it to be." 'Tell me more about her', he wants to say. 'I know I'll forget pretty much as soon as you finish but could you spare a story?', he nearly asks. 'Let's practise futility together', he is seconds away from offering. "Thank you." He instead says. "So... are we letting bygones be bygones then?" "Did something happen? I'm trying to think but nothing is coming up." "Uh, yeah." He frowns. "We-" Oh. Of fucking course. Stupid him for stressing about a potential confrontation between them where they'd need to discuss their argument. All this time and Ghostbur didn't even bloody recall any of it. Well done, Soulbur, for wasting your goddamn week. His only consolation was that at least several days meant nothing when compared to near-infinity. "Never mind. It wasn't important anyway." "I'm sorry if I did something bad. I'm really trying to remember." "Sure. Whatever. Doesn't matter so don't worry about it. Either way, I'm sorry too." All across their world, out of their view, every fungal species goes extinct in an instant. Mostly because he refuses to let history to repeat itself, partially because he needs to say fuck you to something. --- Ghostbur is delighted to see Soulbur when he makes a surprise visit. It's completely unexpected but somehow, it makes the interruption to his day all the better. His counterpart encourages him to follow along. Apparently, there is something Soulbur would like to show him. He asks after Apple as they travel. She's doing alright and is back at Soulbur's hideout. Across a hill is an entire valley of flowers, populated by a variety of colourful plants. There were daisies over there, a rainbow's worth of tulips scattered in most directions and oh look, patches of bare grass. Friend will love that. At the centre of the flowery ocean is a dark blue pool of the flower he's been struggling to find up until now. From the edge where they are standing, there is pleasant line of birch trees acting as a border. Looking further, he spots a lake of the other side. "This whole thing is yours." "Everything?" "Yep. Knock yourself out." "But why?" "Because I can?" He shrugs. "You got me Apple and I'm not such a huge twat that I wouldn't at least attempt to return the gesture." "Thank you!" Ghostbur throws his arms open, spontaneously moving towards the other half of Alivebur. The momentum doesn't lead to his body affectionately colliding with Soulbur's. Instead, it causes his hands to impact with the ground, the only things preventing his face from joining them. Glancing up, he catches wide eyes staring back at him and the twitch of an arm that, in another set of circumstances, might not have been 'corrected' before the command to complete the intended action was fulfilled. Then the sight vanishes as Soulbur's expression morphs into something more akin to a fed up frown. "Yeah, don't mention it. No need to make a big fuss. In fact, I think I'm done here. Just um... maybe you could set your base here. I don't think you ever got around to actually building a house, right? You could clear some wood from these trees and put it around about here." With that, he sets off. Like... he always does. Looking out over it once more, there is no doubt that this place really was gorgeous. He's grateful that Soulbur thought to make something like this for him, he truly is. However, he can't fully appreciate it because Soulbur always seemed to end up mad whenever Ghostbur was around. He's even materialised a pearl to make his escape faster. Oh, hang on, what if it's simply him that's the issue? You can't expect somebody to like everyone they know. Perhaps the solution is to provide him with more people to talk to. He'd only had Schlatt (their lifetime hatred had transferred over) and Mexican Dream (while their relationship was better, it was hardly like they were close, as far as Ghostbur could tell). Now that this line of thought has occurred to him, he could also benefit from speaking to expanding his social circle while here. He sighs. But first, he should find Friend. He's sure his loyal companion of a sheep will love the grassy parts of this gift as much as Ghostbur does. --- Tucked in the cliff face, Soulbur was perfectly content with spending time with his cat. He'd half forgotten how it felt to have weight pressing on the side of his face or across his chest, if he's going to be honest. He knows his company is not the most entertaining but he appreciates that Apple seems not to outwardly mind. One day he might actually fish or hunt again for her instead of simply causing her food to appear from thin air. He's sure she'll like that. Either way, all of this is to say that no, Ghostbur, he would rather not get dragged to your field for some activity you haven't even explained clearly. All he'd managed to surmise was that it entailed speaking to someone. Had Schlatt or Mexican Dream discovered a way to come here? He hopes not since this was supposed to his private piece of the void. Although, now he thought about it, he's pretty sure he's unintentionally missed the last couple times he and Mexican Dream had tried to schedule a Spanish lesson. Damn it. Yeah, Mexican Dream likely wasn't super pleased about being left hanging. Next card session, he'd apologise. Had someone they'd known died and found their way here somehow? No, he's sure Ghostbur would have mentioned their name by now if that had been the case. Even when they reach their destination, nothing gains any clarity. "Alright, we're here. What do you want from me?" "I was thinking about how we can make people show up because, well, I already made Apple appear. Anyway, it might be good for you to have more friends here because before me, you were very lonely." "I'm not... lonely." He huffs. "Besides, when it comes to a lot of our 'friends', we didn't part on the best of terms. Lots of uh, animosity, I suppose you could say." "Then you get that anger out. You're very good at that." Yep, that's him, the guy who was always angry. Not like anger or its cousin frustration weren't simply the easiest to settle into. He's played the asshole villain once before, he can keep doing it for the sake of maintaining his reputation. He supposes he should be glad that Ghostbur has never caught any moments where his face hadn't been as dry whenever the ghost has approached his cave. Or when he's recovering from a rough nap. So yeah, Mr Angry, that's who he is. But god is it tiring to maintain a single emotion. Must be great for Ghostbur to get a wider range. "So who do you want first?" Deliberation. Then a stubborn sigh. "Phil. I guess." Within a minute, a replica of Phil is standing before them. He's a pretty decent copy of the real man, although he swears those wings should be darker and he's certain Phil's missing the handful of grey hairs his 40s have provided him. Close enough though. Not to mention this is literally only an illusion. Anything Soulbur might want to say to him doesn't matter because Phil's not actually going to hear it. Neither of them can predict how he'll genuinely react to wherever a potential conversation may lead. He comments as much to Ghostbur who comes across as unfazed by this issue. Well, screw it, might as well get it out of the gate. "Kind of a shitty thing you did. And I know that we apparently asked for it but... you didn't have to actually do it." "Go on, don't hold back." The ghost encourages. "I mean, where the hell do you want me to start? Him killing us, the frequent trips away that turned into fucking off indefinitely, the fact I didn't feel like-?" "Not me, him." A groan. "Fine. You agreed to let Tommy stay so he should have been your responsibility more than mine. In my teens, I should have been more preoccupied with dumb things like wanting to have a bunch of friends or catching a girl's attention. Not deciding whether I needed to leave Tommy home alone so we could still eat because you weren't back from another sodding trip yet. You probably know by now but surprise! Fundy was never just some rapidly aging kid I seemed to always be babysitting. Not that you were ever there long enough to press me on that by that point. You know, I didn't realise being a parent had a time limit. By that logic, I should have told Fundy to get on with being an independent adult as soon as he turned 5. Maybe it's a good thing Tommy pretty much chose to live on his own at 16, god forbid I had to spend another 2 or so years frequently looking out for him. I might not have known what I was doing and honestly, could have done with some tips, but at least you already taught me what not to do. God knows why I bothered to offer you a chance to start over with those letters." "I'm sorry." The fake Phil says. "You don't get to choose if he'd actually apologise." "Isn't that what you want?" "It's what you want." Ghostbur's brow furrow with genuine confusion. "And you don't?" "You want some perfect world where things can be fixed with a single conversation so no, I don't want that. Not realisitic." "What do you want from him then?" He takes a long, scrutinising look at the imitation of his pseudo-father before him. Objectively, he is vaguely aware there were many moments of affection that grew sparser the older he got and the more often Phil would go adventuring with Technoblade. He was... loved and he used to love back. Or that is his best guess. He was becoming very close friends with Techno back when they were in their teens too. There's a reason he was never able to fully trust the piglin hybrid during their time in Pogtopia. It was Phil's fault for entrusting him with responsibilities always a little bit too early. But it was Techno's fault for not bringing it up despite the amount of times they left without the other two when Wilbur made it as blatantly clear as he could that he wasn't happy about it. He didn't always shut the door more firmly than he should whenever they bid farewell. And he is sure that, once upon a time, being surrounded by one of Phil's wings was among his favourite places to be. Not anymore. "Guess." He answers. --- It's a week after he talks to 'Phil' that Ghostbur suggests they try the exercise once more. Soulbur begrudgingly accepts. "Oh, I know. How about Tommy? He and I used to hang out. We even went on holiday together." "A holiday?" "Mhmm," Ghostbur nods enthusiastically. "Dream took us on a boat and I did my best not to touch the water even though I like teasing Phil by sticking my hand out when it rains." Faintly, from an intangible distance he can't perceive the length of, alarm bells toll. Dream wasn't the type of guy to randomly send a teenager and his brother's ghost on a holiday abroad. He wouldn't be surprised if there were ulterior motives at play. After all, Dream had practically enabled Wilbur with the TNT stock increase so... he doesn't know what to make of it. One way or another, something didn't add up. However, he is lacking in context and if it's as dubious as he suspects, Soulbur doubts Ghostbur can recall the necessary background intel to complete the full picture. Ghostbur seems like he has more to say on the matter in his ramble but Soulbur jumps in with "Doesn't rain burn you though?" "Well yes but when it's tiny like drizzle, it's all tingly instead. It only really hurts when I touch a lot of it." "Like for example... the ocean." "Yes." He giggles. "But I wasn't going to actually do it. It would have been fun if I could. Phil always makes this face when I try to touch rain. It's like when Alivebur used to sneak a few more berries in his mouth than he was supposed to or when he got his clothes wet by jumping into rivers." "Right. Anyway, let's get Tommy over with." 'Tommy' is, again, a good copy. His hair has grown out which Soulbur suspects may have been something that occurred in his absence. He's not used to this length since Tommy always kept his hair in a flux of 'short and kind of tidy' to 'too annoying and shit'. You know what? This length lowkey suits him. If Soulbur, or more to the point Wilbur, were still alive, he'd say so to the real Tommy's face. But instead, he supposes he has to vent for the sake of the activity. It takes a minute but he is able to think of something. "You shouldn't have acted as my right hand in exile. You did decently during the war and did your part to help with the election. But when it came to exile? You kept opposing the TNT idea but didn't really offer any potential alternative solutions to deal with L'Manburg instead. At one point I think you even came close to unintentionally helping Schlatt with his plans for the sake of a distraction. And shit, Tubbo might have ended up being a bit of a yes man but at least I knew not to fully trust his motives and actions. You were supposed to stick by my side or tell me to get fucked. You did both and neither. You might not be an adult yet but you're certainly not a little boy anymore. If you are going to take a stand, you can't just let yourself be a dissenting bystander. I might have even listened to you if you came up with a viable enough plan to rid our country of tyranny without destroying it for good. But well... too late for that now." Tommy appears dejected. Immediately, Soulbur really wishes his ghostly twin would stop giving these clones feelings when the point of all this was to do it without the actual person they represented knowing what his thoughts were. They would have to sort it out. --- The sun is warm in his field and it's nearly enough to negate the slight universal chill he's slowly begun growing accustomed to. With Soulbur laying near him, Friend grazing somewhere off in the distance and Apple enjoying the sun in the gap between the humans, it's a rare moment but lovely all the same. "Do you ever think about how it was supposed to be over, how we were supposed to be done with everything?" Soulbur speaks up. "No? What do you mean?" "I mean the button. We kept telling Tommy we wouldn't die in the explosion, that the people who'd die were those unfortunate enough to be in L'Man- Manberg when we set it aflame. Never us, no no no. Us, in our little button room? Nah, why would you ever think that? People lied to us, we lied to them back. Nobody's fucking trustworthy. Eret dumped potatoes on us like 'Oh we're the best of friends now and everything's all great between us'. Fuck off, if you think I'd let my guard down around you, especially you, you have another thing coming. Probably wanted to hurt Tommy and I again for the hell of it. And maybe we weren't that far gone by October, maybe we were being honest about not intending to die with our nation. But on the day, we fucked up. I don't know what it was, I think... I think it was the combination of Tubbo being targeted for supposedly having loyalty towards Pogtopia, Schlatt being a prick as usual and everything seeming to happen at once. Whatever happened, we freaked out and couldn't focus enough to realise we needed to take maybe like... five steps forward to find where the entrance to the room was hidden. So we lost our great chance and had to wait for the next one. All that time telling ourselves we just had to get to the 16th and then we'd get what we wanted, all of it for nothing. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that it was only an extra month to get worse. When we set a date for war, it gave us a target to aim for. So yeah, we got worse and threw ourself into making sure that this time we would not fail under any circumstance. Who cares about basic things like staying safe and healthy when we knew the when and where of our death? We were like... we were like those people that are terminally ill and their body just loses its appetite the sicker they get. Either way, we got what we wanted and then realised this wasn't what we expected it to be. Screw us for hoping to catch a fucking break, right?" Ghostbur begins questioning why exactly he was going on a rant like this but Soulbur barrels on regardless. "Whenever people speculate about what the afterlife is like, a lot of them imagine it as this great time where you reunite with those you knew who went before you. You all sit in a circle and hold hands and enjoy each other's company, forever. You do that shit forever. Seeing people you cared about sounds nice in theory but in practice? There's a reason you don't stay in the presence of even your favourite person ever 24/7. It's tiring. Fuck that, you know? I don't know whether humans were made to be social for eternity. It's like 'Oh hey Grandma, fancy seeing you here for the trillionth time since I died'. Not for me, thanks. Not for a bunch of people either, I'm sure of it." "You said it was January when you left?" "Yes." "And you're sure about that?" "Yes." "Well that's only two months. And trust me, I might not know how long I've been here but I know it's been far longer than two months. Which means, Ghostbur, which means that time moves faster here. I don't know how much faster, there's no way of working it out, but one thing is for sure, we're going to get more days here than down there. Because... because here's the thing, Ghostbur, here's the thing, it doesn't matter how hard you try to keep count of the days in little notebooks or whatever, because it will get to a point where you don't care if the index number- that's what the little number in the top right corner is called, right? Nobody cares if the number is 8 or 9 by the time you've been here long enough to be counting that high. Who cares if you've been here for 2 times 10 to the power of 6 or- or 5 times 10 to the power of 300 days? One way or another, you'll have been dead for a long, long time. By that point, who gives a shit. The main problem is that it seems the dead are stuck with a longer infinity than the living." "Sometimes- Okay, I'm only admitting this out loud because technically we're the same person and I mean, who are you going to tell, other than Schlatt or Mexican Dream- Friend might also count, I don't know... Same difference. But fuck it, you're not going to tell anyone who actively gives a shit about trying to play the bigger person with the intent of stopping me." He catches his breath. "Sometimes, Ghostbur, sometimes I wonder if I were to collapse this pretend world and leave myself with no protection from the Void, whether that would cause me to lose consciousness. Wouldn't that be interesting? Never having to regain consciousness, just... lights out and then a nap that lasts long enough to see the universe end. Death as it should be." He glances over at Soulbur silently. Speechlessly even because what on earth is he supposed to say after all that? His other half is thoughtfully playing with a poppy still connected to the ground. He is seemingly none the wiser to Ghostbur's lost gaze. "I guess these flowers aren't too bad. Shame I'll get incredibly bored of them eventually." "...I think you need some blue. Let me find you some from my collection." "Believe me, I don't think blue will help in the slightest." "Try it anyway. It helps me." "Well, infinite time to gather infinite resources... I doubt you wasting some on me will make a difference in the long run." He stumbles as he rises. Blue, just focus on making blue. He's laughter and encouragement and an open pair of comforting arms when necessary. He was not made to contemplate the universe or its mysteries. So he'll deliver blue to those who need it. Maybe he'll spare some blue for himself. But Soulbur first, definitely. --- The next week, amongst the suggestions he throws at Soulbur regarding who he should speak to this time, Niki's name gets mentioned. The more volatile half of Alivebur outright refuses to even consider it. His reasoning is that he has nothing to say to her, regardless of how much the real Niki likely has to say to him. Ghostbur doesn't get much of a chance to argue they could speak to Niki without having to criticize her. She appears in their void world either way when Soulbur is gone because who says he can't hang out with his friend? He provides all the ingredients. He lets her be in charge of grounding the wheat into flour since she is much better at it than him. Instead, he is in charge of slicing the apples into segments as equally as he can. The slices that won't go in the cake or on it as part of the decoration will become snacks for Friend. They work well as a team, chatting and laughing together as they prepare it all for baking. "Niki, Alivebur didn't do this often, did he?" "No but it's okay, he was a very busy man." "We should do this regularly. We can do that now." "Sure. It'll be fun." The end product is as delicious as it smells. They sample the result of their hard work, leaving a minimum of half to share with a certain someone. The cliff face never reeked of nicotine in life as far as he's aware. Then again, he has no memories of Alivebur ever considering touching a cigarette while living here. He doesn't expect to recall something like that in the first place but... he believes his point still stands. Apple Pumpkinson is probably lingering in the vicinity since he can't see her right now. He does, however, spot a figure with their knees tucked towards their chest and a glowing burning dot. There is a mix of sniffling and coughing coming from them as well. Part of Ghostbur plans to enquire whether that's simply the result of Soulbur's habit or an indication he isn't feeling great at the moment. Despite not truly wanting to, he decides to leave it. He doubts Soulbur would appreciate the intrusion. So he sticks to his original reason for coming here. "Niki and I baked a cake so here's your share of it. It's got a bunch of apples inside and on top. Don't tell anyone," He chuckles. "But I've already had a taste test. It's very, very good but I might be a little biased." Perhaps when he checks in tomorrow, the cake will have been undisturbed. More for him, he jokes internally. He does hope Soulbur will enjoy the gift though. So when he swings by again the next day to leave a new set of flowers (a bunch of oxeye daisies that were as lovely as they were cheery) and discovers there is no evidence of a baked product ever being delivered, Ghostbur is optimistically hopeful. It was a rather large portion which is why he expects Soulbur not have eaten it in one go. He comes to the conclusion it might be good if he does this more often. --- Having suggested people like Niki (nope, no thanks, he doesn't know if he could manage to look any version of her in the eye) and Eret (no chance in hell, for arguably the inverse reasons), Ghostbur has once again dragged him back to the flower field for one of the talks. It's Fundy this time, though he was incredibly reluctant to accept. There's no trace of war or any sort of strife for that matter on his son. He's in a t-shirt and an open black hoodie, slightly younger than he last recalls so perhaps in his late teens. It's dawningly apparent that this is the boy who was yet to sneak off to join his uncle on an adventure to find somewhere cool, far away. It won't do. Soulbur has things he wants to say but not to this kid who is probably only 17 or 18. The war veteran turned spy wearing a dark jacket with their familiar coloured stripes on the side of the partition appears as his replacement. That's better. "You went behind my back. You not only ran against me in the election, with one of my closest friends might I add, but then attempted to win by committing voter fraud. Not to mention you went on to basically side with Schlatt. I don't care if it was supposed to be a ruse. You still did things that benefitted his cause. I'm not going to go into the fucking flag because I don't feel like being here all day. I know full well showing you basic human decency doesn't mean you're in my debt. But the least you could have done was not turn your back on me the minute you decided you didn't need me anymore. Being in your early 20s doesn't mean you suddenly begin to know what the hell you're doing. I should know!" Ghostbur steps between them, arms thrown out wide. "Fundy is a good son. He's never done anything wrong." "Don't try to debate when you don't have all the evidence." "Well, you shouldn't either then." "Tell me, how great was your relationship as Ghostbur? Because I can't imagine he'd welcome the remnants of his dear old dad back with open arms after all the shit that had just gone down while we were exiled." "I visited him in his home. Phil was there sometimes too." He scoffs at the breezy nonchalance. "Bet that went well." He takes another look at his little boy, not quite as little as he once was, and that's all it takes for him to stop acting pissed off. Four months was a short amount of time for so much to happen to Wilbur. But, likewise, practically just as much happened to Fundy and the others once united under the flag of L'Manburg. Doesn't he know it. And that's exactly why he is positive he cannot stay here a minute longer. "You undoubtedly know where to find me." "Soulbur, wait! You don't have to go. We can-" "I'm tired, Ghostbur. I really don't want to keep doing this. Mostly because it's always been pointless but also, how many times do you want me to get purposefully upset at people we used to care about?" Dejectedly, Ghostbur's gaze diverts to the side as he mumbles out "Cliff or trees?" "Cliff, probably. Apple is there." There is a nod in response and that's all the cue he needs to get the hell out of here. "Do you want to stay up tonight?" He asks his cat. "I can feel it will most likely be a festival kind of thing if I close my eyes. A-And I really can't do that if... Fundy's so close to the front of my mind right now." Speaking of festivals, he thinks he knows who he should have a one sided chat with. But this time, he won't be the one doing the talking. --- He wasn't actually seeking out Soulbur this time. It's an accident that he catches the scene but he's glad to see Tubbo in front of him. It's great that Soulbur was in fact willing to give it a go after all. He felt like it might have slightly been an act, the whole reluctance and instances of hesitation to fully commit. He'll leave them be. If Soulbur wants to do this on his own, Ghostbur is hardly going to breach that privacy. Tubbo takes a breath and it goes downhill from there. "You got me killed. Twice. Your incompetence and neglect to see what was going on got us all killed. You should have realised sooner instead of helping to lead us down to a massacre. In fact, your leadership wasn't what won us the war. It was Tommy sacrificing one of his lives and then both his discs that won us our freedom. And when I trusted you to keep me safe while I risked so much to help you out, you let me die. You lied to me and told me Technoblade was on your side. Look how well that turned out. I was scared out of my mind. I thought you'd at least try to think of a way to help me. But no, you stayed on that roof. Even tried to use the chaos following my execution as a distraction while you ran to the fucking button. You know, it's a shame you destroyed L'Manburg because, even at only 16, I would have made a much bet-." Tubbo cuts off suddenly at the sound of sobbing. He'd tried his best to be silent, he really had. He's not sure why he didn't leave like he'd intended to once Tubbo began talking. Oh and there's Soulbur with that scowl on his face again. "The hell are you doing here, Ghostbur?" "Why are you making him say that? Tubbo wouldn't say that to us." Weary exasperation. "None of them are real, they're just manifestations for the sake of having something to focus on and visualise. What, you'd prefer I switch him to a more suitable individual?" Tubbo morphs into a tall man with unkempt brown hair, a trenchcoat and fingerless gloves. His face bears a matching scowl to Soulbur's one from a moment ago while displaying signs of neglecting basic care... the same sort that, again, Soulbur exhibited. Point made, the third Wilbur dissolves into the air. "You really think that Self Loathing Central is going to thrive positively in a mental capacity by saying things aloud? I'm not the one who needs to sort through his feelings when it comes to harsh truths, Ghostbur. The problem is you seem to be literally incapable of that, given your whole side of the amnesia. Can't help it, I know. But you don't know how- god, if only you knew how goddamn frustrating it is." "I'm sorry. I'm really trying." "Yeah. Me too." Soulbur spits back. The frown remains despite his sharp, conceding exhale. "I just struggle to imagine how we make up the same person sometimes." --- Ghostbur's typically calm, even sunny, demeanour changes to a frown. Okay... he questions whether he's gone too far, given that his counterpart's mood has now tipped into frustrated. Well, either way, he pissed people off in life and he's still continuing to piss them off (although now it's technically himself, in this scenario) in death. This isn't really anything new. Shit, he's even managed to push Ghostbur to a fleeting bout of frustrated anger once before. But this isn't fury, not yet. "Okay, why are you so mean? You are always angry or sad or- or bitter. It's like... what's the phrase? It's like talking to a brick wall. I don't like it." "You don't like a lot about me. Your point?" "My point is be more nice. I just want to get along." "So you can betray me again?" "I never betrayed you! I know Alivebur did a lot of bad th-" "Forget Alivebur." Soulbur spits. Okay, he supposes this is getting quite real now. Fuck knows where this will end up but who cares right now. "Never mind what wrong we did while alive. Right now this is about what you did. You specifically." "But we are the same person." "We are two halves of the same person, yes. Unequal halves at that. Which is your fault." "I never did anything." "Oh my god. Are you serious?!" He starts pacing slightly. Fingers make their way through his hair, stopping halfway, then join their respective arms in being thrown to the sky. He almost seems to be addressing the sun with his next words. "Do you hear that? Do you- do you bloody hear that? He never did anything wrong. Sweet, innocent, harmless Ghostbur is absolutely incapable of wrongdoing." Now whipping back to the ghost. "Why do you want to fuse? Be honest." "Well um, people need Alivebur back. I can't be him. So we need to-" "Go back down there? Yeah, sure, we planned to end up here after destroying L'Manburg but we'll just start living again as if the last few months of our life didn't happen. As if we didn't... Fuck." "But we can live again. Just different." "And that's the problem, isn't it, you being the one willing to live? You know what I want from a hypothetical fusion? To be whole. I want to have all our fucking memories in one spot, to remember what it was like to be goddamn happy. But no, can't risk that, especially now I'm sure you'll do the one thing I don't want you to." He can tell Ghostbur is attempting to formulate a counterpoint to this outburst. He doesn't allow him to. Besides, the ghost had been pushing him to vent at various 'friends' and, in Soulbur's opinion, there was one person who could do with targeting more than the others. Funnily enough, they were already standing right in front of him. "Do you know what it's like to be betrayed by someone you considered a friend?" No answer. "No? Well, I do. I know exactly what that's like because we thought Eret was loyal to L'Manburg's cause. If there were any red flags to be caught, we missed them all. People died. Kids died. In that room, I think we might have been one of the last to go, or at least lose consciousness. Being left to bleed out is bad enough. It's worse when you have enough time to realise how young the others were. We were left there with a couple of 16 years old, one of whom was our little brother we practically raised by ourself, and then our very own son. I'm sure you remember what it was like to watch Tommy and Fundy grow up though, don't you?" "Yeah." It leaves Ghostbur's mouth barely above the threshold for human hearing. "I don't, not really. But I do know we loved them. And I also remember seeing them stiller than we should have ever seen them. I'm not sure how exactly Tubbo died but there was certainly a ridiculous amount of blood around him. Fundy, I'm not too sure about either but Tommy, god Tommy. He was trying to escape Dream and fell, hit his head hard enough to die probably instantly. He was just- He was just lying there for a little while before his body registered it still had more lives and began the respawning process. And then the duel... that arrow hit him right in the chest and he simply stumbled back then dropped. More blood than I want to recall. You know what makes it worse? Those two deaths happened on the exact same day." "Do you know what it's like to watch all your friends leave you?" Again, no verbal response. This time though, there is a frown as Ghostbur recognises his twin was here to shame him. "No? Of course not. Listen, I admit that maybe I helped by refusing to fully trust anyone again but all they did was prove my point. You can't fault me for looking out for number one." "That sounds selfish." "It is not selfish to practise self preservation or wanting to make sure you don't repeat mistakes that had fatal consequences." "You're the reason everyone hated Alivebur." "We are both Wilbur. We are both responsible for everything he did or was. The only difference is that I am the one who remembers Pogtopia and you don't." "Why are you acting like it's my fault? I didn't do anything." "Because it is your fault, Ghostbur! You are literally the reason we split, the reason I've been stuck in this hellhole of a limbo with no decent memories to balance out the bad or even traumatic ones. You took that from me. You and only you. I thought I could rid the world of L'Manburg and everything that made it doomed to inevitably fail, myself included, then hopefully find some peace for the first time in who knows how long. But no. No, you had to decide you weren't as done with it all as I was. You took everything I wanted. You... you..." "You're being unfair. Who's to say you weren't the one who caused our split?" "Because I remember it. Unlike you, it seems." Soulbur's fury falters for a moment as this truth becomes apparent. This pause doesn't last long. "Oh, of course you wouldn't remember it. Why should I expect you to remember the most important moment of our post-death?! You are hopeless." "I'm not." Ghostbur's face is half covered in cornflower blue rivers flowing from his eyes. "You are. I would give anything to be whole again without needing to fuse with you. If I knew how to take those good memories back and leave you with as little as you left me, I think I would." "No, you're just lying to make me feel bad. Stop it. Just stop it." "Fucking make me." Ghostbur vigorously wipes his tears away, inevitably smearing the rich colour across his desaturated face. He's snivelling too as he pretends he's not in breaking down into whimpers. In another situation, if he saw Ghostbur like this, he would show sympathy. But at this very moment, with his wrath no longer kept at bay? He's almost inclined to call the sight before him pathetic. "You are a 24 year old man, stop acting like you're 4 and the world's ending because you scraped your knee." "Why are you acting like this?" "Because I want you to take responsibility for the misery you've forced me to endure! I've tried to keep a level head, god knows I have tried not to take it out on you too much, but I don't know how much longer I can keep this act up. You know, I keep seeing the people I cared about dead. If I think about L'Manburg for a few seconds too long, I end up watching the thing that was supposed to symbolise safety from back when I still had faith in it get destroyed over and over again. I can't stop thinking about how everyone turned their back on me, only to end up doing it to myself. For- for you to end up doing that to me." God damn it, why the hell can't his voice stay steady right now? "Do you understand how horrible that was? So grow up and show that you're sorry. Just saying it won't do. You have to prove it." Through the tears that had sprung from his own eyes, he can see the ghost has screwed his eyes shut tight with blocked ears. Oh, this was ridiculous. Soulbur grabs his counterpart's hands in an effort to pry them from the side of his head. "Stop acting like you can simply run from everything." There's more fuel to keep this fight going at his disposal but he doesn't get a chance to continue. Ghostbur tugs forcefully to free his hands. Unfortunately for both of them, it's too late. What's done is done. --- Wilbur wasn't used to having such a gathering. The only people who he could expect to be found in the house somewhere were Tommy and Phil. Technoblade too, as of his arrival in their lives a few months ago. He was technically in his early teens but Wilbur guesses piglin hybrids matured sooner than humans since he appeared to be approximately at the beginning of adulthood. Either way, the three people he lived under the same roof as weren't the only ones here today. He tended to hang out with his friends from the village instead of the other way around. It was far more convenient for him to make the short journey to them than all of them individually visiting him together. Yet here they all were, ready to celebrate today with him. And no, Tommy, he does not have a crush on any of the girls in the group. You even try to insinuate that in front of everyone today and you will find crumbs in the most annoying spots on your bed. Presents are exchanged while Phil dithers in the kitchen, awaiting his cue. He wouldn't say he had a bad go of it this year. He was definitely not expecting the newly forged diamond sword. These arrows are great as well. And oh, was that the cake Phil was bringing out? His arm comes too close to the cake as he goes to blow out the candles, eliciting a "Wil!" from his father. What the hell is he- oh shit. Fuck, his hoodie sleeve is on fire. Not good, not good at all. Shit, shit, shit. Stop staring at it. Do something, idiot. Uh... uh water. Kitchen. Dump it in the sink. Better dump it on the floor and stamp on that soggy piece of shit too for good measure. Remembering himself, he returns his attention to the others. "Um, I think the problem's solved." "You will be the death of me, you know that?" Phil takes a long exhale. There's also a laugh that sounds like someone coming down from stress. Which, he supposes, it is. "Just put it to the side somewhere and come have the cake. Preferably without setting yourself alight again." "Got it." Luckily for everyone, the rest of the cake section of the day goes off without a hitch. Wilbur animatedly chatters with his mates as they eat. He's not entirely sure how they end up at the topic of swimming. "Well, there's the river nearby. We should go there after this. Screw the 60 minute rule." Tommy's head perks up. "Can I come too?" "Obviously." "Guys..." Phil sighs. This weariness is met with a grin. "You only turn 16 once, Phil." Hand gripping his 8 year old brother's one, they sprint towards the water. Wilbur steps back a few paces once they get there so he can do a run up before entering the water in a cannonball position. Hair dripping, he encourages Tommy to do the same. His friends leap in at their own pace. One even pushes a mutual friend in, which only leads to a shriek that gets cut off abruptly then a string of words the youngest member of the party probably shouldn't be hearing. "Oi, Wil!" He turns to one of his friends, only to receive a faceful of water. "Happy birthday." "Oh, you fucker. Hey everyone, gang up on Mark." A war ensues that ends up with all of them getting their faces wet, some even have their heads dunked underwater. By the end of the day, there aren't enough towels to meet the demand. Either way, Wilbur's beaming, even as he deals with his soggy fringe in the middle of saying goodbye to all his guests. Pretty decent birthday, he'd say. --- It's not that Wilbur hasn't been freezing before, because he has, even outside of some dumb tundra. The main difference right now was that it was February and Phil had decided this was the perfect time of year to be in a place like this. He'd moaned and grumbled about it yet his father was having none of it. At least he'd been allowed his fair share of opportunities to pummel Phil with snowballs. There seemed to be an endless supply of ammunition here. Snow was also fun to run across sometimes. It was usually thick enough for him not to slip on the underlying ice too. So that's why, after getting temporarily distracted by a polar bear sighting, he dashes back to Phil's side without a second thought. There is less friction between his feet and the ground here. They really should have considered the ratio of ice to snow before any pounding transferral of body weight had been made. Neither he nor Phil had paid full attention to all of the increased risks until Wilbur was already in the water. He splutters. He kicks. He sinks and manages to drag himself back up again and again. And oh man, is it cold. Worse than cold. He wants to breathe, please let him stay upright long enough to catch a breath. His arms hurt too. They really, really do. It's like they're getting stabbed a bunch by icicles. Everything feels stabby like that, actually. He hates this. His mouth keeps getting hints of freezing salt too which is awful. Where's Phil? He's too busy trying not to bob down again to fully see. There's shouting though. "Wil! Wil, I swear to god, just calm down. Don't let the cold shock mess with you." 'Easy for you to say' is what he would bark back if he wasn't desperately trying his best to keep his head above the surface. "Wilbur, trust me, you're going to become a block of ice at the bottom if you keep reacting to the cold like that. Hang onto the edge and let yourself get used to the cold. That's it." He's still treading water a little too diligently when his body finally stops freaking out about the temperature so much. Phil will likely scold him for wasting energy like this. Not like he wasn't floundering in a panic a minute ago. Yeah no, Phil's totally going to have a go for that too. Wilbur was taught all this stuff when they got here. He should know exactly how to react in a situation like this. What if Phil hadn't been here? What would he do then, huh? Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Good, good. Now do your best to become horizontal." In the water, he forgets how to reposition his body. All his focus is on trying to move his legs accordingly and maintaining a secure enough grip on the ice. Glances towards Phil show that he's laying flat on his stomach as he instructs him. Something, something, surface area or spreading your body weight or whatever, right? When Wilbur has completed this next step, Phil slides a pickaxe over to him. Fumbling frozen fingers nearly allow it to slip under the water, out of reach. His co-ordination is practically non-existent right now but he still manages to position a tip of the pick into the ice. Dragging himself across to Phil is an arduous task but at least he's out of the water. They're on their stomachs until Phil feels absolutely sure they are not at risk of history repeating itself. After that point, he follows the man's lead by standing up with some help. He's barely on his feet when an external force is dragging his body in a direction he wasn't anticipating once more. Yet this time, he's in no real danger. It's just arms keeping him pressed against a heavy coat. Phil's shaking but not for the same reasons as him. "Christ sake, Wil. Try to be more careful next time. Otherwise I'll end up keeling over right here in the middle of nowhere." They reposition after a minute. Wilbur's hand is around Phil's waist while the winged man's grip secures itself to his son's left shoulder. Neither will drift far from each other like this. "You doing relatively alright, at least?" He hums briefly in response. Oh wow, that does not feel good. Vibrations are getting temporarily banned from his throat thanks. "Okay, let's get a move on then." "Okay. Ki- Kinda tired." Nope, nope, nope. "Can't- can't t-talk." He mumbles as they begin walking. "Shiv- shiverin' n' naus- naus-" "Nausea? Shivering and talking makes you feel nauseous?" The overwhelming tremors cause him to nod his head rapidly which is probably the most counterintuitive side effect he's ever experienced. Phil softly chuckles while drawing him in even closer with his arm. "Well, don't talk then, Wil. We'll sort out the shivering soon. After that, you can collapse in a heap on your bedding if you want." "Warn- warning. Just in... case." It's a struggle but he can't not communicate things that may be of importance. "Alright, alright. Thanks for the thought but you really should go easy on yourself, okay? It's not that far." Phil gets the fire going as soon as they return to their base. Wilbur simply sits there, desperately hoping his brain will stop sending signals to his throat and stomach to potentially prepare for a collaboration. His soaked clothes are stripped from him and replaced with blessedly dry ones. Any available blankets are piled on him for good measure. The past hour or so finally registers in full as Phil helps rub his arms through the layers in an effort to warm him up. "Pretty scary, wasn't it?" His father comments in response to the sudden bout of sobbing. "Try not to fall into anymore frozen water next time, alright? Don't think my heart could take another shock like that." "Do m'best." "Good lad." Phil smiles. "That's all I ask." He wipes a scalding tear off the boy's cheek as it comes cascading down. He'll sit with him and help discard of more tears hours from now when Wilbur wakes from visions of unending water or his mind fools him into believing he is caught in trembles that refuse to cease. And when it comes, Phil's decision to leave the tundra couldn't have brought more relief to Wilbur. --- It was odd. Soulbur had retained the part with the fire. He recalled the heat, the instinctual panic he felt upon realising he was in danger. He'd been able to somewhat be aware of when it had happened, that that disastrous moment had occurred during his 16th birthday. Although, that had been the extent of it. There were no birthday cakes or messing around in the water or well meaning banter amongst those he considered friends. He had even been oblivious to the identities of anyone who may have been present. When your safety and wellbeing are jeopardised, the last thing you're concentrating on is useless information like whether or not your father is standing beside you. So this was the kind of moments Ghostbur had hoarded for himself, was it? It feels so good. It's been too long since the last time he laughed. For a second, he can almost recall the feeling of drawing his stomach in as fuels for giggles and the pull of muscles as the corner of lips spread upwards. He waits for the inevitable withdrawal of it from his reach. His brain will go against him by discarding of the anomaly it just registered. Any second now. Maybe? ...No? Clearly, not enough time has elapsed. There is no point in getting his hopes up like an idiot. Except, he wants to. He desperately wishes this is not a fluke due to be rectified the moment he lets his guard down. It... isn't, apparently. And for the first time since he'd been abandoned in death, Soulbur kept a pleasant memory. It's not enough, a greedy part of him decides. No, he thinks Ghostbur needs to learn how to share. Surely there is more stored in the ghost's head than he needs. He won't miss a few more. Besides, why should that traitorous bastard get all the good stuff? Not to mention, they were as much his memories as they were Ghostbur's. They should have equal rights to them. All that seems to be required is a brief bit of skin contact. So that's what he'll do. Soulbur doesn't believe he has ever been the type of person to be all touchy-feely, not that he's particularly had the opportunity to prove otherwise, but for the sake of a few memories? Well, what's an occasional hand on the shoulder or pat on the back in the general scheme of things?

