#stg i was there i heard it with my own two ears

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙈𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙅𝘼𝘾𝙊𝘽𝙎𝙀𝙎. | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

edit by @raeganlolz <3

∘ requests: I tried to use as many as I could that made sense! Hope you enjoy!

“the things i’d do to meet edgy karl’s parents.”

“ok but next time you want to write smut for edgy!karl...post pregnancy scare...karl having a fixation on readers tiddies...like the whole time. -🧚🏻‍♀️”

“i stg this is my last thing ill send in today about edgy!karl but karl letting reader dom him completely.-🧚🏻‍♀️”

“CONSIDER edgy!Karl saying ‘that's my girl’”

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader 

∘ warnings: nsfw (minors dni), mentions of underaged sex, asphyxiation, domination, this being 4k

∘ word count: ~4000 (im so sorry)

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ disclaimer: I made up all the dynamics and Karl lore. This is also an au and I do what I want so

You rolled your shoulders, twisting your back to alleviate some of the stress in your back as your mind raced at the possible outcomes of spending the weekend at Karl’s parent’s place. He seemed to deal with the situation in his own way, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips as he scrubbed the nail polish from his fingers. You wondered if his parents were sticklers for order, then again, knowing Karl, there was no way they weren’t crazy strict. You thought about your own family and what would happen if Karl were to meet your mother.

Karl seemed almost absent-mindedly going through the motions of visiting them like you had nothing to worry about. There were occasions when he even made it clear that you had your life more intact than he did, so it was doubtful they would hate you.

You peered over at him, taking your eyes off the road momentarily as he paused to blow smoke out of his window. “Why do you have to take it off?” You asked, gesturing to his hands.

He scoffed slightly, sitting up and throwing the dirty cotton ball into the small bag beside him. “My mom hates the dark colors,” he murmured, flicking his cigarette bud outside. He moved a hand to settle over your thigh, wrapping his fingers around the flesh. “Don’t worry, I’ll paint them again when we get back,” he chided. “I know it’s the only reason you keep me around.”

You snorted at this, shaking your head at his joke.

The two of you came to a small stop-over town, swapping seats after filling up the tank at the local gas station. Through the crack in the passenger window, you could hear the cashier greeting Karl as if they were old friends, smacking him on the back and walking him out the door with a smile. As Karl sank into the driver’s seat you furrowed your brows. He looked at you with a shrug. “We vacation around here sometimes,” he brushed off, making your mouth twist in disbelief. He was downplaying the extent of his family’s hold over the town.

As the two of you drove through the main street of the town, your eyes snapped to the various stores with his last name plastered on the signs. You nearly asked him about it, instead opting out as you figured he would give you a half-assed answer and only give you part of the story.

His house had its own street, a long winding road that ended in a looped driveway the size of a suburban cold-de-sac. You willed yourself not to let your mouth gape at the sheer size of the mansion as it stared back at you, blocking the moonlight as Karl opened the passenger door for you to climb out. “Stop treating me like the fucking Queen of England,” you murmured, elbowing him as he pulled on his hoodie, shaking out his hair slightly.

He laughed at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth, and pressing his lips to yours in a nearly heated kiss as if to give you a taste of what he had in store of you. As he broke the embrace, his nose brushed against yours. “I can treat you worse if you want, pet?” He offered, causing you to shove him away from you.

“We are literally in your parents’ driveway. Chill out,” you urged, making him chuckle as he laced his fingers with yours, pulling you towards the front door. Your heart hammered in your ears as he pushed open the door. You tugged on his arm. “Shouldn’t we knock first?” You whispered, making him pop his gum and shrug.

As if telling you not to worry, he pulled you the rest of the way in the house, only to be greeted with an old man barely reaching over your height. “Karl! My god, you nearly scared the living daylights outta me!” He hooted, as Karl wrapped his arm around the old man, the two chattering away like the best of friends.

You smiled at the warmth between the two, watching Karl blossom. He moved to stand by you, wrapping his arm around your waist and gesturing to the man. “This is my nanny, Leslie. He wouldn’t leave so I think he just dusts the books in one of the libraries,” Karl joked, making the man swat the air in front of Karl.

You raised your eyebrows. “One of the libraries?” You repeated quietly as if to make sure you heard him correctly.

He smirked at you, disregarding your surprise. “This is my girlfriend,” he introduced, rather proudly as Leslie’s face lit up. He grabbed your hands and rambled on about how he had never thought Karl would introduce a girlfriend to the family.

“I thought I heard Karl’s voice. Did he make it?” A feminine tone rang out into the foyer, capturing Karl’s attention a beat before she had started talking as if he had sensed her. You wanted to smirk at the vision, knowing he did the same when he heard you.

A woman came around the corner of one of the walls, her hair and makeup applied to a professional standard and her clothes were cleanly pressed. She looked as if she had just gotten home from an office job with a corner office. Her intimidating aura vanished along with his as soon as she saw him, scooping him up in her arms as he chuckled slightly. She held him out an arm’s length away, pinching his sides and calling him a beanstalk. Another man a few years older than Leslie entered the room, draped in a flowery apron. He embraced Karl as well, the couple fawning over him like they hadn’t seen him in years.

Karl gestured for you to come closer as he showed you off to the pair, introducing them as his parents. Karl’s mom immediately embraced you, murmuring about how Karl hadn’t brought a girl home in ages let alone a girlfriend and you were quickly being to notice a theme amongst the group.

The house was massive, which you had quickly noticed was even bigger than it looked outside, as Karl’s mother looped her arm around yours, giving you the tour and explaining the extensive history of the Jacobs family and their impact on the house. Leslie and she served as some of the most entertaining tour guides you’d ever experienced as they giggling and joked. Karl walked quietly behind the group of you, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the ceilings and pictures as if he hadn’t seen them a thousand times growing up.

You peered over your shoulder, making sure he was still with the rest of you. He set you a wink, lips curling at the sight of you getting along with his family members.

After you were finally beginning to lose track of time Karl broke into the charade, and after vaguely mentioning he was tired, his mother when into a mock cuddling mode, cooing to him sarcastically, yet letting the two of you slink away for the night with the promise of finishing the tour before Karl’s brother showed up in the morning.

Soon it was just you and Karl again, him leading you up a flight of stairs. The hallways were lit with small lanterns that at one time had probably fostered candles but were now replaced with electric ones. You weren’t sure where to look as the walls were crammed with painting and photographs. Half of you wanted to admire the architecture while the rest of you was attempting to identify who the artist was that had done most of the artwork.

Karl sighed tiredly, popping open a door and switching on the lights. You bit back a smile at the view of his room in its pristine condition. The various shades of blues and greys accenting the features of his bed and various pieces of furniture. As you looked around, he threw his wallet and keys onto the dresser beside his bed, shutting the door to drown out the faint music coming from the kitchen. You sat in one of the massive chairs beside the fireplace, your mind running blank with disbelief. A fire was already burning in anticipation of his return.

You ran your finger along the seam in the leather. “When you said your family had money… I didn’t picture all,” you paused gesturing around you, “… this…”

He shrugged with a small smile on his face. “Do you wanna know a little piece of Karl lore?” He asked, smugly.

You perked your eyebrows at his words. “You know I do.”

He gestured with his fingers for you to come towards him as he walked closer to one of the massive windows. He settled his hand in the crook of your neck, turning you to look across the pond at a few of the other massive properties. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before pointing at one directly in front of you. “I lost my virginity in that one,” he stated, making you chuckle.

He wrapped his arms around your waist. “And to whom?” You queried, as his teeth nipped at your ear.

You could practically hear him smirk. “Her name was Ms. Scarlet back then, but I think she’s been married again,” he answered, making you freeze in his hold. “I think she was between husband two and three.”

“Wait, what?” You turned around to face him.

He brushed his lips against yours. “You jealous?”

You furrowed your brows at him, pulling out of his touch. “Were you of age?” You questioned, voice coming out in almost a winded laugh.

He shrugged, plopping down on the bed behind him, leaning his weight back on his hands. “Not the first time.” He smiled up at you. “She’s a friend of mine’s mom. I cut her grass that summer.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Jesus Christ,” you murmured. “Did you hook up again after that?” It was like he had opened Pandora’s box, a mass of questions echoing like bees within your mind.

He looked at the ceiling. “We stopped before my sophomore year of college, I think.” He furrowed his brows in thought. “Yeah, so almost five years.” Your mouth gapped slightly. “But only when I came back for breaks.”

“You were seventeen?” You stressed. “And when you came back from where?” You sat beside him, attempting to decide if you should be worried or not. Obviously, it wasn’t a fact you could change, but the fact that a woman had him at so young-

He hummed slightly. “Boarding school,” he mumbled, trying not to seem smug. He wrapped his arm around your waist. “I know it sounds bad now, but she wasn’t taking advantage of me or anything,” he assured. “I think you’d like her, honestly.”

“You think I’d like a woman that preys on little boys?” He snorted at your comment and you smacked his chest, making him laugh louder.

He dug his face into your neck. “Age of consent is lower here,” he continued to assure. “Baby, I’m okay.” His teeth nipped at your skin. “Plus, I don’t think I’d know how to make you feel so good without her.” That made you green around the gills. You attempted to put the thought of Karl and an older woman out of your mind. “How did you lose yours?”

You swallowed your questions, deciding to save them for another day. “In a treehouse before I left for college. With my roommate’s twin brother,” you murmured.

He chuckled. “Oh, shit. We’re both bad friends, aren’t we?” He jested.

You shook your head, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I was dating him, actually. It was really brief.”

“The sex or the relationship?” He asked, making two gesture two fingers into the air. He pulled away from you, sending you a small smile. “And what’s his name? I need to know who you’re comparing me to.”

You scoffed. “Clay,” you answered, the image of the boy flashing into your mind for an instant.

Karl’s demeanor changed. “Clay?” He repeated, sounding like you earlier as you wrapped your brain around the extent of the Jacobs fortune. “What does that seem so familiar…” he trailed off in thought. You perked your eyebrow at him, knowing full-well the two could have unintentionally crossed paths on campus.

The next morning, you could have sworn you were on the set of a period piece if it weren’t for Karl’s father’s golfing attire and his mother’s tight black dress as they welcomed various family members into the house. You had finally met Karl’s older brother, an accomplished man with a good job and an even more impressive education, yet each time he attempted to boast about his earnings or the progress he was bringing to the family business, he was swatted off only for his parents to gloat about Karl’s fraternity connections and grades.

You peered over Karl’s shoulder as he showed you Todd’s Instagram post, the two of you scoffing before you liked his picture from your account, making Karl roll his eyes as you snickered.

“… And that being said, renting cars is no longer a strenuous task,” Karl’s brother finished.

Mrs. Jacobs nodded her head slightly. Karl had mentioned the family joke of disregarding what his brother said, even if it was impressive or you were interested. It had been a running gag since Karl was in high school and they weren’t planning on letting up anytime soon. “Yeah, that’s neat. Did you hear Karl learned how to do his own laundry?” His mom boasted with a small chirp to her voice as if Karl were the best thing on the planet.

You bit back a laugh as his brother grumbled to himself, his wife patting his arm reassuringly. “He was also one of the most expensive at KA. Very impressive son!” His dad added, sending him a thumbs up.

You stood with Karl in the living room; his arm draped around the top of a bookshelf you were leaning against as you both listened to one of his cousins talk about a new boat they had just paid off.

Your heels felt tight on your feet as you switched the weight from one ankle to the other, leaning closer to Karl. He moved so his lips were near your ear. “Don’t let him fool you. It’s a hollowed-out log with a rudder,” he chided, making the corner of your mouth twist up.

“It’s not much, but it’s honest,” you mockingly defended. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“Inexplicably,” he murmured back, making you laugh quietly. He let a beat of silence pass between the two of you before wetting his lips. “Say the word and we’ll find a random room and I’ll ruin your makeup,” he whispered.

You scoffed, inching closer to him while your eyes remained on the center of the room where everyone was talking. “How can you be horny around your family?”

You could feel his warm breath against your neck. “Because I’m more focused on you in that tight little dress than Kevin’s boat.”

You took a sip from your cup. “Dirty boy,” you joshed quietly.

Karl smirked at you before his eyes drifted to the front door, a new flow of people filing into the house. You noticed him grow quiet, following his gaze to a woman and a boy around your age. They greeted Karl’s parents happily before integrating into the living room with the rest of you. You could tell by the way his face twisted smugly that the woman was Ms. Scarlet. You drew in a breath as she neared the two of you.

Karl stood up a bit straighter and you bit back a laugh, making a mental note on having to tease him about his MILF. The woman smiled brightly at Karl, pinching his cheek. You attempted to piece together who the boy was and if Karl had mentioned him before.

Karl cleared his throat after they shared their pleasantries. “Uh, this is Nick, but everyone calls him Sapnap, and this is his mom… Ms. Scarlet?” He questioned the last part as she charmingly laughed.

“Oh, no darling. I’m Mrs. Donahue now.” Sapnap rolled his eyes slightly at her words, taking a sip of his drink as she winked at him.

Karl smirked. “Right, congratulations. Anyway, they’ve been our neighbors for years-”

She cut him off, squeezing his arm. “Oh, come on! We were trying to marry Karl off to one of Nick’s cousins and finally join the families, but it’s just funny how things work out,” she stated. You wracked your brain, attempting to figure out if it was a dig at you or Karl. The two of them went off on a tangent about the array of Sapnap’s cousins that Karl had had to take on dates and whatnot.

“So, you’re dating Karl then?” Sapnap asked you, more of an aside as they had seemed to forget about you.

You nodded; the fact still rather foreign to you when given the chance to think about it. “Yeah, I’ll claim him,” you joked. “Did you guys go to the same high school?” You asked, attempting conversation.

He looked at you tiredly. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been classmates since we were little.” You hummed in interest. “I mean, since he fucked my mom we haven’t been hanging out or anything,” he added as if you had been itching to ask.

You had been.

You snorted at his words as he smiled slightly. “Sorry, that’s not funny,” you apologized, covering your mouth.

He shook his head, laughing softly. “No, it definitely is, don’t worry.”

“How did, uh… that affect you guys?” You asked, biting back your humorous response.

He seemed to relax from his stiffened introduction a few minutes prior. He wet his lips. “Honestly, there’s no going back from that, you know?”

You giggled. “No, I don’t.”

He laughed at your answer, covering it with a cough as Karl seemed to remember you were standing beside him. Sapnap’s mom suddenly spotted an old friend of hers, the two parting from your life almost as quickly as they had entered. You leaned against Karl’s arm.

“I like Sapnap,” you hummed, watching the two leave. “He seems quiet.” Karl shrugged beside you. Your mind wandered to whether Sapnap knew Todd. Part of you wished you had asked him, but you were struggling to remember Todd’s real name anyway. “Did you have fun with your lady friend?” You mocked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, biting back a smirk. “You’re my lady friend.”

You chuckled. “Oh? I thought you’d forgotten.”

Before you knew it, you were pressed against Karl in a coat closet in a remote part of the house, unable to make it to his room before his hands were up your skirt and his lips were attacking your skin. He pinned you against the door as if he were worried you would slip out of his grasp as he ground his hips against yours. His teeth grazed against your neck in a mess of hands and hair.

You pushed him further into the closet before he plopped down in a chair towards the back. The both of you shared a look of confusion as to why it was there yet shrugged and went back to carding your fingers through his hair and tugging at his lips with your own. He moaned into your mouth as you climbed into his lap, his hands gripping the flesh of your thighs before snaking up to slip into the top of your dress and take your breast into one of his large hands.

Kissing him felt strange without his tongue ring; if you weren’t so desperate to get yourself off, you would have complained about missing it.

You ground yourself on his lap, groaning at your newfound friction as he spread his legs further for you, his free hand dragging you against his crotch. You pressed your lips against his neck, biting at the skin, determined to mark him as yours. You weren’t doing it to ward off Ms. Scarlet, no. This was for you, knowing full well that Karl always wore your hickeys with pride.

Your hands went to his belt buckle, impatience taking over as you nipped at his skin, earning moans of pleasure as he let you have your way with him. He pressed his lips to your chest as you freed his cock from its cloth entrapment, stroking him with your hand. “Give me your panties,” he whispered, breathlessly as he hooked his fingers around your waistband. You obliged before angling him at your entrance and sinking down onto him. The two of you let out moans of pleasure, swallowing each other’s appraisal.

The air grew warm around the two of you as you began to roll your hips against him. Your head tilting back as you tried to quiet yourself down, knowing the last thing you wanted was for someone to walk in… again.

Karl’s fingers moved to unzip your dress, exposing your chest to his mouth as your fingers moved to tug at his dark locks. He ground his hips up into yours, a thankful moan slipping past your lips as his tongue pressed against the valley between your breasts.

You pushed him against the back of the chair, capturing his lips against your and slipping your tongue into his mouth. He completely submitted to your actions, wanting nothing more than to taste you as you began to ride him harder. Your nails dug into the back of the chair, your other hand moving to unbutton the top of his shirt and wrap around his neck. “Is she better than me?” You asked; your breath husky and demanding as his teeth flashed back at you, his leering smirk mixing with his blissed-out expression as he tried not to roll his eyes at how good he felt with you taking all of him.

“N-no. Of course not,” he groaned. His lips were pink from your teeth, cheeks flushed with lust and adrenaline as his blunt nails raked up your body to claw at your back. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, voice almost a whimper.

You moved your hand to press your thumb to brush against his bottom lip, loving the pleasured expression on his face as he looked at you like you owned him. “Good,” you answered plainly, swirling your hips and tightening your grip on his neck before you could feel your impending orgasm nearly within reach. He almost smiled up at you. What a little freak.

You moved your hand to fist in the front of his shirt, pulling him up to press your lips against his as you bounced on top of him. He let out a deep moan before you felt him release, making you scoff sardonically. His fingers moved to grip your hips, thrusting against you harder, determined to get you to follow him. You dug your face into the crook of his neck, his teeth digging into your skin.

Shamelessly, you let him drag you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with a flash of heat and relief. Karl kissed you roughly, desperate to taste your moans as if looking for your approval. "That's my girl," he moaned, smiling against your lips.

As the two of you straightened your clothing and cleaned up your appearances, you went for your underpants in Karl’s pocket, but he grabbed your wrist, drawing you to his chest. “You got to be on top, that means I’m in charge of foreplay for the rest of the night,” he answered, pressing a brief and sultry kiss against your lips to wipe away your shocked expression.

“Fine, then I’m in charge when we get back and I’ll send lewds to Todd,” you threatened with an empty conscious on the matter. “Just to make it spicy. Stir it up a bit,” you joshed.

He groaned, making you smirk. “You’re playing with fire,” he mumbled.

Tag List:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole @itgetsatadhazy

[soulvomit]

It is a weird fucking mood to be an early digital native.

I mean... i formed my personality online. I have lived online for gigantic chunks of my life. I have lived online since roughly age 8, which is when i first started dialing up from my Commodore Vic-20. In person I was a miserable weird kid, a mask pretending to be whoever I needed to be, but on the dialup boards in the early to mid 1980s I could be anyone I wanted to be. People could assume I was a teenage boy and not a little girl. People actually explained shit to me online whereas in person, they just expected compliance (and as a weirdly raised kid, I didn't know the rules). I developed a feeling like the computer was my interface to my own private world where I could be who I wanted to be, that had the things I needed. And then later it's where I met older kids, and ppl to make out with, and the teen crowd that introduced me to tabletop gaming and Rocky Horror Picture Show. The thing is that without a modem I didn't have access to these things, I couldn't find anyone else. It was hard to belong to the smallest generational cohort but have a niche set of interests. Also, in my teens, the BBS culture gave me a place to try out identities and model social behavior, and a relatively safe place to flirt.

Then i was doing all the same things in 1997 that so many young adults are doing. Stg. The Bay Area was on all of that over two decades ago. I was a young tech worker, in various kinds of households staying with various people, I identified as genderqueer/genderfluid for a long time (I just am not in the same social dynamic anymore where this even comes up or other people's assumptions matter that much), I was in a weird relationship friendship codependent therapizer fuck buddy relationship with another deeply geeky queer, and I assumed everyone over 30 was a normist homophobe, and I wanted so desperately to be heard and validated as a person that being with me was like having "LOVE ME!" screamed in your ear 24/7, and I wanted to return to a perfect place of idealized childhood, wanting to be protected and wanting to have my feelings cherished

I felt all those same feelings in 1997

I also hate to break to you that if you were on the west coast then goth was already mall goth as of 1986.

Lower half Xrs who were from first wave tech families were the first actual digital natives. The first digital natives were kids who were isolated by a prevailing alienating zeitgeist, a world that wasn't for us, able to meet few people like us

So I found the one place where I could, i clung hard, I developed a personality and set of social mannerisms and way of thinking very early on, based on being Very Online - and couldn't relate to the offline world for a long, long time

This is a set of experiences that I feel are very different from the older Gen Xrs, and the only generation that *broadly* has had this experience, are Zoomers.

If you socially developed online, you have a different set of formative experiences from someone who didn't.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

When Aang Was

When Aang was hurting, he became a walking wound. His reflection turned into a stranger. His smiles got a bit bigger—his magician’s one-liner to hide his slight-of-hand—, but he couldn’t keep himself above water forever. Even he sometimes forgot that he lost everything and everyone, and forgetting turned remembering into daggers through each of his lungs. It stole his air—his element, his last connection to them. 

...the Gaang have a few things to say about that.

And Aang’s family would be damned if they let him bleed alone.

***************************************

A/N: The Gaang will walk backwards into hell if it means they can give Aang a hug when he needs one. This was HIGHLY inspired by this beautiful photoset by @imreallyhereforkataang💕 because Yin and Yang make me soft for the airbean I stg. (also special thanks to @demigodseameg16‘s fic request for putting orphan!Aang on my mind!) (also, also, this is my first time writing Mai so ya-hoooo) 

Rating: T 

Words: 5,074

ArchiveOfOurOwn (AO3)

***************************************

When Aang was happy, he talked really fast. His master’s tattoos lost meaning. He tripped over his own feet—graceless but playful—and laughed like giggles were more vital than breathing.

He was an airborne contagion that no one could escape. His family were patient zero, and, almost four years after the war, his quest for world domination was nearly complete. Peace was proven with the smiles he nurtured in others, and his empire of friends and friendly acquaintances circled the globe a dozen times over.

Their symptoms of Aang were chronic—their cheeks always hurt, their middles never stopped aching, he hid their breath behind hurdles of giggles and slap-fights about the absurd...

The list went on and on, just like the peel of his laugh and the warm feeling he left in his wake.

If only the world could see him when he curled up like a cat in its favorite sunny spot every time he lounged across the fuddy-duddy Firelord’s lap. If only the world could see him when Suki caught him using her good makeup—the expensive kind she saved for formal occasions—and the monstrosities he made of his and Sokka’s faces. If only the world could see him when he sent messages to Sokka saying they were from Toph demanding a rematch of whatever they were practicing lately.

Mai didn’t exactly help. She graded his antics with a rubric and gave him feedback, to boot. She refined his nonsense like a blade on a grindstone for greater impact and outcome every time.

The world definitely saw him when he and his lifeline went out in public. He guided Katara down an invisible red carpet every time, and he announced his befuddled Moon’s presence without having to say a single word. He adored getting her flustered—his Mighty Katara—and seeing the beautiful color she turned into. He especially loved the sharp smacks she swatted his shoulder with. He adored her puffed cheeks and her face’s valiant attempts to scowl at him. She hid in his arms from something that wasn’t embarrassment, and Aang kissed her hair at another mission accomplished.

But even if they were ever ‘cured’ of him, his family knew they would never be rid of him. Aang was a master of his craft. His hugs were blue ink, his understanding was his steady hand, and his shoulder to lean or to cry on was a thousand fine needles. His tattoos were unseen but brighter than the sunset’s reflection when the Ocean was in a good mood.

To the world, he was a cure, but, to his family, he was a vice. Neither his better half nor his siblings could shake his grip on them, no matter how hard they rolled their eyes and shooed him away. He saw their pursed lips and grumpy looks as something they wore and that he could take off of them. He found the cracks in their armor like he was a thief turning lock tumblers, and he dug his hands into where they hid their joy.

He was a purple pentapus in airbender robes clinging to their arms, their legs, and their backs. He was their goofy little brother and their grinning parasite, and they wouldn’t have him any other way.

They loved his smile, despite how badly it crippled them. His joy was so second nature that his good feelings became as essential as Mother Nature. The flowers weren’t pretty if Aang wasn’t smiling. He was their greatest weakness—the biggest, happiest, dorkiest chink in their armor.

May the Spirits help the next person who tried to kill him.

Katara would not be held back a second time.

Toph would find someone who needed some punishment if she was left out of ‘the fun’ again.

(Sokka tracked the bastard down, and Suki caught him without—just barely without—snuffing him out)

(Zuko held Aang’s head in his lap while Katara patched up what was broken and tugged his bleeding spirit back into him)

(None of them knew what to do when his fever hit critical. He started talking to people—children, mentors...family—who had been dead for over a century. The six of them were worse than lost when their seventh begged for his old family to talk back to him. He was sorry. He was so, so sorry. He missed them so much—please, he missed them and he missed home so much—)

(When Aang was conscious two days later, Mai sat him down and taught him all that he didn’t want to know but all that he needed to learn about poisons)

...

Four years of healing were four years of silly smiles and cozy camp-outs in the Palace courtyard. Four years of new family were four years of new brothers and sisters discovering, together, what family really meant.

Four years of new family were four Fall seasons where and when nothing (seemingly) happened. Four years and four seasons of dead and dying things came and went like they were never there.

Four Fall seasons became four bundles of dead branches burned between Summer and Winter. A pile of ashes became a memory barely remembered and a nightmare never forgotten.

Four years and four fires were four times he slipped away, unseen, from the anniversary of the war that they ended. Four times he slipped away were four times left by himself with a feeling that was worse than alone.

Four temples and four Fall seasons were nothing more than marks on a map and a calendar.

In the room that Aang used to call his in the home that he used to call theirs was where he kept all of the ‘counts’. At first, he marked the things they missed, just tallies and names on the wall.

Four years and four Fall seasons meant four-thousand names and smudged scribbles of forgotten faces and places they might have thought were pretty. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and what was left of his heart wouldn’t stop breaking as he carved chalky tattoos, like unhealed scars, into the wall—the one with the window overlooking the places where he struggled to remember playing before.

He didn’t know he was forgetting them until he started having trouble remembering them. The tallies were lives lost, the dashes were shadows without faces, and the names of his family—the names of his old family…—decorated the head of the bed that he used to call his. 

He left them notes like they could read them and asked them questions like they might respond.

Four years and four Fall seasons meant nothing to him. He lost everything and everyone in the blink of an eye.

Aang tried not to stay at the temple, especially if he was alone. Thinking alone was dangerous. His thoughts were wild and threatened to burn him.

He made the mistake, once, of walking past the hidden hall that he and his friends—his old family...—used when they sewed chaos into the weave of their home. The hall was stuffed with fond memories but so poorly constructed—so narrow—that it only allowed enough room for a one-way direction to and from the outside.

It was a charred hole with a sooty-black throat that greedily swallowed his shadow. The blackened stone was melted—glassy—and smelled like the instinct to run.

It wasn’t until Aang got back to his family—his new family…—that he imagined his newest nightmare.

It wasn’t his new family’s fault. They weren’t the ones on the festival ride just to his left and screaming into his ear.

Aang’s empty stomach turned inside-out, and he dry-heaved so hard that he couldn’t breathe. It was a strange feeling, struggling for air, having his element all around him but kept just out of his reach.

Those few seconds of breathlessness turned the ground black and the sky into dirt, but someone caught him before his knees buckled. Someone else was patting him from head to toe with tender touches that left no part of him unturned.

His family were worried sick—sicker than he felt. They asked him in a million different ways and in a million concerned voices if he was okay.

Aang struggled to smile for them. It took him four or so tries to get it right. He couldn’t do anything about his shaking, though.

“Can...Can we go home, now?” He whispered his trembling words like they were secrets never meant to be said aloud. He looked at them like a wounded animal limping back to its master—a stray tucking its tail but crawling closer, desperate, with a broken smile peace-offering and a fit of flinches at any sharp sound. The beating was inevitable, but he pleaded for the chance to feel something soft before he was kicked again. He leaned into Katara’s hand, and he flinched and pressed harder when she was warm and real and didn’t move away from him.