#dream smp #my writing #twobur au #tw suicidal ideation #tw drowning #tw parental neglect #tw animal death

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purkinje-effect · 3 years

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OC Survey Meme

Let’s try that again!! Wrong side blog. RIP

It was too long to paste into Discord, so I’ll post it here under a cut.

Thanks for cluing us all in on this post, @bigbraincel !

Since there isn’t a spoiler CSS on Tumblr, I did strike-through on spoilers instead. There aren’t many, and it’s relatively minor, but still.

I did the selected questions for both ‘Choly and Sticks.

Melancholy (Sole Survivor)

2: What's 'Choly's sexuality? He's always been exclusively teratophilic. Prewar he thought himself as ace. He's bi, but only for nonhumans.

14: What's 'Choly's favorite food? How often does he get to eat it? Piretti's next do to Walden Drugs Concord had his fav arancini and pierogis. It's not the same of course, but he loves the occasion he gets to have dumplings.

18: What languages can 'Choly speak? Where did he learn these languages? Russian and English. He's from Sverdlovsk originally. He knew enough conversational English before moving to Mass, but the DIA appointed him a Mister Handy to speech train him to blend in better both with the other chemists at Deenwood and off base.

23: Does 'Choly get lonely easily? He doesn't handle loneliness as much as he thinks. He's pretty oblivious when loneliness is the root of whatever he's dealing with emotionally. The whole Rip van Winkle thing has got him screwy in that regard: it's less that everything's so unfamiliar, but more that everything familiar is centuries behind him despite feeling like they existed very recently. The fact radios still have broadcasts goes a long way to alleviating the feelings of isolation, at least.

39: What does 'Choly's happily ever after look like? Two different answers, depending on whether it's his true ending or what he wishes it were! He lets himself get lost in self-destructive mental spirals very easily, and his teratophilia has a tendency to fuel that. He *wants* the full Kafka experience, and his fantasizing often goes to great lengths to lay out all kinds of hypothetical insect-related scenarios to befall him. The true-to-this-AU canon happy ending I have for him, he ends up finding someone who can cherish the little bits of freakish in him in their own way. Several someones, actually.

40: Who does 'Choly trust most? Is that trust mutual? He trusts his DIA Mister Handy Angel the most. He's known it longer than any tissue-based lifeform. Boundary issues abound, often where 'Choly trusts Angel to cut the boundary lines, but Angel trusts 'Choly to communicate with it within those boundaries rather than avoid them altogether. He loathes disappointing it. Does Angel trust 'Choly? It doesn't trust him to be in control of his reckless self-destructive behaviors, but it does ultimately trust him to get them through conflicts in one piece.

50: How would you describe 'Choly's style of clothing? How would he describe his style of clothing? Tailored menswear, mixed with a bit of military and golfing cuts. He's set on looking nice, without looking like he's spent a fortune just to do so. Form > function, with the exception of his orthotics. He sometimes also experiments with mixing tailored women’s sportswear in; one of his prewar favorites was something of a romper-pantsuit.

57: How does 'Choly feel about sex? Is he a virgin? He insisted that he was a virgin, prior to doing anything with Sticks. In reality, it's one of many examples of his cryogenesis-induced interpersonal amnesia: He experimented a lot in his twenties, as it took a while for him to accept his asexuality.

62: Has 'Choly ever been betrayed? How did it affect his ability to trust others? He felt betrayed by Vault 111 staff, foremost that his intake paperwork had included both he and his roommate only for staff last minute to let just one of them in, but they also incinerated his belongings. He didn't so much feel betrayed as used, after everything that happens in Lowell. A future betrayal ends up breaking him, but he blames himself and still thinks there surely must have been some kind of misunderstanding.

78: Who does 'Choly consider to be his best friend? Angel, for sure.

88: Does 'Choly have an accent? It's subtle. When he's tired or under the influence, it's more noticeable. It was much stronger prior to Angel's speech training.

89: What's 'Choly's D&D alignment? Something adjacent to Lawful Evil. He's usually only got a conscience after the fact, when consequences of a failed attempt impact people besides himself.

============================

Sticks (Ghoul OC)

2: What is Sticks's sexuality? Overwhelmingly straight, but recently has been a bit bi-curious the longer he’s been alive.

14: What is Sticks' favorite food? How often does he get to eat it? He loved his lobster, and still highly resents that he still hasn't found a breed of Mirelurk that comes close to the original. As the owner of an ice cream parlor, he's also been known to make an understandably massive deal out of the handful of times he's been able to make brahmin ice cream: before the war, he spent a lot of time in a soda shop to nurse a Nuka Float habit. (Nuka Quartz was his fav. Putting his hands on a bottle these days is like obtaining a fine wine, and he keeps it for special occasions.)

18: What languages can Sticks speak? Where did he learn these languages? Just English.

23: Does Sticks get lonely easily? He doesn't really need company to get by in everyday life, but it invigorates him to be in control of social situations, if even in a passive way. He didn't realize how proximity-starved he was until 'Choly showed interest in him.

39: What does Sticks's happily ever after look like? He thought he attained his Happily Ever After, after succeeding at his grail of a con he'd attempted for going on a century: To somehow liberate the Deenwood Compound of its military chem secrets, so that he could sever ties with its General and hand over manufacture to a chemist that wasn't so difficult to do business with. He thinks there's no greater sense of control as a chem dealer, than to be able to pick not just your customers but your manufacturers. The second half of that H.E.A. is to get 'Choly set up with the equipment and means, to act on the promise that he would be one such chemist for Sticks. Achieving this through his partnership with 'Choly motivates a large swath of events in Third Instar.

40: Who does Sticks trust most? Is that trust mutual? He doesn't trust anyone, but he’s not remotely shy of interaction despite it. He tells backhanded truths as a way of "technically" not lying.

50: How would you describe Sticks's style of clothing? How would he describe his style of clothing? Simple, practical, relaxed fit.

57: How does Sticks feel about sex? Is he a virgin? He's no stranger to using sex favors to seal agreements and deals. Just like cooking meals, sex acts are largely contractual for him.

62: Has Sticks ever been betrayed? How did it affect his ability to trust others? He hedges just about every situation he possibly can, so even if one side does betray him, it rarely ever prevents him from seeing some reward for the effort.

78: Who does Sticks consider to be his best friend? The Furrier Ick.

88: Does Sticks have an accent? He's from Maine, but has lived in Mass long enough the local accent's all but usurped it.

89: What is Sticks’s D&D alignment? Somewhere between Neutral Evil and Chaotic Evil. A lot of what he does, he does because he can... but ultimately it's all selfishness and his ability to manipulate others.

#melancholy #sticks #oc meme

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wardens-stew · 4 years

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last-minute freakout about The Mask Falling - worrying about “Evenfall”

my fellow laypeople, tomorrow is the day!!!! it has truly been 84 years. all I can say is that the delivery people better be on their game tomorrow.

I have heard much about the apocalyptic end of this book, which @sshannonauthor has referred to as “Evenfall.” Definitely anticipating needing therapy and crawling into a hole for several days after reading this! The vague gist seems to be that that things seem to be looking up and then the last 100 pages (after chapter 20 or something) is a whirlwind that will leave everyone absolutely destroyed. I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen, and I'd like to keep it that way, but here are my vague hypotheses judging from what I've read online (ARC reviews on Goodreads and Samantha Shannon’s tweets):

I have the sense that it’s not the death/destruction of an individual (Paige or God forbid Warden) but more of a general cataclysm within the broader plot of the struggle against Scion. Paige will probably be in an absolute shit situation/the epitome of pain, but I feel like if it was triggered by the death of one character there’d be more hints to that specifically in the reviews. Also, allow me to point you to these two quotes, which I suspect are connected to Evenfall.

‘I mustered all the breath I had left and screamed, until I folded on myself and my voice burned to nothing.’

‘Who can break you now, Black Moth, now there is nothing left to break?’

Also, Samantha Shannon has suggested that Paige does something even crazier than giving herself up to Nashira in The Song Rising, and she cries twice. It also seems that she just cannot catch a break and goes through a ton of pan. The crying suggests to me that it’s a personal tragedy as well as a political one, which makes me think Warden will be involved… Some ideas off the top of my head - maybe Nashira succeeds in trapping Paige’s spirit??? I mean I think she’ll have to be alive for the last three books but it would explain the quote about there being “nothing left to break.” I suspect her spirit-form will be trapped or damaged in some form.

This could also be something along the lines of @growingstronglikeahighgardenrose‘s incredibly smart theory following the Prometheus and Pandora/Hades and Persephone/Eurydice parallel in which an upperworld woman is killed/brought to the underworld and a netherworld man has to go back down in order to bring her back to earth. So if Paige is indeed killed/trapped, the added sting could be that Warden has to sacrifice himself in order to bring her back (which he would totally do). I have the sense they’ll both be screwed. And it would totally make sense for Nashira to weaponize their relationship against them.

Could it be that Paige is somehow brought to the Netherworld? I was at Samantha Shannon’s virtual event the other day and someone asked if any of the following books would take place in the Netherworld. She said “maybe,” but it made me think because as I understand it, human flesh can’t pass through to the netherworld. So Paige would have to be in some non-corporeal form in order for a book to take place there (Samantha Shannon has also said that all the books will be from Paige’s perspective.) I don’t know if I really think the next books are going to take place with Paige as an amorphous spirit… but perhaps the boundaries are going to be messed with in some way. Another waning of the veils perhaps?

In reviews people tend to frame the ending as destroying all the previous joy of Paige and Warden’s domestic bliss. So I have the feeling whatever retribution the bad guys enact at the end of this book will be bad news for Paige and Warden. *sobs* I can’t really imagine it being that devastating of an ending if Paige and Warden are still chumming along. I was taking absurd comfort in the fact that Samantha Shannon had originally planned a pregnancy storyline for books 5 and 6 (I think?) - in which would Paige and Warden have a baby. That should mean they should be just hunky dory and (hypothetically) pleasantly co-parenting, no? But I’ve just realized that Paige could be pregnant, but Warden doesn’t necessarily have to be there with her, or even alive… (shudder)

#the mask falling #the bone season #tbs #Samantha shannon #im so damn excited #this book will wreck me

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adonis-koo · 5 years

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Three’s a crowd

| 13 |

Plot: (CEO AU) When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was suppose to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation…

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader/Jimin, Hoseok/Reader, Taehyung/Reader, Seokjin/Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, drama, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 7.6K

Previous | Next

Warning ⚠️ This fic touches on drug use, alcoholism and abuse. Please read with caution if any of these things are triggers for you 🖤

It was quiet for a moment as people in the hallway pushed past you both paying you no mind, not realizing just what situation you were in and who you were standing in front of. Jungkook’s expression had hardened slightly, now focused on your poor battered face that definitely didn’t do you any favors in terms of his harsh, broody expression.

After a moment he suddenly reached out, grabbing your chin, lifting it to get a better look at your face before almost demanding, “Who did this to you?”

Your body jolted at the feeling, not expecting such a gesture or his tone of voice. It wasn’t so much your own history with Jungkook that made you suddenly shoved his hand away, “Don’t touch me.” You snapped sharply making him wince, he bowed his head slightly in apology as if realizing he shouldn’t of done that so abruptly.

It was moreso after the fight with your father that had you over the edge on any sort of touching, you were too hyper aware of your surroundings and even the littlest of touches could send you into a mental breakdown at the moment, “Sorry….” Jungkook murmured, looking down towards your shoes as if knowing he was most likely overstepping his boundaries regardless before sighing, “Is there somewhere private we can speak?”

Closing your eyes you sighed before nodding, without so much as a word you turned back around heading for the elevator while chugging down the last half of your energy drink, chucking it into the garbage can right outside the elevator before stepping in. This conversation was inevitable, but you still couldn’t help but dread it, what was his answer to everything? Would you even get an answer?

Your mind was swarming with silent questions as both you and Jungkook stood in silence the whole time, people sifting in and out of the elevator until you stopped at the fourth floor. This floor was a lot less busy but you didn’t plan on letting him talk here either, video feed was all over the place and if this was far enough beyond you to have someone break into your house.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they could access the hospital camera feed, pulling the master key from the chain around your neck- it was mainly for access to all the rooms for cleaning but you’d rarely had reason to misuse it the one exception being Jungkook.

You had opened the door to the staff hallway before weaving up the steps continuing until the glow of the ‘Exit’ sign was visible. The roof would be the safest place for you both to properly discuss this without being overheard. The cool night air nipped at the open skin of your arms, your jump suit only being half worn as it always was making you rub your arms for warmth as you stepped out onto the roof.

“Well…?” You asked over your shoulder, walking up to the ledge that looked out over the busy city of Seoul, the cars never ending and the lights never wavering. This city was bred full of nightmares and late nights for you. But sometimes, on break you enjoyed coming up here to clear your head, watch the world continue spinning as thousands continued their lives down below.

You turned around to face Jungkook who hadn’t been looking at you, his expression still somber as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. You supposed at the moment, you truly both took on your roles well, him the well dressed billionaire, his black button up had the first three buttons undone and his sleeves had been rolled up, his tie poked out his back pocket. The rolex dawning his wrist and the armani shoes he wore, he screamed wealth.

And then there was you, the street rat with a tired, worn out face to match. Your expression was hard and you knew it but you still weren’t sure if you could really trust Jungkook, maybe that was the trauma talking now, you weren’t sure about anything anymore.

“Y/n…” He sighed before taking a few steps closer to you, his expression unreadable and maybe for a good reason as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, “Let me just start by saying, I want to tell you everything. But that doesn’t mean I can…”

Your face curled slightly in sourness at his words as he sighed once more, running his hand through his hair as if anticipating your reaction. He seriously dragged you all the way up here, practically begged you to listen to him, and that was his answer to all of this? You weren’t sure what you had expected, and briefly, you wondered if you should’ve expected that to be his answer. Or course he wasn’t going to tell you anything.

“Then why are you even here?” You almost snarled in frustrated too many thoughts bubbling in your head to keep the anger out of your voice, “My life has already been hell and your contribution really isn’t helping me out.”

“The less you know, the safer you’re going to be,” Jungkook defended himself, his expression hardening as well, not appreciating your words but that didn’t make them any less true, “I’m here because I’m going to tell you as much as I can. You were never supposed to see what you did at the party.”

Pressing your tongue into your cheek you inhaled sharply, the tension between you both cutting through the cool breeze. You weren’t surprised, of course he didn’t want you seeing him murder someone that night, who would? Jeon Jungkook with a gun in his hands and empty eyes? Just the repeat of his previous words in your mind making you all the more irritated.

It was silent for another minute before you finally scoffed running a hand through your hair as you huffed, “I don’t fucking doubt it but I still did. But let’s hypothetically say I didn’t see it, and we did end up getting together- how long would you keep it from me? T-this- this...fucking secret life you live when you aren’t playing billionaire playboy!”

You didn’t want to use that card, you didn’t feel comfortable above all else even thinking about you and Jungkook being together...romantically...Especially now with everything that had happened. but it still begged the question. If he never intended for you to find out, just when was he going to break it to you that he killed countless people?

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed at your words and his jaw clenched, you could visibly see his adam apple bob as he swallowed thickly, “Don’t go there Y/n. You don’t understand anything you’re even saying at the moment. This side of me? It isn’t meant for you or anyone else outside of work to see. Romantic or not you aren’t an exception. I’m not proud of it,” He almost sneered out, the cold look returned in his eyes as he gritted his teeth, “I didn’t ask to be put in the position I am and I sure as fuck don’t like having to pull the trigger but I do what needs to be done.”

You couldn’t even look at him anymore as you raked your hands into your hair, a sickness taking root in your stomach at how callous he was being, he was talking about murder like it was just a chore! “You fucking killed someone!” You shouted incredulously, still in partial disbelief at how he could ever say something like that, “I-....I don’t even know what to say anymore,” You muttered more weakly as you pressed your face into your hands, “I don’t know what’s going on and I didn’t fucking ask to be put in the middle of this. I thought once I got back to Seoul life would go back to normal but it’s not okay!?”

Your hands were trembling and your voice had cracked, as you snapped your head up to look at Jungkook, “My life is anything but normal anymore and I just want one fucking answer on why, is that so difficult to give me!? I’m not asking you to put a ring on it Jungkook, I’m not fucking asking you to give me a detailed essay on what shady shit you’re involved in. I just want my life back to the way it use to be!”

You hated the way your vision was beginning to blur and how the tears threatened to drip down your cheeks but the anger in your voice didn’t falter for a second and your glare only made your expression that much more pitiful.

It was Jungkook’s turn to face away from you, a hint of guilt on his face as he sighed rubbing his forehead. He leaned down against the ledge of the roof before letting his hand run through his hair, “Even if I were able to tell you everything, you know that isn’t going to make things go back to the way they used to be…”

Fuck him…! Anger burned in your veins as you harshly rubbed your cheeks as the tears hotly slipped down, you hated that he was right. You hated that Jungkook, at the moment was telling you what you needed to hear, not what you wanted too.

“You need to listen to me, very carefully Y/n,” Jungkook’s jaw was clenched once more and his eyes were almost glaring out over the city lights as if he was now refusing to look at you, maybe he’d crumble at the sight of the bitter tears staining your face, maybe he knew you’d snap at him again if he so dared as raised a hand in comfort for you, it wasn’t just him being defensive. It was you, of course, you wouldn’t let him help you even if he wanted too.

“My dad’s company is in a very tight spot at the moment in...for lack of a better word, underground affairs. There’s a lot of people not happy with a few decisions I’ve made within the few recent months on his behalf and while I’m not on a hitlist at the moment,” he gritted his teeth and his gaze became fiery as if they could vaporize the entirety of Seoul if he wished, “Everyone I care about is. You’ve been lumped into that category whether you like it or not so please,” He finally glanced at you, his gaze just as intense as before, though a note in his eyes had shifted to a more pleading, “Trust me when I say you’re better off not knowing everything if you value your own life at all.”

“And if I don’t?” You stubbornly spat out as your brows pressed together, anger reigniting in your veins as you crossed your arms defensively. At the moment, you really didn’t have a lot in life going for you anyways. And hey, if you got lynched off by a hitman at least you’d die at peace knowing why the fuck it happened.

Your words made his jaw clench again and his eyes twist into another glare as he stepped closer to you, “Do you even hear yourself right now? I know damn well you do so stop. Throw a tantrum all you want but I’m not going to change my mind. Call me a murder all you want but that won’t change the fact that those guys, that innocent man,” Jungkook was sneering at the memory as he gritted his teeth, “Yoongi found them planting C4’s all along the lower levels of the building. They aren’t innocent in the least Y/n, if I have blood on my hands then they might as well be bathing it in. I do what’s necessary and no more.”

Pressing your lips together the only sound was the wind blowing past you both as you carefully took a step back. Were those men really going to kill so many innocent people just for one guy? It made you briefly wonder just what Jungkook had done for that to be, “...And my apartment…?”

You couldn’t find the energy to be angry anymore, you had already had both a stressful and emotional day, you couldn’t find the strength to keep the theme running. You still didn’t necessarily agree with his method of action, even if they were planning to blow up the whole building, but you did feel like the level of violence seemed to fit whatever was going on between Jungkook and these men.

“They weren’t looking for anything Y/n,” Jungkook replied, his eyes unreadable once more before he continued, “They were looking for you. I don’t want to scare you but they’re willing to do anything to get to me, and even if you aren’t someone I’m close to they’d take you anyways, they don’t follow morals.”

Running your hand through your hair you sighed while beginning to pace, just who were they? What could Jungkook have done for a group of people to be so angry? You had so many questions, more than had been answered so far. And now all you were beginning to feel was regret, maybe you should’ve let Hoseok just steer him away from you. In fact, you would have definitely preferred that now but…

You couldn’t just keep running away from everything, just like you assumed, things were serious now more than ever and you doubt it was going away anytime soon. Finally you stopped, pressing your hands against your face as you sighed, god what were you going to do? You felt a surge of defeat in your chest as you swallowed your emotions down.

“Y/n, please talk to me…” You heard Jungkook’s voice softened again as his footsteps sounded closer, “Look I understand if you don’t want things to go further with us- Hell I don’t blame you for not wanting to see me at all after everything that’s happened, but you need to trust me on this. Maybe you don’t care what happens to yourself but I do.”

And just like that the whirlwind of emotions you had so desperately swallowed down were bubbling inside you once more as you swallowed thickly, how could he go from emotionless, cold, CEO to a caring sweetheart in the span of five minutes? “Stop!” You cried out finally at the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, jerking away from him you grabbed your head as your voice cracked, “Just stop okay! Stop acting like you care!”

“But I do care Y/n, why is that so hard to believe?” Jungkook replied back just as strong taking another step closer to try and close the distance again, his brows furrowed in confusion and a little offense.

Why? Why!? Your mind was racing ninety to nothing as you sputtered back, “Because..you- you..- We’ve only known each other for a week and a half! Not even a half! This is insane Jungkook! You’re publicly engaged, I saw you kill someone- I..-I...holy fuck do you even hear yourself!?”

“I don’t care how long we’ve known each other, I like you okay? I don’t know why but I do, but I do! And if you want to never see me again after this then fine, I’d never do anything you don’t want but for right now? Please just listen to me, let me keep you safe until all of this has blown over.” Jungkook almost pleaded with you, his eyes looking close to bambi’s that felt too difficult to say no to but you couldn’t even make a sound anymore.

He wanted to what? Just hearing that word felt foreign on your ears as you ran a hand through your already messed up, and probably oily hair now as you inhaled sharply, “How!?” You threw your arms up, “My apartments been obliterated Jungkook, my mom won’t even let me go back to clean up until the police have a lead. I’m stuck at Park’s estate for god only knows how long, just how do you think you’re gonna keep me safe, huh?” You spat out with demand, hands shaking as your breath hitching. You couldn’t have another breakdown tonight.

“Everything is going to be fine, okay?” Jungkook replied soothingly, making quick note of your shaky demeanor, your eyes watery but you refused to cry again, you couldn’t cry again, “My mom can explain the situation on a more discreet note to her, you can still go to your day job but it’s better if you stay away from the ward- especially at night. Once I get things cleared up you can go back to normal and pretend I never existed in your life okay? But please, for the love of god, just stay with me until you’re safe.”

Whatever little control you did have on your life felt like it was already being ripped away and before you knew it you felt the familiar warm liquid dripping down your cheeks as you hurriedly wiped your eyes, angry at yourself for crying once again but the tears wouldn’t stop, “I...I can’t afford to lose my job here Jungkook, I can’t ghost work for god only knows how long until you get your fucking hitlist sorted.” You tried your best to look anywhere but at him as you tried to control your shallow breaths.

You jumped at the feeling of him cupping your face, his thumbs pushed away the tears that refused to stop as Jungkook murmured softly, “Baby listen to me, I’ll take care of everything. You aren’t going to lose your job here, I’ll wire you the money you lost to make up for the hours you missed and I’ll make sure your apartment gets cleaned up. I know you didn’t ask for this, and I know you feel like everything is out of your control but this is temporary okay? I’m only doing this because if I don’t you will be hurt. And maybe you don’t care but I do, so please, stay with me.”

You couldn’t even look at him, your shoulders were bouncing from your sniffling and your eyes were snapped shut, “Well it’s not like I have much of a choice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jungkook sighed softly, pushed the strands of hair behind your ear before letting his thumb stroke back along your cheekbone making you wince from the bruise that had begun forming, “I’m never going to force you to say yes, just please work with me okay? I’d feel best if you stayed with me but we can work something else out, I can have you stay at Dark Ace here if you want, or I can buy you an apartment building, or- what’s with that look?” Jungkook paused, looking like a lost puppy at your grim smile.

“You’re so fucking rich I honestly can’t stand listening to you sometimes.” He was really willing to buy you a whole apartment building just so you could be safe? If you weren’t so emotionally drained you would’ve felt a little flattered. But all you felt now was tired and in need of another cup of ramen.

“Is that a yes...? Jungkook asked a little hesitantly, a small bashful smile tugging on his lips as he peered down at you his eyes looking a little more hopeful.