He was their goofy little brother and their grinning parasite.

Aang fought his struggle to smile for them, and he trusted his big brother to carry the whole of his weight. Zuko was warm and familiar, and his gentle squeeze was a promise to not let go; Katara’s worried touches and soft kisses were safe, and she swarmed around Aang like a mobile shield.

Aang sensed their tensing. They were his family, after all. He always had two fingers on their happiness’ pulse.

Their questions were a distressed tidal wave.

He didn’t stop smiling even when he closed his eyes.

He couldn’t tell if the hushed voices he heard were from his new family in front of him or from his old family behind him. Aang remembered...

Aang rearranged his lips into what he remembered a smile felt like.

“Please? C’n we...Can we g-go home?” He opened one eye and found both of Katara’s waiting for him. She was horrified and concerned to tears, and she wasn’t the only one.

Aang almost sighed. His strength was bleeding out of him along with everything else. He struggled to keep smiling for her, and he struggled even harder to keep his eyes open. He flinched from the kicks that were their heartbroken looks, but he tried to give them a reason to smile. 

Zuko was really warm, though. And Katara’s hands felt really nice on Aang’s face.

The flame of his consciousness flickered—a candle left out in the rain.

“Please, K’tara?” He spoke without meaning to. It was an impulse, an instinct. It was the orphan and the last airbender crawling through the carnage and finally having a spot on the stage to speak.

Cold sweat beaded his brow, and frozen shivers shook his insides. He just wanted to go home, wherever or whenever that was. Everything was too blurry. He couldn’t remember anymore. 

Even his new family’s faces were blurry, now, and Aang’s element was torn out of him when his first choke on everything and everyone he lost freed the Oceans behind his eyes.

He just wanted to go home...

“...Please?”

Aang’s voice was the last of him to break, and his family all flinched like they could feel it. His shattered pieces fell all at once and shredded everything he knew and loved.

He curled his fingers into Zuko’s robe to keep himself above water. He shook like something dead about to be churned to ash and carried away—a forgotten memory—on an indifferent passing breeze.

...

When Aang was scared, he talked too fast. His sunshine-warm smile lost meaning. He hugged like he was trying to hold onto something, and he laughed a sound that rang hollow—distorted—like an echo returning from far away.

Toph was the first to notice. His heartbeat was...off. He acted like he was surprised by their group hugs, but the evidence of feeling anything was only skin-deep.

Aang was never happy. He didn’t get happy, either. Aang was happy. He and the word meant the same feeling like how the sun would always mean warmth.

Katara noticed it next—nearly in the same moment. She had no seismic sense, but his kiss wasn’t laden with giggles and his heart didn’t try to beat out of his chest to get to hers when she hugged him.

Suki saw it but didn’t tell the others. She was an elite warrior trained for years in the art of stealth. Aang was the White Dragon and White Lotus tile all in one, but he had a terrible poker face.

Five years marked the start of a new quartet and the shedding of all things old to welcome all things new. They knew Aang loved the festival of the anniversary of the war that they ended, but something was different this time.

Sokka’s instincts saw it coming. Zuko’s hearing picked up on it, too.

Toph won him a prize—a plate of pastries trying to be fruit cakes. Aang greedily ate them and said that he loved them.

His shoulders shook and said that he missed them.

His lip trembled and said that they scared him.

Suki touched between his shoulders and guided him towards something called ‘volleyball’. It was a three-on-three game.

None of them realized until they picked teams that Aang was no longer with them.

It was a three-on-three game.

There were seven in their family.

Mai cursed and cut the net before it could become a fire hazard, and she was barely fast enough to save the netting from turning to kindling when Zuko pulled his hair and charred the sand.

They found him an hour later by following the echoing huffs of Appa’s soft sounds.

Appa held him like he had to chase and pin him down, but Aang held him back like he could never hold on tight enough.

…

Hawky was a master navigator and a tool of military purpose.

Hawky was also distracted when he stopped in the Fire Nation Palace on his way to Aang’s room.

Hawky had never seen a turtleduck before. He was domestic and curious even though the mother turtleduck chased him off like he was a massive predator.

And that was exactly how Sokka found his old bird—soaked and waddling for his life.

There was a message in his pack.

Toph threw open her door to find whoever was about to die from such a fast heartbeat just as Sokka ran past, grabbed her, and sprinted them to the others.

Toph would have fought him if she wasn’t so confused.

Sokka didn’t cry that hard even at that time of year when some girl name Yue had to go away.

…

Hey, Gyatso!

I guess it’s been a hundred years, huh? That’s so weird to think about.

I’ve been meditating just like you taught me. Well, I think I’m doing it right. It’s hard to tell, anymore. I sit in front of the mirror to correct my stance, but it hasn’t felt right in a long time. It’s okay, though! I’ll figure something out. I’m sure there’s a prayer statue in one of the temples that’s still in one piece. I could always check in the mountains, too, but I don’t I can’t I’ll try to check the temples again, first.

A good friend told me yo the Air No all of the Guru Pathik said you’re not really gone, and I believe him.

It’s cold today. It rained, before, so new plants should be growing soon. You would really like it here.

Do you I I miss you. I try not to, but Guru Pathik said to let my emotions flow. He’s gone with you, though. It’s been two years, now.

I wish he He left befor Could you give him a hug from me when you see him?

I hope you don’t miss me, Gyatso. Missing people hurts a lot. I really hope you’re happy, Gyatso. I really, really do.

Please, please, please, don’t miss me.

I miss loved love you!

…

Hey, Gyatso

I have more family, now! You’d really like them. Katara could beat you at Pai Sho, for sure. I tried to show them how you swirled the gooey center of the fruit pies, but I don’t think I did it quite right. It’s hard to tell. I tried it a few times in the mirror, but, when I remember you doing it, I can’t see your hands anymore.

I’m trying, though! I’m trying!

Toph helped rebuild the statues in the temple. I don’t really know how, though. Mai and Zuko convinced me to stay with them and teach the schools how to host a dance while the others left on Appa.

The statues look great. They look almost life-like.

It’s been a hundred years, huh? I try not to That’s so weird to think about.

I can’t thi I don’t kno Please don’t miss me, Gyatso. I’ll write to you more so you don’t miss me. I promise. It’ll be okay. 

I can’t s Please, please, please, don’t miss me, okay? Please?

I loved y

My fathe

I loved you, Gy

I 

…

Wet scars like blood splatters littered the letters by the dozens and made Aang’s handwriting nearly illegible.

Katara couldn’t make herself read any more.

She was the last one to break.

Sokka had been the first.

The second she sat next to where their family cocooned him on the bed, he hugged her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling.

She had seen her brother cry before.

But Katara had never seen Sokka weep.

Missing fathers and fathers missing were scars that never quite closed.

Katara choked on years lost and years alone, and she barely felt their family huddle around them, blanketing them, protecting them from what they couldn’t see.

Sokka’s hand left his grip on her to search for someone who wasn’t there. Katara beat him to it, though. Her empty hands pawed her brother’s back and were only mildly tamed by Suki’s tighter hug.

Aang...

The worst part was the helplessness. It wasn’t like they could bring back the dead.

The second worst part was the guilt. He had been alone even when he was right with them.

The third worst part was admitting that they couldn’t heal him. He needed something stronger than stitches to mend his heart.

Sokka tensed and tried to get up with that bullheaded air of setting his mind on something, but he only collapsed further into Katara’s arms. Zuko held them tighter and hushed the both of them. He tried to distract them with a strategy or a plan of what to do.

“...What can we do, Zuko?”

Zuko shut his mouth. Suki held them tighter. Toph sniffled and fisted Sokka’s and Katara’s shirts.

In the too-far-off distance, Appa groaned a series of soft sounds.

They all paused. They all broke.

Suki was the last to start weeping.

…

Clumps. The beast was easy enough to track.

Appa recognized Mai well enough to remember Aang being happy—trusting her—when he hung upside-down from her shoulders and laughed that happy sound that made Appa’s world of no bison feel full of new life.

He let her pass but not without groaning a hurried list of what she had to do to help his buddy.

Mai patted Appa’s nose.

Aang was a pathetic bundle of orange in the far corner of the cave. He was a mountain breaking apart, but his tumbling boulders didn’t make a single sound. His words were cut. His voice was obsolete. He pressed himself into the wall like he might get to something better if only he could come out of the other side.

Mai was a shark fin cutting through still water, and she sunk to a seat right beside him. The ground was cold and damp, but he burned so hot that she could feel the licks of his fever from here.

Her sitting down was the placing of a needle onto a spinning record, and his sounds of sorrow finally broke free of him. They bubbled in his throat like blood threatening to drown him, and he coughed when the instinct to survive overrode his waning will to keep breathing.

Mai closed her eyes and emptied her lungs. She touched the bare skin of his back. He flinched like she had struck him, but he didn’t duck away from her.

Mai let her presence fill his silence. Even he didn’t know what he needed, but she kept doing what seemed to be working. Her hand rode the waves of his choked sounds in long, looping circles that lasted as long as the time it took to take two breathes.

His hiccups dulled to whimpers. His sniffles quieted to shivers. He dug his nails out of his arms and scowled like he was struggling to remember.

The apex of her hand’s circle was his inhale, the bottom of the arch guided his air out. She unwound him in every way and through every layer until he released himself and uncurled enough to show some of the yellow of his robes.

Aang bobbed his head like a metronome.

Mai kept scratching long, looping circles on his back.

He huddled into himself with a ghostly small smile and a barely-there hug, and Mai would have startled if she was a weaker woman.

Aang started to hum.

His vibrato was something within him thinning and threatening to break.

When he started to sing, that thing within him frayed.

It broke when he got to the upturned chorus. It was supposed to be a happy song.

Mai hugged her knees with one arm and scratched his back with the other—keeping him alive like a broken music box from a hundred years ago that lost its key and was fighting fate from becoming obsolete.

…

Aang wore his smile like it was something he could take off.

The Blind Bandit ripped it off of him.

The Blue Spirit broke it in half.

The Kyoshi Warrior tossed it into the fire.

The Painted Lady threw its ashes away.

The Swordsman melted it down and forged it into something protective.

The Dangerous Lady kept its daggers in her sleeves and dared someone to hurt him again.

...

Toph sat across from him and didn’t let him be alone.

Zuko walked past his room to remind him that there was a way out.

Suki brought him books with pictures to show him how to feel again.

Katara was his shadow, his shield, and his favorite dancing partner, coaxing his smile to come out and play with hers.

Sokka told him jokes and laughed hard enough for both of them.

(Mai sat with him and listened to everything she didn’t need to know but everything she wanted to learn about his loss.)

...

When Aang was loved, he couldn’t talk fast enough. His past and his future lost meaning. All that mattered was his family right in front of him and the smiles that bellied their every feeling.

They were tattoos that he could never wash off, not that he would ever, ever try.

Five years of wanting were five Fall seasons of feeling lost. Five Fall seasons of searching were five Fall seasons of feeling alone.

Five friends and one love were six members of his second family.

Two brothers a foot taller and three sisters twice as strong as him meant Aang rarely won when they wrestled.

Sokka was safe and familiar as he sat on Aang’s back. Katara shoved him off. Toph laughed and took his place.

Aang walked, almost skipping—so giddy that he was going to spill over—next to them. They went slow on purpose to stretch out the precious journey home, but he didn’t mind. He told them all about his first family and everything he loved about them.

“—it, Zuko! He rode a dragon, once, too! Oh, Katara, you wouldn’t believe—“

Five years and five seasons of dead and dying things meant nothing to them. They almost lost him in the blink of an eye, and they wouldn’t look away ever again.

They were each a stretch of ink tattooed around his heart. They were stronger than stitches. They were a part of him.

They shooed him away so they could pull him closer, and their smiles were challenges to the size of his own.

...

When Aang was hugged, all he knew was love. All of his wants and needs lost meaning. Everything that mattered to him was everyone who held him, and everyone who held him were always there for him before Aang even knew that he needed them.

Their hugs were surprises like finding out the dead were alive.

They surprised him every time. He flinched, however, like he had never done before.

He was trying, though. He was trying.

Him missing family and family missing him were scars that would always be tender.

Tender was okay, though.

The secret was the gooey center.

“...Sometimes...life is like this...t-this dark tunnel,” he told his swallowed shadow, “...C’n’t see the light...but if...if you just keep going...”

His family were already in the prayer field. They looked at him with faces armed with smiles and arms loaded with hugs.

Sokka waved and said something he shouldn’t have and that, even though it made their family laugh, compelled Katara to shove him into the fountain.

The water was cold.

Sokka screamed.

Aang froze for a small century. He didn’t breathe for a longer eternity.

...And then Aang laughed.

And Aang cried.

And Aang laughed so hard that he cried.

All Aang cared about were the arms now around him, and all he knew were their soft words spoken over and over.

“We love you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Sokka, you’re a dumbass.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The muted smack of a backhand sounded too much like Mai’s for it to be anyone else’s.

Aang laughed a little harder.

He didn’t want to go home, anymore. Home was a memory. Memories couldn’t feel like this.

In their arms, he was finally where he was meant to be.

In their arms, Aang was happy.

In their arms was what home should be.

And when they held him tighter, Aang never felt more wanted in his entire life.

...

And when next Aang needed to speak with him, he found a way.

“Hey, Gyatso,” Aang said, speaking to the person in the mirror who was once a boy, then the Avatar, and now a young man trying to make himself into something that his memories would be proud of. “Did you miss me? You won’t believe this, but Katara lost to me at Pai Sho this morning. She got me back with the fruit pie, though. It even had sea prunes in it...”

Aang talked some more, and he talked fast. The breeze wound into and through the folds of his robes like it was a lounging cat curling into the warm rooms of a new home and new favorite sunny spot. He smiled something brighter than joy and welcomed the windy hugs that could always hold him just tight enough.

When Aang talked to his father, his master’s tattoos lost meaning. The tattoo Gyatso had left behind was so bright that Aang’s eyes watered if he looked thought about it too much.

He talked and talked and cried and talked until he left himself breathless.

It was a strange feeling, being breathless.