It felt like you were taking scraps now, but if you really were in more danger then you realized, and things really were serious. And if Jungkook was willing to give you a few options, then who were you to say no? You could laugh all day long about it but you didn’t want your untimely death to be caused by him, “I guess, I don’t really wanna get lynched because of you so…”

“I expected as much. Let’s go, it’s late and I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll get everything sorted first thing in the morning.” Jungkook replied, already wrapping an arm around you as he began walking towards the entry to the building. Any other day you would’ve slowed him down, but he was right. You were tired, you were beyond exhausted and you were on your last hour of your shift anyways.

Rather than saying anything, you followed beside him, muscles a little tense under his grasp but it was delicate, as if sensing your tension. You had made sure to clock out and peel off your jumpsuit in the breakroom before shooting Hoseok a text, he’d be pissed for sure. But he wouldn’t want you to take a risk knowing you were under suspect for abduction.

Unshockingly a sleek black Viper was apparently Jungkook’s choice of car as he opened the door for you, giving you a gentle, encouraging push as you sat down. The smell of leather faint against the vanilla scent he had hanging from the mirror.

He must’ve drove himself a lot for the new smell to be worn off and the feeling of comfort settled in the air. The drive was mainly silent but not a tense one, you had rested your head against the glass of the window watching the world as it passed you by. There were so many people out that night and little did they know who you were and what you had accidentally become involved in.

It wasn’t until you had entered the gated community that you perked up a little, every house’s lights were turned off as your eyes flickered to the time that just turned 4:12 in the morning. Soon you’d be just like them, but you couldn’t help but worry. Even if Jungkook’s mom could soothe your mother’s nerves you knew she’d be undoubtedly upset with you, just what would his mom say, what would the cover be for you? And would it really work?

“We’ll discuss your living arrangements in the morning, so for now you’ll stay the night with me.” Jungkook had put the car in park as he explained. You pressed your lips together taking in the front of the house, it was clad in dark browns and deep grey tones of unsymmetrical brick, the walkway was filled on each side with well kept tiger lilies.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting his house to look like, or better yet you didn’t even think he was living on his own yet. But it made sense, he was 23 after all and could probably buy a third of the moon if he wanted. His pick of house was still unexpected though, it wasn’t an estate, mansion or a fancy penthouse, it didn’t even have a second floor.

Shutting the door to the car you finally spoke, “Feels a little weird, not gonna lie.” Walking beside him you kept your eyes to the uncracked pavement as you stepped up onto the platform of the door while waiting for him to unlock it.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked, glancing over his shoulder briefly with a confused glance before opening the door, yawning on his way inside and admittedly looking just as tired as you. How much sleep had he been getting lately with all of this going on?

“I’ve never actually gone home with someone,” You admitted as you stepped inside behind him, only making him stop before turning around to face you, his expression a little exasperated making your lips curl up slightly, “I’m being honest, deadass. Not gonna lie this really isn’t how I envisioned my first time going…”

“If you didn’t look so exhausted I’d suggest still making it worthwhile,” Jungkook gave you a wink making your lips twist slightly as you ran a hand through your hair as you glanced away from him. You set yourself up for that one and honestly, you might’ve took him up on that offer had he not been right. You were utterly drained and you were sure you probably looked anything but sexy at the moment.

The interior of the house was simplistic by nature but was in good taste, the sleek black coffee table complimented by a gray couch and two chairs, a large flat screen hung up on the wall beneath the second coffee table and that’s where your eyes honed in on what looked like a custom built PS4, personalized controllers and all.

Walking down the hall Jungkook opened the first door on the left as he spoke up, “This is the spare room, the bathroom is up the hall on the right and my rooms all the way down to the left if you need something. Is there anything I can get you…?”

You peaked behind him inside the room before giving it a thought, tugging at your shirt before awkwardly glancing towards your feet, “W-well….um….If you have a shirt or- maybe- uh maybe a hoodie I could barrow to sleep in…” Why were you acting so weird? You had bummed clothes off of Hoseok and Taehyung constantly, this really wasn’t different, right?

Jungkook nodded before disappearing down the hall as you walked into the room. It was bigger than your kitchen- then again, a lot of places were bigger than your kitchen but still. It was a nice sized room with a queen size bed neatly made, a fluffy cream duvet and a dozen pillows to pick from to sleep on. Stepping up to the bed you let your hand run over the material as you closed your eyes.

You were seriously at a billionaires house to avoid abduction. God you hated life.

“Here,” You jumped at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, turning around just as he walked in a folded black hoodie in hand as he gave it to you, “It gets a little drafty in here at night. There should be extra oral care in the bathroom. I guess that’s everything, anyways I’ll let you rest now.”

It was silent for before you nodded vigorously, “Uh yeah thanks, night.”

He gave a nod in return, looking a little hesitant to leave before letting himself return to his room. Sighing you ran a hand through your hair before shutting the door gently, taking another look around the room before grabbing your phone,

If you rolled your eyes any harder they’d definitely be in the back of your head by now. Leave it up to Hoseok to be the first in line to clown you. Pulling the sweatshirt on while giving a long yawn, you could smell both the expensive Tide Bounty and Jungkook's cologne, which both on their own smelled nice until mixed together. Still, it gave you a sense of odd comfort though as you crawled into bed letting yourself relax against the sheets.

You were beyond tired and glad to be in bed, and yet you still didn’t get a drop of sleep that night.

Morning light streamed through the blinds and yet here you were, already awake with dark circles most likely dawning your undereyes. It hurt to blink and you didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, and yet no matter how long you kept them closed, you couldn’t sleep.

Checking your phone you groaned at the sight of so many messages, quickly you closed your phone again as you dropped your head back on the pillow. You could only hope Jungkook was awake by now and had gotten a hold of his mother to ease everyone’s panic about you never arriving home.

A knock at the door sounded as if hearing your thought, echoing lightly through the room and for a moment you couldn’t find the strength to speak up, making the only other person in the house attempt to coax you, “Hey, are you awake?”

Sighing you debated your options, you could just not respond and he’d probably go away but you’d have to come out eventually and your stomach was growling in hopes you’d get some food, “Yeah.” You called back dryly.

Hearing the door open finally stirred some energy into you as you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing your tired eyes as Jungkook stepped inside, his hair was messy and he seemed a bit tired if not sleepy, but over all a lot more well rested then you as he spoke, “Figured we should get started on discussing the terms of where you’ll stay. I just finished talking to my mom, she’s already doing damage control as we speak so,” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, walking up to the bed before sitting down on the edge a little ways from you, “Like I said before, personally I’d be most comfortable if you were here with me but there’s plenty of other options. I could always rent out a floor from an apartment building for you, make sure there’s plenty of security or you could stay in Dark Ace, it’s almost impenetrable.”

“That seems like a lot of effort…” You murmured, running a hand through your hair, your locks stringy with oil and undoubtedly looking gross. Dark Ace was all the way across Seoul and you honestly didn’t want to be that far away from everyone you knew. On the other hand you weren’t sure you felt comfortable in a whole floor of an apartment building, and furthermore, you wouldn’t feel that safe.

You knew Jungkook wouldn’t put you somewhere he wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d be safe, given how serious he was taking this, but still. You could stay with him...but you didn’t feel like that was a good idea either, too much had happened and right now you needed to just regain focus on gaining trust with each other again.

“It really isn’t Y/n,” Jungkook replied, leaning back against his hands as he kept his gaze steadily on you, “I received a call from a contact when I first woke, this shouldn’t last but another week or two, so if you want…” He licked his lips, taking a second to think it over before continuing, “There is another option, my mom has a lodge not too far from here. It’ll be easy keeping it under heavy security and you’ll still be in range for me to check in on you, you’ll be able to go to work with ease all while doing it safely.”

“Your mom…?” You asked a little hesitant, you liked the idea but you didn’t want to invade his mothers private space, especially if she had any idea of what you and Jungkook had been up to as of late, “I don’t know...I don’t want to overstep my bounds with your family.”

Jungkook quickly shook his head, “You won’t, she only goes on the occasion things get heated at home, I bought it for her awhile back but she doesn’t live there full time.”

You thought about it for a moment, biting your lip a little in contemplation. If he was being honest, and she really wouldn’t be there…and if you’d still be able to go to work and reassure your mom then...”Well, I mean...If you’re sure it’ll be fine…”

“It will,” Jungkook nodded determined, noticing him scooting closer making you feel a bit on edge, shifting in your seated position, “Is that where you wanna stay?”

It really wasn't, but out of all of your options this seemed like the best one. You’d be able to stay by yourself, you wouldn’t have your space invaded by anyone and you’d still be able to at least go to your day job. Sighing after a moment of contemplation you nodded, “Yes...Oh um…” You glanced away for a moment, your face flushing at the thought before you rubbed your neck, “Can I stop by my apartment before going there though…”

Jungkook looked a little confused by your request but nodded regardless, “Of course, we can go now if you want. I’ve cancelled my schedule for the morning and won't have to be in office until after 12.”

Pulling the covers off your legs you nodded, wanting to get this out of the way before doing anything else for the day. After you both had showered and finished getting ready you had headed off for your apartment. The silence stayed except for the occasional remark from Jungkook and snide reply from you. Though thankfully unlike most people in your life he didn’t take it to heart.

“So...what do you need from your apartment- if you don’t mind me asking.” Jungkook spoke up, pulling the car into the lot. You both had got out of the car, shutting the door you scanned over the building as you inhaled, the hot, humid air breaching you lungs but it was fresh nonetheless.

Nodding your head towards the building you lead the way before walking up the metal stairs, making your way to the third floor, “Well it wouldn’t hurt to get some clothes and I really need to get Twix somewhere safe…”

Reaching the third story you paused waiting for Jungkook who stopped half way up the last flight of stairs,”...Twix…?” He said it in the most confused tone you had ever heard as if what you said was in a foreign language.

Pressing your brows together you both store at each other briefly like you were in a silent, confused standoff before you squint your eyes, “My cat…?”

Jungkook continued up the stairs before finally standing in front of you, “You...named your cat ...Twix?” Had he even owned an animal his entire life? He didn’t look judgmental...well maybe a little bit but Twix was your pride, he was the little ball of fluff that had brightened your day since you were a kid. He was an old boy and loved cuddles and enjoyed waking you up from the little sleep you got for a midnight snack.

“Twix is my baby push off.” You glared childishly as you turned around walking to the door before giving it a gentle push, and as if the devil himself had heard, Twix came bolting out with a loud cry before brushing against your leg with another shrilled meow, “Poor baby, I’m sorry I’ve left you here.” You cooed out picking up the brown and black mottled cat as you nuzzled against his head.

You could feel the vibration of his loud purr before a sudden hiss, popping your head away from the cat you furrowed your brows before glancing towards Jungkook who had his jaw dropped as if offended. Him and Twix both seemed to be having a standoff as Twix gave a low growl making your own lips part, “Wow, he’s never done that before…” Sure when he was feral he had hissed at you plenty of times, but since being tame he’d rarely ever hiss at another person.

He gave another hiss, his ears laid back against his head before jumping out of your arms and scurrying back inside. Clacking your tongue you gave a hum, “First for everything I guess…”

Jungkook made no comment though, crossing his arms with a childish broody expression that made you roll your eyes as you pushed the door fully open, walking inside.

“Damn…” Jungkook sighed, his eyes softening a little at the wrecked sight of everything, just as destroyed as you had last seen it, “They really did sweep the whole place. I’ll make sure everything is replaced.”

Walking up the crushed boat painting you thought was such a good steal when you bought it you sighed, kneeling down as you picked it up, a hole punctured the canvas, “It’s fine, most of this was just thrift store finds anyways….” You trailed off but you knew your voice held a depressed note.

Coming here depressed you more than anything now, being unable to do anything or clean it up for now leaving you empty and hollow at all the memories of everything you once bought from excitement at it’s cheap cost or obscurity of where you found it.

Damn you didn’t think you were sentimental but just coming back made you feel a wash of remorse all over again, “Anyways, i’ll be right back, shouldn’t take long to get a few sets of clothes.”

Jungkook gave a single nod eyes scanning through the room as you made your way back down the hall. You had grabbed the duffle bag from your closet, picking through things that had been strode all over the floor while stuffing it into the bag, not seeing a reason in folding anything as you’d most likely dump this all in the wash once you got into the lodge.

You had just finished packing when you heard your phone go off. Confused as to who could be texting you at this hour before checking.

Sighing you stayed seated by your bag as you ran a hand through your hair, it was already 11:30 and you wouldn’t have much time to get ready but thankfully you never took long to begin with. The person who had caught your attention, was of course Jimin. He had seemed very defensive and for someone who didn’t care about you….he sounded like he cared, a lot. You felt conflicted but still held onto your words, he didn’t deserve to know where you were and he was a total dickhead. Until he actually proved he wasn’t you weren’t going to budge.

You supposed, this just meant your vacation was finally beginning to wear off and you had started to use your head more than your vagina again.

Standing up you grabbed the bag before walking out to Jungkook who had been investigating down by the TV, “Hey you don’t have to go into work until after lunch right?” He glanced up before straightening himself nodding making you continue, “Then once we get this stuff dropped off you mind dropping me off over at central station? I’m going out with your and my mom for a wedding venue hunt.”

“Of course,” Jungkook nodded, walking over grabbing the dufflebag from you as you called out for Twix, the cat darting to your legs with a meow, probably hungry no doubt making you feel a tad bit guilty for not picking him up sooner. Grabbing the ball of fluff you both went back to his car before heading towards the lodge.

The lodge was a fair bit fancier than Jungkook’s place it was gated and guarded with men on standby outside, but it only took one look when Jungkook rolled down his window for the men to wave him on in. It looked more like a prison than a house but you supposed if things really were that dire then this was probably necessary.

After setting your things down in the lodge you noticed the colors were in warm tones of reds and earthy browns, the furniture was clad in white and furs tying everything together, it had felt like a total one eighty compared to its outside appearance. At the very least you were glad it had such a homey feeling if you’d be staying here for any longer than anticipated.

“Oh this is such a nice space!” Your mother was the first to exclaim as she did a one eighty around herself, the space was admittedly large and completely empty, but the large windows on the left and right walls were massive and let in a beautiful stream of light, “It wouldn be beautiful for the wedding but it wouldn’t be very traditional.” Your mother frowned slightly at the idea as she turned around to look towards you.

Shrugging you pushing your hands into the pockets of the dark brown leather jacket you wore, “Traditional no but that isn’t a bad thing, people have tons of beach or outdoor weddings and they’re all fine. You could still get a priest or pastor to do the vows. I mean if you really like this venue then it shouldn’t matter whether it’s in a church or not.” You didn’t see the hang up but then again you also never grew up on the traditions your mother held so high in standard.

Soo Yun nodded encouragingly as well though as she smiled, “Y/n is right Emi, if this is the place you want your wedding then you shouldn’t let formalities hold you back.”

Your mom only laced her fingers together before holding them close to her chin, the same way you did when you became bashful around others, “Oh I don’t know...I’ll have to ask Seung and see what he thinks.”

It was a fair answer. Apparently the wedding was being aimed for around the next month and for the first time, you weren’t surprised by their words. If Jimin was correct, and they had already known each other for a year of course they’d want a quick wedding to go. It was supposed to be small and intimate with just a few people.

Your mother had also said given they had both been previously married neither one felt the need to make it a huge deal. Maybe it was from the whiplash of the day before but you honestly felt too exhausted to input any more emotional feedback outside of a ‘cool’.

Maybe you were finally accepting it? Or maybe everything with Jungkook had just been at the forefront of your mind, whatever it was. You were thankful to not be in a state of chaos anymore, for the moment at least.

After parting ways with Soo Yun, who you wondered briefly if you’d be getting acquainted with her. You’d be staying in her home after all, she brought you a sense of comfort though. Or maybe all moms had that energy, regardless, the day went by fast and you weren’t going to complain. Your mom insisted on taking you for dinner which for once, you weren’t opposed to doing.

There was a catch though, the catch being Seung was there- and that was fine. You didn’t have a problem with Seung, it was Jimin who sat brooding at the table that made you visibly strain to not roll your eyes to the back of your head. Clearly he was still angry over your text conversation but it wasn’t your fault, had he not been a dick earlier that week you would’ve gladly told him you had stopped by your apartment.

“If you love the location that’s all that matters Emi.” Seung had spoke up enthusiastically bringing your attention to the conversation that your mother was still fretting over, “I don’t mind us not having it in a church but….” He cleared his throat a little, giving her an expression that didn’t make any sense, “Sense we’re all together would you like to bring up what we were discussing earlier.”

Both you and Jimin had straightened up slightly, as your mom’s pupils widened a little before nodding, looking and bit reserved now as she also cleared her throat, “Of course! We understand that this is moving very fast for the both of you…” She trailed off a little, unsure of herself as she glanced at her lap.

“And we appreciate both of your support in our choice to be together. Both me and Emi would be honored if you’d be the Maid of honor and Best man for the wedding.” Seung spoke up, quickly taking note of your mothers docile expression, a smile pulling on his lips as he glanced between the both of you to gauge a reaction.

Glancing down at your plate you shrugged, “Yeah sure.” You saw that one coming too honestly, at least you were out of the thick of emotions now. Jimin seemed a whole lot more tense then you as he nodded though, saying nothing before resuming eating.

What was his problem? He was the one who had been initially okay with this, why the sudden change of heart? Dinner had continued peacefully and it wasn’t until the end that, after a little bit of insistence you got your mom to be okay with leaving you to go back to the estate.

Jungkook had sent you a text saying he’d send a car for you to be picked up in just a half hour ago and now sitting at the table you realized it was just you and Jimin. Who was also brooding on his phone.

“Are you done being broody or…?” You had cracked the joke was a dumb smile which only widened when his harsh gaze cut into your figure as if hoping it would incinerate you on contact.

Jimin’s jaw clenched further and he shifted in his seat before sinking into it further while snapping, “Do you think this is a fucking game Y/n? You had everyone worried to death.”

Shrugging you picked at your nails not looking too interested before replying, “Yeah but I’m pretty sure you don’t care so…?”

“I don’t.” It came out rigid and sharp, plucking his champagne class up as he took a swift drink of the bubbly substance.

The sight only made you clack your tongue though as you gave a hum, “Y’know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure do keep harassing me about shit that shouldn’t matter. You know, it’s okay to just admit that maybe, you do care after all?”

You shrugged keeping a cool head while his looked ready to explode, he suddenly stood up right, face twisting into a snarl as he replied, “You fucking wish L/n, I know you want to desperately think you’re something special but you aren’t.”

It was a good thing you had finally checked out emotionally or else you might’ve actually been hurt by his words, instead you just leaned back in your chair shrugging which make his jaw clench harsher, “Yeah sure, you keep telling yourself that Park.”

And just like that, you made him storm out of the restaurant looking ready to kill and hey, maybe he was. But just as you had been told earlier, no matter how much Jimin wanted to be involved in the unknown. He’d just have to suffer the curiosity and maybe come to acceptance with your entrance in his life meanwhile.

Note: I’m sorry it took me so long too update !! I finished Sunday but ended up becoming busy sense then :( BUT next chapter thoooo holyyy shit i bid u guys good luck

Taglist: @sapphireprinces5 @jazzytfw @theslumberingcat @mrsfandomz @cainami @nininek12 @loveherpersona @expensive-bangtan-girl @yoongnysus @sugajinny @peachy-bhun @brokencrownqueen @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lovethatforme97 @prisczero

(Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

#bts #bangtan #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader x jungkook #jimin smut #jungkook smut #bts ceo au #bts au

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 5 years

Note

What if Kara gave up? What if she accepts that Lena wants nothing to do with her and she respects that and keeps her distance? (This would probably never happen as Kara is too damn stubborn to give up on literally anything lol. Just hypothetically)

Meaning Lena would eventually be the one to reach out? I’m not averse to that. Honestly it might even be preferable. Lena’s healing needs to happen on Lena’s timetable. Kara respecting the new boundaries between them only reinforces the fact that Lena is in control of what happens next. Which-- considering the fact that their friendship thus far has been entirely within Kara’s control-- is a role-reversal that could help Lena feel like she’s less of a victim. It’d take longer to resolve, sure, but I feel that it would result in a stronger foundation for rebuilding their relationship.

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dgcatanisiri · 5 years

Text

I said I’d hoped to get this out by the end of the month. FINALLY, the next installment of my series of Hypothetical DLCs.

Welcome to DG’s Listing of Wish These DLC Existed, where I theorize, speculate, and just kinda generally throw ideas at the wall about DLCs for games I love that never happened and never will happen, but damn, I’d like to see them anyway.

Because I have ideas, I can’t get them made as mods, I don’t have time to make them into fic, and they’re never going to happen anyway, so why not put them up in a public place? After all, they’re tie ins to games I have no control over anyway, so it’s not like I’ll ever make money off of them anyway. And, as I’m not bound by any hardware limitations in terms of crafting ideas, or production cycles dictating when the game’s endpoint is, these can and do go on a great deal longer than the standard lifespan of a game.

A review of the format: There will be a name for the DLC, a brief synopsis, a reference to when this hypothetical DLC would become available/if and when it becomes unavailable, and then an expansion/write up of the ideas going in to them. Some ideas will have more expansion than others, because I’ve just plainly put more thought into them - in a lot of cases, I wrote them down just on the basis of ‘this idea seems pretty cool,’ and then gave them more context later on.

Feedback is welcome! Like an idea? Don’t like an idea? I welcome conversation and interaction on these ideas. Keep it civil, remember that these are just one person’s ideas, we can discuss them. Perhaps you’ll even help inspire a part two for these write ups! Because I do reserve the right to come up with more ideas in the future - these are the ideas that I’ve had to this point, but the whole reason this series exists is because I come up with new ideas for old stories.

With the KOTOR games both dealt with, we move on to the next category of the BioWare franchises, Mass Effect. This one took a while, considering the much more open-ended aspect of choices within the Mass Effect universe. And ME2′s edition is going to take a good long while as well, considering... Well, I’ll explain that when I get there.

Anyway. Given the way that Mass Effect carries decisions forward, there is an additional category for the ideas within these editions, where there’s a brief summary of the way they will impact future games - granted, most of these are ME2 letters and ME3 war assets, but it’s still worth making a note of.

Also, given the context of ME1′s rather open-ended structure, where there aren’t really any serious plot breaks or boundaries that prevent advancement too soon, aside from Virmire and Ilos not being unlocked until events in the plot, assume that, unless otherwise noted, these DLCs are all available at any point after Shepard is made a Spectre and given command of the Normandy, and, obviously, must be played before Ilos.

To business!

First Contact

As a Spectre and Alliance officer, Commander Shepard is called in when an Alliance team goes missing after reporting they had made contact with a new alien species. The Normandy is assigned to recover the team and establish peaceful relations if at all possible – yet there is a mystery here, one that the natives are not happy to welcome meddling in...

So, yeah, the basic idea here is simply that, with the whole Reaper thing, we don’t really get to see much of the more basic ideas of space exploration – big plot trounces little ideas. And first contact is as basic a concept for a scifi series as you can get. In my book, that’s the advantage of DLC in this series, to go for the smaller scale stories.

So let’s go into detail. We’re going to need a character to act as the exposition fairy – I vote that, at least in the briefing, this is coming from Pressley, so we can offer him a little more characterization and involvement (let’s honestly consider “Pressley gives a briefing that offers him more characterization, involvement, and general utilization” a thing for all of these, since he really doesn’t get a lot of usage in ME1, which is probably why he’s not really replaced on the Normandy after this game, and take this opportunity to give his character some expansion so that his death can mean a little more when ME2’s prologue goes down). He’s giving the baseline facts about why the Normandy is going in and handling this situation.

Obviously, the First Contact team has gone out of contact, and the Normandy is tasked to discover what has happened to them and make the best of the situation they end up in. I’m not locking this to after recruiting Liara, but I do picture her, Kaidan, and Ashley getting some fair use in any and all of these (a few in particular – we’ll get there when we get there), both because of their role as love interests and because of their general attitudes and thematic roles – Liara’s the wide-eyed idealist (considering her romanticizing of the protheans – any culture that refers to themselves as an “empire” is not going to be a peaceful collection of philosophers and scientists), Ashley’s the reasoned cynic, and Kaidan is something of the balance between them – cautious optimism and ready for if/when things go to shit.

The arrival finds Shepard and company on our new world (location to be decided – given Citadel rules on activating dormant Relays, it’s probably best that this is a planet within an already existing cluster, and we probably ought to put it somewhere within the boundaries of Alliance space, what with them taking lead on this first contact). The locals seem welcoming and friendly, but there’s a clear air of uncertainty – are they a threat, where’s the Alliance contact team, why are they acting like they know something that Shepard and crew don’t?

I know, we’re running the risk of retreading the ground of Feros and the thorian here, but, one, honestly, I like Feros, so I’m okay with revisiting it as a concept at least, two, it’s not like BioWare doesn’t recycle their own plots all the time anyway, even granting that they usually don’t do it within the same game, and three, I see it ending in a different place, so we’re going with this.

Anyway, investigation, suspicion, blah, blah, blah... I swear, the fun would be in the investigation, the building mystery, so I’m skipping over the work for the sake of a summary. The end result is that of course the natives killed the team, but the reason is because this is a group of descendants of a prothean subject race. They’d engaged in a revolt, adapted/stolen a colony ship, and flew off into the black, and done this right around the time of the initial stages of the Reaper invasion of the prothean empire – the protheans had bigger fish to fry (or be fried by, depending on how you use the metaphor), and given how proud the protheans are, I can see them covering this up in the name of saving face, both of which allowed these people to escape the notice of the Reapers – systematic destruction or not, finding one lone ship in the depths of space isn’t “needle in a haystack,” it’s “needle in the midwest.” It’d have been one thing if they’d found a planet to establish themselves on right away, but they dove into the black without a clear destination – also use this to emphasize WHY most Council explorations tend to stick to familiar clusters with an established Mass Relay nearby, that space is vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big.

As a detail for this race, I’m gonna include one of my headcanons for the protheans, since, hey, my DLC idea – while the protheans developed their technology around the Mass Relays and such, as the Reapers intended, the tech of their own design, without the influence of external powers, would have more of an organic bent to it, that they were more inclined to “grow” their tech than build it. Like they accepted the Mass Effect as a foundation for their tech, the Citadel as a base, but they weren’t all that happy about it, just never quite getting their own designs really match the designs of “inusannon” technology in effectiveness. So in response, this species turned towards cybernetics (maybe they’re members of the zha’til, to connect them having this knowledge with the tidbits Javik offers in ME3? *shrug* I’ll use them as the name for this species for simplicity’s sake, because that’s less awkward than no name at all, but I’m not married to it being them), to not just give them an edge against the protheans when they came after them, but also to serve as a taunt towards them, a statement of “you fear technology, so we’re going to become the personification of your boogeymen.”

So the survival of these zha’til has been their hidden nature, and they have developed into a pure xenophobic society – no aliens are accepted among them, and, with the appearance of Shepard’s team, they are fully of the belief that there will be those who come after. They can recognize that the appearance of outsiders once means it will happen again. And they will be ready – Shepard’s crew is a boon for them, allowing them access to biologies of not just humans, but asari, turian, krogan, and quarian. They’d prepared for the damage the protheans could do upon finding their retreat, spent fifty thousand years becoming something the protheans would have to fear. Of course, Shepard’s gonna have to ruin it. I can see them trying the ‘we’ll erase the coordinates, put up a warning buoy, ensure no one comes here’ argument, but that’s not flying with these guys, since organic nature tends towards curiosity, and just blanking the system would leave a mystery, one that organics would want to solve, and a warning buoy can malfunction or be ignored – they want total isolation, and, even if the odds are like one in trillions, that’s too high for them, so they’d sooner be the only life in the galaxy.

I’m thinking the solution is in their reliance on their tech, having attained this symbiosis with it that they all are implanted – tech can be hacked, it can malfunction, it can be a vulnerability as much as an asset. Going way back to the start of the involvement of Kaidan, Liara, and Ashley, here’s them all getting to voice their solution, with Ashley going the straightforward route of “they’re a threat, they’ll keep being a threat, they don’t want to change and stop being a threat, I don’t want to commit genocide, but I also want to defend the Alliance, and those options look mutually exclusive right now,” Liara is all “think of what they could offer us, their history is invaluable, they were contemporaries of the protheans, what might they know, and even if we have the ability to wipe out an entire species, that’s an action that can never be undone,” and Kaidan is the middle ground of “the leaders and people we’ve spoken to made a threat, but we can’t call the entire population of this planet genocidal maniacs, surely there must be something we can do to find a reasonable solution.”

It basically comes down to Shepard getting to hack the tech, and then faced with the decision – a) wiping them out by way of effectively setting all their implants to electrify themselves – they’ve shown themselves to be a threat, they have violent intentions towards other life in the galaxy, and nothing indicates that there is any dissent among their population, especially if their implants can allow for like planetary consensus or something, b) shutting down the tech, their greatest threat, as a way to keep most of them alive, but reducing their civilization to like Bronze Age – the Citadel races would certainly be willing to help the zha’til recover, but it’s not like they’d be happy to accept it, or c) use this as the way to force them to come to the table and negotiate in good faith, under the threat of destruction as a result of them using this weapon, give them a chance, with the downside being that they have done nothing to indicate that they deserve this chance, or that the second they develop a workaround, they’ll be back to threatening all alien life.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Letter from the head of a Council-approved research team, investigating the planet, with or without inhabitants.

ME3: Assuming the zha’til survive, a representative is on the Citadel, offering their aid. If they were reduced, they are a significantly smaller War Asset.

Investigations

The Citadel’s Wards house people from across the galaxy, and murder is a common occurrence. When the murder victim is a prominent Alliance politician, however, one whose controversial opinions made him a target for non-humans, the Alliance can only trust one person to investigate on the Citadel – the first human Spectre, Commander Shepard.

Honestly, the Citadel could absolutely support its own game. Just the pieces we get of it from the trilogy and the Citadel DLC tease a massive station that probably has a population higher than some planets. So there’s A LOT to do here (indeed, looking over my notes for this, I have at least one DLC focused entirely on events on the Citadel in each game, and all of them can utilize entirely new areas, so...). And, really, who doesn’t enjoy an old-fashioned ‘whodunnit’ murder mystery?

Obviously, we have more than just the basic mystery happening here, or else we’d just have a standard sidequest, not a full DLC length story. I feel like this needs to go in depth on corruption within Citadel politics – poke around my blog, you’ll find I’m HIGHLY critical of the Council’s handling of the Saren matter, where they appoint a C-Sec officer with a reputation for not playing by the rules as the only investigator of the Eden Prime incident, give him roughly a day to look in to things, (Shepard’s out about sixteen hours, according to Doctor Chakwas, they arrive at the Citadel, get summoned to the Council, and encounter Garrus, at which point the trial is about to start, with no indication that more than hours at most have passed) and then TELL him that his investigation is over, Saren is allowed access to the files of the man he is accused of killing, an eye witness report of Saren’s murder of Nihlus is completely dismissed, while the data file Tali extracts from a geth, which Anderson says upon hearing that he’s never heard of this happening (to say nothing of the quarians’ status among the Citadel races) is deemed “irrefutable evidence”... There’s A LOT that is at best questionable about how the Council handles things. And that’s just sticking with the first game.

So I’d like to pull back some of the veil on Citadel politics, and use that to explore the human-alien friction. Due to Shepard’s rising profile throughout the series, we kinda lose a lot of the big level details of this, and it’s one of those things I like about the Mass Effect universe circa the first game – humanity ISN’T the big kahuna, they’re the latest arrivals, and the rest of the galaxy thinks they’re a bunch of jerks trying to take what they haven’t earned.

Hence where we start – our victim is an Alliance politician, someone who’s got one of those jobs that makes them friends and enemies of the same people. Obviously, this means that there are a lot of people on the Citadel (and outside the Citadel) who would easily be picked up as suspects – again, we’re going an investigative route, to help show off Shepard as a tactician, to show off their brains as well as their brawn.

This is going to lead us first to explore more of the Citadel Tower, the place where the Council and other assorted political figures meet. Udina probably plays a part in things, considering he IS the ambassador at this point, so he’ll probably be talking to Shepard about matters along the way, something of our regular check-in point (plus good to offer him some more characterization and expand him somewhat).

Obviously, with a murder mystery, we investigate through the location, taking us through the Tower and into its deeper structure, to the point that Shepard ends up in the Tower’s basement (or whatever we call the lowest level). Down here, the discovery is that there’s (what else) a conspiracy. Humanity is moving too fast – they’ve only been here for about thirty years and they already have an embassy, are angling for a spot on the Council, how long until they replace all the races who were here first on the Council, make the Citadel humans only?

I feel like we could also get some retroactive elements of Cerberus’s human supremacy in play here, suggest that our victim was being manipulated by them and used to advance their agenda – not just to foreshadow how Cerberus gains prominence in the next game, but also to show that even well-intentioned people are preyed upon by Cerberus’s actions (hello Paragon Shepard). Cerberus didn’t mind using him for their objectives, even if he’s not some pro-human bigot.

Speaking of, let’s tie in Terra Firma a little more into this – they seemed to have some influence in the first game, then drop off the face of the earth, so yeah, let’s throw them in somehow. Like I see that as part of our concluding decision, where the replacement political figure is one of their people, so they seem like the “obvious suspect” red herring – I think by this point we’ve established with these that one of my priorities is worldbuilding, and, again, Terra Firma dropped off the face of the series when it seemed to have developing prominence in the first game.

Anyway, back to the plot. Obviously, Shepard has to do something about this conspiracy. The problem is, of course, while extreme, they represent a dominant view among the Citadel races. And it’s one that has validity to it, humans are demanding more power than any other race in the Citadel’s history (this cycle, anyway, who knows about the previous ones?), and to these races, they are seen as aggressive in that pursuit.

Here’s the thing, and I’ve gone over this in my critiques of the Council before – humans are aggressive about getting more representation because of a handful of things. Number one, humans are out to advance, we recognize that we learn best from making mistakes, while the Citadel races seem to abide by a code of “none shall advance faster than the slowest.” That no advancement is made until all are “capable” of benefiting from it in certain ways, despite how we have the example of multiple species not even being able to compete on a level playing field with races like the asari, the salarians, or the turians – the volus are a client race of the turians, despite having been a part of the galactic community longer. It’s why we see the relative stagnation – the asari discovered the Citadel two thousand years ago, and yet so much of it is still a mystery.

Number two, humans are aggressive because the Citadel races were aggressive to them first. The First Contact War started because Citadel law is that no one shall activate dormant Mass Relays. Thing is, humanity opened Relay-314 at a time that they’d never even heard of the Citadel and its government. So the turians who opened fire first? They were holding humanity to the standards and rules and laws of a governmental body that they didn’t even know existed until the shooting started.

That the turians enforce this law so rigidly, and that the asari and salarians don’t seem to understand how much the asshole it makes them, is the honest source of a lot of the tension between the races in the game.

Like, I vehemently disagree with the racist attitudes of the Terra Firma asshole we meet, but he’s not wrong in pointing out that if you see a kid playing with a matchbook, you take the matches away, but you don’t shoot them for good measure. The turians started the conflict, and you can tell that the Citadel races never acknowledge their responsibility in this – it’s all “humans are so aggressive” without any understanding of why a species whose introduction to the greater galaxy came at a cost of life and involved acts of violence inflicted on them, literally on the basis of information that by definition, they could not have, just MIGHT hold a grudge.

...So, uh, bringing this back around to the topic at hand... This is where we get to the central conflict. Our Terra Firma assholes who are all “Earth first!” have a valid point that the Council and the Citadel races mistreat humanity, and wrap it up in condescending bullshit, so the fact that they’re looking to take some kind of action to do something about this is understandable, even if they’re doing it wrong. The opposition is the conspiracy folks, the ones who murdered the outspoken human, all in the name of protecting their people from perceived human aggression.

And yes, it really does all come down to something that simple, as both sides are right and both sides are wrong, and now someone has to clean up the mess their hostilities have created. I do want this to really come down to something so simple and, on paper, easy to resolve, because when this kind of thing happens in our world, it’s frequently just as on paper simple, but, because of the emotions involved and the personal grudges accumulated, no one is able to take that step back and try to make amends (not saying that as a value judgement, just a fact – sometimes it is appropriate to address the personal grudges, sometimes you need let them go for the greater good).

There’s an interconnectedness to the Citadel races in the course of the series, and this is one of the ways to showcase that, by displaying that both of these peoples need each other in the course of the continuation of this cycle’s civilizations. So Shepard’s ultimate decision is about making a decision, and the hard work is in making them both recognize and acknowledge that they are both wrong – pulling this off right, meaning Shepard found all the ways to make good in-roads with both factions so they’ll listen when they make a big persuasive speech, we have the legitimate grievances acknowledged and at least on course to be redressed (one of the galactic news reports can, if the Alliance fleet is sacrificed to save the Destiny Ascension, say that the turians are considering reparations – maybe with this option, this happens regardless). Pulling it off wrong, Shepard has to side with one faction or the other, leaving tension and hostility remaining unresolved, impacting future relations.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Emails from the sided faction, talking about their political advancement.

ME3: Impact on Citadel politics, affecting the attitude of the populace in the Citadel Defense Force

Old Wounds

Shanxi was the site of the First Contact War. Since then, the human colonists have resisted alien interference and involvement on their world. But things become complicated when a turian effort at reparations ends up as a hostage situation. Naturally, the Alliance has one person they want to send in to help smooth things over – Commander Shepard.

An Ashley focus mission, we’re giving her the spotlight here – consider this something of a proto-loyalty mission, since the game itself didn’t have these. Because Shanxi is a place that means a lot to her and her family, so we’re going to say that she is on this mission. That obviously also limits this to a pre-Virmire position in the plot, because she may not make it off of that planet.

Shanxi is talked about, but it’s never even given a flyby in the games proper, and so we head there. And, especially with the context of the last entry in this list, I feel like there should be some effort to acknowledge that there should be reparations to humanity – like I said there, the turians discovered humans on Shanxi and decided to openly attack them, hold them to laws and rules that they had no way of knowing existed, and then decide that humans are the aggressive ones because of how they respond? Yeah, that’s bullshit.

So we have a situation where a group of turians have this realization and are trying to convince the people of Shanxi of their good intentions. Shanxi is, understandably, reluctant to believe it. Shepard is going in to smooth things over, try and ease the tensions that are inevitably flaring up, and Ashley is, ultimately, conflicted about how to feel about this whole matter – this is Shanxi, Williams are not exactly welcome here. But there is still a feeling of responsibility here all the same, because her family impacted this world and now she’s here to help try to build a bridge. The “hostage situation” of the synopsis will actually take place during the course of events – before that happens, we get a chance to explore Shanxi, learn about the history there.

This seems like a point to bring it up: Ashley’s grandfather surrendering Shanxi, in the name of preventing a massacre, and being branded a traitor for it makes little sense to me. Of course, I get that surrendering looks bad, if you’re only looking at the act, and not the motivation. People were losing their lives, he acted to protect them. The Alliance military being unforgiving assholes is not unbelievable, but the general public going along with it, refusing to have his name cleared, even decades later, is.

So we’re going to have to dig into the reasons for this. People on Shanxi will resent the Williams for the surrender – they wanted to fight to the bitter end, and they passed this along to their kids. The “death before dishonor” crowd think it would have been better to have fought to the last – sent a stronger message to the Citadel about the wrongness of that whole “shoot first, ask questions later, blame the victim for everything” approach. They’re the ones who lead the charge against Williams’ actions, saying he was weak for surrendering to the turians. Meanwhile others are aware that he saved lives.

If anything, this makes things difficult for Ashley. As much as she lives under the specter of her family, she is not quite sure about what life would be like if he’s cleared – even knowing that things would be better, her family not getting shit details and crap assignments, it means getting a new perspective on the future that she never expected and needs to process that.

Core plot is still the hostage situation, one that Shepard ends up being involved in. The hostage takers are a group demanding more for the turians in terms of reparations – they can’t bring back the dead, of course, but the turians aren’t giving enough in their eyes. I don’t know, let’s say that it’s coming across as a perfunctory kind of apology, the “We’re sorry you feel we disrespected you” kind of reaction, which... Yeah, I totally see the turians doing that and the humans calling bullshit.

I mean, yeah, you want more to it than just “we’re angry” and such, because that’s a pretty straightforward mission, but the idea here is as much for exploring Ashley’s character and development over just an outright mission story. This is about her, and we’re going to explore her through this as much as the plot, so the plot can get away with being fairly limited in scope or scale, because this is about the character.

And this means that Ashley needs to have the big moment of resolving the crisis, rather than Shepard. Like, RPG, we’ll say Shepard gets the option to decide who gets that moment, but let’s be real, to culminate her arc in this DLC, it should be her. Bookend the portrayal of her grandfather with her – depending on how Shepard’s interacted with her, with how much digging they did into the history of the place, how they’ve interacted with the people, and it leads to Ashley (or Shepard) being able to talk down the hostage takers, defuse the situation, resolve things peacefully. If they can’t, violence ensues.

Resolution-wise, we’d be looking at the turians being upset and nearly starting conflict all over again because “you humans are too damn aggressive,” “the turians aren’t negotiating in good faith and wish they’d blasted humanity back to the stone age,” blah blah blah. Variation is in how the situation was resolved – peaceful resolution leads to the agreement to try this again later, let hostilities die down a little before trying to fix these long-standing grudges, violent is that the turians walk away, the human diplomats basically going “well, we’ll try this again at some point, hopefully.” And, for Ashley, she’s resolved some of her family’s old ghosts – best case scenario, she’s given Shanxi a different memory of the Williams clan, and can walk away with a tangible note on her record that, regardless of how anyone else might try to creatively reinterpret her record, says that her contribution saved lives.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Email from diplomatic representative about the advancement of the talks over the previous two years.

ME3: If peacefully resolved, a joint human-turian task force is a war asset.

Ascension

The Ascension Project is a home for human biotics. Rumors reach Captain Anderson that there is a biotic extremist group attempting to subvert the teaching and draw them towards pro-human interests, and he asks Commander Shepard to investigate what could be a threat to the human-Citadel alliance.

We had Ashley’s loyalty mission, here’s Kaidan’s. The advancement of human biotics was a running thread through the background of ME1, but sort of fell by the wayside as the series expanded its scope in successive games, so this is a chance to explore that further. And we’re going to do so in part by building on the mission in game that involves Chairman Burns, the Alliance Parliament member who is taken captive by L2 biotics seeking reparations.

Obviously, we see Grissom Academy, the site of the Ascension Project, in ME3, but hey, for one, I like the idea that (retroactively, anyway) this means that Shepard is returning there in the course of the third game, and for two, it’s entirely reasonable to make the Academy large enough to house areas that we just didn’t see in the course of the mission there. Plus we’re seeing it (at least to start) in less of a state of chaos as exists in ME3.

Again, we’re starting lowkey. The idea here is more infiltration first – if extremists are trying to coopt kids’ education, odds are sending in soldiers is gonna tip them off quick and easy. So instead this is going to be framed as an “Alliance biotic recruitment” kind of thing – “The Alliance wants you!” and all that sort. That’s the cover as Shepard’s team heads in. The name of the game here is stealth, that we’re not here to set off alarms, just to ensure that there’s no attempt at subversion of the Alliance’s goals of peaceful coexistence with the Citadel races.

As a sidenote, both this and the Ashley DLC are basically me engaging in retroactively applied stories to further justify why it is that Kaidan and Ashley get the Spectre wings come ME3 – as it is, that kinda feels more like a bone being thrown to humanity in the name of appeasing them with Earth captured by the Reapers, as well as Udina wanting a loyal bodyguard, as opposed to something that their skill and ability has earned them the position. I want some exploration of the skill that justifies them getting that position.

So, yeah, we see the Ascension Project in its glory, causing a bit of a stir of memories for Kaidan, aware that this is more like what he should have experienced at BAaT. He’s glad that there are biotics who are getting to learn about their abilities in a safe environment that isn’t going to treat them like trash – whether or not that’s the military boot camp way, these are kids who have been, by a quirk of fate and chance, given these incredible powers without their consent, they deserve sympathy and understanding regarding their lives abruptly turned upside down, not demands that they show the same level of skill as people who train through their lives to be weapons.

Another investigation story, as we look in on the various teachers, learning more about what the state of affairs with regards to biotics are – if Mass Effect Andromeda is going to say that Cora felt outcasted and isolated because of her biotics, lets at least make this have a tangible feeling of what the actual culture and society she left behind is dealing with, considering that this is something that I’ve seen EVERYONE side-eying at best with her. At least offer it some grounding in the universe so it’s not just her, in effect, whining that she felt alone when we have characters like Kaidan, who killed someone with his biotics as a teenager, and Jack, who was tortured from infancy in an attempt to build a better biotic.

Anyway. The idea is to see more about what the biotics go through, and to better explain what biotics even are to the uninitiated (re: the audience). Biotics are just an accepted part of the universe in the games as is, but these are still a relatively recent thing for humanity, and we don’t really know how people are handling it.

Honestly, I’m kinda inclined to fully lean into a “biotics = homosexuality” metaphor. Like, personal stuff here, that’s one of the things that really... bothers me about the way Cora is handled in Andromeda, that she has this very queercoded story in terms of her self-acceptance, to the point of at one point, in reference to her biotics, saying “what if someone had told me ‘that’s okay’?” about herself. And that’s a line that defines queer narratives, but it is coming out of this cis-straight person’s mouth. So yeah, I’m gonna fix that how I can, since canonically, Kaidan is a bisexual man, and he gets the focus here, and we’re gonna take advantage of this. I may have issues with how BioWare handles their not-straight characters, but since they’re not actually making this, I’m gonna take full advantage.

Oh, right. Plot. Something, something... We get to the overall plot. Of course, we can sway a few people over – these biotic extremists are looking for belonging and acceptance above all. We see things like Major Kyle’s biotic cult, biotics are looking for something that gives them a place, beyond just the military stuff – what happens to the biotic who is a pacifist, where do they fit in when the only place that really seems to accept biotics is the Alliance military? Yeah, sure, these extremists would be testing the idea of “pacifism,” but it’s still the general concept we’re going with.

Like with the above Ashley story, it comes down to Kaidan getting the option to take the lead on this. You know how in the situation in the base game with Chairman Burns, Kaidan will interject about being an L2, like those extremists? Last time I played through, I kinda felt like he should have been more in the lead on that mission, that it should have been his answer to Garrus and Doctor Saleon, or Wrex and the family armor, something like that. So we’re going to have a similar situation here. Like with Ashley above, his ability to talk down the leader of this group depends on how well the player investigated – find the details, talk to the right people, that sort of detective stuff (because I like there being more to gaining experience in games that just combat).

That’s especially meaningful because this particular pro-human person, the one leading these biotic extremists? He worked at BAaT, was one of the people supposedly tasked with watching the situations with the turian biotics who had been brought on. He knew Kaidan. Kaidan knew him. In some ways, because of what happened with Kaidan, that’s why he was inspired to this – letting aliens teach biotics to these children, dictate those terms, WAS abuse, and, in his mind, humans can’t let their children be so violently abused by aliens again.

Kaidan says he dealt with his past in the game proper. But this is still an echo of it, someone who he once knew, worse, someone who cites what happened to him as reason for what he’s doing. Which is why it’s important for Kaidan that he be the one to resolve this. As ever, it can be resolved with words or violence, yay Paragon/Renegade system. For Kaidan, though, it’s just important to see this through and make sure that he has this dealt with.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Email from a class of biotics saved.

ME3: Student saved during the Grissom Academy mission is among the students encountered here, their presence gives a boost to the biotic students war asset

Ruins of Preita

An asari colony world has discovered a prothean archive that could rival those on Mars. Due to the concerns of the Reapers, Commander Shepard and crew go to investigate – and find an empty world, the archaeology team missing. Finding the missing team leads into a world lost to the galaxy for over fifty thousand years – and a threat even the protheans locked away!

So, now we have a Liara loyalty mission story. If you’ve paid any serious attention to my blog over the years, you’re probably having a laugh at my expense here – I’m always complaining about an overfocus on Liara, and yet here I am, adding to her content specifically. Hey, I’m at least playing fair and giving her time alongside Ashley and Kaidan. Hell, that’s why I’m doing this. I gave them time in the sun, and it’s fair that I give her the same.

But yes, I want to explore Liara’s character through the lens of her as an archaeologist, which basically gets a little lip service in the games proper, but ultimately means nothing. She is supposed to be an expert on the protheans and an archaeologist of renown, and yet that gets dumped as her actual profession in ME2, so that she can “be a very good information broker,” which... Not to dismiss her in what is meant to be a focus mission for her, but that ends up being told, rather than shown. Let’s let her play to her strengths.

This is a mission about her getting to flex that muscle. She learns about this archive – actually, thinking about it, let’s say that this was a dig that she had the chance to go on instead of the Therum dig, and chose it instead in the name of it being more isolated (more on that later). With the latest report she’s read about it, she thinks it’ll be an assist to Commander Shepard – if nothing else, the fact that Saren was interested in Eden Prime’s prothean beacon means that a new prothean archive might well be a lure for him, and he might well show up, or have Benezia or one of her agents go there in his stead. It could lead them to Saren, is what she’s using as her justification for telling Shepard to go and check this out.

Obviously it won’t, because game mechanics, but it’s a solid enough reason to get us where we’re going, which is an asari planet. Here’s where we get a chance to see Liara in her element AND see this pushback against her theories. It bugs the hell out of me that Liara says that her theory of the cycle of extinction is dismissed by other asari because of her youth – by framing that dismissal of her peers with having to do purely with her age, it says that in the two thousand years since the asari discovered the Citadel, to say nothing of anything that might have been included in the prothean archive in the Temple of Athame, NO ONE ELSE has put forward the idea of the cycles. That Liara is the first to put those pieces together. In more than two thousand years. And, as things turn out, she is 100% correct about there being a constant cycle of civilization and extinction.

My suspension of disbelief breaks at that. That she and she alone has developed this theory – this theory that is absolutely fact – in two thousand years. Bare minimum, I would have said that she was part of a fringe collection of scientists who just don’t have the evidential support to justify this being the mainstream view. But it’s the canon we have to work with, so, fine. But this disagreement when it comes to theories on the extinction of the protheans would be another point of why Liara didn’t go on this excursion, that these other researchers are those who do not share her beliefs, and, as she believes, that would mean they would shun her.

But it’s important that these researchers not just be strawmen – they may have held opposing views to Liara, that doesn’t mean they would dislike her. In point of fact, one of them has to have considered herself a friend to Liara, for reasons I’ll get in to in a bit. But these are going to be people who are all for the most part entirely likeable and reasonable. They just don’t agree with Liara’s stance.

Or at least, the records and logs they’ve left behind make them entirely likable and appear reasonable. Because, of course the research team is missing when Shepard and team arrive – like research teams in these scenarios are ever able to avoid going missing and being presumed dead.

This sparks a conflict with Liara – she’s glad that they’re able to try and find them, maybe even rescue them, but she’s also guilty because she should have been on this expedition, should have been with them. Liara’s got a tendency to put things on her own shoulders (see her reaction after Thessia, assuming you don’t have Javik/don’t take the interrupt to get them to an accord). Hell, ideally, this would be something done after Noveria and her mother’s death to explore that some – I hate how by the time you try to speak with her about it, she’s already pulling that “I choose to remember Benezia as she was” thing, seeming to either be accepting or repressing what happened, when what happened is that, regardless of the why, her mother is dead, and Shepard pulled the trigger.

So yeah, while this is a mission available at any point after doing Therum, in my mind, it’s best to take this after Noveria for the ability for Liara to lash out at Shepard for not being able to rescue her mother, how do they think that they can save these people, one among them a friend of hers, look at that, it’s another situation where Shepard is going to fail to rescue someone who mattered to her!

That is her breaking point, where she can’t bottle this all up anymore. That, for the sake of the mission, for “the greater good,” she’s bottled up her feelings and anger and resentment and fear, and yet, here and now, she can’t help it, she has to address it. She knows it’s unfair to Shepard – she heard about indoctrination, understands that it was something horrible for Benezia, that Benezia accepted no alternative to death, but people she cares about keep getting caught in the line of fire, all in the name of what, exactly? “The greater good”? “The ends justifying the means”? Chance and circumstance?

Hell, include some elements tying her closer to Ashley and Kaidan at this point – it connects the crew together more for when the Virmire decision hits, considering that this game only has banter in the Citadel elevators, which, given fast travel, is heavily skippable, and competes with news reports. There needs to be more development of the character interactions, so let’s do some character interaction here, if nothing else. (And maybe also include a post-Virmire conversation with her about how SHE feels about the loss of Ashley/Kaidan, yes I’m moving out of the scope of this DLC idea, but it’s good for characterization, dammit!)

Investigation happens, records and logs do the ‘ominous mood building’ thing... The end result is that what happened was that this planet once housed a prothean lab. A bio-engineering lab. They were creating something that (stated ambiguously, since Shepard won’t know about the Reapers properly yet at this point in the timeline) was meant to fight the Reapers, be something that could stand against them and protect the protheans. But by the time that it was done, the war was all but over, the protheans having lost. The protheans never got the chance to let it loose, pulling up stakes from the facility before the Reapers hit it. But as time wore away the tech, this thing they created has gotten loose on its own after a few thousand years. This thing is like the rachni on Noveria, having been grown in isolation – there was nothing else on this planet, it was literally the only kind of life around, even before getting to it being engineered as a weapon above all else. It’s too mad to save, must be put down.

Easier said than done, of course. The archaeological team are contained inside of it (I’m thinking held in some kind of crystal-like stasis pods on its back), and is drawing on them for life, sort of in the same way that Malak used the Jedi captives on the Star Forge in KOTOR, where it taps into them and heals itself based on their life force. So the Paragon/Renegade choice in here revolves around how much effort Shepard’s going to put in to saving the captives. Freeing them before they get used as batteries, probably with Liara using her biotics to rescue those who they manage to get loose (meaning she’s unable to act as support in combat because she’s busy focusing her biotics), or just killing them first – with Liara distracted and unable to provide support, that justifies the Renegade stance, because it’s one less source of firepower against the thing as it tries to either kill them or add them to its collection.

That’s important because that aforementioned friend of hers is going to be rescued either way the player chooses – Liara will insist on getting her out alive, even if Shepard foregoes saving the others. Regardless of the player choice, Liara’s friend survives, and, once the creature is dead, she’ll respond to how Shepard chose to resolve the situation, if she’s the sole survivor or if Shepard made an effort to rescue everyone. She’s grateful for her survival either way, but she’s angry about the failure to save the others if they were abandoned.

For Liara, though, the ultimate result is seeing something of the protheans being knocked off their pedestal – regardless of the reason (which, yes, we know to be extinction by Reapers), they abandoned this creature, left it to be consumed by madness. The point here is seeing Liara have a moment where she grows up – she has to acknowledge the protheans she pictured for the last century were flawed (Partially because it bothers me the way she speaks of the protheans with such rose-colored glasses even by ME3, when she says “it’s clear they prized knowledge, growth, and cooperation with the rest of the galaxy,” even before Javik sends that image crashing – a species who form an empire, whose legacy is memorialized as an empire, is not going to be first and foremost wise scholars). She’s realizing that whatever the reasons were for creating this, whatever caused them to leave it behind, they still did this to an innocent being that they were responsible for. It’s something of her “loss of innocence” moment, considering that Benezia’s death currently doesn’t really provide that (though, again, we ARE also addressing that... Details.)

Her friend is also going to get a few moments with Liara, talking about the archaeology team, and commenting about how Liara’s development has gone. This is a moment for Liara, to really help give her a character arc in the game proper – considering that she can be left on Therum until right before Ilos, she kinda doesn’t have much of one as it is. Also, this gives a chance for Liara to exist outside of Shepard’s world, considering how she bubbles herself into it as the trilogy progresses. This is someone who’s only really in Liara’s orbit, not Shepard’s, and it gives her a little more grounding and existence outside of Shepard.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Letter from Liara’s friend, commenting about how she handled Shepard’s death, expressing concern for her losing direction

ME3: The creature’s remains have been examined, providing a War Asset, if the archaeologists were saved, they provide an additional boost, Liara’s friend has a cameo on the Citadel after Thessia

Incursion

An Alliance space station on the fringe of the Terminus system abruptly goes silent. As the Normandy’s stealth systems can get there without letting any invaders know, as well as Commander Shepard’s skill, Captain Anderson sends them to check on the station. The batarians specifically have been known to be in the area, but there remains the possibility that this is something worse...

Okay, out of the loyalty mission structure and direct character work, back to isolated stories in the setting. So, the frontier of space? I say this as a lover of scifi from a young age: It is TERRIFYING. You are on the edge of all that’s known, and any number of things, things you could never conceive of because they are so outside of your frame of reference, could show up and kill you. A flimsy barrier of glass (or transparent aluminum or whatever material they make those big honking windows out of) is all that separates you from a suffocating death.

Yeah, we’re doing a psychological horror story here. I suppose technically AGAIN, considering the stuff around the disappeared archaeologists in the above DLC idea, but that was as much about Liara as the atmosphere. This is pure paranoia and suspicion.

The inspiration I’m going with here is KOTOR 2’s opening on the Peragus mine. Something happened here, and the people are all dead or missing – a handful of corpses, but, yet again, we’ve got logs to find, and they’ll include people who we can’t identify among the dead. Because that gives motivation to stick around and solve things, rather than just blow the place to hell.

The first guess is that there’s a batarian slave raid happening here. There are indications that the Alliance officers here were thinking this at first, that this was some raid in progress – sure, it wasn’t open violence, but maybe they were softening things up, trying to get on board, lower defenses, and then let the slave ships show up and take everyone left. That’s what their last attempt at an outgoing message suggested, it’s what Shepard and company show up expecting.

But that wasn’t the case. The investigation continues through the station, with Shepard searching for signs of anyone still alive. And as they proceed through the station, there’s something that seems to keep just passing out of view. Something else is here with them.

Again, I’m skimping on the exposition here, just because the investigation is the important part, and that’s hard to develop without a layout of the station itself in front of me, and what and how the narrative has to adapt to the environment, but also because this is a very atmospheric style story, where the focus is in the build up, the mystery, the way to get to the big reveal of just what it is that happened here. In a story like this, the tension in this is built with how many times you think you’re going to have an encounter with “the monster” before you actually do.

This particular “monster,” as it turns out, is some kind of energy creature, something that came to the station from the unknown depths of space, drawn by the station’s power core emissions. All indications are that this is simply some space-born lifeform that evolved naturally, and isn’t like some Reaper weapon or anti-Reaper weapon. Just some non-sapient lifeform, drawn in by the power core (maybe it had been specially modified, to further explain why this station and why now), and ending up killing the inhabitants of it.

The thing about this is that I’m going to emphasize here is that I DON’T want this as some kind of creation of the Reapers or their servants OR something that was cooked up to combat them. This thing is entirely independent of anything to do with Reapers. One of the things that I appreciated with ME1 over the later games was the “lived in” nature of the galaxy, where there were a handful of things shown and revealed in the course of the story that just spoke to there being life and civilization wandering through the galaxy for countless millennia. Life is pretty persistent when given the chance, and there’s surely life that exists in the depths of space that is so completely alien to our understanding that we might not even recognize it as such. This creature is one such example of life but not as we know it.

Obviously, there’s a straight up Paragon/Renegade choice of killing or sparing the creature, finding some way to lure it off and away from the station. I’m also inclined for a neutral option of trying to humanely capture it – it’s a creature unlike anything they know, it could show them so many things about the greater universe in the examination – but I’m not sure I feel like there’s enough room in the series for that kind of variation, given the limitations – this IS meant to be DLC, you know? Or at least, hypothetical DLC. Either way, though, the end result is that there is a boss battle, Shepard having to either kill it or weaken it, the station is cleared of the threat and the Alliance gets to have the station back, with talk of it being repurposed into some kind of early warning system regarding threats from outside Alliance/Citadel space (hint hint, nudge nudge).

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Emails from the new station commander, referring to the reopening of the station and the fate of the creature

ME3: Station as a war asset, exo-biologists as a war asset, how they examine space-faring life in the galaxy and if they can be adapted in some way to resist the Reapers

Evolution

A mercenary contacts the Normandy, claiming to have information regarding Saren. Following this lead, however, proves to open a separate can of worms, as the mercenary reveals their connections to a cult of people who view synthetics as the next step in organic evolution, and, knowing of Saren’s ties to the geth, seek to stop Shepard – or convert them.

So the idea here is to give more attention to something that seemed to be a running plot thread during ME1 and ME2 – machine cultists. The ExoGeni survey team on Trebin got huskified by an unknown artifact, and in ME2, there’s the mine on Aequitas. Yes, technically that hasn’t happened yet, shush. But we observe this in action in the games proper, and no one ever actually acknowledges it beyond the simple immediate reaction.

So what we have here is a merc, trying to contact Shepard, claiming they have info on Saren. No one really believes it – if Saren’s working with geth, he would have no need for the liability of organic agents. Yet they also can’t really ignore the idea either because Saren is why they’re out here (I really intend to take advantage of the idea that the whole party cast comes back for these with a full on mission briefing/discussion to kick this off – sounds like some fun opportunities for character dynamics with them debating the validity of this claim).

The result of going in takes Shepard and team to a planet where, initial impression, something is OFF about this place. It’s a prefab colony in early colonization, and something about how the people act just doesn’t seem right. They seem to be in an almost trance-like state that no one can snap them out of, a fact that immediately puts everyone on edge.

The merc is here (let’s say he’s a turian), and keeps things frustratingly vague until the arrival of a leader of the colony. The kicker with him being that he appears partially huskified (sorta like the Cerberus goon on Mars that Ashley/Kaidan find). Yet he still seems to be able to act seemingly independently. Of course, someone this obviously not-right has made himself a target, but all the people in the colony, including the merc, are all on his side.

Shepard can try to fight out of this, but they’re overwhelmed – there IS an entire colony of people, and there’s still the possibility of getting them free, Shepard has a responsibility to not shoot civilians (no matter what trigger-happy Renegades might think), and the team at least is willing to take that stand.

The explanation is that this is a group of wanna-call-themselves “next phase of organic evolution,” people who believe that they are the future. That’s what got their attention about Saren and Shepard, knowing about how he is working with the geth (it was an open session of the Council when they got made Spectre, after all). They look to Shepard as a potential threat.