His element was suspended away from him, but nothing felt out of his reach.

A body or two (or three) threw themselves at his door.

“Twinkletoes!”

“You better not have my lipstick again! I bought you your own for a reason!”

“Hurry up, Avatar, we’re going to be late!”

Aang laughed just as the—the wall opened?

Katara lassoed his neck with her arms and threatened to kill him with a kiss that yanked him above the clouds and dropped him into free-fall.

“What...” He blinked. “...I mean I...I-I mean I don’t...” He turned a color and temperature that made Katara smile like he hadn’t seen her do in far too long of a time. “...What do I have to do to get another?”

“Ugh.” Mai rolled her eyes and pointed down the wide hall of the secret passage. “Just don’t do anything stupid. And don’t be late for the fireworks.”

Aang smirked something evil, and Katara couldn’t help but smile.

The firelilies only looked pretty when Aang had two dozen in one hand and her hand in his other. He kissed her knuckles, offered his arm, and escorted her down the invisible red carpet. She hid her face in his arm and trusted him to keep her from walking into anything.

He laughed.

His empire breathed a sigh of relief.

The anniversary of the new world they built was familiar, but none of them felt home until they met together on the hill.

And nothing felt right until their sickness started acting up again.

“Aang! Get back here!”

“Aw, c’mon, Sifu Hotman! Where’s your sense of fun?”

None of them realized the fireworks were over until the sky got a bit darker and it was time to go home.

Aang was tired. And when Aang was tired, he dragged his feet and spoke in slurred songs. His lyrics found every lost feeling and forgotten meaning. They were long lists of pretty names and precious things, tender to the touch and still healing.

He was tired, happy, and teary-eyed as he sang a diary-entry of their day to the breeze dancing around them.

Four seasons were six loves and two families that would never let him slip away into the season of dead and dying things.

He was their goofy little brother and their grinning parasite. He was a candle left out in the rain.

So they built a fort around him. And they hugged him like they could never hold him tight enough.

And when Aang was at peace, he didn’t say a word. Words were meaningless. They were a constraint. They only meant a certain something.

So he laughed.

And he laughed.

And he laughed.

He laughed even when his family cried, and he laughed harder when they learned to laugh with him.

Six years of found family were six years of found love.

And all six members of his family would never—never—let him Fall again.

***************************************

[lveclouds]

pianos and coffee (myg x reader)

(in which yoongi is a music major and you, the reader, pass by the music room occasionally to watch him as he plays the piano)

dedicated to: @dylanxmin @agustd02 @agustkive @yoongislovecult @softguks @joonglows @sketchguk @sweetheartjeongguk @flowerseok @yourdelights @dreamingofkoo @jksmoongf @gukwluv @gguksbby @yoonminos @minsprings @yoongismykink @outroshooky @kimcritique @brilliantlybasicb @thinksshesawolf @roguebangtan @nahfamily @jungkooksmoon @swanqook @koosgrl @yoonsgiggle  @daechwitas​

word count: 1k (my first drabble thats at least 1k hehe)

genre: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, college/university au, music major yoongi, arts major reader 

rating: pg (for mild swearing) 

(lowercase intended)

a/n: another yoongi drabble for you all because why not? yoongi’s been providing us with so much content lately, like i stg we are so spoiled:((( anyways, please stream D-2 for good grades, clear skin, and clear skies. also, yoongi is the cutest bub ever and i wanna put him in my pocket but agust d makes me want to light stuff on fire you feel?? 

a soft, tired sigh escaped your mouth as you trudged down the empty hallway, feeling both mentally and physically drained. the late afternoon sun shone through the massive glass windows that took up the right side of the hall, bathing the tiled floor in golden beams of light. your arts professor was bombarding you and your peers with endless projects, and, top of that, you also had a literature essay due in two weeks. stress and anxiety were emotions that constantly plagued you, and it seemed as if they would never go away, due to the veritable mountain of assignments your professors were throwing your way. so far, your second semester of college wasn’t looking all that great. Your parents’ words lingered in your mind constantly. “do well in college so that you can get a good job and be able to provide for your own family one day.” “don’t become a college dropout, ok? promise us?” “don’t become a college dropout, my ass.” you mumbled. your schedule was quite hectic, and you barely had anytime for yourself, and you felt as if you were going to reach a breaking point sooner or later. 

“feeling great” you muttered, your tone dripping with sarcasm. suddenly, soft piano music filled your ears, and it occurred to you that you were standing right in front of the music room. you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the gentle and soothing notes of the piano keys. the piano was an instrument you found to be quite beautiful, as you thought it possessed a delicate sort of nature. after the music had subsided, you opened your eyes and snapped back to reality, sighing heavily.  as you were about to leave, something, or rather, someone caught your eye, and you felt your face flush scarlet when you realized who had been playing. 

min yoongi, music major, and the guy you’d been crushing on ever since your first year at college, was sitting at the piano bench, delicate fingers hovering over the keyboard. not only was he one of the most talented guys on campus, but he was absolutely stunning, breathtaking, even. with messy, raven hair that was always falling into his eyes, feline shaped eyes that could pierce your soul with one look, a cute button nose, perfect eyebrows, and the softest pair of lips you’d ever seen on a guy, yoongi was, if not one of the most breathtaking guys you’d ever laid eyes on. everyone on campus was intimidated by yoongi and usually avoided him at all costs, due to the “cold” aura that radiated around him. however, you knew that yoongi wasn’t really what people on campus made him up to be, at least, according to your classmate, jeon jungkook, who happened to be close friends with yoongi. you had met jungkook on your third day on campus, all smiles and doe eyes bright and sparkling, and he was someone that you quickly became fond of. when he had asked you if you knew yoongi, you had shook your head, admitting that you were a bit scared to talk to him, due to the rumors that yoongi was extremely intimidating. to your surprise, jungkook had giggled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “yoongi hyung? intimidating? don’t believe anything those people say. he may look intimidating, but he’s actually a big softie with the biggest, kindest heart and is really caring, trust me. he’s one of the kindest people i’ve ever met and has the biggest amount of patience and is really calm, even in stressful situations. he also gives great advice and is a great listener; i rant to him all the time about my problems.” despite this, however, you were still too shy to try and talk to yoongi, which resulted in you pining after him from afar, refusing to initiate a conversation, much to jungkook’s dismay. “you just need to talk to him.” jungkook would say, making it sound like something that was as easy as breathing. “kook, it’s not that easy,” you’d protest, causing him to pout. “why?? yoongi hyung’s not going to bite you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” that earned him a light shove to the shoulder. the real reason why you were so terrified of talking to yoongi was the possibility of being rejected, and now that you admitted it out loud, you felt kinda pathetic. 

you were sensitive and your feelings were easily hurt, even from a young age. if yoongi knew, you thought, he’d probably laugh in my face, you thought, your heart sinking down into your chest. you were snapped out of your trance when the door to the music room suddenly swung open, and min yoongi was standing right in front of you, expression unreadable. “can i help you?” he asked. his voice was deep and a bit husky, which sent a shiver down your spine. “I-i “ you stuttered, face flushing scarlet. your mouth suddenly felt dry, as if you had swallowed sandpaper at the sight of yoongi right in front of you. yoongi sighed. “you’re one of jungkook’s friends, right?” “w-what? h-how do you know?” “the kid keeps talking about you.” yoongi stated plainly. “o-oh. well, i’m y/n.” “i’m yoongi.” after a long, awkward pause, yoongi cleared his throat. “wanna get coffee? there’s a cafe that’s a two minute walk from here.” a shade of pink settled across your cheeks. “s-sure.” yoongi nodded and gestured for you to follow him. 

minutes later, you and yoongi were tucked into a booth near the back of a cafe, with warm cups of coffee in your hands. “so, what’s your major?” yoongi asked, taking a long sip of his coffee, dark eyes fixed on you. “i’m an art major.” “ah, so you know you taehyung?” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. why does the name sound so familiar? you thought. “he’s also an art major too, so i thought you might’ve seen him around campus.” “ah! wait! wasn’t he that guy whose watercolor painting everyone was raving about at the art exhibit last year?” yoongi nodded. “ok , then yes, i have seen him around. I’ve never talked to him, though.” “taehyung’s a good kid, a bit clueless at times, but he’s one of the nicest people i know. plus, he’s pretty fashionable, at least, that’s what everyone says whenever they see him.” “i like his fashion sense, its unique.” “so, how long have you been playing piano for?” “ever since i could walk. my parents weren’t really into music, but i knew from the moment that i had my first piano lesson that i wanted to pursue some kind of music career.” “i’ve heard you play, you’re incredible.” a light blush spread across yoongi’s face. “t-thanks.” you felt a small smile forming on your face. jungkook was right, you thought amusedly. yoongi is really a softie. Then, you and yoongi ended up talking for hours, and your conversation with him was halted when one of the employees, a tall, handsome man with the plushest lips you’ve ever seen came over to tell you that the cafe would be closing soon. before you could say anything, yoongi’s face suddenly broke out into a smile, gums on display, and you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his feline eyes were bright with happiness. “hello to you too, jin-hyung.” “wait? you know him?” the older male rolled his eyes. “yeah, he does, and often takes advantage of the fact that i work here so he can get a discount.” “i do not!” yoongi protested, a slight pout forming on his lips, and you tried not to melt at the sight. “yes, you do, now take your girlfriend and go.” jin said plainly, but his eyes were alight with mischief and the corner of his lips curved into a small smirk. “she’s not my girlfriend, hyung. we just met.” yoongi mumbled, blush deepening. “ok, ok, whatever you say, yoongi.”jin teased. “we’re leaving.” 

jin laughed as you followed yoongi out of the cafe, waving cutely. “bye yoongi!! use protection, ok?” “i’m sorry for him.” you waved off his apology. “it’s fine. jin seems nice.” “he is, but he teases me too much.” “but he makes great coffee.” yoongi smiled. “that he does.” and before the two of you parted ways that night, yoongi slipped a folded napkin from the cafe into your hand. “just text me if you ever need someone to talk to.” and with that, he left, giving you a small wave as he went. you finally allowed yourself a smile. not only had you managed to talk to your crush, but you had his number. jungkook’s going to be so proud of me, you thought as you walked back to your dorm. talking with yoongi had made all of your worries melt away, and you squared your shoulders a bit. maybe college won’t be so bad after all, you thought. 

a/n: omg this is my first drabble that’s at least 1k words!! I hope you all enjoyed this drabble, and please let me know what you think!! my next drabble may or may not be a jin one hehe

[robinrunsfiction]

The Lonely Road

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader

Rating: Teen (for online harassment)

Requested By: None

Word Count: 2,400

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song Outnumbered by Dermot Kennedy, so feel free to give it a listen as you read. Originally this was gonna be a Valentine’s story, but now Valentine’s is over, and so I just took out the brief mentions of it. Also it’s a Gerard story so of course it’s longer than intended so taking parts out probably is for the better 😅 Shout out to my number one @mariawritesfanfic for helping me wrap this story up

You scrolled through your twitter feed, as hours on the tour bus left you with few other options to pass the time. Your new album had just come out and you wanted to see how people were reacting to it. 

OMG @(YFN)(YLN)’s album is awesome! Everyone check it out now!

The only reason she’s famous is bc of @gerardway

The album is ok if you consider she fucked her way into stardom

I stg if mcr ever breaks up it’s gonna be (YN)'s fault

(YN) should just break up with gee so he can be with frank liek everyone knows he wants to be

You felt sick to your stomach as you read through the messages. Sure there were tweets from fans saying how much they enjoyed the album, and they love Gerard and you together, but those weren’t the ones that stuck out in your mind. It was the negative messages that caught your attention and soured your mood.

As if he was reading your thoughts, a text from Gerard appeared on your screen. “Hey sugar, congrats on the album. It’s amazing and so are you xoxo love you”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes at the love and kindness of his message. “Thanks love," you replied before tossing your phone aside. You pulled shut the curtain on your bunk and let the tears fall silently. 

~

You had met Gerard at an award show. You had always been a fan of his and My Chem, but you were beyond nervous to say anything to him when you saw him across the room. When he approached you and said he actually had been listening to your music and was a fan, you thought you might transcend onto another plane of existence right then and there. You found him to be surprisingly easy to talk to and exchanged phone numbers so you could hang out sometime.

Hanging out sometime turned into hanging out often. Then one night under the stars in his backyard, your casual hanging out turned into sharing your thoughts, hopes, and fears you'd never voiced to anyone. The next day you were worried you'd never see or hear from him again, having revealed too much of your emotional baggage too soon, but that afternoon he called and asked you out on a real date. The date was perfect for two people like you and Gerard, complete with a tender, careful kiss that took your breath away. In an instant, you were falling hard.

After that it really became you and Gerard. When all of your friends found out, they were so happy for both of you, as they could see how happy you made each other. Then one day the rest of the world figured it out as well. Gerard had come to one of your recording sessions and had snapped a picture of you laughing in the recording booth and posted it online with the caption "the most beautiful person making the most beautiful sounds ❤" The fans put it together and a barrage of messages flooded your social media feed. Some people thought it was cute, many were awful, but you let it all roll off your back as you were too in love to care what anyone thought.

Months passed, and now that album was out. You had hoped Gerard would be able to join you on the road, but My Chem was in the studio themselves so he wasn't able to be there. You understood, but being away from him for the first time, while dealing with the stress of releasing an album, your first tour, and his angry fans, it was almost getting to be too much.

You had finally fallen asleep only to be awakened what felt like moments later by your manager Christine's voice.

"Rise and shine rock star, time to charm the lovely people of," she paused and you could hear her flipping through papers, "Fort Wayne, Indiana."

You sighed. You had wanted this for so long, it had been your dream for years. But now you were questioning everything.

~

"We're joined in studio by (YFN) (YLN), her new album just came out last week and we are loving it here on 106.7 FM," the overly cheerful radio host announced. “You have a lot of fans here in Madison!”

"Thank you," you replied with a tired smile. You hoped your lack of energy wasn't evident by your voice.

"Tell us, how much of an influence was your boyfriend? And for anyone who hasn't heard, (YN) is dating that oh so sexy MCR frontman, Gerard Way."

You had gotten this question at almost every interview, as if you were incapable of creating your own music. "He was there for some of the recording sessions, but a lot of the album was written before we met, so not a huge influence musically."