When we encounter Machine Cultists in the game proper, they’re too far gone to really give any explanation. The comics seemed to draw on this – in Mass Effect Evolution, Saren’s brother uncovered one on Palaven, the Illusive Man was involved, Saren had to nuke from orbit the location of this device and his brother with it. We’re kinda going into the same territory with this, but, you know, Shepard gets to save the day.

So the merc shows up, trying to explain, offer the sales pitch (i.e.: the carrot), try to convince Shepard that their leader has the right idea, that this is a true joining of organic and synthetic, and that it will avert the “coming apocalypse” (just in case the whole ‘Reaper artifact’ element wasn’t certain for anyone playing). Then the cult leader shows up to offer the threat (i.e.: the stick), the warning that whatever Shepard expects to do, they will not be able to succeed.

For pacing reasons, I think of this as a pre-Virmire thing, so there’s not a direct awareness on Shepard’s part that just being around a Reaper artifact is a cause for Indoctrination, leading to a period of wondering how this happened and assuming it comes from direct interface – this is as much an explanation for why, if the implication is that the cult leader got to interface with a prothean beacon of some kind (actually Reaper, in the same manner as the vision that Object Rho offers in Arrival), they don’t have Shepard try to interact with this one, that they’re afraid of Shepard becoming like these people.

Anyway, jailbreak sequence! Because we can do better than just running a game of Simon in order to get Shepard out of their cell. Shepard finagles a way out of the cell block and to the colony’s science lab (it’s a frontier world, they need a science lab just to stay aware of all the new things they discover here). Among the things there is the record of what happened here, and specifically the existence of the artifact. Leads to a simple solution – blow up the artifact, and see what that does.

Of course, the artifact is guarded in the heart of the colony’s main site. We meet up with the merc again, who’s seeming a little uncomfortable – the indoctrination hasn’t completely taken root in him, and so there’s some question of maybe he can be reached. Paragon/Renegade here about dealing with him – kill him or spare him. That sparing will come back in a short while

Because now there’s the colony leader – the cult leader, effectively, at this point – to deal with. He’s angry about the damage Shepard has done to everything, ranting about plans to bring the glory of evolution to the galaxy. Yeah, he’s round the bend, the device effectively having melted his mind (okay, yeah, I’m getting flashes of Kenson here, but hey, same tech, so it’s not ripping off, it’s continuity!)

After dealing with him, the plan is to blow the artifact sky high. Here’s where the merc comes back into play – he says he’s too far gone, and wants to be the one to push the button on this thing, die with it. It’s his way of having a good death after this. Another Paragon/Renegade choice about his fate before blowing the thing sky high – the colony, unfortunately can’t be saved, anyone not killed getting there dies when the device is blown.

There’s an after action briefing, too, where, because, again, the idea here is that this is pre-Virmire, the crew really discuss the horrors of what “these Reaper machines” can do, and what if they’re not some geth red herring or something.

Basically, my idea here is that this is adding to the atmosphere and mystique of the Reapers, in a way that, with the game proper focused on the concept of advancing the plot, doesn’t get a chance. This is a more traditional feature of building up the menace, by showing the insidious nature of things, having the Reapers’ subtle side at play – we see references of Indoctrination, but we don’t really get the horrors outside of some talk – sure, there are the salarians who are in the Virmire facility, and Benezia’s talk, but it’s all second hand. This is a case where we see the effects spread across the entire colony, which, given resources in the game, is all of a planet we get to encounter, and Shepard and company are the only ones who aren’t, and that can go to the paranoia, where the people surrounding them all are giving off the vibes of being a threat, but they’re not doing anything. What can I say, I am a sucker for a good atmospheric story.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Email about the aftermath of the colony’s destruction, and the research done on the corpses on the effects of Indoctrination

ME3: War asset surrounding Indoctrination research, preliminary anti-Indoctrination tech being introduced around the Catalyst facility, if the merc sacrificed himself, his family offers a boost to turian military morale on the basis of how one of their own resisted (pointedly ignoring Saren)

Relativity

The Mass Relays are the ancient devices that allow faster than light travel throughout the galaxy. The Charon Relay specifically was one that opened the way for humanity to join the races of the Citadel. This only makes a sudden distress call from the Relay all the more urgent, and Admiral Hackett believe that of everyone in the Alliance, Commander Shepard is right for the job.

So the Mass Relays are these massive facilities that are a key point throughout the entire trilogy. Why, exactly, do we never see one up close aside from transition screens? We should totally get to explore one! Like, I realize that it’s never explicitly said if there’s any kind of command station, or if “guarding a Mass Relay” was a ship-based action or if there was actual, physical contact with one, but I’m saying that something of the size of the Relays, even if much of it is a solid object, you maintain SOME sort of command structure within it in order to monitor and examine things. Even if the Reapers have some kind of robotic drones or Keeper analogues running around, doing standard maintenance, I cannot be convinced that there is not SOME areas of the actual Mass Relay that house facilities for organic life to work in. Especially considering the design having the light sources along the hull that we traditionally associate with acting as windows on starships and space stations.

So yeah, this is an adventure taking us into the workings of a Mass Relay proper. The general idea is that there’s a distress call from the Charon Relay, which is something that really worries the Alliance – lose the Charon Relay, humanity loses their connection to the galaxy at large. And the Alliance doesn’t want the Citadel to know about this, at least not right away – if something is impacting how the Relays function, the Council is going to demand getting involved, and the Alliance DEFINITELY doesn’t want to give the non-human races a free pass into humanity’s home system, so they’re calling on Shepard.

Also part of the novelty of this is that I kinda want to have the chance to explore what it’s like for those who are not exploring the stars in this setting – the Mass Relay’s crew is alive and intact and interactable. This isn’t one of the many cases of showing up too late to be able to properly save people (I’m looking mostly at ME2 on this count, even before we add in the above and below of my own creation).

Head of the team on the Relay is an engineer, not a soldier (pulling a name out of hat for them in the name of simplicity in this write up... Let’s go with Sarah Manning, just because my Orphan Black DVDs happen to be right next to me as I’m writing this and it offers as good as a placeholder as any – feel free to picture Tatiana Maslany as this character if you so choose, though, by the rules of this series, in an ideal world, this would have been DLC produced for ME1 in 2007, so this character would probably be at least a decade, probably more, older than she would have been at the time, oh no, I’ve gone cross-eyed...). She’s not just concerned about the Council finding out – not that she’s a Terra Firma type, just that she has Earth related pride and considers the Charon Relay humanity’s, and, on a personal level, HERS, given her responsibility for it – but also the lives on board. She wants to protect and preserve as many lives as she can.

The interior of the facility is a mix of reasonably sensical designs, in the areas meant for humanoid habitation, and something far more Eldritch abomination-y when we start moving out of those areas. And, you know, we pretty much HAVE to move out of them as time goes on, since that’s like half of the fun of this concept.

But we start in the more familiar areas, where everything seems normal. Except the people are missing (yes, I know I’m relying on this concept a lot, but it’s good as an in universe mystery and out of universe programming so that the game doesn’t have to account for like a dozen NPCs to fill space). In this instance, the distress signal itself indicates that the Relay’s station commander had ordered their people to a designated safe zone within the Relay’s structure, which is where Shepard will need to head to uncover things. Sarah’s staying in the control area, trying to ensure that nothing else goes wrong.

At some point in the midst of this, I do want the question of if the Relay will be/has to be destroyed to come up, better establish the idea that will come up in Arrival of the destruction of Relay in the game proper.

The exploration takes Shepard into the Eldritch-y areas, which, sadly, because I am a wordsmith and not a picture kind of person, I can really only describe as messing with perception and going all Escher in the design. Basically, the idea is to present the interior and heart of the Relays as being these massively complex and complicated machines that function on a level not really human (or, in the case of the non-human races in the game besides the Reapers, human adjacent). Because, first of all, this is faster than light travel, which means this is this is this franchise’s handwave for how anything happens on multiple planets and is dealt with in (in-universe) real time, and second, Sovereign talked about a level of existence beyond our own and such. This leans into that kind of concept – yeah, sure, we may have the Reapers be shown as effectively fundamentally understandable, but let’s at least justify the hype a little, huh?

The big idea here is that we’re kinda throwing back to the puzzle style of play that you used to see in computer games in like the nineties. That’s why perspective is going to be a part of this. Basically, the engineers on the Relay found something that tripped the security systems, sort of “unhinging” standard reality around them, getting them lost in the various extra layers (dimensions?) that the Relay works in.

I don’t really know if I see any kind of real boss or major decision here, because this is basically about the gimmick over anything else – Mass Effect isn’t a bad place for a gimmicky throwback, right? Maybe... Ah, something’s clicking here for me – the guy responsible for all of this happening in the first place. He was trying to access an archive – he initially thought it was prothean, but he’s been able to realize that this is much older. He wants to get this information, and is the last one we rescue. The issue is that it’s going to be a choice – rescue this guy and lose the archive, or save the archive and he dies. Like, I’m thinking that there’s some kind of rip or maybe a miniature black hole that’s sucking in the both of them and Shepard can only save one. That’s a solid Paragon/Renegade choice, especially since I could see arguments for both.

Anyway, once the crew’s all rescued and the choice made, Manning gets back to Shepard and says that this is about to get slapped with a security clearance so high she’d “probably have to kill [herself] just for remembering [she has] it” (because yes, I want that as an actual quote), and recommends that they get off the Relay before any superior officers show up to rake them over the coals for their involvement – Shepard’s a busy person, doesn’t need to get bogged down in the red tape that’s sure to come.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Email from Manning regarding the Relay’s subsequent stability

ME3: Manning’s team as a war asset/the archive being tapped for Crucible data and information on the Reapers (mutually exclusive – the team will have disbanded after the loss of the one member if the archive was recovered)

Planet of Peace

An attempt at colonizing a planet, with the aid of all Council races, in an effort at fostering galactic peace, sounded great on paper. The diplomats jumped on the opportunity. The reality has been... less than stellar. Considering the first human Spectre a bridge between races, the Council asks Commander Shepard to try and help smooth over relations.

Frankly, while I understand the focus on the threat of the Reapers, honestly, this seems like a legitimate issue that would be an instant demand for the first human Spectre. And, given the tension and hostility between the races (even beyond humanity against everyone else), it seems like a natural fit, in all honesty. Because it does seem like all the canonical colony worlds always start as one species attempting to tame a single world, rather than taking advantage of the unifying effort of the galactic community.

At the forefront of this colony is the retired human ambassador to the Council, Ambassador Goyle (Anderson mentions her when talking about his candidacy for the Spectres and we see her in the first of Alec Ryder’s memories, now we get to make her a character we get to interact with). This was her passion project specifically, thinking that all races had something that they could offer one another and need to come together.

Basically, she’s underscoring what I like to think of as a core concept of the series, being stronger together than separately.

But, of course, there are tensions. I mean, not even just because we wouldn’t have a plot without it. She is concerned that there might be some extremists getting involved – aren’t there always? When things are tense, some idiot’s always going to come along, see the stacks of dynamite, and decide to light a match. She is specifically asking that Shepard come to help resolve some issues, using their symbolism. Her request is fully aware of this being an exercise in flag waving, but it’s an important bit of flag waving – doing this here can make the galactic community a more stable place.

Bringing back in the element of having the cast back for these, I want to include quite a bit of companion content in this one, including something like how Dragon Age 2’s Mark of the Assassin DLC had a short companion quest for everyone. On a planet that’s a melting pot of the various races that make up the Citadel species, there’s going to be something for everyone here somehow. I don’t know what specifically right now – these write ups focus on the main plot, not the sidequests. But these are things that are there.

As for what is happening on the planet, on the small scale, there’s your standard culture clash brushfires, things that seem small and petty, but have accumulated for the people involved because they’re in such close proximity. But there is a strong Terra Firma presence as well, the “Earth for humans!” type, in addition to similar groups among the traditional Citadel races – this is still only a handful of decades past humanity’s entry, and as we’ve discussed before, the arrival of humanity has made things much more chaotic than they were before, and there’s more than a little resentment among the non-human races for humanity’s attitude and approach to things coming across almost as if they’re demanding more, without anyone Citadel side acknowledging that First Contact was a shit show of THEIR making (scroll back up and see Investigations for more on that...)

But the larger scale conflict is a group out to make sure that this planet fails in its mission and goal, drive a wedge between factions. I’m thinking of going the Star Trek VI route on this, that this group is an ironic banding of humans and non-humans, determined to see peace fall apart at the cost of allying with their supposed enemies, and using “look at how easily they turned on their own to stop this!” as a justification for their own hypocrisy.

Going with the Star Trek VI reference, this group is gearing up for an assassination attempt on Ambassador Goyle herself, believing that stopping her will stop the advancement of this idea. Now, Commander Shepard HAS to save her, we’re not doing the question of “can they stop it in time?” but, for all those pro-humanity xenophobic “Cerberus was right all along!” types, the response of Shepard will be to either name the conspirators and why or utilize their designated fall guy.

BUT WAIT! That’s not the end of this one. See, we’re also going to get an aftermath – the results of this will impact how the population react, and there’s a second story mission that requires a plot progression to access.

Returning to this planet (I feel like it would get some ambitious name like “Hope” or something, but I think it’s kinda provincial for the planet to carry a human name, so...), things are even tenser than before. We get to actively see how the fallout is impacting things, with people drawing lines based on the earlier assassination attempt. This is a lot like how the turian weapons merchant on the Citadel in ME2 will respond differently based on how Shepard resolved ME1 – side with one faction in the first part, their supporters approve of you and their opposites are angry with you, and vice versa.

Goyle appreciates Shepard’s return, because she’s seeing the place beginning to collapse. She’s feeling ready to throw in the towel because of how poorly things are going. Still, until the place closes its doors, she’s going to stand up and act like the leader she’s here to be. Shepard saved her life, she’s going to commit it to preserving this colony. But she wants Shepard’s help all the same, because they can leverage that heroism to helping put things here right.

Of course, here’s where we get to the big finale choice – are you going to strengthen this colony or break it? And sure, it seems straightforward on the idea of what’s good and what’s bad, but here’s the thing that the overall narrative develops through investigation – the Alliance and the Citadel need to allocate their resources. Part of the reason that the sanctioned colonies tend to be dominated by one species or another is a matter of need – when you have a primarily human/asari population, you’ll have to import in resources for turians, things like that – even if they’re trying to grow them on their own, they probably need to import like soil for nutrients and such.

And that not only gets costly, that can divert resources that are more greatly in need. In the long term, this could tie up resources that are needed elsewhere. In the short term, if trying to make these disparate races and cultures work together and play nice is taking up this much time and effort, isn’t it possible, isn’t it plausible, that there are better things to be doing with those resources?

So, do we try and heal the divide and potentially tie up resources in what has been an uphill climb from the start, and right before the Reaper War begins (for all you forward thinkers reading this), or do we cut our losses and focus on making these types of cross-species initiatives at a later point in time? That’s the Paragon/Renegade choice here.

The resolution comes and Ambassador Goyle will be either thankful for the effort or resigned that her great initiative isn’t going forward. Regardless of Shepard’s actions, she’s thankful that they at least made an attempt – she isn’t going to see them as failing if they opted to cut the losses, but herself.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Letter either from Ambassador Goyle, reporting on the colony, or a news service announcement of her having further withdrawn from the public eye after the colony’s failure.

ME3: For Paragon choice, there’s a decrease in dextro-food reserves, given the colony’s need, but an increase in interspecies morale, with efforts to incorporate multi-species crews underway, and vice versa for the Renegade

Daedalus Station

A space station on the fringe of Citadel space sends out a distress call. When the Normandy arrives, however, no one there claims responsibility for it. Yet the station is in a spiral, a path that will, slowly but steadily, lead the station directly into a sun. Commander Shepard attempts to save everyone aboard from the inevitable death, and discover why they seem unfazed at the idea.

Okay, let’s just acknowledge first, yes, I’m aware that the synopsis sounds not just like a rip off of the first mission of Leviathan but also “Incursion” above. I’m aware. Look, the synopsis is a short brief, not the full details, okay? Strictly speaking, it’s more in line with the events of Leviathan, certainly, but I want to at least acknowledge that I’m aware that there are similarities. Okay, they’re there, LET’S MOVE ON.

Anyway. Distress call, brings in the Normandy. Station is obviously in a death spiral. The moment that Shepard and company board the station, everyone is going about their routine. Obviously, something’s a touch screwy about this set up. Another investigation must ensue.

Of course, as we’ve established, details of the investigations are not where my expansions really shine – it’s easy to stretch out a discovery of this sort, with development A leading to clue B and making revelation C... Yadda, yadda. I’m about the what of these things, not the how.

The ultimate thing about this is twofold. Part one is that this is basically going to be an introduction to the concept of Indoctrination – someone discovered a Reaper artifact, and is trying to adapt it to their benefit. Because frankly, the idea that someone wouldn’t try and take Indoctrination for themselves... Yeah, let’s be real here. Someone WOULD.

Obviously, since we’re still in game one and the Reapers are still mostly a mystery at this point in time, there’s the question of what this is. But, hey, it’s still something that should have happened, and this is the time when there’s the most mystery and least immediate “oh shit, this will horribly backfire if we don’t just straight up blow this up now” reactions.

So, our villain. They’re gonna spiral into insanity (thematic mirroring – as the station enters the death spiral, they spiral into madness), so we’re not going to push too much on making them seem sympathetic, in the traditional sense. Honestly, in writing this, I’m kinda getting parallels to your average dangerous incel aspiring mass shooter, so we’re gonna go with that, someone who perceived themselves as more isolated and alone than they were – the investigation will have us find private journals from other crew pre-artifact that mention him, usually in the fashion of ‘he doesn’t talk much, but doesn’t seem that bad’ kind of messages. Meanwhile, his own talk about the others has a more downcast approach, that he knows they’re not interested in hearing about him, etc. etc.

You know, this is the kind of person who, upon getting the ability to manipulate minds is basically doing it in an effort to bolster his own self-esteem, turning people who were once a little sharp with him one time into his whipping boys, and making himself the king of this little hill.

The problem of his plan? The mental degradation. The last of those to fall under his sway sent out the automated distress beacon, and knew that there was a danger in this guy leaving – but they also couldn’t be sure that their efforts would be successful. It’s a case of the distress beacon being a double-edged sword – can their rescuers save them, stop this guy, or will they fall under his sway as well? But there’s no other solution. They set the collision course (and yes, I’m aware that this is happening on a space station, hey, the pilot episode of DS9 showed that the station could travel through maneuvering thrusters and such – the idea is that they wanted to find a way to destroy the station), and then destroyed the controls so it couldn’t be undone, and disabled the alerts so that the station wouldn’t alert anyone, setting it up to make it that the station’s sensors all seem to send the green light to the rest of the station – the false data would hopefully prevent the station crew from noticing.

Yes, of course I want there to be an apocalyptic log, why would I deny that BioWare staple?

Another thing that I want to do here is kinda retroactively at least make it a part of the universe that Shepard is resistant to the efforts of Reaper Indoctrination. The idea I’m going with is that some of the scrambling of Shepard’s brain (which, sidenote, I also want to take some time in this and call out the fact that it’s a PLOT POINT that Shepard’s brain gets messed with repeatedly throughout this game and no one thinks that might actually be a questionable matter – if a key point of this DLC is “dude, you’re messing with people’s minds, that’s rather unambiguously Not A Good Thing To Do,” then it’s an elephant in the room to not bring up that this is what’s happening with Shepard) has made them more resistant to these effects, though that probably means justifying this as having a watered down effect so that the companions are feeling the tug to fall under our villain’s thrall.

That’s basically where I picture the boss battle going, that Shepard has to fight against one of their companions, who has been compelled to be this guy’s defender against them. I’d say both companions, but that might be a little much, in particular on lower difficulties. So I’m going to say that Shepard can knock out one of their companions before they fall under the sway of the big bad’s influence, but the other escapes. I feel like there could be ways to offset the difficulties of this by way of like finding objects that counteract the signal or whatever, but the idea is Shepard versus companion. While it obviously has to end non-lethally, I feel like this is the kind of thing that is morbidly fascinating to see in just about everyone’s book. I’d also figure that it would depend on a handful of variables that make them resist more or less (because the game should reward investigation, right?)

When that’s completed (I figure it ends with Shepard destroying the controller artifact), it’s time to deal with the station about to be caught in the sun – the station’s going to be locked in a death spiral, but the people of the station can now evacuate. Which leaves the person responsible. On the Paragon side, Shepard is not judge, jury, and executioner, this guy should be given a fair trial. On the Renegade side, he’s a dick who took over people’s minds with no remorse on the matter. Whatever decision Shepard goes with, the station’s population will abide by – they probably want him dead anyway, right?

Aftermath does come into play, with a conversation with the companion Shepard fought against, because, especially if they’re a romance, that’s gotta mess with their heads. Also some general discussion of the artifact itself – obviously, while I expect a variation in the event this is played after Virmire, my idea of this is that it happens some time before it, so things like Wrex and Ashley/Kaidan’s deaths (or possible death) are variation options, this is basically something that I feel can influence matters – if Shepard and Wrex have already fought, for example, I feel like that would earn them enough influence come Virmire for Wrex to stand down there, it’s got parallels/foreshadowing... That kind of emotional work.

Also there’s some consideration about that artifact – once a technology exists, putting that genie back in the bottle is nigh impossible, so now it’s known that you can use this tech to control minds, someone’s sure to try and take advantage of this tech somewhere down the line – Shepard and company will discuss what kind of precautions can and should be taken about these kinds of developments in the future (hint hint, Cerberus/Illusive Man, hint hint).

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Letter from a station survivor, variation on the matter of how the responsible party was dealt with.

ME3: Efforts have been undertaken to block Indoctrination tech, based on the information that Shepard gathered on the station.

Fleet Crisis

With the concerns of Saren and the geth rising, Admirals Hackett and Anderson want to get a chance to upgrade the defenses at the heart of the Alliance. Arcturus Station, home to the Alliance government, is housing a defense meeting, and Commander Shepard is being recalled to speak at it. The Alliance may be facing another crisis, however...

(Two plot planets completed)

We have very little actual Alliance elements involved in the game, did you ever notice that? Like, there’s Admiral Anderson and Admiral Hackett, and we get the inspection tour thing from Admiral Mikhailovich, but other than that, we really are not given much about the Alliance proper. So the idea here for us to go to Arcturus Station and actually encounter the Alliance government proper. We only ever properly encounter the Citadel Council, not the government that technically, Shepard is under the authority of. The closest we ever come is the (rather useless) Defense Committee at the start of ME3.

So yeah, we’re going to the home of the Alliance proper, and seeing the Fifth Fleet – like my first time playing the game, I had no real concept of the Fifth Fleet until it shows up at the endgame. I kinda would like more foreshadowing, more textual acknowledgement of the fleet that is the reason why we end the game as we do. Like, we get to do a fleet flyby in the process, allowing us to see the size of the fleet and talk about what makes the human fleets different from those of the other races. Although the Citadel races do have their bullshit reasons for distrusting humanity, the fact that humanity has this massive force is a reasonable excuse for the behavior.

I also see this as a very different style DLC. As it is, we got one DLC that was basically a shooting gallery, so here, we’re in the opposite direction, where combat is taking almost a total backseat to dialogue – I mean you have a dialogue system like Mass Effect, where every line gets voiced, you would think that would imply that there’s a lot of faith in the writing, wouldn’t you think? And, the whole beauty of DLC in general usually is the fact that everything’s option – if you’re really all shooty-shooty bang-bang, you don’t HAVE to do this. But the whole series paints Shepard as this inspirational figure, and their oratory skills should be on full display as much as their ability to fire a gun.

I’m also kinda anti-“going to Alliance vessels and the in universe equivalent of the House/Senate halls/White House combined and freely shoot up the place,” just on principle.

Anyway, here we are, visiting the heart of Alliance space. We honestly really should have more of an idea of what humanity has accomplished in the universe. Arcturus Station, the home of Alliance government. This is a big deal for the crew, of course – it’s getting invited to speak at the Senate in Washington DC. For the various non-humans, it’s a big deal as well.

Now, of course, in the heart of Alliance government, the involvement of a bunch of non-humans is going to be considered questionable at best. I won’t go straight to “you can’t use any companions other that Ashley and Kaidan,” but there is going to be more of a sense of observation from the other Alliance officers and officials when the non-humans are in the party.

The first thing to note about this is that Shepard’s position as Spectre has made them a combination of being a political tool for humanity’s better advancement, but (as evidenced by Mikhailovich’s ranting) some are concerned that Shepard may be – intentionally or not – turned into a pure Council flunky and only doing the work that they approve, regardless of acting in humanity’s benefit.

That’s part of the reason Shepard’s even here – their position is getting humanity’s foot in the door with the Spectres, but this is creating a conflict in various corners, wondering about where their allegiance will be if pressed. Admiral Hackett is, of course, speaking in Shepard’s favor, but just because they have the approval of Hackett and Anderson, there’s still concern among the brass.

This is going to start out seeming very low-key – we’re in the heart of Alliance territory, who would be foolish enough to come along and mess with anyone or anything here, right? So a lot of initial tone-setting, discussion and debate – the first half is a debate sequence, with Paragon/Renegade points abound as Shepard discusses with the various Alliance officials what they’re doing as a Spectre. That culminates in Shepard’s oratory really getting to stretch as they approach the seat of governing for the Alliance, and all those earlier discussions start to add up to how their performance is among the bigwigs – if you talked up human dominance in the one-on-ones, then talk peaceful coexistence, for example, you get called on it.

After Shepard’s speech is over, that’s where we start to see the real fractures starting to take place. We’re not quite at ‘military coup’ levels (let’s leave SOME plot elements for the later games, huh?), but there’s clear dissatisfaction, that Shepard’s words have only fanned flames for – regardless of the way their speech went down, there are some among the fleet, admirals and other high ranking officers who were involved in the First Contact War and just don’t like how the Alliance is handling things.

It’s not a coup, but it is, in effect, breaking away from the Alliance to set up an independent nation, separate from both the Alliance and the Citadel. It’s still in its earliest stages, of course, but it’s easy to see how it might well turn hostile to both – it’s got several military figures from the Alliance leaving, meaning a vulnerable gap for the Alliance military, and it’s got lingering hostility for the Citadel races (turians in particular, but let’s also not forget that the asari, the famed diplomats of the Citadel, seem to have never picked up on the fact that the human resentment towards aliens comes from the fact that an alien government came along and tried to impose their rules on an unaligned species as humanity’s introduction to the greater galaxy – they are complicit here).

Shepard’s task becomes trying to prevent this offshoot from happening. These are orders being cut by President Shastri himself (let’s make this major Alliance figure a presence we actually feel in the series, huh?), with Hackett’s blessing – meaning if things devolve into a shoot out (which will be possible), Shepard will not be held liable for the deaths of several Alliance military figures, that the record will show that they were acting in the interests of the Alliance in response to an imminent threat of potential armed conflict, even a human civil war. No one wants it to come to that, but it’s also going to be one of the most likely outcomes in the minds of those involved – even if Shepard weren’t a Spectre, if someone of their rank and stature on the galactic stage gets involved, it’s because diplomacy isn’t working.

So there’s another segment of trying to sway the people involved. Shepard will have the choice of approached armed or unarmed (like I said, I dislike the idea of a shootout, but I feel like Shepard’s in a position both to be legally entitled to wear weapons in this situation AND uncomfortable going in without any weaponry), which will feed into the metric of how well their argument is received. Because it’s a mechanic so good, we’re using it twice! (Okay, really, it’s because “dialogue” is the gimmick of this idea, but shush.)

Anyway, the various ‘points’ accumulate to the ultimate confrontation with the heads of this group planning this splintering. Shepard’s arguments are going to be along the line of (to summarize) “you’ll only weaken the Alliance, that can’t be your goal,” “if you have problems, work within in the systems and listen to both sides of things,” “put this aside or else,” or “I support your efforts, but this isn’t the time.” Yes, I’m going with four paths for this, the dialogue wheel does offer that, and I want Paragon/Renegade options for each of these. Like you basically pick a path at the start and argue from that position. Depending on the “points” accumulated through dialogue (and probably a handful of sidequests) in the lead to this debate), it will come to either a peaceful resolution or Shepard pulling out their gun on a handful of high-ranking Alliance officers, ready and able to pull the trigger.

While shooting them isn’t an ideal solution, it can bring the others back into line. It’s just going to cause resentment within the Alliance itself – threat or no, these were respected figures among the Alliance. Meanwhile, folding them back in is an ideal solution, but it still means the resentment lingers, because Shepard’s only delayed the boiling over, not prevented it. There’s still tension in the Alliance because this was about issues that can’t be solved with a few words, especially when this was about the involvement and actions of the Citadel. Shepard might be a Spectre, but whether or not they’ve affirmed themselves as giving the Alliance its due, they’re now wrapped up in those politics.

The curveball in things is that last one, Shepard suggesting that they should wait on this issue. I think it’s a valid possibility among the various permutations of the decision point, to have Shepard support them, especially given that ME1’s Renegade Shepard could be a pro-human asshole, but, considering that this is DLC, and particularly DLC that, by my self-imposed rule, cannot change the base game’s story (because if I could do that, I might as well be rewriting all the games in this instead of just created additional content, and this is all hypothetical to begin with), we can’t introduce some new faction into the galaxy, especially an optional one. So the idea here is that Shepard is supporting it, but saying that they can’t make this A Thing right now.

There is an aftermath discussion with President Shastri as well, discussing implications for the future. I also figure that the companions should have a lot to offer in both the aftermath and the core interactions – again, I see Ashley and Kaidan as greatly recommended for this story, and the Alliance officers should have a lot to add, including conversations in the midst of the crisis.

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Email from Shastri as an update of the tension in the Alliance – it’s also something that should be impacted by the decision of the Council at the end of ME1

ME3: Tensions between Alliance and Council forces are impacted by the outcome – if they were swayed by persuasion to rejoin the Alliance, there’s actually a bump in assets, as well as the Alliance bigwigs being a tactical resource, while there’s a decrease in cooperation if the bad blood was fostered.

The Clean Up

The Battle of the Citadel is over, but even if the geth and Sovereign have been defeated, there is a lot left for Commander Shepard and the crew of the Normandy to do. Investigating the damage done to the Citadel leads to a possible lead on the Reapers. In the wake of the battle, Commander Shepard and company set out to chase it down...

(Post-Game)

So, as I said in the KOTOR editions, we’re adding a Post-Game to ME1 (since this is all hypothetical to begin with, so we’re going to make that alteration to the mechanics), pretty much solely because I want to do some development of the aftermath of the game, as well as do some retroactive set up for Mass Effect 2. Because I don’t think there was a lot of emotional wrap up to the characters at the time. I will grant that we’ve got an awkward period of time between the games here, but, hey, we’ve got enough wiggle room I think to lead in to the opening of ME2

Basically, we can start in what’s basically the immediate aftermath – Shepard’s now out of their recovery, is looking to get back in the game. But, with the Council either still reacting to the events of the Battle of the Citadel or still needing to be reassembled, there’s really not any particular indication of what to be doing. This is some mood setting, looking at the rebuilding effort, how the Citadel was impacted and seeing the response of people to the attack – some are still shaken, mourning their loved ones lost in the attack, hoping for the lost to be found safe, and all that sort. Others are angry about the attack, and the ultimate approach to it seems to basically be blaming everyone, and Shepard in particular since they’re there, for the failure to protect those on the Citadel – and yes, we absolutely get to call out this bullshit for what it is, because Shepard tried, but the Citadel itself is something of a complacency trap, and even if the politics weren’t a distraction, the fact that the Citadel itself remains aloof is an actual problem

Anderson speaks with Shepard, regarding the geth that are still out there in the Traverse, and the need to deal with them before they put more human colonies in danger. The bigwigs are already trying to downplay the Reapers – Anderson basically tells Shepard that they need to go out, find proof of something that ties back to the Reapers or the Council will likely turn around and make this all about the geth and call it over (uh, yeah, Shepard, about that...).

The lead involved is going to be heading out to the border of geth space, which is also the line of what used to be quarian territory. This is convenient for Tali, who wants to return to the flotilla now that Saren has been dealt with. There’s a trading outpost that will be out there that will give her the opportunity to get a ride back to the Migrant Fleet (because, despite a couple of references, I have never believed that Tali lingered too long on the Normandy – either she has to get her data on the geth back to them, or she has to discover an alternative). Because part of this is also going to be the “characters splitting apart” stuff as set up for ME2. Tali’s going to assist through this branch of the mission, but she will want to come back here before the Normandy returns to Citadel space proper.

The trading outpost is Omega-esque, something of “the poor man’s Omega,” again, setting that up for ME2 (we’re doing a lot of world-building patches here, okay?) The citizens here don’t care about the Alliance and they’re not all that concerned about Spectres, either. This is not a friendly place and will not just accept the appearance of anyone with the supposed authority that Shepard is representing.

This is kind of an introduction to ME2’s merc gangs – ME1 seems to play the systems of the Terminus to have their own government, species not represented among the Citadel races, and just this general atmosphere of the Terminus being more developed than it ends up being when we actually go there (which, yeah, that’s how writing and developing and world-building goes, but we’re here to smooth things over). I’m leaning towards not having the big three on Omega be all that represented here, considering that, lawless border or not, this is not really a place where they care enough to expand their influence. But they should at least be mentioned and referenced as the big dogs of the pack, that the gangs that jockey for power here want to take them on. Probably some poaching of members (through recruitment or snipers) from those gangs that make their numbers never get to where they might pose a threat.

Anyway. What needs to be done here is find out where Saren discovered Sovereign – that’s the idea we’re going with in trying to track down evidence of the Reapers. Sovereign had to be hiding out somewhere, you don’t just stumble across something like that. Considering this is one of the last places you’d expect to be able to find a Spectre, especially a Spectre who is one of the Council’s top operatives, it’s a decent enough starting point for us as the audience – we’ll say that there are records that Saren was out here shortly before the Eden Prime mission and such, explaining why we’re starting here.

Garrus is also going to have a realization about the merc gangs, about the horrible things they’re inflicting on the people who are living here, and being infuriated at the injustice allowed to happen – the effective attitude of the officials here are basically ‘look, unless the merc gangs come after us, we don’t care.’ This is going to dig under his skin (plates... you know what I mean), lead him to why he ultimately breaks with C-Sec, despite Shepard being able to lead him to a better understanding of the rules and regs – he understands the need for them, but sees them being used and abused to allows these injustices to continue, that it becomes a personal mission to see ‘justice’ and ‘law’ be synonymous.

As for the plot, yes, we’re getting there. This does, of course, lead to a shoot-out with a major gang force here, some people who are indoctrinated spies (because, hey, we’re looking for evidence of Reapers). They were left behind as part of Saren’s contingency plans, meant to stop anyone hunting for him – it’s just that the investigation that Shepard went on in the base game didn’t send them here. Even with Saren and Sovereign dead, they’re still here, still indoctrinated – a reminder that this is a permanent thing, a devastating thing, because there’s no way to take the Reaper compulsion away. But this leads to learning about a place that Saren ventured to from here, a place wracked with dangerous phenomenon. The only way to get there is with a crack pilot – which, fortunately, Normandy has.

There’s a brief pause from plot for some further expansion with the others – Wrex has been contemplating the krogan, given what went down on Virmire. His people are dying out, maybe not in the way we traditionally think of it, but still in practice. What is there for the krogan but to be used and abused by the Sarens of the universe, so long as all they care about is getting offworld and fighting and dying, usually being pit against one another as the proxies for stupid, pointless conflicts. It’s not right, and it’s beginning to eat at him.

And then there’s Ashley/Kaidan. Given the events of Virmire, both of them are thinking about the family that was left behind – Ashley’s sisters lost one of their central figures, Kaidan’s family lost their only son. They both are trying to write a letter of condolence to their counterpart’s loved ones (and specifically asking Shepard about the one they should be writing), trying to figure how they can make it better that they were saved at the other’s expense. It’s a complicated matter, and I want to just explore, even retroactively, how these two were friends, were close, potentially (if Shepard shuts down a romance with both of them) starting to come together. Just a bit that not only reestablishes the friendship and emphasizes that the fallen character is not forgotten, plus giving more context to how they’ll say that they and Shepard got through the other’s death together in ME3

This is a point for some romance content, which, I realize I have yet to bring up Liara’s character bit for this – don’t worry, it’s coming. But we do pause for some smoochies.

Anyway. The Normandy arrives in the hazardous area and we get a team meeting – remember how back in the first of these outlines, I brought up wanting to give more for Pressley? I haven’t directly mentioned him much since, but here’s a place to feature him, in the same way that the landing on Ilos does, showing him having a greater involvement in the strategy and such. Team Shepard needs to figure out if there even is a place to investigate within this area. There are sensor ghosts that might be something that they could land on and investigate, though it’s too small for a Mako mission (I may love that tank, but I feel like its final ride being the trip through the Ilos Relay is poetic and I’m not going to mess with that). Joker gets his moment of putting the Normandy through her paces (which is also going to add to the pain of her loss in ME2’s prologue, that she could pull this off, but couldn’t out-fly the Collector ship).

They detect something with a similar energy signature to the prothean beacons on an asteroid large enough to land on, which makes it reasonable for Liara to go with – take the prothean expert to a place that could hold more information on the protheans. She’s nervous because of the confirmation of the Reapers has just made things really real for her – this is facing the same thing that destroyed the protheans, and how can they stand against them, given the protheans’ advanced nature?

Let’s also take a moment and, given the indoctrinated nature of the mercs who attacked back on the outpost, to have some follow-up for Benezia’s death – I may only be speaking for myself, but it has NEVER sat right that Liara’s response to that is to simply go “I choose to remember Benezia as she was,” given that Shepard was, regardless of their reluctance, responsible for the actual bullet that ended her mother’s life. She’s struggling – could the mercs have been saved? Could her mother? Could what they find below offer a way to have saved them, and, if so, would Saren have had it, could he have freed her mother before her death? Did she have to die? Why did her mother have to die? Cue Shepard offering their support for her emotional struggle.

And yes, for Liaramancers, this is where they get their smoochies.

As for what they find... Geth. Plenty of (heretic – though Shepard doesn’t yet know this) geth. They are crawling all over the facility, it’s a firefight all the way to the central database, and, as our big final boss, we deal with a geth augmented with some of Sovereign’s tech, meant to be a Reaper upgrade for the geth. Obviously, this is not going to make it into the geth consensus (heretic or true), and this is effectively the only existing prototype.

The result of this is that they do find an archival interface, the same kind that allowed the communication with Sovereign on Virmire. Unfortunately, it can provide nothing – without Sovereign connected to it, it’s got minimal functionality – something might be recovered, with some time and effort. But the facility is about to move into the areas of this area of space that will fry any systems that get close to it – Sovereign probably had this place selected in the name of being a place where anyone who might stumble upon its hiding place would decide to move on because it’s suicide to remain in the area.

The only choice is to return to the Normandy, without any additional evidence. There are indications of geth vessels having moved out of the area and into other sectors, which could give them something to go on for further investigations. But, with this stage of the mission being a bust, Shepard is going to have the Normandy return to the earlier outpost in the name of allowing all ashore who are going ashore – Tali, Garrus, and Wrex, specifically, but also any other Normandy crew willing to stand down for the time being. Investigating this further is a strictly volunteer mission. This will, of course, lead us to ME2’s prologue...

Post Game Followups:

ME2: Mentions of Shepard’s activities on the outpost while on Omega, a letter from a scientist, passed on by Anderson, about further studies made on indoctrination being done on the sly, considering the lack of approval from the Council.

ME3: Further research has been done on indoctrination, now publicly, and makes for a scientific war asset, the remnants of the merc gang that were indoctrinated have reformed and reassembled as a roving band of resistance fighters against the Reapers.

Miscellaneous

Bisexual Ashley, Bisexual Kaidan, proper close outs to other romances, romances require proper flirts to start, additional conversations for all characters

Look, no one in space is heterosexual, okay? I don’t make the rule, I just enforce it. Actually, considering the context of these, I DO make the rules, and “no one in space is heterosexual” is one of them, so deal with it. Kaidan is canonically bisexual as of ME3, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t be canonically bisexual in ME1. And we’ll throw Ashley in for good measure, because why not? And we definitely – DEFINITELY – need to do something about the romance mechanic that seems to assume “I would like to get to know you better” means “you, me, my cabin, the way to Ilos, yes/yes?” There needs to be explicit markers for closing out a romance WITHOUT locking you out of conversations with the character in question (particularly considering that now, all of this game’s romances can be options in a given playthrough). And yeah, I think there could stand to be a few extra conversations with the characters, that focus on the characters proper – for most of the crew, they basically end up acting as glorified Wikipedia entries on their species, or, in Kaidan’s case, the plight of human biotics. Let’s give them some more personalized material that lets them tell Shepard something about themselves (and offer Shepard something similar, as character development for the both of them).

#dg's hypothetical dlc #mass effect #mass effect meta

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doctortreklock · 4 years

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AU-gust 22 - Futuristic AU

For this. On AO3.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.42

We got in a bit of a scrape with some unfriendly locals on the planet and found ourselves unable to evacuate due to an ion storm. Which apparently Cmdr. Walker was unable to detect in advance, despite the size of the storm. This marks the fourth time in three months that Cmdr. Walker has failed to note a relevant scientific fact, despite his role as Chief Science Officer.

During our time on the planet, Dr. Winchester was able to...

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.135

Following recommendations from myself, Dr. Winchester, and First Officer Harvelle, Chief Science Officer Walker has chosen to resign his post and retire, effective as soon as a reasonable replacement can be located. He will be leaving Starfleet with full honors.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.167

It has been two days, four hours since we picked up our new Science Officer, and I hate him already. Sammy said not to judge him so quickly, since we’re going to be stuck with him for the remainder of our five year mission, if not longer, but he said it with that pinched look that means he really does hate him as much as I do.

I’ve never worked with an Angel before. I knew they were aloof and cold, but the sheer lack of empathy. God. He’s an unfeeling bastard and it makes me wish I could punch him in the face and keep my command. Even if it would hurt me more than it hurt him.

...Okay, I just listened to that again, and I think I need to push for one of those mandatory ship-wide tolerance seminars again.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.181

...four members of the landing party affected by an unknown poison, including myself. Though I was unconscious for most of the remainder of the mission, I was later filled in by Dr. Winchester and Cmdr. Harvelle.

Though the away party remained under threat from the native Tulian people, Dr. Winchester and Chief Science Officer Castiel were able to fabricate an antidote to the poison using the readings they acquired from their tricorders and the limited supplies they both keep on hand, as the transporter remained inoperative during this time. I have since been assured by Cmdr. Novak that the transporter malfunction was an anomaly that will not be repeated.

I am recommending commendations for Cmdr. Castiel and Lt. Cmdr. Winchester for exemplary service under pressure.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.205

...how much is actual incomprehension and how much is willful misinterpretation. I swear, we had just talked about the structure of Human jokes and I know he knows more about prime numbers than I do. I think at this point he just gets a kick out of it. I mean, every time he pulls off one of his straight-faced Humans-are-so-strange routines, his eyes just freaking glimmer and he smiles a bit, just on one side.

Everyone on this ship must be blind if they can’t see how much he enjoys messing with us.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.272

Our newest mission from Starfleet has required us to stop off at Houston IX to pick up an ambassador, whom we will then shuttle to Carthage.

We did not experience any difficulties picking up the ambassador. Once he was on board, however, it became clear that we had a problem.

Ambassador Crowley is a Demon, from the planet Demos in the Etheril system. Cmdr. Castiel is an Angel, from the planet Angelii in the Etheril system.

These two planets have been at war with each other for-fucking-ever, and I can’t believe Starfleet just royally screwed this one up, SO badly--

...Computer, delete--

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.272

...that douchebag Crowley has the gall to stand all smug in the transporter room and say that he’s terribly sorry for the confusion and he deeply hopes that the inconvenience won’t be an issue. The dick.

Castiel, on the other hand, was what I’m pretty sure passes as spitting mad on Angelii. I’m not sure how I ever believed he didn’t have any emotions because oh boy were they written all over his face. I’m frankly very surprised he didn’t smite Crowley where he stands for the audacity to come aboard his starship.

This officially puts paid to any belief I had in those rumors about Angels being able to melt eyeballs or kill people with a touch, because if he had those powers, I’m pretty sure Castiel would have used them, rank or no.

Then, as soon as I became aware of this little snafu, I had to go ring up the Admiralty and try to figure out what the fuck was going on. Because the blood feud between the Demons and the Angels was basic knowledge and the first bullet point in the personnel files for everyone from either planet.

There aren’t that many Angels in Starfleet, and even fewer Demons, so I’m not buying Zachariah’s butter-wouldn’t-melt routine. The Free Will is the only ship in the quadrant with any crew member from the Etheril system, so there’s no way we were picked at random to ferry Crowley around.

Someone’s got it out for Castiel, and I won’t stand for...

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.312

...injuries acquired while protecting a senior officer from harm. Dr. Winchester has assured me that Cmdr. Castiel will make a full recovery. The arrow that was meant for me hit him in the chest, which would be lethal for a Human, but Angelic biology differs in both the placement of internal organs and their capacity for rapid healing. I have been informed that Cmdr. Castiel can be expected back at his post within the week.

I am recommending commendations for Cmdr. Castiel for bravery under fire and dedication to the lives of crewmembers. I am also recommending commendations to Lt. Mills...

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.346

...turns out that Cas hasn’t seen any of the new holos with Ford Harrison. Or any of the older ones. Actually, scratch that.

It turns out that Cas hasn’t seen any holos. Not even older two-dimensional films. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

And that’s a crying shame. I have a large media collection, and I am not afraid to use it. We’ve started weekly movie nights. I’m also trying to introduce him to Earth snacks while I’m at it. Popcorn hasn’t gone over well, but he’s surprisingly into Thin Mints.

After we watch through my entire Ford Harrison collection, I might break out the older classics. Nothing quite like shiny, low-budget, low-tech, computer-animated explosions to lighten the mood.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.11

...seems like the rumors of extrasensory perception have not been exaggerated. Though we were unable to detect any signal on the frequency he described, Cmdr. Castiel has made it clear that he has been summoned back to his home planet for some urgent business.

While the Free Will is technically on a mission to deliver supplies to Lunar Base Kappa, it is not an urgent assignment, so we have time to detour to the Etheril system. If we had not been able to, however, Cmdr. Castiel made it clear that he would be returning to his home planet, with or without the ship.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.25

...won’t even talk to me anymore outside of shift! He’s cancelled the last two movie nights, and I swear he’s been avoiding me at mealtimes.

I don’t think I even realized how much time we’d spent together until we stopped.

I’m not sure what those bastards on Angelii did to him, but I swear to god...

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.47

I’m not sure what finally did it, but he’s talking to me again.

Sammy’s been giving me worried looks for a month, and I’m pretty sure he was working himself up to one of those “you know I care about you, and you’re my brother, but I have to look after the whole ship, and you’re being a dick right now” speeches. Because I totally was. Snappish and frustrated and irritated. ...all because Cas wasn’t returning my calls.

Metaphorically. My metaphorical calls. Because I wasn’t calling him. Obviously.

Anyway.

He’s talking to me again. If I had to put a guess on it, I’d say it probably had something to do with the discussion we had on the Angelii government and social hierarchy. Well, “discussion.”

I might have ranted and yelled at him, but I was concerned, and he didn’t look phased, so I’m not going to worry about crossing any hypothetical boundaries here.

And I’m not sure what it was. But the next morning he met me for breakfast in the mess before shift as if we’d never stopped hanging out. I’m not sure where I went wrong, but I might know how to fix it if it happens again.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.93

Someone’s going to die.

I haven’t quite figured out who yet, but they’ve got Zachariah in their pocket, and they’re the ones who called Cas back home, and they’ve got nothing good planned.

I’m not sure what they wanted with Cas, but I deprogrammed him again and I’m keeping him, come hell or high water, so I’d like to see them try and take him again. I’ll be waiting for them.

...Shit. Does this count as a premeditated confession in a court of law? Probably best to be on the safe side then. Just in case. Computer, delete--

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.127

...little evidence of large-scale corruption, it is nevertheless apparent that the Daughters of Lucifer were not a small or poorly funded organization.

Their activities - including the targeting of my Chief Science Officer - have been shut down, but I am recommending extensive monitoring of the entire Etheril system, as well as planets with large Angel or Demon populations. Both Abaddon and Ruby have evaded capture and it is not clear what their next moves are.

I am recommending a commendation for creative strategy under pressure for Cmdr. Castiel and commendations for bravery under fire for Cmdr. Harvelle, Cmdr. Castiel, Cmdr. Novak, Lt. Cmdr. Winchester, Lt....

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.135

We are hoping for a quiet mission on Altair VII. Cmdr. Novak believes he has devised a way to operate the transporters through an ion storm. Cmdr. Castiel has identified one beginning to brew here in the upper atmosphere, so we’re going to try testing that theory.

Lt. Cmdr. Mills will be leading the away team with Ensigns Jones, Novak, Spengler, and Zeddmore. The primary aim of this mission is to test Cmdr. Novak’s hypothesis by attempting to transport blocks of matter to and from the surface of the planet. The secondary aim of the mission is to take tricorder readings of the air, soil, and native flora.

Cmdr. Castiel will take the conn during this mission, as it falls entirely within the purview of the Science Division. This will also serve as a test of Cmdr. Castiel’s aptitude for command, as Cmdr. Harvelle has indicated that she will be seeking a promotion to captain when we next return to Earth later this year, leaving the First Officer’s position vacant.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.165

Sammy’s been giving me weird little half-glances all day, but it wasn’t until I got back to my room ten minutes ago that I figured out why.

It’s been a year since Cas came on board.

Just for kicks and giggles, I went back to listen to the first couple logs I made after he joined the crew. Man, was I wrong back then.

Cas isn’t cold or aloof or emotionless; I just didn’t know how to read him yet. I’m not sure if that’s a Cas thing or more of an Angel thing, but it definitely makes me happy that he’s on board. He’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Between Crowley and Lucifer and all of the day-in, day-out missions we’ve had while boldly going, it’s been a rough year, but never let it be said that the Free Will is boring.

I think I can hear Cas in the hallway, so I’ll cut it short. It’s movie night.

Winchester out.

#AUgust 2020 #Star Trek AU #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Castiel #some destiel #I'm so tired right now #can barely keep my eyes open #I should have worked on this earlier #but I spent 8 hours reading a really good phlint fic #so that was my whole day gone

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beautifulweird0 · 4 years

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Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you. My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’. Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me. I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” . Think about it... Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms. I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period. I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!). Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby. It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically). So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right? Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse? Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚). But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.Don’t get it confused, my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess. The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them. My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything. However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess. My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart. Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand. He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness. I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love? I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

~Monet’

#parent #forgiveness #blackwomen #blackmen #trauma #love #hate #lessons #blackfamily #alcohol #blog #generationalcurses

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veridium · 6 years

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The first friends you lose as a warrior are always the hardest, but it never gets easier. The first bonds you make without proper foresight, wisdom to caution you when you feel the desire to get close. How delicate life is as a balance, how unexpected and unfair the Maker’s wishes can appear to be. After more hours spent waiting by the tent Cassandra had forced herself to retreat to her own, to fully remove herself out of her armor she had worn more than 24 hours by that point. Even she of all people could determine armor as excessively worn, and by that point she lacked the fight in her heart to keep it on her body.

After she peeled herself out of it she used the small wash basin she had taken for her own use and rinsed her face and hair, letting the braid of the remaining long strands lose from its crown on her head. There was never enough clean water to absolve bodies of what they were capable of. Washing and bathing were merely aesthetic therapies. The true necessary cleansing was dedicated to one’s soul and conscience.

In her tent was a cot, a table with chairs, fur blankets strew on her bed and a rack for her armor to hang on its own. The Inquisitor was not the only one who was granted more spacious digs, though the Seeker would never have demanded it outright. The table held the wash bowl and a pile of letters, mostly report copies and missives. Organized but not as neat as they should have been. Buried underneath them was Leliana’s blasted letter, with her smug advive. Leliana always believed people had time for such contemplation, that emotions and affairs of the heart did not have to be stifled even in the most dire scenarios. There was always time, always energy to dedicate; she had always proved contrarian to the idea that one's duty governed their space for personal happiness. For years Cassandra believed her to be unrealistic in that trait. It wasn’t until this, until she went from stifling her feelings in her throat to almost losing the woman they were intended for, that she finally understood: Leliana did not believe in such things because she lacked consideration for the severity of war or hard times. She believed them because of her consideration, because she new how fragile the balance was, if any balance was managed in the first place.

For a while, Cassandra sat at the side of her cot, elbows planted on her spread knees, hands in the top of her short head of black hair. She didn’t need to uncover and open the letter: the words were branded in her mind along with everything else. “You overthink what it means to love and be loved by a woman.” So confident, so direct, like she had spent months of special observation on her, even deciphering her innermost thoughts. And in any case, had she really gone over the boundary? With everything that had happened, all that she saw and felt, there seemed to be no possibility of “overthinking”: everything was so dramatic, so perilous, so uncontrolled.

Everything about Olivia was just so: dramatic, perilous, uncontrollable. At the same time, though, it was refreshing, challenging, and endlessly unpredictable. The kind of rush, the kind of risk that came from life’s most miraculously fraught blessings. For as long as Cassandra Pentaghast could remember since the day she finished her rite and became a Seeker, she had adhered to discipline and moderation in all things to the highest possible extent. She had always been an impulsive, direct, quick-to-react woman: the need for temperance and patience were tenfold. Maybe, in the beginning, that is why the Inquisitor infuriated her so much: she looked balance in the face and opted out. She was faced with moderation, and poured over it until everything overflowed. There was no such thing as halfway, no need for a middle road when you could just forge a ridiculous path through parts unknown. And she had nothing but disdain for the faith, the one that defined Cassandra’s survival and strength throughout the major trials of her life.

There is no reason why I should not detest her, nothing keeping me from judging her unsuitable and unlikable. She has even stated in the past she has no need for my approval nor my platonic agreement. How could I be so foolish?

Cassandra could hardly imagine loving a man with such a disposition. Why was a woman vexing her with it? And would it be considered vexing? What if she had overestimated it all, gone beyond the realm of expectation and reality before thinking? It wouldn’t be the first time. People sometimes clung to hypotheticals to comfort them in times of despair. Uncertain futures made people question the forwardness of their purpose, the devotion of their virtues.

“Cassandra Pentaghast, you are making the sun’s fury seem like a candle’s tepid tantrum, wipe that frown off your face and look at the beautiful day before us!”

Her voice was far away. She has a habit of sneaking up on her, of catching her off guard between their arguments in the field with the most peculiar acts of aggressive affection. Though the memory was far away and untouchable, it was not unseeable: she was standing there, in the Hinterlands countryside. The long-living fall heat making everything like a steam trap of insufferable humidity. Even the Inquisitor could not disagree, for she had been looking like a pile of sweat and dirt for hours by that point in the day. Her armor was bloodstained, her boots and slacks muddy from her clumsy stumbles. But she was smiling, her hair stuck to her forehead and temples in wily curls and waves.

Envisioning her, Cassandra’s brows strained against her temples, her throat pulsing with tension. At last, after all that time playing strong, she allowed one solid tear to escape her eyes. The Maker did not intend such captivation for Andrastian women. He could not have put her in front of her, after all these years, all these trials, as her intended. Out of all the trace moments where she thought about the hypothetical suitor she thought she would find in the world someday, the daydreams were never of a blonde, clumsy, smart-mouthed, stubborn Orlesian woman. A woman with a fiendish smile and a knack for brawls with drunken men in strange villages. A woman who liked the color black a little too much, a woman who danced like a siren on a long table in the tavern yet couldn’t run a country mile without face-planting. She was a match for no one, for no one could possible be hers.

Boots scuffling against the dirt came closer and closer to her tent. The encroaching presence summoned her focus back to the present, and she wiped her cheek of the sweat and tear that she let fall. It was a soldier, standing at attention just outside.

“Seeker? The Healers have given word for you.”

Her heart skipped. Standing at once, she rolled her shoulders in back and stepped outside, seeing the timid but respectful soldier staring back through their helmet.

“Yes?” she asked discreetly, holding her tent drape in her fist.

“She is ready for visitors, Ser. Quietly. They said not to expect her to be awake.”

“Thank you. I will be over at once. Has the Commander been informed?”

“Yes, Ser, but he said he will leave it to you while he assesses the rest of the damages from the field.”

Cassandra’s chest leavened with new air. She would not let time or space keep her from her side now, even if the battle lay within the Inquisitor’s own path and no one else’s. Not this time. Semantics be damned; the Maker would have no hostilities for an ally with a conscience and word to upkeep.

- An Excerpt from Ch. 48, “The Waiting,” from “FIRE IN HER MOUTH.”

#chapter excerpt #spoilers??? maybe #cassandra pentaghast #olivia sinclair #fire in her mouth #long post #f!inquisitor x cassandra

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goldenscript · 7 years

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forever in a night (m)

pairing: kim mingyu | reader genre: best friends to lovers au / fluff, smut warnings: alcohol mention (& some under-age drinking), drunk-ish sex (?) word count: 15,643 description: There’s a long stretch of history between you and your best friend, Kim Mingyu. From your first and last time as lovers to the friendship that has remained intact all throughout, but etched within the seams is the very thread that has always kept you two bonded—it’s nothing short of two hearts that beat as one with an unspoken love.

The first night is a complete accident. It’s a stupid, stupid emotionally compromised mistake that shouldn’t have happened (with your best friend no less)! Did you already mention how stupid it is?

When you’re heartbroken, you eat chocolate and ice cream and any of all the fatty, sugar-coated carbohydrates you can contain. You watch movies about heartbreak and ridicule them with tear-stained eyes and vehement finger-pointing because for fuck’s sake, they aren’t listening to you from behind the thin glass and it’s taking everything in your willpower not to chuck your remote and the popcorn from your bowl, maybe even the bowl itself too, at the screen because as angry as you are, you’re most certainly not in the mood to get up and fix the mess you’d hypothetically make.

You call up your best friend, crossing your fingers that he isn’t busy with homework or a successful love life, though the latter is actually laughable because Mingyu is even worse off than you are but you need something to get your mind off your own stupidity. That’s why you have him. He’s your go-to. Your rock. Everything you need in a man, really, but even more than that because he’s the one you need that’ll help keep your mental sanity stable enough when shit like some guy—Jung Jaehyun, to be very exact—drops you for some other better-looking chick with probably an even better personality at that. It’s not to say you’re a shitty person, but from the way he talked about her, she seemed awfully great so that’s why you do feel a little stupid for hanging around and thinking that the feelings he was kind of sure were there for you would swept away when certainty and something better rolls in. So sure, you’ve been down over meaningful shit before but this isn’t forgetting Mingyu’s birthday (one time, mind you), this actually has you down in the dumps even farther down than those bottomless trenches from the Finding Nemo movie.

Now normally, his arrival is filled with hugs and warmth, maybe even a few good (though you’d never say that), cheesy jokes about kicking Jaehyun’s ass for you but it elicits half-smiles and half-hearted hugs because you’re just not feeling much right now. It’s literally everything you need and more, but in a way, this is different because you weren’t really sure or unsure about the outcome with the bleached blond but you wanted it to work. You hoped for it. And it’s that kind of disappointment and hurt that doesn’t just melt away with an empty threat or embrace. It’s not like the time with your first boyfriend at twelve with a boy by the name of Jungkook, who was as sweet and soft as cotton candy, who like the delicious treat disappeared right as soon as you two shared a kiss. He moved away to a different city, and when Mingyu comforted you in this same method, you actually cracked a smile and took him up on his offering for 7-Eleven slurpees and other terribly delicious junk food.

You do wish it was that simple to just forget like the good, old days, but times are different now—you’re older and a little more mature than those gloriously simple sandbox days, with desires and hormones that do more of your actual thinking than your brain, who knows damn well how bad the idea is that’s floating inside your head. It’s pushing its way to the forefronts of your mind, and all you can really see is his handsome visage, because somehow Mother Nature decided your best friend’s puberty should turn him into a borderline six-foot tall baseball jock with a face that is almost too, inhumanely handsome to actually be the kid you’ve known since the first grade. It was practically yesterday when he was tugging on your hair and leading you over to the baseball field because there was no one else he wanted to watch him play but you, not even Yoohyeon (and she was best-looking girl in school!). Though as rough and annoying as he was (okay, is), he has his kind, gentle moments, like smuggling the good balls out of the closet after some snot-nosed jerk stole the one you brought for you and him or taking you by the hand to appease your fear of crowds and making sure you stayed right by his side or laying beside you during that terrible weekend-long blackout when you were home alone and your parents were out (he had his first middle school game that following day but he came running just to make sure you were okay), all because out of everyone he’s known, he’s always had a soft spot for you and childhood to even now only proves that deeper and deeper, it seems.

There’s just this moment when he cups your cheek and looks you in the eye to ask, “Are you okay?” There’s a gentleness that sets ease in your heart, and it’s the first moment since exactly eight hours ago that your mind actually shuts up for once. You don’t know what you’re doing but the longer you stare at him, falling deeper into the soft, hickory hues, your eyes flicker down to his lips and watch as they move for a split second before your looking at him again; then, you just go for a kiss.

He doesn’t fight you, surprisingly, and it’s not quite like the ones you two have shared during Spin the Bottle and the truth-or-dare circles at parties for the past few years either. But you like it. You like that your mind goes blank without the sirens or racing thoughts, without the what-if’s and what-could’ve-been’s. You like that it’s with him because he’s always been your person—that sort of comfort that is rare to come across in just anyone. And the thing is he just goes with it, his eyes shut within a moment, soon yours follows, and his fingertips take a firmer grasp on your cheek while the other rests at your hip. Before you know it, you’re both laid across your bed with no clothes, the tear of a wrapper breaking into your mutually breathy moans and the touch of his fingertips igniting burns in their wake that remain seared forever in your brain.

In the early morning when the weight of your actions dawns on you, it’s to your very surprise that he’s awake and cleaning up the forgotten popcorn bowl. His lanky limbs tidying your living room as you look on from the doorway. Your parents forgot to come home, but from the looks of the purple splotches on your collar bones and your hips, you’re more than okay with not dealing with them right now.

The only thing that crosses your mind and parts your lips is one simple question: “Can we go back from this?”