"What's it like to date someone so famous?"

"I mean, it's not like a topic of conversation for us," you replied sharply. You glanced up and saw the look Christine was giving you. "I mean, we talk about music and our projects and give each other feedback, but that's pretty much it. We're pretty normal weirdos."

After the interview was over and you played a few songs live, and then reboarded the bus.

"What the fuck was that?" Christine asked as the bus rolled down the road.

"What the fuck is with these interviews? It's never about me and my music. It's about Gee or the people on the internet and all the bullshit! That's not why I'm out here! I want to talk about my songs!"

Christine nodded. "Ok, I'm sorry girl. You're right. I'll make sure the next one we keep it focused on the music. We can't have you blowing up on another host."

"I didn't blow up! I snapped at worst," you retorted, rolling your eyes.

"Either way, we're on our way to Iowa now."

"Can't wait," you muttered and crawled into your bunk.

~

The dark cloud that had settled over you was not going away or getting better. While Christine was doing a better job of reminding the interviewers beforehand to lay off the relationship questions, they still came up, sometimes after the actual interview was over, sometimes they just disregarded your wishes all together to get juicy gossip. You did your best not to appear annoyed, but the longer you were away from Gerard, the harder it got.

She's an ugly, untalented leech! She doesn't love gee or else she would have put a song about him on the album!

He doesnt seem happy like he used to before her

The album jsut sucks. I mean i didnt listen to it, i just assume it does

She should just die

You couldn't take it any longer. The constant, incessant stream of hate coming at you was too much. You dialed Gerard and went into the back of the bus, shutting the door behind you.

"Hey (YN), how is everything goin?"

"I can't do it anymore Gee," you said, trying to keep your voice steady 

"Do what?" He asked, immediately concerned.

"Tour, be a musician, be someone in the public eye, I can't take it!" You sobbed, unable to control your emotions any longer. "I feel like I have no privacy anymore! Everything I do is wrong, everything I don't do is wrong! I just wanna give up! I don't wanna do this anymore!"

"Hey, hey, sugar, it's ok. Did someone say something to you today?"

"It's been every fucking day," you cried. "I wanna come home, I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't want anyone to know who I am anymore."

"Take a deep breath," Gerard said, trying to keep you calm. "Where are you?"

"On the bus."

"Where are you going, or where were you?"

"I don't even know anymore. All I see is fucking corn everywhere."

"Ok, umm, where is Christine?"

"In her bunk," you sniffled.

"Can I talk to her?"

You got up and made your way to the bunks and knocked on the frame surrounding Christine's.

"Yea?" She asked, opening the curtain. "Woah, girl, what's wrong?"

"Gee wants to talk to you," you said holding out your phone.

"Hello? What's going on?" Christine asked Gerard. She listened and nodded and mm hmm'ed along. "She seemed stressed, but not that bad," she said as she watched you sink wearily to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. "No, I hadn’t heard that… Yea, we're setting out from Omaha now, on our way to Denver," she paused. "Ok... Yea... Sounds good. Yea, we'll get our girl through this."

You looked up at her from your spot on the floor and she smiled down sympathetically and handed the phone back to you.

"Gee?" You said softly, the anger and fear and frustration having quieted.

"Hey sugar, we've got a plan for you, you're gonna be ok. But where are you hearing from the people that are criticizing you?"

"Twitter," you mumbled and you heard Christine mutter "I knew it."

"Delete it, you don't need that in your life. You're too talented and beautiful and wonderful to let anyone make you feel anything less," he said gently. "I love you, (YN) ."

"Love you too," you replied, a smile finally cracking through.

"Get some rest, we'll talk soon."

~

You had immediately crawled into your bunk and fallen into a deep sleep. The weight of your thoughts no longer weighing you down now that you had shared them with Gerard. When you finally woke up, you were rolling into Denver. You made your way to the front of the bus to find Christine on her phone.

"What's on the schedule today?" You yawned.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You need a day off. We've been pushing you way too hard, and I just wish I would have realized it sooner. So we moved your interview to tomorrow afternoon and we're staying here overnight."

"Really?" You asked, stunned.

"Yep, we're going to the hotel right now."

It was incredibly refreshing to be in a hotel with a real bed and shower, and everyone was actually thankful for your meltdown that got them this break. 

You took an extra long, hot shower to allow your muscles to relax, and then crawled into bed to call Gerard and give him an update. As his phone rang you heard a knock on your door. Keeping your ear to your phone in case he picked up you answered the door. 

"Gerard!" You squealed as you launched yourself at him and he wrapped you in his arms.

"I missed you so much (YN)," he murmured against your neck. "I couldn't stand to hear the pain in your voice and not be there to make it better.”

"But you hate flying! And your studio time!" You exclaimed as you pulled him into your room and he dropped his bag on the floor.

“We were spinning our wheels and needed a break from recording,” he smiled reassuringly before he leaned in and kissed you with all the longing that had built up over the weeks apart. You ran your hands through his black hair and felt the tears slip down your cheeks. “And I’d fly to the moon if it meant I could spend a minute with you. I just wish I could have been here for you from the beginning, I wish I realized that you were struggling.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me. I thought I could handle it, but everything kept chipping away at me until I broke down completely.”

“I wanna worry about you, (YN). You’re my girl and I love you, and I wanna be there for you no matter what,” he said softly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you replied. “It’s just hard when it’s coming at you from every direction.”

“I know,” he said, pulling you back to him in a tight hug. “But for today it’s just you and me. No one else matters.”

You smiled up at him before pulling him into another sweet kiss.

~

The next morning you woke up with Gerard’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close. It almost felt too good to be true. As he slowly started to wake up, he gave you his lopsided smile and you couldn’t help but grin in return.

“I needed this so much,” you said as you buried your face against his neck.

“I did too,” he said squeezing you tight, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Thank you for being here. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he said leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “Wait, I didn’t give you your presents yet.”

“What presents?” You asked sitting up, as he reached over the side of the bed to grab his bag. "I don’t have anything for you!"

"It's nothing, just a couple things I made for you," he said pulling out a large flat envelope and handing it to you.

You carefully pulled out the drawing that was inside. "Oh it's beautiful!”

"It's us the night we watched the stars and talked for hours. That was the night I realized I was falling in love with you. I was so scared you wouldn't even like me like that," he laughed softly.

"It's perfect," you replied. "What's this? ‘Gee+(YN)=gross, a big sappy love mix’" you laughed at scribbled handwriting on the cover of the cd case. Around the words was a big heart and lots of little hearts.

"It’s a mix of songs that remind me of you, and me and you, but Frank decorated the cover. He doesn't really think we're gross, he's just-"

"Frank," you laugh.

"Exactly," Gerard replied. "I was just hoping this would help you get through the last days of your tour."

"It will," you smiled and threw your arms around him. “I think just having you here for a day was enough to get me through. And I know now that I shouldn’t just bottle up what I’m feeling.”

Gerard nodded. “We’re a team, you and me. Let me help you when you’re down and keep you safe from all the bastards and shit talkers.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you smiled as you leaned in and kissed him. “But only if you promise to let me help you do the same.”

“I promise.”

[gh0stbird]

Okay Now Do The Rest

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Bright but argumentative. I was never afraid of pointing out things I didn’t feel were fair hfhddh

When we were learning numbers kids would often write 91 for nineteen, just flip them, y’know, and Ms. Potter yelled at the class for it. Baby Generiq went into it about how it was an understandable mix up because you do say the number first. In twenty-three you write the two first, so in nineteen it’s easy to assume you would write the nine first.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tired.

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows. Every book adaptation should also be a series not a movie. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Honeysuckle and sunshine

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Floor hockey! My friend and I used to be brutal and swing at each other’s shins going after the ball. Also it was reminiscent of golf, which I competed in.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I have an untitled playlist I cycle my current music in and out of, but Newton’s Third Law is my favorite named one!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t- I guess the yellow smarties. Don’t come for me they taste like lemonade.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I assume this means assigned book and not the reports we got to pick for ourselves. Ah, Night was good. Lord of the Flies was fine but way overhyped. Again, don’t come for me.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

If I can tuck my legs into the chair I am sitting in that is ideal!

18. ideal weather?

When you know it is going to rain and you get to stay home

19. sleeping position? (Skipped on accident)

I reeeally like pressure, so either against something or on my stomach.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone notes and a notebook! Sometimes a blank document but I always find it strangely intimidating

21. obsession from childhood?

Warrior Cats, Percy Jackson, and Maximum Ride were my big three!

22. role model?

Aa I try to straw from people I want to copy, but there are talents I look up to. Rachel Chavkin is a brilliant director, and there are so many artists and authors I look up to and who inspire me.

24. favorite crystal?

Obsidian because it’s black like my hea- I’m kidding, I do love obsidian, but it’s Rose Quartz because it’s a very very pretty, soft pink and makes me happy.

25. first song you remember hearing?

The mobile above my crib played Imagine by John Lennon. My childhood room was themed after it as well!

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim or sit in the sunshine. Ben and I usually go driving with the top down as well.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Walking through fresh snow is amazing, so are snowball fights and building snowmen.

28. five songs to describe you?

Oh fuck yes

Hurricane - Hamilton

The Reckless and the Brave - All Time Low

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog

All This and Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine

Facade - Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical Thriller

30. places that you find sacred?

I don’t typically find places sacred, but certain headspaces are very special to me, and time spent with loved ones means more than enough to be considered sacred.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A black blazer with a white button-down and a skirt.

32. top five favorite vines?

I am in Missouri (misery)

I love you, Bitch

I want a Church girl

Obama’s “I know because I won both of them”

I won’t hesitate, Bitch!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“No worries”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

That fucking PFI bandana boot sale I stg

35. average time you fall asleep?

Somewhere between 9:00 and three in the morning

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Some girl doing bunny ears on her friend. I don’t remember what the caption was

38. lemonade or tea?

Both. Mixed together. It’s called an Arnold Palmer and it is my favorite drink

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

We duck taped out principal to the wall once. Also some kid broke their tray over another kid’s head at lunch one time.

41. last person you texted?

The family group chat, though Beau if Discord counts

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I wear a lot of leggings so jacket pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

We had some Lily of the Valley hand soap that was amazing

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, I think! I’ve never done super heavy into the other two. Though I definitely don’t want to ignore sci-fi because two of my favorite stories are a little science-fiction-y

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A t-shirt and shorts

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

A banana. Generally accepted as a fruit and kind of just rolls with it, but is actually a berry

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

I fucking hate Hamilton-ing on main, but

“And when my prayers to god were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance!”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

That changes every time Beau and I play HetaOni together, but I have fucking lost it for at least five minutes the last two sessions.

51. current stresses?

I dunno, man, life? My hair could use a wash

52. favorite font?

Covered by your Grace and I’m a big Spectral baby. These are both google docs! I don’t know if that makes a difference.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Patience is important when teaching material, but never be afraid to find another approach better suited to the person you’re tutoring.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Robin Hood!

56. favorite tradition?

My family does homemade Springfield cashew chicken for Christmas!

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhh lots of self-acceptance shit no one really wants to read

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can pop the joint at the center of my foot

That’s all

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I sort of like my role as mom friend, so maybe I could keep that role in a sort of action-based anime that followed a group of friends

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“I am not the protégé to waste your time on; I'm complete!” Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

62. seven characters you relate to?

Haha

Lisa Carew - Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

Japan - Hetalia/Oni

Garnett - Steven Universe

Hfhddh that’s all I can say that aren’t my own characters

63. five songs that would play in your club?

I Don’t Like Clubs, but

Overwhelmed - Royal + The Serpent

Backseat Serenade - All Time Low

Go Big or Go Home - American Authors

The Nights - Avicii

Tempo - Lizzo

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz!

65. any permanent scars?

Yep - One from a bad bike wreck. My body rejected the dissolvable stitches so it’s a lot bigger than it was supposed to be

66. favorite flower(s)?

Lily of the Valley, daisies, Day Lilies, and Dandelions! I also love honeysuckles but I don’t know if those count.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Accidentally drank rancid milk once!

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? (Haha, nice)

The fastest, free way to fill up your potions on Wizard101 is to play Potion Motion to level three.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

On myself, animal print

72. worst subject?

I’ve never been intuitively good at History, I do think it’s interesting though.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I don’t like to take it until I can’t move without it.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Kindergarten? I had mono and then scarlet fever twice, so my baby teeth were pretty much ruined and they all fell out very fast.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Curly fries!

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Kalanchoe’s, it literally Window’s Thrill. These babies are fairly temperamental outside and love partial sun, so the window is the perfect spot for them. And! If you keep them happy! They’ll bloom! My personal favorite is the pink bloom.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

What’s wrong with coffee from a gas station? Also I don’t like seafood.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Lightning bugs

82. pc or console?

PC!

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts - talk radios actually tend to get under my skin for n o reason

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, but let it be known I was brutal with mine. We did human sacrifices and the like.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology!

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but I’m a slut for whipped frosting

87. your greatest fear?

Losing control!

88. your greatest wish?

A life beyond where I am now. Haha Stop chasing new down the hallway you’re so sexy haha

90. luckiest mistake?

Logged into Omegle in like 2015 and some rando asked me to join their Doctor Who roleplay. Luckiest moment of my gd life.

91. boxes or bags?

Bags! They’re easier to store

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight! But in the late afternoon when everything is bathed in orange.

93. nicknames?

Mom is the most prevalent!

94. favorite season?

Fall into winter. Peak leaf crunch!

95. favorite app on your phone?

Discord or Notes

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Sure Feels Right chapter 3

This shit is mild fluff and I can’t wait to get to the real fluffy stuff later on that I already have planned and written out for the fic. Anyway, enjoy!

Taglist: @hllywdwhre

2019

“Rook please I need fries or I’ll die.” Lux whined into his back. He was starting to think maybe he shouldn’t have kindly offered a piggyback ride to the hotel due to her constant shifting and whining into his shoulder.

“Look we’re walking into the hotel now.” Rook said exasperation evident in his voice. Lux drunk was cute, but goddamn could she win a whining competition when she got drunk hungry. Colson just snickered as he led the way inside. Asshole.

“Oh my god yes. Colson, Colson, please fries. Please” Lux all but moaned.

“I’m getting you fries now babe. They’ll be brought to the room I promise” He smiled and ruffled her hair a bit. She smiled a big dopey smile and tucked her face into the crook of Rook’s neck laughing.

“You guys I’m so drunk ugh” She said through her laughter and the boys joined her climbing into the elevator.

After she ate a small amount of the fries and offered up the rest to the boys, which they gladly ate up despite eating double of what she had consumed already, she made her way to the bathroom to change from her club clothes. Rook lent her some joggers since he was the shorter of the two and they wouldn’t be twice the size of her legs compared to Colson’s. They were still a little long on her, but that just added to their comfort level. Colson gave her an old tour shirt of his from when he toured with Limp Bizkit and it smelled just like him. She couldn’t help the blush that overcame her features as she looked at herself in the mirror. Stupid celebrity crush rearing it’s ugly head again. Stepping out of the bathroom she was hit with the undeniable smell of weed and looked to see Colson at the small corner “dining” room table rolling a joint.

“Ooh it’s like you read my mind!” Lux still was slurring a little bit and the last bit came out sort of jumbled.

“Still speaking in cursive I see.” Rook sniggered and she lightly slapped his shoulder before flopping on the bed.

“Ugh why do I always end up being the first drunk or the most drunk?” Lux pulled a pillow over her face.

“Well Colson is a giant so he needs more alcohol” Rook shrugged. And you’re ripped Lux added in her head and was glad the pillow was there to block how red her ears were after she thought that.

“Sit up so we can all sit on the bed drunk ass” Colson said tapping her foot. She scooted to the headboard and the boys sat on either side of her.

“Here I’ll let you have first dibs.” Colson said handing her the joint.

“Wow what a gentleman.” Rook mocked and Colson reached around Lux to smack Rook in the head. Rook tried to smack Colson back, but Lux quickly stopped him and handed him the joint.

“Hey!” Colson exclaimed “What the fuck?”

“You hit him so he gets next.” And there was no room to argue with her on that.

Colson turned on the t.v. and was pleasantly surprised to see Spongebob reruns on one of the channels after checking the guide. Him and Lux shared a love for Spongebob that they had bonded over on her first day working for them. She sighed contently and snuggled more into his side some. He told himself it was just so she could see the t.v. better and not because she was wanting to be closer to him. He couldn’t get his hopes up like that. She looked so cute in his shirt though was the thought that kept repeating in his head when he would steal glances at her. Rook yawned after a few episodes and went to get in the next bed, but Lux gripped his wrist.

“Stay.” She said tiredly, and stay he did.

When Lux woke up she noticed two things: 1. her face was pressed into someone’s back and 2. someone was holding her. Adjusting slightly she realized that  she was holding Colson around the waist and that was his back she had been pressing her face against. He had a death grip on her arm so there was no use in her trying to free herself. Rook was holding her loosely around the waist and she could feel his soft breaths on her neck. This isn’t weird, she tried to tell herself, you’ve cuddled with both boys before on the bus or sleeping during a layover. Always separately though, never together. Her breath stopped when she felt Colson stirring awake next to her.

Colson must have done something right recently, he was in heaven, Lux had taken to holding him at some point in the night and he was pretty sure that was the best he had slept all year. No scratch that. All his life maybe. He without thinking brought her hand up to his lips and softly kissed her fingers. A sharp breath from behind him caused his heart to stop and the blood drained from his face. Fuck she was awake.

“Good morning.” She said quietly squeezing his hand in her own. She seemed to be ignoring his momentary lack of judgement and he was ever grateful.

“Good morning” He replied with sleep still in his voice. He turned to face her and caught glimpse of Rook’s still sleeping face. He had forgotten that he was there. Okay, maybe this was a little weird.

2017

Kells: Hey will you stop by the dispensary? 🙏🏻

Lux: Didn’t I just go there for you earlier? 🙄

Kells: That was earlier. This is now 😈

Lux: You’re insane. 🤪

Kells: Do you get paid to shit talk? 🤣

Lux: That’s actually exactly what  Ashleigh pays me to do 😜

Kells: You’re so sassy I stg. Please? 🥺

Lux: ….Fine. What do you want? 🤦🏽‍♀️

Colson chuckled at the text exchange between the two. Lux had only been Ash’s assistant for a few months, but she was already fitting in with the group. He specifically started to really like her when he caught her dancing to one of his songs when she thought no one was home.

“So is she gonna go?” Rook asked flopping on the couch next to him.

“Yeah I convinced her” He gave Rook a shit eating grin. He would never admit it, but he was spoiled.

“Dude hell yeah. She’s the coolest assistant that Ash has ever had.” Rook commented while channel surfing.

“I think she was a fan before getting the job” Colson mused “I’m ninety-nine percent sure she listens to our music regularly.”

“Hmm...we could totally steal her phone and check her music apps.” Rook had a mischevious look in his eye and Colson never turned down chaos.

“Okay. How do we do it?”

      Lux pulled up to the huge house and started to unload her car, but between alcohol, food, and literal pounds of weed they had her go get for their party tonight she was exhausted and couldn’t carry much. She hoped they were home so they could help her carry things inside. She opened the door and called out, but was met with silence. Fuck. She set her purse and the few things she had grabbed on the counter and walked back out to her car rolling her eyes. These guys better be appreciative of all this shit she was doing for them.

The boys heard the front door shut and peeled around the corner quickly and checked her purse to see if her phone was in there. Whisper shouting when he located it, Colson motioned with his head to run upstairs and both boys were after it. They took the stairs two at a time and safely made it into Colson’s room and were catching their breath when they heard the door open and shut again. Colson could hear his heart beat in his ears and could have sworn she would be able to hear it through the floorboards. The door opened and shut again and he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Dude how does she not have a password?” Rook whispered harshly. “I mean that makes this easier, but damn who doesn’t have a password on their phone at this point.”

Colson chuckled looking at the now unlocked phone and saw her background was a picture of him on stage. Why did that make him feel warm? Rook had to stop the laughter bubbling in his chest as he saw the picture.

“Yup she’s a fan” He whispered to Colson.

He noticed in her notification bar at the top she hadn’t opened his last message and his name was saved as Kells in her phone. That made him frown. She still wasn’t calling him Colson and he didn’t understand that. Were they not friends?

“I still want to check out what she listens to” Colson said opening her folder labled “Music”. She had Spotify, Apple Music, and Pandora. He looked through her Apple Music and saw it was mostly older music like The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, and The Eagles. He had to smile at that, she had organized her music apps. Pandora had some heavier stuff like Metallica, Motley Crue, and Ozzy Osborne. Spotify seemed to be her designated modern music app with multiple playlists of artists like Halsey, Migos, and of course him. He liked her playlist names on Spotify, but when he saw the playlist name for his music was “My Future (EX)Husband” he knew it was a done deal and she was officially part of the group. Satisfied he waited till he heard her walk out again and then ran down the stairs to return her phone to her purse and took off up the stairs again. Him and Rook waited for a few minutes of hearing her put things away for them to come down the stairs.

“You guys were here the whole time?!” Lux says tossing her hands in the air. “Didn’t you hear me? I needed help!”

“Sorry we were playing Call of Duty. We didn’t hear you.” Rook lied easily slipping into step with her to help put things away.

“You two are ridiculous do you know that?” Lux said while shaking her head.

“Whatever” Colson laughed and ruffled her hair giving her a teasing smirk.

[akiwisfics]

In the Middle Chapter 8

Notes: No longer a crosspost, technically, but chapter already written. If you get annoyed by this, please savior ‘kiwi crossposts’ to save your eyes.

Description:  The war's over, but the mess is still left behind. Kasumi finds herself among the wreckage with unexpected companions and questions that seem almost impossible to answer for. Life keeps moving forward, however, and the surprises it leaves behind aren't always pleasant ones.

Pairing: KasumixSha’ira

--

Kasumi was never a cook. Oh she craved good food like anyone that had the taste of fine life, fine wine-- an opportunity to know the difference between a perfect cut of perfect temperature of steak to scraps left behind from a meal between bored batarian slavers more concerned with profits than artistry and fine dining. But she didn’t have the chance to know how to make it herself. Not surprisingly-- she was a child when she was taken, and by the time that she was freed of her shackles, she was more concerned with the constant burning and itching  at the back of her skull than the differences of various fish filets.

Ah, but soon, she would taste riches, and sometimes, it enraptured her in a way that only art came close to.

But the richest of the rich didn’t know either. They couldn’t until that food was taken from them. No doubt many of those old blood capitalists and tyrants craved now, now that the old system was gone. 

She enjoyed taking samples when she crashed dinner parties, flirting with the idea of being among their elite and making people guess how and where they had seen her before. It was part of the fun. She learned the differences and specifics of turian, asari, quarian cuisine-- the history of different cuts and fishes that once passed alien hands in their own celebrations. She would say it was for research, to keep the guessing game going, but well.

Nothing compared to her grandmother’s cooking.

They only knew each other for about a month or so before she passed, when Kasumi was trying to figure out how to be human in the deepest dark of her despair. At times, she thought on the time and wished she’d been kinder. Spoke more, shared love and affection with her grandmother and aunt more freely. But she hadn’t known how to do it, not after losing someone so tremendous so recently. 

But every day, her grandmother would pull her from the reaches and into their tiny apartment kitchen, the thick smell of salty broth and noodles pulling her back into reality. The mere reminder of it could make Kasumi’s mouth water-- rich, melting in her mouth, leaving a soft warmth behind in her chest.

She would find out over time more specifics of what she made. It was a style of miso ramen, made specifically for the harsh winters in Japan’s northern region. Her grandmother had a restaurant for a time on Earth before moving her family to the Citadel after humanity discovered the Mass Relays and made contact with the rest of the galaxy. She had tried running a few shops there in the Wards, but had retired early to help the family adjust to life in space. 

Her grandmother served them ramen in two large, expensive bowls, chopsticks and spoon-- as was traditional back home. Kasumi would get a fork the first week until she learned how to move the chopsticks with ease (it wasn’t much different than any other work she did honestly; a little practice and a little deft work and it was done). The broth-- a thick combination of miso and fish-- easily overtook the small space between them as it soaked rich wheat noodles. Her grandmother claimed the sliced pork inside was fresh, even if that was probably impossible, topped with sweet corn, sprouts, and plenty of garlic. If she was really lucky, there would be a sliced boiled egg floating on top.

It was divine. A true labor of love each and every day. 

“You’re starting to get some meat on your bones.” Her grandmother had a sharp eye too. She could see the resemblance between them. Thick brown eyes that had been hers once, the same nose and round jaw. Her hair had lengthened well past her shoulders after decades, though Kasumi rarely saw it free from the loose bun she wrapped it in. Much the same reason she had kept her own short-- easy and out of the way of work.

She had carried her age with grace, and in her most optimistic moods, she had imagined herself looking much the same, perhaps with a grandchild of her own lingering in the kitchen, waiting for the ramen to soak like she so often did. 

30 short days, and yet they seemed to have known each other for years.

“Nanami?”

She had looked over the bowl of steam, mirroring a smile that she knew now was a family trait. “Sorry, I just--”

“What were the colonies like?”

Kasumi hadn’t known. What specks of memories she still had about her first home weren’t concrete enough to give. There was similar thick aromas in her father’s kitchen, late nights where her mother returned home covered in oil and grime. Fights and games shared with her sister. A bundle of blankets tightly wrapping around a baby boy, keeping him warm and secured. 

The mines and fields she worked after weren’t colonies. Not the romanticized ones so often advertised over the vids. Sometimes it sickened her so badly that she had to switch the channel-- something that hadn’t been lost by the other two occupants in the home.

“Mom and Dad were happy,” she said instead.

“I don’t doubt it. They would be happy to see us all here again.”

She could’ve asked a million things. What were they like? Why did they go out into the colonies in the first place? Had she kept contact? Questions that another day, another season, Kasumi would have been happy to be occupied in finding out, but as it stood, she was hurting, and as it stood, they never asked her how she came to be there.

She’d been afraid then. Unfortunately for her grandmother, the geth would find her before Kasumi had the strength to ask.

--

Dark fell quickly over their campsite-- clear as the day had been with leftover spring warmth that made it easy for her group members to stay out longer than usually. Many of them mingled awkwardly with their salarian counterparts, though fewer in number as the day wore on. If Kasumi had to guess, they were moving their camp closer. Strength in numbers. Their preoccupation would make it easy to get out, though increased her chances in running into a member or two later on in her venture.

The sea of stars above was stunning with constellations and lights that likely hadn’t been seen on London soil in decades, freed of manmade pollution and electricity. If she had time, it wouldn’t be so bad to make her way to a mostly intact building or two to stargaze. How much time she would actually have though entirely depended on how urgent someone would be to find her though. How much Major Kirrahe actually trusted her to behave.

Considering she was in her catsuit already, the lack of trust was right, however irritating it might have been. It wasn’t as if she trusted any of the STG either. Still, the catsuit felt nice after so long, fitted perfectly and adjusted for whatever tumbles and climbs she would need to make throughout her trip. 

No one was keeping a close eye to her tent. Big mistake. She activated her cloaking immediately and kept her steps quiet as she made her exit. The heavy darkness and night that blanketed the rest of the empty streets was felt immediately as soon as she crossed the perimeter, but the stars and moon were perfect for the occasion. Just enough light to help guide her way. 

There were lots of little signs of life along the way. Nests of different finch birds, a quick sonata of crickets somewhere in the distance-- out of sight and out of mind. She could see holes dug in on old gods where animals tried to make them home. Plants, grass, weeds worming their way through the cracks of broken concrete. The art that would be inspired by this wonderful rejuvenation would be wonderful to see.

The smoke that permeated so much of the asphalt seemed to fade just a bit once she did reach the graffiti wall again, as if the world was also calming down the further she left her little pocket of civilization. There weren’t any more names left on the wall, though the fact hadn’t surprised her. From here, her and Sha’ira had gone about a half-block down, over the fallen reaper. It would be a tight squeeze still, but she could move faster without someone trailing behind. She really should get something to thank the consort. Though Kasumi wasn’t sure what all could be found that was… luxurious in the ruins, there may have been a nook or cranny or two that the Alliance hadn’t touched yet--

And oh. Her omni-tool was beeping. She let the cloak fall for now as she recognized the name on the other end. Just the girl she wanted to talk to.