“Do you want to?” Mingyu asks with a simple tilt of his head. He doesn’t look affected in the slightest, though truthfully you find yourself pretty indifferent about the entire thing. Even though you were completely screwed over Jaehyun, you find yourself at peace, like a singular weight has just dropped from your shoulders and you can breathe just a little bit better. “Look, whatever happened last night—we’re going to be okay. This doesn’t have to change anything, y’know, you needed someone and I’m always going to be here for you.”

“And you’re okay with just screwing and pretending nothing happened?” your brows screw together, hands wringing the edges of his T-shirt.

“Believe me, I can’t pretend but I mean this really doesn’t change anything, Y/N. I’m your best friend, you’re my best friend. We fucked, so what?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his logic. “You’re way too casual about this.”

He shrugs, striding over to you in about three steps. His hands find your shoulders. “Is that so bad? You’re the overthinker. Let me be the underthinker. ‘Kay?”

Dropping your hands from his T-shirt, you give his cheek a poke. You never would’ve conceived that doing that with your best friend would be so casual, because everyone grows up with the idea that their best friend is that person reserved from those things, that they’re the ones that will pick up the pieces from a safe distance. But in a way, Mingyu has always been a different person for you. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s the kind that you can tell anything and everything no matter, and for the two of you to cross a boundary like that together should be weird, should be restricted from then on because what kind of best friends casually fuck like nothing?

Instead, you just go with your gut and give a nod. Because this was just a one and done right? (No honey, no it was not.)

“‘Kay~”

The second time is completely voluntary. An executive decision that you initiate (yet again) because what the hell are you supposed to do when your friends actually banked on the success of your relationship with Park Jimin? Not only was he older but he was also a college student with all access to free booze, but he was undeniably attractive like a devil disguised as a rosy-cheeked cherub. Smooth-talking and a tease. These are things you were well-equipped to handle with having Kim Mingyu, a sudden girl-magnet that senior year (it’s still beyond you considering it’s barely even October), but on the orange-haired boy, it was everything that kept you on your toes and wanting more.

That’s the thing about boys like Jimin—they want to have fun. They like to play around. Correction: they fuckin’ adore it. Of course, he’s sweet and attentive beneath all the selfishness and self-assured confidence, but his capacity for relationships longer than three months were a bigger stretch than your eight-dollar leggings from Amazon. It’s a miracle the two of you even made it into that extra two, but it was a good five-month run.

You just wanted to believe that you could change a guy like him, maybe work around the player nature. You also hoped that something about you made him keep coming back. Maybe it could’ve. Your guts had no doubts that his resolve softened with you. But as spirals come, they go. He just happened to go on his birthday, leaving behind only a simple text that he couldn’t show up to the dinner you planned or even continue what you were doing together, because punctuated at the end of it all was the very audacity of him to conclude that you and Mingyu were something more than you were letting on and his own petty nature kept him from bringing it up because it showed he cared way too much for some high schooler like you.

Knowing that makes you mad. Downright furious, actually.

For him to accuse you and your best friend of being more than just best friends. The very gall makes you convinced that Jimin’s using it as an excuse to cut ties with you, and maybe you’re being petty by calling Mingyu to that one corner boba shop in the city but you can’t control yourself. There's this selfish part of you that just wants to hurt Jimin in that way. Even if he didn't know you invited your best friend to come meet you (at the least, he probably has the thought nagging at him in the back of his mind), it's a nice feeling to know somewhere in the bubble of feelings you’re shrouded in.

The pettiness doesn't outweigh your hurt, however.

The very truth is you liked Jimin a whole fucking lot. Not just a lot. A whole fucking lot, okay. You and him spent five months together. Five, long and wonderful months together just to be whittled into this measly broken half over your best friend, Kim fucking Mingyu. That's what gets you. Of what sort of action did you display that would indicate infidelity? Was "we fucked once last year" written all over your forehead? Or did you let it slip during one of your drunken escapades? Was that it? What the goddamn hell was it? Because, despite that one night—a stupid one at that—nothing has ever changed between the two of you. In fact, it might've brought you two to a closer level of understanding because nowadays you kind of just knew what was up with him, whether he was feeling some kind of way for a girl or something, but it never triggered hidden feelings for him or any of that cliché shit. He’s your best friend. That's it.

You’re hurting. From the moment Jimin left you with those glaring text messages to the moment when Mingyu sits in front of you with furrowed brows and “What happened?” falls past his lips. Of course, you can't hide it from him. Of fucking course, you let it all loose within two breaths. And he looks absolutely pissed at the fact that this is how Jimin decided to end things. Not even face-to-face, but through texts that felt more passive aggressive and heavier to look at the more you stare at your phone screen.

Your thoughts are flying in all kinds of directions, as if it weren't enough that today would've been yours and Jimin's fifth monthiversary. You two didn't really care for that kind of crap, but it was more like an obligatory celebration to mock with some food and maybe a movie. Sometimes even a screw or two. But it felt like it could've been something. Maybe nothing like getting married after all the school’s done or anything, but it could've been like those old loves you think back on from time to time or some cheesy shit like that.

You don't know where you're going on this train, but you feel Mingyu move next to you in the booth and the warmth of his body radiating on you is enough to shut up all the detours. Like those dings on a train that get muted in the background with a pair of good ass headphones, but instead this happens as soon as as you look over at him with a half-hearted smile. Until it only dawns on you that the only way he could've beat the half-hour travel time to downtown was because of that date he should be on.

Fuck.

"You must've been busy with Nayeon huh?" you sigh, only briefly recalling how psyched he was to finally go out with her. It makes you feel even worse now. "I shouldn't have pulled you out like this."

He glowers at you, bumping your shoulder. "Don't say that. Of course, I'd come find you."

Of course you have to say it. You wouldn’t be a very good friend if you didn’t ask. "But Nayeon?"

"She's not my best friend, Y/N. You are. If she really likes me that much then she'd see me for another date," he states simply. But when you look at him inquisitively, he can hardly meet your eyes. "There are other girls anyway, y'know. I'm sure I'll meet an understanding one."

"Like anyone believes we're just friends," you scoff, patting his leg. He doesn't mind as it remains there either. But for some reason, you kind of wonder why you’re letting it rest there now. You’re usually the withdrawn type when you’re hurt. "I bet she was worried we were more than friends too."

"Well..." he scratches the back of his head. "That's true, but still—!"

"Still what? Gyu, I—I," you sigh. "I don't even know anymore.”

You don’t even know why you’re saying what’s suddenly occurred to you, but you suppose it’s because the admission of truth is often easier said when emotionally compromised. There have been plenty of times when you admitted to things while you weren’t in the right state of mind, and it seems this occasion is no exception.

Even as the words fall, you don’t even bother looking very embarrassed about it.

“Sometimes I'd rather just say ‘fuck it’ and just be with you instead of anyone else."

He laughs, ruffling the top of your head. "We could make one of those pacts to be together if we wind up single in our thirties or whatever. Like that one Friends episode! I don't mind."

"Oh shut up," you don't even stop yourself from smiling. The memory of that Friends marathon you two did well into the previous summer comes up—all the mutual complaints, the in-depth discussions, and even the expected clean-up’s after you two attacked the screen with an arsenal of popped kernels—even over the particular hilarity of that damn episode. "Let me be sad, dummy."

He leans in close, lips a damn hairsbreadth away, it actually has your breath caught in your throat. Your only worry is it wasn't that obvious. "Never, you can't be sad in my presence,” his voice is playfully indignant, but the latter half of his words leave an uncomfortable swipe of heat across your body. “I want to make you feel better, Y/N."

"That holds a lot more sexual weight than an innocent one, y'know," you note aloud, regretting it instantly. The corners of his lips curl upwards, with a flash of his pearly whites gleaming beneath in the fluorescent overhead lighting. It makes your heart flip flop all over, and you hate that this isn't the first time it's done that either. "Oh shut up."

"I didn't say anything," he says, shrugging. "But if you're really up for that, then I don't mind either."

You pull back from drinking the delicious sweetness of your earl grey milk tea, almost blanching because you don't think you've ever felt both so horrified and so intrigued, because an actual part of you wouldn't even mind screwing him right now. The part of you that feels hurt and emotionally compromised actually welcomes the thought of his hands at your hips and the jutting of them against yours. Even the thought of squelching sounds that sounded all too good to be true made you so undoubtedly tempted to just agree, but you hold back specifically for that moment.

"What?"

He watches you, deadpanning, "You heard me."

"That's a hefty offer, Mingyu. I don't think I can take you fucking around right now," you sharply point out, knowing that you are the one bullshitting. And of course, it isn't like you don't want to screw your best friend. You like that he was your first. You also like that it's him, out of anybody in the whole goddamn world, because you know for a fact he isn't taking advantage of you. But you also know damn well that you would be very much taking advantage of him (again).

It’s like, for whatever reason, the universe likes to send him your way whenever you're emotionally compromised. She probably enjoys the tease of putting you two together, only to leave the two of you two to deal with your actions in later relationships. It's silly how simple things would be just to be with him. He knows you, you know him. But at the same time, knowing that he's the kid you've basically entrusted all your secrets with could easily slip from your fingertips like Jimin makes you anxious. He isn’t like Jimin in the biggest way where you haven’t prepared yourself to lose him on the off chance he lost feelings, because that’s what you did with the older man. Unlike him, Mingyu holds more sentimental weight that forgoes a few months and actually melts into years of deeply-rooted connection and attachment that could so easily go to shit if either of you fucked up a relationship.

So, then fucking isn’t so bad then?

You suppose if you weren't getting together with Mingyu officially, then just screwing him and shooing away all those (highly possible) repressed feelings is a much safer bet.

Of course, you still feel obligated to ask him, "Can we go back from that? Doing it again, I mean."

He shrugs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders that has your mind even blanker than before. At least it's shutting up any more of your anxieties. "It didn't change much before, right?"

"True." You look over at him, washing over his features in a quick sweep as if it made much of a difference in your decision-making (it didn’t). He's gotten even more handsome, you notice, and not quite in the "holy fuck, my best friend is hot" kind of way though that has happened once, but more in a "you're a really good fucking person and that's really attractive" way. "Why did you do it last time?"

"'Dunno, I guess because you seemed like you needed someone." He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing as his own nerves go down. "And, well, to be frank, you're pretty hot."

You let out a laugh, smacking his chest with your free arm. "Shut up, you punk. Lying to your best friend is a terrible sin, y'know."

"Oh?" He raises a brow at you, cheeks becoming prominent from his ever-growing smile. "Well, why don't you show me a thing or two about absolving that?"

Your nose wrinkles, one of your fingers now placed atop his lips. "We are not doing any of the kinky, roleplaying shit, Gyu."

He asks, giving way for more internal cursing, "So, that's a yes?"

Even though you know shouldn't do this, you find it very hard to actually care at this point. You did call him over there. And, you do need someone to keep your mind off the impending heartbreak. Okay, and you do think he’s pretty fucking hot too.

Giving a nod, you warn him, "My mom's home though."

"S'okay, my parents aren't home. They took a trip down to the beach for their anniversary." He gives your shoulder a squeeze before looking at you with a flash of seriousness in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

That is definitely a chance to get out of this mess. Maybe leave this moment without the reality that you really screwed your best friend the same night you were supposed to probably bang your now ex-boyfriend, and it's one of those moments where if you were looking at this situation from afar you'd probably say no and walk away. Maybe take a breather for a day or two before doing some other reckless thing. However, this isn't one of those moments.

There is no narrator, talking about the complications of your life and your skewed decisions. This is on real time with a reality that whatever you do will bite you in the ass later, and it's that sort of thought that only briefly passes through your mind before things go silent. His visage is still very close to yours, and the idea of comfort and utter tranquility begins to spill back in.

The repercussions of fucking him might come back later, but you don't find many problems in it. So, without a second thought, you give nod. All punctuated with a verbal, "I'm dead serious."

And with that out in the open, he grabs hold of your hand (the one that was on his leg) before giving it a squeeze. Something about it just tugs on the jagged pieces of your heart, not that they were all that broken. They’re more hurt, like a wounded pride, because you're almost fairly certain that this is what is ailing you the most about the Jimin situation. Well, that and the fact that this would become one of those unresolved relationships that you'd never have an answer to unless you braved a mutually willing conversation with him. (Not that you would, because again, your pride.)

You feel a little better afterwards, at the least.

The third time… god, the third time is a weird passing of “I’m lonely but you’re on my mind” and “Jesus, me too” that actually has you wishing that Jesus or some either higher deity could stop you from this poor decision-making skill. Because at this point, it’s not just to forget somebody or comfort yourself from heartache, it’s actually a voluntary choice that doesn’t last more than forty-five minutes and you counted because the nagging part of you is trying to remind you that what you’ve done is with your best friend and not just any other friend that—even with a given choice—you still wouldn’t opt into, because this time the problem isn’t just your terrible life choices. No, the problem is that you might actually feel something other than disgust and repugnance and exasperation and absolute, platonic adoration for a young man you’ve known since the start of elementary school.

You blame Woozi. It's his fault. Absolutely in the "I forced you two together because I know some shit went down between you guys" way. You don't know how he knows anything in the slightest considering neither you or Mingyu ever said a word about the previous times, but it's like he knew somehow. Well, regardless of whether he actually knew or not, it's still his fault and that stupid pantry's too.

Okay, and your heart's fault too.

But you still like to believe it's because of an inanimate object and because of that evil demon you and Mingyu have the misfortune of considering a friend, because that’s much easier than facing the music for yourself. If only he had just made you two streak down the street naked or drink some grotesque smoothie or something that didn’t involve an opportunity for something that shouldn’t have been so intimate in such an enclosed space, then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be put in this position.

God, if only it were that simple, because it isn’t like Woozi made you have feelings for that giant of a best friend of yours after all.

All you know is that the kiss, as simple as it was, made you do a double take. Like out of all things in life, it's not enough to say that you instantly realized you had feelings for him—that sort of thing takes time. This just made you thoughtful enough to really slow everything down. Those thoughts that you had been used to brushing off in Mingyu's presence made a reappearance, becoming a newfound factor in all your endeavors with him. Whatever you didn't think you would feel for him became something like an added layer to the already complicated relationship the two of you shared.

“Are you okay?” He asks you a few days after the incident, milk teas in hand and some take-out food you both love as sort of a celebration to the upcoming first year in college, because that's what that party was meant to commemorate in the first place. Yet somehow the whole thing managed to make you realize your stupid feelings for your stupid best friend.

You nod nonchalantly, reaching for the bag of goods. But like your chances of escaping your damn feelings for him, it slips from your grasp and hovers a little higher over you.

“Hey!” You try making a fruitless jump for it.

He doesn’t even need to budge a little bit as he simply says, “Liar.”

“Am not,” you declare, glaring at him. Sort of. “Gimme my food, you moocher.”

“Hey, I actually bought this!” Looking down at you, his eyes narrow just a smidgen. There’s a lack of malice that only tells you that this is your own intervention. Either fess up or risk starvation. “Something’s up. Things feel… off.”

“Maybe because the scales of the universe have been tipped because I, the supreme overlord, am hungry.” You try to make another jump for the food, but you realize just how much closer he’s gotten before you’re instinctively stumbling backwards. “D-don’t do that—!”

“Do what?” he asks, frowning a little. “What’s going on with you, Y/N? Why’ve you gotten all jumpy around me?

“I—I,” you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Alright, I know I called you over first about hooking up but I—I dunno. I realize how weird that is, because you aren’t really comforting me from anything. It was more like easing some boredom and that was really wrong of me, y’know?”

“Oh!” His voice goes up an octave before both his tone and his arm just a bit but you aren’t even bothering to reach for the food again, “Right. Well, I mean I told you I don’t mind—”

“—Why not though?” you ask, brows furrowing. It’s still the partial truth which is hell of a lot better than a whole lie, so you’re not feeling as guilty as before. You’ve long since resolved on not saying a word of your feelings altogether. “Doesn’t it bug you that I’m doing that?”

“I mean, why would it?” You’re about to open your mouth and state the obvious (because duh, why wouldn’t it?) but he continues, “We still talk to each other, support each other, and y’know love each other, Y/N. There’s never once been a moment where I felt like you were genuinely using me for my body or for the sex or whatever. I know that you’ve been hurt and that it led you to some rash decisions and I know that what happened a few weeks ago wasn’t something very conventional for us but… I dunno, it just—it doesn’t bug me. At all. I promise.”

You feel at a loss of words. You don’t know what you were expecting from him exactly, especially considering how unpredictable Mingyu can be, but if there’s one thing that remains consistent with him—it’s his reliability. Even in your own confusion and hurt, because this does bug you for some reason, you’re not entirely sure whether he enjoys being put in this sort of position or the fact that you enjoy being in this position with him.

“Okay?” he asks, tilting his head at you. “Does that ease some of your guilt?”

You involuntarily frown a little, obviously your own guilt wouldn’t just vanish, but for some reason your heart doesn’t feel quite that heavy knowing that he didn’t see what had happened as a mistake. You already know you shouldn’t have done it. You know that doing what you both did more than once will only lead to trouble (and it has). Hell, doing it in the first place came from a place of hurt, yet that still makes you wonder why he even let it happen—after all, he could’ve said no. So why?

“What’s wrong now?” He takes a step toward you, though you make no move to slip away this time. Your heart is still going haywire, your own brain wondering why you weren’t worried in the slightest that he may hear the disaster going on in you. But you remember that even trying to hide anything from Mingyu is a futile effort. Especially now that he’s eying you at a closer level, having long since setting the food down by the table.

“I’m just…” you rack your brain for the right words, dodging his inquisitive gaze for the cream-colored tiles. “Confused.”

“Why?” You can’t even see him but you can tell he’s frowning. His sneakers with the creases in the front have come into view, reminding you that you’ve definitely got to buy him a new pair for Christmas. His warmth is so fucking close, and you swear your heart might fall out of your chest because of it. You don’t understand why you’re reacting this way towards him or why it seems to titillate the butterflies in your stomach to be put in this position with him either.

Even with the likely chance that what you’re feeling is the complete opposite to his, you can’t seem to find any courage or will to push him away from yourself. It’s silly. Probably stupid. Hell, maybe you would’ve been screaming at some actress for pulling the same bullshit. But the image that glimmers in that thought not only includes yourself chucking popcorn at the screen, but with a rowdy companion who gets a little too excited and shows off his pitching skills just to make you laugh and clean up the mess when your mom gets home with daggers aimed at the both of you.

Whatever you’re feeling and whether it transcends the normalcy of what a best friend should feel for their best friend, you know that you can’t push off the subject any more than you have already. If not for your sake, but for Mingyu’s, because he’s worried about you. His hands are balled into fists at his side, trembling from the uncertainty that touching you (close intimate contact-loving and all) may set you off and draw you further away.

“I—well—how are you so okay with all of this?” you admit truthfully. Among the many things running through your mind, this feels like the safest bet. “How are you not confused?”

Apparently so, because now that you’re looking at him, you can see the worried brows unknit while his mouth parts into a small ‘o.’ He almost looks dumbfounded that you’re really looking at him but you don’t have much time to think after he’s spoken—

“I just know that I’m happy you chose me.”

Your heart reacts before your brain can, but at the very least your lips clamp shut before you can anything jeopardizing. Instead you tilt your head and furrow your brows, doing the best that you can to emulate your confusion (because you are definitely more confused than ever) and keep your heart from really falling out of your chest.

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks give off the slightest bit of embarrassment. It makes him look endearing. You hate it. (No, you fucking love it, and you fucking hate that you love it.)

“You trust me. And that’s not confusing.”

Oh dear god, it so is. But you smile, because it does make you happy to see him so wholesome. Even with the guilt of your feelings and the stupid things that keep plaguing you with regret, the more you think about how easily you let this get out of hand and how much Mingyu really didn’t deserve to have a best friend who would put him in this situation just because you’re too emotionally incompetent to deal with them like a normal person.

“‘Kay?” he says, this time propping his hands onto your shoulders. He makes sure to meet your eyes, a contagious grin curving at the corners of his lips. No matter what he’s still your best friend. Your heart may ache for him, for whatever it is you two share in those most intimate moments, but if there’s anything you don’t mind keeping just for a while longer, then it’s moments like this where you can pull him into you with your arms wrapped around his waist and just let the rest of the world fall silent.

Even though you feel your heart rebelling, you still find yourself nodding against his chest, “‘Kay~”

What follows the events of that summer is an expected calm before the unleashing of a storm that comes only a few months afterwards—exactly eight months since that mid-July day. And in that time, you’ve found healing in surviving gruelling classes and managing your own time as a human being, even with the dulled embers of your heart’s desires constantly at your side with a goofy grin and poorly-strung words falling past his irritably chapped lips that makes you wish you could forcibly apply a good two or three coats of ChapStick just so he wouldn’t be too lazy to do it later. You see, just because your feelings for Mingyu made an appearance didn’t mean that you would push him out of your life and let the pain of those well-shared memories together overrule your connection with him. There were years and years of history between the two of you, and to see that go away would be worse than any rejection made by him. So, you did as you did best by pushing away whatever remnants of non-platonic emotions away, because this was Kim Mingyu, your best friend, your rock, your go-to when boys like Xu Minghao make an appearance only to make you feel lonelier than ever for reasons you couldn’t quite understand from a third-person perspective, and if you had to decide between quenching your selfish desires to be with him and take on whatever challenges would come in its wakes or simply live on with the knowledge that you once wanted to date your best friend, then you’d rather live on in silence.

And tonight, as always, is like most where you find yourself complaining about the opposite sex to your best friend, who happened to belong to that end of the spectrum. It reminds you of old times, of the memories when you once complained to him about Jung Jaehyun, but you find yourself lacking the same emotional disparity and more of the sexual frustration that comes when, well, you don’t.

“I hate him,” you groan, giving the pillow in your left hand a deafening smack with the other. “I hate him I hate him I hate him.”

You can hear a groan from the adjacent side to your room, “You said that the first fifty thousand times tonight, shut up already!”

Shifting your glare from your pillow, you aim it at the dark-haired boy perched at your desk and lob your makeshift punching bag right at him.

“You shut up. You’ve been talking about baseball since you came out of the womb, but you don’t see me complaining.” He doesn’t even flinch when it makes contact with his head, just letting it sit on his lap while he rests his elbows on his thighs. “Let me bitch about your stupid roommate.”

“For your information, you have complained about me talking about baseball. Relentlessly. In fact, just this week you were bitching about my game—”

“—It was three-and-a-half hours, Mingyu! Hours. That’s goddamn torture.”

“Imagine playing for that long. Now that’s goddamn torture,” he grumbles, mimicking your tone. Your eyes narrow, another one of your pillows readily available for another attack, but you only pause when you hear him sigh. “But seriously, why are you still hung up on him again?”

“Have you not been listening to me?”

He gives you a look, “Do you really think I can decipher your girl garble when you’re like this?”

“I’d like at least an effort, y’know,” you sniff, leaning your head against the wall. “Don’t make me regret calling you over.”

His eyes soften after they give your visage a once over, a terse nod passing before he leans back in his own chair as if to say, ‘effort it is!’ “What’s up then?”

“I—I don’t know,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “It isn’t like he’s a terrible person or anything but God is he a pain in the ass.”

“Pain in the ass how?” he raises a brow. “Is he bugging you about dumb shit? Forcing himself on you? ‘Cuz I’ll—”

“No! Not that,” you shake your head, actually letting out a bitter laugh as you do. “I just mean he leaves me hanging a lot.”

“Like not texting you back?”

“Well, yes but no, that’s not what’s bugging me. I’m frustrated, Gyu.” Mingyu’s brows contort together, as if the picture weren’t clear as day. Though for someone that’s taken one too many baseballs to the head, you can’t exactly blame him for not picking up on your hints. Of all people, he should know what you mean.

That punk roommate of his seriously wasn’t bad at all, maybe snippy and grumpy (at times), he could text back more, maybe ask you to hang out once in awhile, but it seriously wasn’t any of those things that made you so mad. It was the fact that your status with one another was blatantly clear, practically crystalline with explicit photos and the occasional, cheeky mark to trademark it all. And still, even when you’re both so close to the ride of a goddamn lifetime, he pulls back and leaves so abruptly, you actually have to ask your roommate if you really did have someone over. Sometimes she can confirm it with playful dirty looks as you order apologetic milk teas equipped with boba and other jellies, but there are times where she gives you a funny look and goes, “You had someone over?” And whether it’s to genuinely fuck with you or not is still up for debate.

“Wha—”

You begin to whine, digging your head further into the wall out of complete sheepishness. You hate that Mingyu was right when he said that Minghao wasn’t the one you should mess with. It hurt your pride to be so damn hard-headed, even more so for your thick-skulled best friend to be so painfully right that your own core was screeching at you for putting it through this two-month long torture.

He waits somewhat patiently for your response but you can see the twitch of his hands from your peripheral and that has you clamping your mouth shut. Had his hands always looked that masculine? Your eyes widen, Oh fuck no.

“What?” his voice breaks into the never-ending negations running through your mind.

“Just shut up,” you shake your head, shutting your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

You’re definitely just frustrated. There’s no way in hell you’re attracted to your best friend right now (again). This is just another one of those passing phases that come and go every now and then. Everyone goes through ‘em. It’s just one of those moments where you can look at them and say, “I could totally date you right now.” Just… y’know, with sexual implications in this case scenario, and under this rare circumstance, you know exactly how that would go down with him.

He grumbles something beneath his breath, but you hardly hear it when the sound of your heart seems to echoes up and down your body and your thoughts are running free into ridiculous circles all leading back to him and Minghao. If that auburn-haired little shit hadn’t built up your libidio this damn much, maybe then you wouldn’t actually feel those residual feelings from that night in the pantry. Or a few days ago when Mingyu drew you in for a tight hug, his hair slicked back with sweat and his uniform sticking to his lean body all too nicely. Or the husky sounds he’d make when your hair tickled his nose after all-nighters over the summer. Or the way his arms tightened around your waist just to keep you into place and snuggle even deeper that following morning. Or his lips—!

Nope nope nope. No.

“Fuck,” you mutter, opening your eyes just to see his furrowed brows and mouth slightly ajar. “You look stupid. Close your mouth before something flies in, dummy.”

“That’s golden coming from you when you looked like you just had some mind sex or some shit.” He begins to mimic what your face looked like, earning yet another pillow sent in his direction. This time you actually hit your target.

“Shut up!”

“Just tell me what’s wrong already!” He chucks the pillow in retaliation.

“He hasn’t gotten me off, alright?” The pillow misses your head, caught in your arms before you bring it close to your chest. “I’m frustrated because I haven’t had an orgasm. Is that clear enough for you?”

Please don’t fucking offer…. God, please don’t let him.

His eyes go wide for a moment before he plainly says, “Oh… well, fuck.”

“Yeah,” you huff, falling completely on your back onto your mattress. “It fucking sucks.”

Oh thank fuck.

Mingyu lets out a grunt, your swivelling chair now rolling toward the desk while he takes half a step and his weight now dipping your bed downwards as he pats your thigh. It’s warm and comforting, at least in the emotional aspect, which was all you really needed from his presence. Maybe some banter just to get your mind off your frustrations.

“Haven’t you… tried… doing it yourself though?” he carefully asks, leaning against the wall and your partially on your calves.

“Believe me, I have but if I wanted to just do that then I wouldn’t have been trying to mess around with him,” you deadpan, moving your arms behind your head as you steady the smooth, white ceiling.

“Then why mess with him if he’s not giving you what you want?”

You frown a little. Of course, you considered this, and it’s so damn simple it’s almost painful that he’d be the one to state the obvious. Mingyu does have his moments, so you’d give him props for the help. That’s exactly why you called him over, actually. Even though he could be painfully clueless with anything else besides baseball and the kitchen, he knew you and knew what to say when you needed to hear advice.

“Should I?” Your gaze flits over to his, and your brows raise in anticipation.

“I mean why waste your time, right?” He then grins, “‘Sides, you can come with me to Cheol’s party tomorrow night. Maybe you can find yourself a new toy to play with.”

Your nose scrunches at the comment and earns him a small kick to his side, but you do like the prospect of a party, especially Seungcheol’s parties. They usually wound up being really fun, whether you came home with anyone or not, anyway. The older boy just had a knack for entertaining others, always incorporating the best music and drinks, even being attentive to his guests.

Although, he often pestered you about yours and Mingyu’s status. He’s been so sure that you two would wind up together, but that just makes you curse Woozi for not letting that incident slip. Ironically, it seems you haven’t let it slip either. You don’t know if Mingyu has, though. You’ve never asked, and a part of you is a little scared to for some reason.

“Yes? No?” he asks, moving to lay by your side. His warmth already seeping through to your side as he curls in toward you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, remembering you were supposed to meet with Minghao tomorrow.

He says suddenly, “I won’t go if you don’t.”

“Why?” you laugh as he pouts, though you can’t ignore how much your heart is going haywire from this position and the sudden proclamation.

“Cheol said I’d have to pay if you didn’t come, and I’m a poor, poor college student, y’know.”

“I’ll let you know, ‘kay?”

His lips loosen curl at the corners ever-so-slightly, dark brown hues glinting in nothing you’ve ever seen before, but you don’t particularly care to decipher it. Your mind is still wrapping around the fact that you really would’ve said yes to him in a heartbeat, if not for Minghao looming right in the in-between.

The auburn-haired boy doesn’t really remain in your mind, however, instead you find your brain infiltrated with screeches as you find Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your waist. His cheeks pressed to your bicep.

“‘Kay~”

Besides a massive fuck you (which is actually a lot more normal than the average person would think), the first thing that crosses your mind when you see Minghao is your decision from last night. It’s simple, to the point, and really, it’s sitting on the tip of your tongue, so ready to just fall past your lips in just one breath. But instead of letting out your grievances and stomping out this thing like you decided, all you can think is fuck as the taste of chocolate and caffeine on his unbearably plush lips fall on yours.

It’s poor decision-making, of course. After all, you could really just push him away and say, “Woah bud, we’re through. I’m better at getting myself off than what you’ve given me these past few weeks.” Instead you continue to let him kiss you, relishing in the taste of something to sate the growing fire inside you. Terrible, you already know. Do you care? Not particularly.

All sorts of rationality begin to fly out the window as he tugs you along to push you onto the bed. The plush bed padding conforms to the curvatures of your back, dipping further as he straddles your waist and grinds his crotch harder into yours as if the constrictions of both your jeans weren’t enough to elicit delicious waves of friction. Each gyration enough to coax a louder breathy moan that feels like music to both of your ears.

His lips look unbearably bare caught between his teeth, the reddish brown tendrils of his hair clinging to the sides of his visage as he seems to lose himself in his own ministrations. Without thinking, you reach forward and beckon him forth with the pull of his T-shirt and coax his lips free to meet yours with a fervid hunger because the daunting reality that this would end like any other relationship you’ve had before—official or temporary—only makes you want to cherish this moment even more.

The way you go about things may be odd, even so much that it even has Minghao pulling back with heaving attempts at catching up with the loss of breath but you see the alluring need reflecting off his dark hues. They’re contorted with hints of something you weren’t quite sure what to think, but the longing is different from the lust that has you blinking in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, loosening your hold on the grey material. The air feels unremarkably familiar like that plaguing distance has returned yet again, but this time you have no idea why. Was it you? Was there someone else?

“I—I don’t think we should do this anymore,” he straightens up, moving off of you. Air fills your lungs, but there’s no relief in it when you feel your brows furrowing in a deeper curiosity.

You want to half-joke, but it comes off a lot more bitter than you’d like: “That was supposed to be my line.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, moving toward the edge of the bed as you sit up to do the same. Neither of your legs brush up against one another, but you can tell that it’s on purpose from the way he pulls his hand away from your proximity and tightens in his lap. “I haven’t been very good at whatever this is.’

“Well, is there any reason why?” When he raises a brow at you, not that you miss the flash of realization cross his features, you sigh, “I know you’ve been holding back, Hao.”

He opens his mouth for a moment before clamping shut, any explanation now hidden behind his teeth and swallowed down as his Adam’s apple quivers ever-so-slightly. It rubs you the wrong way just a bit. To think that he was pulling away without even a reason. For multiple reasons, it hurts.

“Are you going to tell me why?” you try again, hoping to search his eyes for anything resembling an answer. Something that would make sense to this whole ordeal. Even in all your time spent with Minghao, you never would’ve pegged him as the type of person to hold back his feelings. From the countless instances you’ve seen him lay waste upon his friends and tearing earfuls into random strangers on the street for being rude, inconsiderate jerks, it’s actually hard to believe that this is the same outspoken boy in front of you.

You carefully try again, curiosity getting the better of you and stubbornness keeping you from pulling you away and giving up already. “Minghao,” the call of his name elicits a small eye dart in your direction, but you don’t miss the shame that’s washed over his dark hues. “You can tell me anything, you know that already… what’s bugging you?”

“I—fuck,” he sighs, heaving out a laugh. “You and Mingyu. That’s what bugs me.”

You feel a deep knot anchoring your stomach even further down, as if it were possible for it to sink into the deeper recesses of your body, but you find your mind clouding with far too many thoughts to actually organize a cohesive comparison. You’re suddenly thrown back to that year Park Jimin dumped you over text, how easily he dropped you and used your friendship against you to let you go. You can feel your nerves careening and hanging precariously over a ledge that would only lead to the demise of your heart. It’s only been a few months, but the connection and relationship you had been sharing with Minghao wasn’t a passing fling. If anything, you swore it could bloom into something without thinking too deeply about it, because that’s just how easy it is with him.

Of course, the more you ponder this, the more you begin to realize just how fatal this train of thought is. You’re reminded more and more of your situation with Jimin and how crushed you had been and how angry you felt that your friendship with someone outside of this relationship was the sole factor in the end of what could’ve been something. And you know that you’ve shown no sort of interest or previous emotions for your best friend. You’ve staunched away those flames, let them simmer back down into your close-knit relationship that has only ever been as platonic as you two have always been. It just confuses you how easily you’re lumped together with Mingyu when a relationship goes awry and you hate how easily you’re assumed to be acting in infidelity with him when it’s never been like that in the slightest.

You’re about to voice your feelings, each syllable ready to fall out of your lips in a semi-calm manner, but Minghao’s pierces the still air with a scoff.

“C’mon, Y/N. You can’t sit here and tell me that nothing’s going on between you two.”

He probably doesn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but you find your eyes narrowing anyway. Who was he to say you had feelings for Mingyu? He wasn’t you. He didn’t know how you felt or how much you worked to get those feelings out of your system. You wanted to make this work, to enjoy the elation of a casual relationship like this one.

“I can, because nothing’s going on between us,” you reply sharply. “I think I’d know if I was screwing my best friend, while I’m not screwing you.”

“I’m not talking about fucking him,” he shakes his head, while his brows furrow. His eyes remain trained on yours, unrelenting without a chance of backing down in the slightest. “You love him.”

“W-what?” you splutter, eyes blown wide. “Where the flying fuck did you get an idea like that?”

“I have eyes. I don’t know what the hell happened between you two for you to react like that, but I know there’s more going on between you two than you realize.” If it wasn’t enough of a shocker, he even goes as far as stating simply, “I know for a fact that he’s in love with you.”

You didn’t like what Minghao said. In fact, you didn’t like this conversation, period. It actually feets like one of those conversations you would have with yourself whenever your thoughts rotated back to Mingyu. And to have that conversation with someone you were supposed to be romantically involved with feels even more like a slap in the face. Is this how Jimin felt? Is that why he disappeared without a trace?

You shake your head, willing the influx of thoughts away. Regardless of the faint traces of familiarity, you don’t like the inkling of false hope (or the very sensation of hope in this sense at all) and you certainly didn’t like how hellbent this auburn-haired man seems on it. You could practically feel his defiance as he didn’t dare back down on his theory no matter how much you tried to convey any other conjecture with your own level stare. Because, under what kind of goddamn basis could constitute him saying such a thing ? How could he, of all people, known when you were constantly side by side with that baseball player?

You retort, “That’s ridiculous. You can’t even tell me how you know this. It’s probably bullshit anyway.”

“But, is it really?” He raises a brow at you, gaze sweeping over your visage and even resting on your twiddling fingers before the corner of his lip quirked upward. “You’re acting awfully defensive for something you’re calling bullshit on.”

“Or, maybe,” you pipe up, glaring even harder than before. “I’m defending myself because you’re accusing me of being in love with my best friend? And maybe, just fucking maybe, I’m trying to figure out where the fuck you’d get an idea—which is complete bullshit, by the way—like that.”

“Like I said, I have fucking eyes.” He lets out a deep breath, breaking your stare down just to soften his just a smidgen as he continues, “And ears…”

You don’t say anything then, brows only furrowing in response to your own anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach—maybe I did fuck up and slip up after all…

“You probably didn’t mean to let it slip one night, but I know you and Mingyu fucked in high school. And it isn’t like Woozi’s the greatest at keeping secrets either so I know about the kiss too.” You feel a lot warmer than he’s ever made you feel, even when the distance seems to become clearer and clearer the long you’re there. “I dunno what really went down between you two and if whatever either of you say is bullshit because I never bothered to confirm it with him, but what I do know is that he’s crazy about you and I don’t think I can… get in between that.”

Without saying the words, it’s like he’s telling you: “And now I know you love him too.” His very voice, the downcast in his eyes—it’s everything you least expected to see today, and yet it’s also under your own whim that you rise from the bed and hesitate with words on the tip of your tongue. What could you possibly offer Minghao that could comfort him? You don’t even know how long he’s known any of these things, but knowing them altogether must’ve put him in a weird position. For him to end things with you… well, you get it.

Although part of your pride wants to argue with Minghao just to denounce all his claims and make him feel like shit for ever bringing it all up in the first place, another part of you knows that there’s really no of convincing him otherwise. He’s stubborn and well-natured. Even if he is an annoying smartass, he cares about Mingyu (and you) enough to let go of you. And even though you can’t exactly see his whole point in doing it, you also can’t help but find yourself muttering an apology to him anyway.

The last thing you remember doing before you leave his room is press a kiss to his cheek. Then the rest of your actions blur together and Seungcheol’s becomes your next destination.

Just as Seungcheol is about to charge Mingyu, you come bounding up the stairs of the fraternity house. It creaks beneath you but you hardly find a reason to care as you send a passing wave between the two with a tight-lipped grin spread across your visage. You try not to let the previous conversation get to you while you’re conversing with the two but it seems that any mention of Minghao goes ignored with an occasional glare to finalize your response, and Mingyu is no exception.

His eyes go wide for the briefest of moments before he drops the subject, slipping past Seungcheol and Dino with you at his side. Emotions you’ve been bubbling up inside you is beginning to spill over and a prickling pain in your chest has you reaching for the offered assortment of drinks with a fervid vigor that gives you whiplash for a second. At the least, no one asks why you’re trying to get shit-faced, but perhaps the reasons are written all over your visage now that you’re letting go of the mask.

There comes a blur of exchanging the usual pleasantries with Jeonghan and other friends that most certainly did not include Woozi (that damn bastard earned himself the bird after the raucous sounds he made at the sight of you and Mingyu together) and even partaking in the festivities of a good, ol’ round of Beer Pong and taking some time to shimmy your way around the dance floor with the dark-haired man trailing you and downing a drink each time you do tried to take two at once.

But just as quickly as you arrive to the party, you find yourself preparing to leave all because the two of you have put yourselves in a precarious situation in which the narcotics have finally kicked in and all forms of your self-control seem to fade the moment Mingyu truly comes into view in all his dark-haired and handsome glory. His visage is too close to yours but only because his cheek presses against the coolness of the wall like yours. You don’t miss the way the two of you involuntarily move closer, your dilated irises flickering between one another and one another’s lips, with the blatant urge to say ‘fuck it’ and just go for it.

Unlike the countless times you’ve brought up the whole ordeal, it’s actually Mingyu who makes the first move with a more-than-expected eye-rolling line that has you guffawing at first—

“How about one more for old time’s sake?”

Your nose scrunches as you respond, “That’s what you’re gonna use to pick me up?”

“I mean, I could literally pick you up if you want,” he shrugs, smiling even deeper as you take a small step back, because there’s really no telling what he’ll do sometimes. “But I’m dead serious.”

“No,” you shake your head, giggling again, “you’re drunk and your name’s Mingyu.”

“Silly,” he grins, looking at you earnestly. “I mean it. If it’s what you want then I’m more than okay to make you feel better.”

Of course he knows something’s wrong...

You’re about to sigh, “Well—”

His voice goes down an octave or so, “Plus, I know I do way better than Xu.”

His cockiness makes you glare at him, but not in the ‘you’re dead wrong” way but more in a “you’re so irritatingly right” way. In this very moment, your desires are pushing past all the nagging logic that has stopped you in the past. You know you shouldn’t do this. You know that jeopardizing your friendship and willfully screwing him also means screwing yourself over. But you also know how much you want to feel him underneath you. To finally have a taste of his lips that you’ve craved since senior year. The very idea of it is enough to coax a single nod, and now you’re both on your way back to your apartment.

You’re there quicker than you expect, but the blur of events is much like your encounter with Minghao. It all leads back to Mingyu and his strong hand in yours as he tugs you along the familiar, darkened path back to your room. No one seems to be home, but you’re absolutely certain that whether anyone was or not, it wouldn’t matter.

This has been a long time coming.

Each grueling month since you put an end to your fun with Mingyu has been hard, and conditioning yourself to push away the feelings you began to cultivate for him has been even harder. But with the opportunity of this night, everything is coming back and the forever you two shared begins to bloom once more.

He has you laid out beneath him, his member so closely pressed against your thigh, you’re practically itching to feel it deep inside of you. However, you can’t help but let the words tumble out, “I—I kissed Minghao earlier.”

He looks at you with a smirk poised on those beautiful lips of his like that fact doesn’t change a damn thing. Instead of answering right away, he presses his own mouth to yours, fluttering pecks before he trails a way down your neck and onto your chest where rough nips take place. “I don’t care.” His voice is low, eyes glinting in dark-eyed lust. “You’re here with me now, babe.”

His lips are back on your body, trailing the places Minghao never once touched with such a fervid flurry, your head is spinning as it tries to keep up with each of his ministrations. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, even more than you would’ve anticipated as his kisses feather off and he lavishes the reddened areas with his tongue in soothing circles that has you squirming.

He doesn’t hold back as he makes his way down, detouring only to fondle your breasts with his hands and suckling on the perk nipples, before nipping his way down your torso and stopping right above your lower half. His hands are on your thighs and his soft exhale meets the clothed mound, squeezing your soft skin as soon as you find yourself squirming from the sheer anticipation.

You remember his playful nature from the previous time, but this time is even more frustrating with his very lips so goddamn close to the spot you’ve needed to be touched for the past two months, and not just by your own doing. You need someone who can touch you in all the right ways and hit all the right spots. You need… you need… well, fuck, you need him.

Not in the “I can’t function with anyone else but you” but in a “you can fuck me in all the right ways and you get me” way. If there’s anyone in this world that knows your body as well as you know yourself, it’s him. And if there’s anyone in the world that gets your emotional fluctuations, it’s him. And having this opportunity where his face is this close from giving you the orgasm you’ve-so-craved for the longest sixty days in this whole year, it’s almost painful to not be able to buck your hips properly because of how well he’s keeping you in place.

“Mingyu,” you whimper, attempting to move once more but find that he’s keeping you right there on purpose. The smile curving on his lips is lopsided but the light in his eyes tells you just how excited he is.

He breathes hard against your core as he asks, “Yes?”

“Please,” you squirm once again.

“Please what?” he blinks, almost innocently. You almost want to spit a proper retort at him but before you can blink one of his hands leaves your thigh just to graze across your panties. “Did you want me to touch you here?”

All you can do is gasp because holy fuck his fingers feel so fucking good against the lips, and that’s just the outer portion! To think he could do wonders (as always) when he reaches past your panties makes you quiver, earning an even wider grin splaying out across his stupidly handsome face.

“Or here,” he tries once more, actually going as far as teasing the edge of your panties.

“Please,” you gasp out, trying to wriggle, to no avail.

“Just tell me what you want, baby,” his voice is gentle, softening as they watch you with gleaming interest. He’s always adored the way he could make you come undone. Even during the previous times, there’s almost always been an indiscernible look in his eye that just told you how much didn’t hate what happened between the two of you. Whenever you saw it, your mind truly did shut up, and tonight really is no exception.

“You,” you answer, feeling your heart jump when you hear his breathing hitch. You vaguely hear him muse, “That’s not very specific.”

But you hardly control yourself as you bluntly say, “F-fuck, your fingers, Gyu. I w-want your fingers.”

And just like that, as if a switch turned on in him, a poised look on his visage tells you that what you just said was all he needed, because it takes only a split second before your thighs are free and your core is bare to the world. Your panties decorate your floor, along with his T-shirt and pants that had been thrown off since he had you laid out on the bed. He doesn’t even bother letting you moisten his fingers, instead doing it himself in at a snail's pace before pushing past your lips and tracing a circular pattern against the bundle of nerves.

You mutter an “oh my god,” throwing your head back, because this is exactly what you’ve need this year. The only thing you’ve truly desired since you put an end to your ministrations with him, because it seemed too overly complicated to deal with. But right now? It feels all too damn simple—it’s almost hard to believe you’ve been depriving yourself of this in favor of taking the high road.

Screw the high road tonight, your brain immediately pipes up, jutting your hips in a particular way that has you mewling once again.

He increases the pace of his fingers in the exact way you’ve always loved it, each thrust fueling the pent-up orgasm that’s been practically begging for you to have, because for once you’re finally accepting what your heart’s been crying out for. You know it’s wrong. You’re drunk, and you’re not in the right state of mind right now, but it almost flies out the window just to feel the blissful euphoria wash over you.

Your very essence coats his fingertips, and he makes the mistake of bringing them to his lips just for a taste and to say the very damned words that had you ready for a second round the first time, “You taste so fucking good.”

Without another thought, you put your hands on the side of his face, tugging him in for another deep and long kiss. It’s not quick as fervid as the plenty that came before, but it’s enough to have you both gasping. The taste of yourself and the Corona he had are on your lips, giving you reason to take a long, lavish lick on your bottom lips before you get ready to give him a taste of what he must’ve wanted.

However, he stops you. His hand is on your wrist, a shake falling at his head as he answers your unspoken question, “I can wait—I want to please you.”

“Fuck,” you tip your head back, propping yourself up by your elbows. “You really fuck me up, y’know?”

He smiles, pressing his lips to your forehead, “I just want to make you feel good.”

You want to respond, feeling an obligation to, but he stops you with his fingertips. They travel to the stray hairs framing your visage, tucking them behind your ears before he asks, “Won’t you just shut up and let me?”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burning beneath your overhead lights. Despite how much your heart is fluttering, the burn in your core still hungers for a real taste of what he has to offer, so without another thought to convince yourself otherwise, you give a simple nod.

“Okay, fine.”

He goes in to kiss you once more, much like your own kiss, but this is drawn out with his teeth grazing your bottom lip. As soon as he releases it, he reaches for your nightstand adjacent to the bed for the stash of condoms you keep there in case of occasions like this one and offers it to you.

With a smile, you grab it and carefully rip open the foil to place the contraceptive onto his exposed member. He’s gone a little soft in that brief intermission until he gives himself few pumps that has him tipping his own head back. He lets loose a guttural sound, the sound of your name garbled in between as his hand is no longer his own but rather it’s yours.

The control is literally in your hands, though instead of teasing him like you wish to, you decide to give it to him easy. It’s been that long of a wait, and you refuse to push it along further. Plus, the very act of a handjob is a simple task that doesn’t require much effort. All you really have to do is exert only two kinds of pressures: 1) from the grasp of your hand, and 2) from the sheer force of the pumping.

You know exactly how he likes it—it’s really no different than most boys—not quite too fast but not slow either. His immediate response is to tip his head back, letting out a low whimper that has a smirk curving on your lips. You decide to fuel the fire and add a slight press of your thumb on his tip, releasing your grip on him. He’s about to let loose a complaint, but before he can speak, he watches you take your thumb to your mouth and lavish the appendage.

His lips fall open and he says, “Fuck.”

“Are you ready?” you hum, pushing him onto his back. He nods and you begin to slip the condom onto his hardened length.

He whimpers once again. But he doesn’t say a word as you rise from your position to straddle his waist. You ask once more as you hover, “Are you sure about this?”

He blinks, looking up at you with eyes that have already stolen your heart and the soft touch of his hands are on your waist to give them a squeeze.

“I’m absolutely certain,” he smiles raising his brows at you. “Are you?”

“Of course,” you whisper, moving your hands onto his length to position it to your entrance. “With you, always.”

Without another word, you lower yourself onto him. He’s still thick as ever, but the burn of the stretch washes away as your usual ministrations begin. Your very core feels full to the brim from taking him in, even as you begin to jut your hips at a particular angle in search of the right spot. His hands remain on your waist, giving you squeeze every now and then. It’s like he’s reminding you that it’s him and not anyone else. And as full as your heart feels, your alcohol-hazed brain takes action and has you falling into your carnal instincts.

You don’t think about how this is him, and how this is wrong of you to let yourself do. You think about pleasure and how the two of you are going to feel the best goddamn orgasm either of you two have had since that summer, and although it feels like eons ago, you can still feel the waves of euphoria right now.

Having him guide you and letting you rest of your palms against his bare chest as soon as you find your G-spot is much appreciated. The small whispers he keeps repeating go over your head; however, you feel the knot inside your core slowly coming undone as the rutting of his own hips induce more and more bliss with each thrust.

“Mingyu,” you repeat in breathy moans, each one getting louder and louder and your skins slap against one another. And each time you do, his hips don’t relent, allowing you to come undone after just a few moments. The strength in your arms wanes and leaves you with no choice but to practically collapse atop his chest, though he voices no complaints. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters as he manages to move you beneath him. His finger presses against your clit, leaving you with sensitivity and a pure sense of bliss. “Let it all go.”

And in that moment, you fucking do and it feels so damn good.

What takes place afterwards happens in a blur, but you’re certain that he manages to get off as well, your name falling past his lips in the prettiest sound that has your heart going haywire. He slips himself out of you and tosses the condom away, but he doesn’t get back into the bed until he’s coaxed you out of it to relieve yourself and pull on a T-shirt, because after the first time, you two remembered just how important it was to relieve yourselves and avoid UTIs!

By the time you return from the restroom, the comforter is different and the old one is tucked into your hamper at the corner of the room. He’s curled up on the left side, though a corner is dog-eared just for you. Instead of speaking, you decide to thank him later when you two wake and take the invitation of his arms with heavy-lidded eyes and soon drift off to sleep.

When dawn arises, its gradient hues washing your side of the world in muted shades of tawny and even the barest shades of frost, you wake up.

The expected weight of Mingyu’s arm draping over your waist is yet to be found, but you know that he’s still in the bed. His warmth is seeping in onto your left side, beckoning you to the coziness of his side that only he can offer, and yet there’s a stark coldness that reminds you that there are things the two of you need to talk about before moving forward, as always. Still, this time is different. You don’t know how you know, but you just do.

Your head pounds a little as soon as he pierces the still air, but you power through because it’s that important—

“Do you still think about that night in the pantry?”

“You’re in love with each other, Y/N!”

The burning glare of Woozi would have anyone recoiling, as many people in your mutual friend group (and even those outside of it) knew just how scary he could be, especially after the Guitar Incident of freshman year that still has Mingyu deeply scarred. But unlike the others, you refuse to back down against him. Especially about his outrageous accusation.

“No, I am not!” You’ve had to emphasize this point for as long as you and Mingyu have known one another, and yet the message still fails to seep into the minds of your close friends. In some cases, it’s always been a running gag, almost a bet that the dynamic duo would finally consummate their secret love and get together, but it’s a bit of running gag of your own to know that this testament is actually bullshit, because nothing has changed since you and your best friend fucked.

You would think that something would bloom in that shared time together, but nothing has happened. Nothing’s changed. You screwed twice and you haven’t suddenly realized that you adore the way he can’t seem to sneeze in his own fucking elbow instead of a goddamn hand or the fact that he looks very adorable making spaghetti like that one time he bet you his newfound skills have reached a groundbreaking level (though eventually you did admit that it has improved since he first tried his hand at the culinary arts). But still, nothing has changed. Nothing will change.

You even go as far as saying, “It’d be impossible for anything to happen between me and him, Woozi.”

But the narrowing of the blond-haired boy’s eyes makes you want to take it back. The glint of mischief and the way he says, “Oh?” both pisses you off and actually kind of terrifies you.

There are only two times you’ve ever realized you fucked up, and this was that second moment. The first was when you let Mingyu teach you how to skateboard—to say the least, you still have that scar on your leg from the stupid fall into the bush and you still haven’t set a foot on those cursed deathtraps since then. Though somehow you kind of wish you had been on a skateboard in this moment.

“I call bullshit,” he says simply, brow raising. “I know something happened between you two. I don’t know what but I know something did and it’s making you two act weird.”

You try to guffaw, but it sounds more like a nervous choke. It only makes him narrow his eyes even more.

“Nope, nothing.” It’s a blatant lie. He goddamn knows it, but instead of calling you out like you expect, he smiles after a moment. “What?”

“So, if you two—I dunno—wind up in my pantry after this round of truth or dare, you won’t jump each other right on the spot?” He crosses his arms against his chest. “Because at the least, if nothing has happened between you two, lemme just point out that the sexual tension between you two is even worse than Dino and his right hand and that’s some serious shit.”

God, you don’t know who you want to choke more—yourself or this dude you’re supposed to consider your second closest friend. But instead of confessing, because fuck no are you going to let everyone be right (especially Woozi) about you and Mingyu. No, your stubborn ass is going to keep denying this shit until you die.

“Nope, not even a little bit, you fucking demon.”

He smirks, nodding slowly. “So, is that a promise?”

Your eyes narrow, blood pressure practically reaching its peak because no matter what he’s always known how to push your buttons. “Fucking bet.”

He holds his hand out to you, which you begrudgingly take with blatant vehemence. He looks you in the eye, “I can’t wait to commemorate your loss later, sweets.”

You scoff, “Oh fuck you.”

Before turning on his heel for the kitchen, getting ready to gather the group for the well-awaited game, he winks, “You’ll thank me later!”

Mingyu returns to your side after catching up with a few friends he hadn’t seen from middle school. His brows are knitted together at the sight of your seething visage, but he sees Woozi retreating figure as the kitchen door flutters and a daring smirk curls on his lips. “He piss you off again?”

You groan, nodding, “You have no fucking clue.”

He pats the top of your head with some sympathy before snatching two of that flavored vodka Woozi managed to convince his brother to buy and it burns like a motherfucker but you take it anyway because you know you’ll need it to get through the night. Of course, you’re not going to mention the conversation to Mingyu at all. There’s really no point in it considering his height and his somewhat intimidating looks do nothing to the short boy, and if anything, you’re better off facing off in a fight with that demon than your best friend.

And it isn’t like you have a chance to tell him anyway, because Woozi bursts into the room, this time with the hordes of people and a bottle of Fireball just to announce everyone’s required participation in the game.

You feel absolute dread in the pit of your stomach as you find yourself sitting in the circle with the endless possible scenarios in how Woozi will turn this shit on you. Even if you chose truth, you know damn well he’d make that option just as bad as the dare, and honestly, being in that enclosed space with Mingyu could hardly harm a damn thing anyway.

Even with the fear of what could happen, because what’s really there to fear anyway?, you mentally prepare yourself for whatever may come. You don’t care if the table gets flipped on you. And you don’t care about what Woozi thinks, because it’s you and Mingyu who know the truth and no one else. So, with a newfound resolve, you await your turn.

The order goes in counterclockwise, with you coming after Mingyu and a few other souls that take the easy road. The first three of them have gone, but by the time your best friend’s turn comes, you almost don’t bat an eyelash when he asks for ‘dare’ until it hits you that Woozi is his executioner, and the malignant look flashes across that boy’s eyes.

“I dare you to go into the pantry with Y/N for seven minutes.”

Your jaw refuses to drop, though you find your mind screaming at your so-called friend, because goddammit you should’ve seen this coming. You knew it was coming, and yet, to see the innocent elation flash across Mingyu’s eyes when he looks over at you, a part of your heart swells because could it really end that badly?

(God, if only you knew.)

The space itself is a little tight considering how much space Mingyu takes up. His broad shoulders squeeze together out of consideration for you, but as soon as the doors shut with Woozi’s last words echoing through your head: “You have seven minutes, love birds!”

The dark-haired boy looks at you with an adorable sheepishness, “Sorry for dragging you into this.”

You shake your head, “Nah, s’okay. Woozi’s just evil.”

“You okay?” he suddenly asks, trying to step back. “You want me to move—”

But all his back is met with is the shelves and an unopened bag of rice that had his stumbling just a bit. You’re about to ask him if he’s okay; however, his attempt to steady himself only leads into more stumbling and somehow you two wind up on the ground with him cushioning most of your fall.

“Oh fuck—!” you blink from the sudden impact, barely registering the sounds that ensue from the sudden trip.

“Ow!” he says among a few curses, blinking profusely as he sees you in all your glory right before him. “A-are you o-okay?”

You nod slowly, meeting his eyes with concern now melting off your visage. The only thing you can really focus on right now are his eyes, and the way they search yours for any hidden pain. His hands automatically finding purchase at your hips in a gentle manner. He looks like he wants to say something, but it’s like the words are caught on his tongue; you know you want to say something too, but it feels like your own words are stuck on your tongue.

The only thing running across your mind is just how much you’d like to feel his lips against yours and feel your heartbeat quickly. You want your thoughts to suddenly go quiet and to just live in that small moment with him, because being here with him somehow makes everything else melt away.

Slowly, but surely you lean in until your lips touch. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, giving yourself enough leverage to pull him in closer. Unlike the previous kisses, even the ones from ages past, this one is completely different. It feels different. The very taste of his lips are sweet albeit laced with traces of vodka and the sour gummy worms from the snacks table, they mold themselves to yours and coax only the tenderest of pleasure to flood across your body.

It feels like it last forever, but you two pull away to breathe. You’re heaving, chests both moving inward and outward in hopes of catching your breaths, but you feel like your heart has swelled so large, there’s no room for your lungs.

“I—” He tries to say, but you pull him again, just for one more taste.

The magic happens again—the swelling of your very organ making you feel warm all over and not out of an increasing labidio. Nowhere in this are any far-from-innocent implications, only the genuine feelings of two friends, and yet that leaves questions imprinted on your mind and a sudden thought that has you blanching by the time Woozi swings open the door, snapping a photo that has you both breaking apart from the intrusive of the flash, because holy fuck do I love my best friend?

You refuse to say a word to Woozi that night, but the look on his face seems to tell you that your secret with Mingyu is safe with him. Though it makes you feel heavy-hearted from the loss of his hands on your hips and the heat that only he seemed to be able to share so damn well. Even though these are things that seem so simple and so him, you can’t help but find them… endearing and heartwarming.

Something (read: everything) changes that night, and all you can think is a simple: Fuck.

Your response is on the tip of your tongue, and you’re just about to do so until he beats you to the punch, “Because I still do.”

You blink for a moment, realizing what he’s just said, “You do?”

You turn to face him, watching as he nods with his attention still remaining on the ceiling. “I think about it a lot.”

“Why?” you have to ask. You need to know. Even if it’s a simple reason, because even if it’s far from what you’re hoping for, you just want to know. It might even set ease to your heart, and really, that’s all you can hope for.

“There’s something I wish I said before Woozi came to get us,” he admits, smiling faintly.

“Was that when I interrupted you with a kiss?” you ask, recalling the way his cheeks looked so faintly pink before it all melted away and the taste of the vodka and sour gummy worms had remained on your tongue then.

This time he turns to look at you in surprise, “You remember that?”

You nod, “Of course, sorry ‘bout that, by the way…”

His smiles even wider, reaching over to pat your head but he makes it about halfway before he lets his hand rest in the space between you two.

“Well,” he sighs, eyes wandering elsewhere. You feel your nerves tighten up, because he hasn’t acted like this in a long time. “I… was going to tell you that I love—d you.”

You want to flinch or react somehow, but you don’t. You just watch him, feeling your heart flutter in the way he hesitated in his use of the word ‘love.’ Honestly, you don’t think you ever humored the idea of him loving you back then but it seemed to make sense.

“When… did you realize?” you ask, reaching for his hand. He hesitates to hold yours, but you just entwine your fingers to tell him that it’s all okay.

“Senior year,” he answers softly. “I don’t know how but when I saw you after that game where we won champs and the first thought that came to mind was you and seeing you there… I… I guess it just hit me that if there was anyone out there for me, then it’d be you. And not because you’re my only option or anything, but because if there was anyone in this world that I’d like to spend my life with then it’s you.”

He continues after a soft laugh, “I didn’t know how to tell you, but then that kiss happened and I wanted to right then and there and…. I dunno I guess I got scared.”

“‘M sorry, Gyu…” you sigh, giving his hand a squeeze.

Before you can say another word, he replies quickly, “S’okay that you don’t feel the same!—”

“—I do!” you say a little too sudden, wincing from the sharp pain in your head. His eyes suddenly go wide, immediately asking if you’re alright. He’s about to get out of the bed just to go and grab you an aspirin but you pull him back down. “I’m fine, really, it’s just… I love you too, okay? I realized that when we kissed in the pantry and I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise since then.”

He remains in place as you wish, eyes softening as he asks, “Why?”

You laugh, almost bitterly, “Fear, I guess? I’ve lost plenty of people before, but losing you would be the worst blow of them all. I don’t think I could take you leaving me if things went wrong.”

He watches you, almost expectantly, “Is there a ‘but’ somewhere there?”

“But, we can’t go back from this, y’know,” you point out, slowly shifting your focus from your entwined hands to meet his eyes. Without even thinking, you find yourself feeling flushed and the corners of your lips begin to feel sore.

His brows are raised when he asks, “Do you want to?”

“Well, honestly,” you admit, shaking your head. “No…”

He grins wider than ever, “Good.”

A long silence casts between the two of you, though in that time you’re finally back in his arms with his warmth now seeping through his T-shirt and your hearts swelling larger than ever together.

You feel the urge to knowing something, so you suddenly ask, “What the hell are we then?”

“Whatever the hell you want us to be, babe,” he responds and presses his lips to the top your head. “As long as I’m with you, I’m okay, ‘kay?”

Even now, it’s different.

The morning rays of the sun begin to peek in through your window, and unlike the previous moments you’ve spent together, it isn’t nighttime. But the night is reserved for the special times, for the right-now’s you shared right then, and for the forevers you will share together.

You can’t help but feel contentment in the ease of his presence and the excitement that will come as you two spend more time together.

As long as you’re with him, you’re okay too, so you simply say, “‘Kay.”

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