“Evening!” Kasumi answered into her ear piece, eyes keeping watch of the area around her. Just in case. “I thought you might be asleep already.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t have called at all if you thought that.” Khalisah’s voice was groggy. She felt sort of honored that she would wake up just for little ol’ Kasumi. “If this is about the murders, I already planned on moving my camp in the morning. But you know if I get close, STG will be on my ass within minutes.”

Kasumi ignored it. “Do you know about the other groups around here?”

The hissing sigh on the other end was long and exasperated, but she heard her rustling through her belongings, grumbling the entire time. “My notes are around here, hold on… Couldn’t you just ask for this when it’s not in the middle of the night?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You fucking suck,” but there wasn’t as much bite as there was usually. Kasumi smiled. She heard pages (paper? Oh how old-school) being quickly flipped through before Khalisah finally spoke again. “There’s another volunteer group southwest from you guys? Pretty much the same. Only thing that stood out was an older guy with half his face scarred to shit.”

“Yellow armor? Real terminus system vibe to it?” Not ideal, but if Zaeed was close, he might be bored enough to lend a hand. Security detail for a volunteer group seemed a bit low energy for him, but maybe their benefactor had about as much credit as theirs did. 

“Yeah. Figures you’d know the only other shady person in the area.”

“Be nice. He’s just cranky, usually.” And had a lot of guns and explosives on hand. He also was real handy with booby traps. If she could get her hands on another proximity mine, he could tell her something that she wouldn’t know already. Especially if their batarian neighbors were more mercenary than refugee. “Could you do me a favor?”

“I’m starting to think you don’t know what blackmail means, Ms. Goto.”

“I could’ve just let the batarians kill you, you know,” she teased. Good-naturedly. Promise.

Khalisah sighed. “Fine, fine. Whatever. What do you want?”

“Be happy. I was going to keep you up for the night before you told me that,” and suppressed a snort when she heard the snarl. “Make sure it’s Zaeed Massani, of course. And if you would, ask him to come by my camp tomorrow… morning is probably good. Before the others wake up.”

“What? You want me to wake up an angry mercenary now? I’m sure he’ll love the camera light in his face.”

“I have his channel. Assuming he hasn’t changed it anyway.”

“Then call him yourself!”

And risk him getting worked up without confirming anything? Clearly the woman hadn’t worked with many mercenaries before. Kasumi tsked. “I’m busy--”

“So was I. Sleeping!”

“Just send a nice, friendly email saying… ah.” Hmm. What should it say actually? If he was early, she wouldn’t exactly want him asking for her directly. Sure, it was about a 50-50 shot on finding someone that knew who she was at camp at this point, but Zaeed wasn’t exactly quiet. “Tell him Ms. Goto’s looking for him at camp, and if he doesn’t see me, just ask for Sha’ira or Kirrahe. Then wait til I get there.”

“And he’ll just go?”

“If you’re that worried, you’re welcomed to toss 500 credits down for me. Money does talk.”

She hung up on her instead. Rude. Kasumi was going to offer to pay her back, but maybe the message came off a bit strongly. She still sent a quick message off with his channel information, in case the reporter did decide to follow through on the request. If not, he probably wouldn’t be hard to find. Guess she couldn’t fault her for getting antsy though. Since their deal was made, Kasumi hadn’t actually followed through with anything, though in her defense, she was spending that time warning her instead. 

It could and would wait for now though. She reactivated her cloaking device and continued her trek toward the murder scene, mentally wording whatever apology email she’d need to make to Khalisah later along the way. The hushed landscape made it easy to concentrate on it, disappointingly absent of any tracks or evidence of others that may have passed through in the meantime. 

If this was newly staked batarian territory, they weren’t using obvious wider paths. Either they didn’t want to be found, or were acutely aware of the possibility of someone tracking them. Could be both, or neither. 

She shimmied around the dead god’s head, and found little had changed in the last few days. It was still a clearing, shadowed by crumbled buildings, half-shapened concrete blocks-- debris of either the buildings around them or elsewhere. She had spent plenty of days memorizing the reach of reaper lasers and various weaponry for the many, many runs she did for the Alliance. Sometimes, the fact that they had won at all still seemed utterly surreal. They were creatures perfectly suited for Lovecraftian lore, hulking, massive creatures  that extended and did things beyond human imagination.

And yet… they were like any other piece of machinery. Artificial, metal, wires. A very scary thought, that over the years, they wouldn’t just dispose of the pieces, but reuse them. Shape something new out of it. With any luck, Kasumi would be dead before that bit humanity in the ass.

She shook those thoughts away and located the alleyway from before. There was still a blackened spot from where the proximity mine had gone off, stretching out like tendrils toward the slab that Kasumi landed on. Noticeably, however, was that any shrapnel had been picked up. The slab looked clean and dusted off. Someone was trying to cover their tracks.

Just at her feet, another red light stretched across the width of the alleyway. It was so easy to spot now that there was evidence of a previous detonation. It wasn’t meant as a trap then. More like a security measure. The sound would be picked up by any guards in the area, allowing them to retaliate to whoever wasn’t hurt by the mine, or move the group before they were found. Their camp may be close by then, if they hadn’t been spooked by their visitation from the other day.  

Nothing special. Kasumi had disabled hundreds of mines in her lifetime. A quick scan of her omni-tool and it short-circuited, allowing her to pick up the mine safely and quietly. Initial look and it seemed… simple. Looked to be scrapped together with various shrapnel from old signs if she had to guess. The circuitry of the actual proximity program would be hard to see without opening it up, but she doubted there was anything unique about it. The maker was experienced, that much Kasumi was sure. If they had any resources from outside Earth however, it was probably gone by now.

She kept it for now, and made sure to study the alley closely for anymore. None on this side. Rationing carefully then, or just that confident in whatever guards they had in the area to act quickly. 

The alley opened up to an even larger clearing than the one before, in what Kasumi could only figure was a rather nice square before. There was still remnants of old cobblestone, ones that had been there centuries and lived through more wars than she could count. Street ways that had been there once, brushed over by dirt and grime, cracked into pieces where weeds and grass sprouted in between. The fountain in the middle was in about the same shape, once wondrous and calming, spouting water from a jar a… cherub perhaps? Was holding into a pool that had been empty for some time. Much of the smaller details were lost by the throes of time and war. The curvature of marble surrounding it still stood enough to be a tempting seat for weary walkers.

Likely why she found the spatter of dried blue blood on its rim. Sura mentioned Thyra wasn’t much for walking for long periods. Yet she managed to dodge the proximity mine…?

The east entrance was blocked by a section of broken highway, but the west was clear enough to come through it looked like. She doubted their killer would cover the alleyway and not such a wide berth of area. Too wide for a simple proximity trip though. Perhaps more traditional mines? Kasumi would have to check as she investigated then. A good thing Major gave her mods back.

Well, presumably she died there, unless there was another turian victim in the interim. That narrowed the scope a bit. A sniper would want the highest building they could get. Probably wasn’t any building on the other side of the fountain. Then…

Ah. A parking deck about a 60 degree angle. It was a good place to start, though maybe not the easiest to climb. It was structurally sound, and compared to most parking decks found in say the Citadels or Illium, wasn’t too high. Most parking decks on Earth had been converted to top level access only once skycars became commonplace. Valets would take over parking once an individual skycar landed on the roof, and would be retrieved by the valet when the visitor returned. 

However, employees and visitors still needed an entrance on the ground level. That would be the place to start. She brought up her omni-tool once again to scan the area between the fountain and the parking deck, but kept her eyes on the rooftops and upper levels just in case. No obvious red lights, and a glint of armor would be difficult to spot in the moonlight. She couldn’t see any signs of smoke ventilation or fire, but toward the very top, it looked like there was… haphazard plating maybe? Someone covering holes that were left from various skirmishes. The metal didn’t fit the rest of the building. Where she’d find her camp then.

And no mines based on the scan. Made sense if they have kids or just regular people with them. That lended credence to what Darshan had told them before about it being a settlement. Mines were also extensive to maintain and keep from dumb mercenaries from accidentally killing themselves though. They could just have them installed along the openings. If they had a shuttle or skycar handy, they wouldn’t have to walk out of the clearing ever, though to rely on enough clearance to land was risky in a ruined city. 

The actual entrance facing the square looked caved in sadly, but after a few minutes circling the building, she noticed a discreet sheet of metal ever so slightly askewed. A very small crack in the corner. Peeking inside only showed a thick blanket of darkness within. Could be wearing night vision goggles, but more than likely, the lower level here was unguarded. No obvious signs of tampering for a trap or bomb of some kind. With careful hands, Kasumi peeled the metal back.

Sure enough, no guns suddenly pointed in her direction. Risky to leave their entrance unmanned. If they had a sniper on the roof though, they may have noticed the metal moving. So long as she was careful though, they wouldn’t find her. Any explosive trap was unlikely at this point, unless they wanted to risk blowing the support beams with it. They were left mostly intact, but if Kasumi studied close enough, she’d see the beginning cracks of wear and tear. 

Most of the skycars inside were gutted and cut open, eviscerated of their wiring and circuitry. Where they were getting the shrapnel to make the bombs then. Smart. They had enough there to last them a good while. There was a ramp further back, though it took some climbing to get to it. 

Mostly climbing over corpses. Not human, at least… not anymore. The wiring that stuck out of rotting flesh told her exactly what sort of things that were littering this parking deck. … It looked like they were being gutted too. She hoped just for the wires and not… anything else. Husks and cannibals mostly, one brute that she nearly tripped over as she navigated the darkness, it’s jawless turian skull another of plenty of images that she really, really wished wouldn’t be haunting her to her grave.

She had dreams about it sometimes. Sometimes of being forced onto one of many pikes, feeling it rip through her chest and continue to breathe and survive until she was more metal than bone, more wire than flesh. Other times, it wasn’t the reapers. Other times, it was Cerberus. Finding her again, trying to entice her with a contract, only to--

Oh. Hm. Rudimentary, but effective when electricity wasn’t always available. A simple wire strewn across the bottom of the ramp. Likely went up further to the higher levels. Properly paranoid, then. Kasumi could respect it. She had been fortunate to keep several back up generators for her various security systems at both locations that survived the invasion. She stepped over the wire easily, and then noticed the lone light further up the ramp, stretching long and lonely on the asphalt.

Though the cloak would keep her from being spotted, Kasumi still kept to the outer wall, eying the ground carefully for any scattered rocks or pebbles-- anything that might give away her presence to the guard above. The catsuit wasn’t just for style, fortunately, equipped with various sound dampeners from the padding to her shoulders to the soles of her shoes. A listless guard or two would have a hard time picking up muffled steps.

Just one it seemed. Batarian, as Darshan said. He looked younger, fuller face on him with scuffed up navy armor. The vindicator loose in his hands was in good shape, a couple of mods that focused on power and increased ammo in the thermal clip. Trying to make the best out of every shot it seemed. He sat on an old lawn chair with a flashlight by his feet, the harsh shadows making him seem more intimidating than he actually was. Even from her distance though, Kasumi could see those dark eyes drooping, just a minute or so from dozing off. She slipped past him easily.

Fewer corpses on this level, and she doubted she’d seen any on the next. They were making it a home for themselves clearly. Two more batarians sat on crates around a campfire west from their sleepy friend, conversing to themselves. No tents, but sleeping bags it looked like. She ducked behind a gutted car and tried to listen in.

“Dinner was rough tonight.”

“We’re running low on rations. It’d be nice to go out and actually hunt soon, but…”

“Yeah, I get it. At least the salarian had some nice shit on him--”

“Dumbass, that’s precisely why. You saw the datapads in there yourself!”

Sounded like the STG murder was an accident then. They had plenty of resources as far as scrap metal and wiring went here, so why were they bothering with that? Medical and food supplies maybe? Information would’ve been an obvious decision if it’d been on purpose, but.

“... What are we going to do…?”

“... Just let boss work it out. Everything will be fine, Sakul... alright?”

“Guess we don’t have much choice.”

Didn’t seem worse than the run-of-the-mill mercenary group then. Inconsistent armors, so not likely to be from any major organization or anything. She would be reluctant to just kill a bunch of dumb people for the whole mess, but STG would likely disagree. And they weren’t exactly innocent. They hadn’t regretted Thyra’s death. Not yet anyway. 

They would soon enough though. She crept past their campfire with as much ease and stepped over another wire alarm as she continued her trek up. All too quickly, the dim light that was swallowed by the darkness above. Quiet, too temptingly so. She made sure to wait long enough for her vision to adjust to the change in light. As Kasumi suspected, there weren’t any reaper remnants on this floor. The batarians were doing some clean up, at least. With as much work as they’ve done with their security systems, it wouldn’t surprise her if they planned to stay for a while.

She spotted a glint in the darkness though, off in the corner. A quick flash of her omni-tool and she recognized the turret installed there. Seemed to be turned off though. After a few minutes of menial work, taking and pocketing a wire or two, and Kasumi made sure it would stay that way. 

The fourth and fifth floor were set up much the same, blanketed completely in darkness with a few turrets stationed in various corners and hiding spots. It confirmed that the group was small at least, and the area was too large to cover with manual resources. Sneaking past was hardly a challenge, but she hadn’t had one in a while. Not in the technical aspects anyway. Still, it felt… nice going back to normal for her. She really wasn’t suited for civilian life. Too much monotony and people were just strange. Or hurt to see them.

She wasn’t sure how Sha’ira thought she would be okay with it. Being a consort wasn’t nearly as violent or illegal as her job, but it wasn’t normal either. It wasn’t the 9-5, or just trying to pick up the pieces with family and friends. She was meant for something. 

Maybe they could talk about it later. Maybe it would get the consort from prying too much about the greybox. 

She finally found the camp on the sixth level, just one floor short from the roof. Kasumi could understand the choice. The enclosed space protected them from exposure and the higher elevation kept them from running into vermin species that likely still scurried around London streets. Any lights had long since been extinguished by the time she arrived, save for the campfire that was still glowing brightly, right in the center of the halo of tents. They were close together-- any sound from one would obviously carry to others. 

More batarian guards sitting at the actual fire, too quiet to hear as she watched on the outskirts of the camp. While tempting to listen in on their conversation, it was probably too risky with the amount of tents that were around. By her estimate, there were about 20 or so located in the tents themselves-- a rather large camp for as decimated the hegemony had been by the war. 

She crept along the edge of the camp, hugging the makeshift walls facing the square and the outer walls of the tents. No one would likely pick up any movement at this late from within, but Kasumi wasn’t one to overstay her welcome. The firelight danced lazily against the white, offering brief flickers of shadows inside. Most didn’t have cots or personal effects, it looked like-- sleeping on simple bags or pallets made out of well worn blankets and pillows.

Smaller shapes, others a more feminine contour. Women, children. Not many, but enough. Their tents were closer to the fire, to keep the little ones from getting cold at night. 

… Darshan’s story checked out then. That was going to make this a lot more complicated. STG specialized in extraction though, missions especially like this. While she would have trouble kidnapping someone tonight, perhaps they had a few suggestions that wouldn’t end in unnecessary bloodshed. Or they wouldn’t care-- though Major Kirrahe didn’t strike her as cold. 

The other option of course, would be to take care of the sniper herself. She knew how to make it clean and efficient enough-- perhaps frame the scene as an accident to avoid backlash from the batarians. They were already a bit flighty, considering they murdered one person for just going into their territory. … They might put the blame on STG if she did do it though. If they kept them busy for a while,  it would give her the opportunity to get the logs they had on her and destroy them. Hmm. Didn’t exactly avoid the whole bloodshed thing, but, ah shit. Samara knew she was coming out here tonight.

She would have to meet this sniper and go from there, she supposed. 

Kasumi slipped past the camp, it’s final tent about ten feet or so from the ramp that led up to the roof. She was surprised to see that it was in as good of shape as it was. There was some crumbling along the edges, faded lane paint, but it had little in way of debris. If not for her dampeners, her steps would probably echo on such an empty expanse. The moonlight was bright and clear in the sky above, crescent with all the stars and constellations she had admired before. The view of the city alone must be spectacular. It wouldn’t be so bad as a dating spot, honestly. 

One last wire alarm at the top of the ramp, easily stepped over. The roof had been cleaned up about as well as the lower floors it looked like. A skycar or two that had yet been cleaned of materials. A decrepit alcove where steps were before, now resembling more like a jagged spike sprouting on the pavement. 

Her target was laying on their belly, the concrete rim cleared away to allow the sniper rifle freedom of movement. They had a pale lavender sheet over them to stave off the cold. As Kasumi approached, more personal touches became clearer. They had a flashlight off to the side, keeping them illuminated for any other snipers that could be stationed on neighboring buildings. Stench of overcooked varren meat from a plate left abandoned on the hood of a skycar cleaved in two from a reaper beam. Canteen by the front fender. Yellow tulips beside it. Cute.

By their feet, she recognized the model of the sniper rifle. Standard M-98 Mantis, though the scope looked modded for extended range. Whoever was handling their weapons was very familiar with the modding process. Taking it might have some advantages, but she would need to distract the actual gunman holding it. 

She retreated back, and careful not to alert the guard, picked up the canteen. With a quick under-handed toss, she chucked the canteen closer to the ramp, clinking against the hard ground and denting the well-worn equipment further. She ducked around the other side of the cleaved car, just as the sniper’s head shot up.

“What the fuck?!” 

He looked young too. Small. Smaller than the first guard she ran into on the way up the deck. He had plenty of fat left on his cheeks, not quite developing the small hairs and thick folds that signified adulthood in a batarian. The armor, a deep olive green, barely fit him as he stood to his feet and approached the canteen cautiously. His steps were heavy on the pavement, but he stumbled on every third. 

Just the rifle then. Kasumi moved quickly and quietly to his nest. The rifle was easy to swipe from underneath the sheets, same weight as a typical mantis. She folded it to its resting position, ready to holster it to her back.

Then she heard ringing. Her eyes snapped to the ramp, where the boy had bent over and tugged at the wire with two fingers. Then his eyes caught on hers-- or more likely-- the sniper rifle that appeared to be floating in the air. 

She was too greedy for her own good sometimes.

The young batarian kicked off in a sprint toward her position, fast, but only fists raised. Should be easy enough to incapacitate him and split, but now the batarians would know someone came by. She would have to make this quick. She snapped the sniper rifle to her back and stood, quickly reaching for a flashbang grenade in her back pocket. It’d disorient him and hurt, but--

She thought it was a lunge at first, clearly on a fight response already, but as she saw the sheer panic in his eyes as the momentum took him past her, Kasumi realized he tripped over his own shoes. On his own shoes toward the edge. Without thinking, she snapped a hand out, tightly gripping onto the back of his chest armor, one foot dangling in the open air of the square below. 

“I’ve got you,” she hushed as she noticed his slacked jaw as he stared down. His panicked panting, just at the edge of a scream, wasn’t helping matters any. He looked to the empty space holding him up, already too big eyes comically larger in his panic. Just a kid. Any other time, he may not have even known how to use the rifle she’d stolen from him. 

She released the cloak as she brought him closer, back onto safer ground, just as his ear piece crackled to life.

“Hey. We heard the cans from the roof. Everything alright?” much older voice on the other end. Either one of the more veteran guards on the lower floors or maybe Mr. Boss himself.

She pressed a finger to her own lips, “Just want to talk. Don’t do anything that’ll hurt someone. Especially you.”

The boy looked behind him, to the open air he had been just a split second from tumbling into, and just to emphasize her point, she tightened the grip on his collar, locking it tightly in her fingers. He gulped, visibly. “... Everything’s fine. Just accidentally tripped it dropping my canteen.”

“Be more careful, will you? Had about half the building in a panic.”

“S-sorry.”

The communication cut off, and Kasumi released him. His shoulders sagged immediately, though looked a bit lost now without the rifle in his hands. He kept looking at it on her back, as if trying to decide how to pry it off. “... What-- who are you?” though he kept his voice quiet. Smart.

She shrugged. “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood. How old are you?”

The boy hesitated before sitting down on the lavender sheet, rubbing the back of his neck. It looked a bit too warm for spring, with wool like texture. Maybe they nabbed it in the city somewhere. Kasumi was half-tempted to ask where they got it. “... 13.” His eyes wouldn’t meet her, even under the shade of her hood.

“Bit young to be killing people, isn’t it?” Still, she sat down across from him, trying to keep him calmed down, keep him from alerting those below. “How long have you been using this rifle?”

“What’s it to you?” He pressed on his ear piece, but Kasumi quickly held a finger up, tsking.

“Let’s not do that,” and she flashed her omni-tool, just enough to illustrate her point. “Overloading comms can knock out your hearing for a long time.” The boy deflated, arm loosely dropping, knuckles slightly scraping against the concrete. “I appreciate it. And really, I’m not trying to cause trouble. Just need to get a few details before I go.”

“About what?”

“Oh, just a couple things, really. Are you always the one manning this roof?”

“... Me or my dad. We take turns.”

“Do you remember a turian girl that came by a few days ago? Was it your dad that shot her?”

“... Oh…” He turned away from her, stretching out on the blanket as he peered over the edge. Back to her-- one of the worst things anyone could do in the terminus systems. He hadn’t been raised in the worst of it then. “... Figures you’d come for that.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not the worst of it, but I can keep your dad out of trouble,” she tilted her head, trying to catch his gaze. “You don’t have to protect him, and if you can convince him to--”

“I shot her.”

She was afraid he’d say that. On the bright side, STG would handle it better than the Alliance would, she’d imagine. They were a calculating bunch, but they didn’t have as much history as humanity did with them. It churned her stomach to even consider putting some teen in handcuffs though, not when he was just trying to protect his family. “I’m sorry. That’s a lot to put on you. Was that your first time?”

He finally looked at her, and the fragility behind his heavy gaze broke her heart. “... The wind’s different here than back home. I just meant to scare her off…”

“No one’s perfect.”

“... You’re weird for a human.” Still, he seemed pretty calm, and no one else had noticed her yet. Kasumi had located her suspect, but the others didn’t have to know, did they? “Dad said I need to be more careful. Batarians always get the bad rap, so we have to assume the worst and behave the best.”

“He sounds like a smart man,” ah but the fact that he was still alive, “Was he… well, you know.”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “He learned his lesson, if that’s what you’re asking. Said a-- a miskha -- a monster, I think is what you guys say? … Roughed him up real badly. He can’t really move much anymore, so we use sniper rifles instead.”

She’d heard that word before, though from where Kasumi couldn’t quite place. Legends from her old masters perhaps, horror stories they’d share with one another around the campfire as the varrens nipped at her heels and the whispers tugged and pulled at her. It wasn’t a kind word. Heavier than monster. Like a beast, beyond comprehension. 

“... Thank you,” Kasumi said and stood. She had plenty enough to think in any case. Easier to target the dad then. Easier to spin a former slaver back in the business, or… just trying to survive. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t nice. But she would take a former slaver’s blood over a kid’s any day. 

“Ma’am?” He called after a moment, just before she could really make the move to leave. “... What are you going to do now?”

Talk with Zaeed. See if he had any experience framing someone for murder. It wouldn’t do him any comfort. Telling him the truth, or even bringing up the STG would just hurt him. “Couple more passes around the neighborhood, I guess~. Night’s still young.” She stretched her arms, ready to switch the cloak back on, then heard the click of a heavy pistol behind her.

Oh, kid. Don’t do this. She offered a placid smile as she glanced to his hands. Carnifex, standard model. It was a favorite of hers back on the Normandy. Unfortunately for him, she had assembled and disassembled, modded, and overloaded far too many to be worried about it pointed at her face. 

“You’re gonna tell those salarians right? … I’m gonna die.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Don’t.”

Finger too close to the trigger. She sighed and swiped her omni-tool quickly, efficiently. Kasumi had done it hundreds of times at this point. Just a second delay, almost where the boy was squeezing the trigger, before the carnifex sparked and exploded in his hands. 

The jolt of electricity and fire was quick and immediate. The boy screamed out in pain as he threw the pistol aside. The charred, burning flesh nauseated her, a stench that had permeated constantly throughout the war. Please. Let it be enough. 

He dug his heel and charged her. Kasumi braced for the weight against her, but she wasn’t a heavy woman. Her head hit the ground hard as he toppled them both over, burned hands fumbling between strangling her or reaching for the sniper rifle behind her back. She curled her fists tight and threw it as hard as she could against the boy’s jaw, but he just wouldn’t get off. Instead he matched blow for blow, cracking a burnt knuckle against her eye socket.

She gritted her teeth and squirmed best she could for her back pocket for a flashbang, but suddenly felt one of those hands on sleek metal around her waist. The locust!

The omni-blade barely registered before it sank into the side of his chest, sliding perfectly between plates of armor and rib bones. His hands froze immediately, and he slumped against her, blood gurgling from his mouth. Kasumi sucked in a deep breath, trying to soothe the heavy pounding her heart. Let the adrenaline wash out of her. Eyes closed. Counted a few seconds. 

He was still alive, but not for long. Where the omni-blade landed would’ve punctured his lungs. While quick, it would be very painful. Numbly, she took the boy’s shoulders and pushed him off. He flopped like deadweight onto his back. Not much longer. She was sorry. So, so sorry.

She replaced her carnifex when she had left. Swiped a suppressor from a drunk soldier on Illium. That man was probably dead now too. She placed the muzzle on his temple and squeezed the trigger once. Any gasps, gurgles, halted movements of his chest-- they stopped immediately. 

Sloppy. So, so sloppy. So messy.

She took the earpiece.

“Korem?! What’s going on up there?! The guys on sixth said they heard screaming.”

What the fuck was wrong with her?

They would be up there any minute. It would be tricky to get out without a distraction splitting some of the forces. She peered over at the corpse beside her and sighed. 

Korem’s body crunched on impact, red and flesh mingling with the white pavement as it spattered in wild directions. 

“What the hell was that?! Someone go check that! Sixth floor, roof ASAP!”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry--”

Kasumi spared one last glance to memorize the shape of the broken body, his face frozen in horror as he stared unblinking to the starry sky, and tossed the ear piece over the roof with him. By the time the guards arrived to scope out the horror Kasumi left behind, her cloak was already activated, and she walked past-- letting the unfolding chaos and anguish distract from her exit.

--

Someone was calling again.

Somewhere, somehow in her hazy mind, Kasumi found herself sitting atop the graffiti wall, legs dangling over and staring upward. The air had cooled, and her right eye kept tearing. Bruising probably. Maybe some irritation from dirt and grime on that child’s hands. Child. She killed a child. What was she--

“Kasumi?”

Her hand clasped over her mouth as she felt the bile rise in her throat and swallowed, ignoring how the acid burned in her throat. No. Not right now. Deep breath. “Hey…” and she hated how steady her voice sounded. “I thought you’d be asleep already.”

Sha’ira sounded unsteady, as if unsure how to broach the topic. Her voice had more air to it than usual too-- still tired probably. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, “I was worried, but wasn’t sure you would answer a call right now.”

 “I… I was lonely, I guess. I usually don’t.” 

“Are you okay?”

 No. She was going to have to spend the rest of the night trying to find a canal or something to scrub the catsuit while trying not to vomit. She would have to explain her black eye in the morning to everyone, and she would have to explain that one of their big scary killers was a child, and she had just used his body to escape a hellfire of bullets. She wanted to scream. She wanted to go home and hold Keiji, or his image, or just feel something, anything else right now. 

“... Where are you right now?”

“I’ll be back soon. I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s kinda hard to see right now.”

“Kasumi.”

She didn’t want to be alone. But then Sha’ira would see this, and -- “Do you know where the nearest river is? Or like… a body of water?”

No hesitation, no pauses. Kasumi could even hear the smile on the other side. “I’ll bring a change of clothes. Whatever happened… we’ll get through it. Together.”

At least, it’d give her a chance to plan. They would be coming back for her, and she sure as hell wouldn’t fault them for it. 

--

As it turned out, an actual, functioning canal wasn’t super far from there. It was hardly clean, and absolutely guaranteed, she would smell like sewage or worse if she even tried. The canal’s water was moving though, which meant it had a better chance of being sterile than any other body of water that wasn’t an actual fucking river. It was water. It was flowing in a canal that was only holding itself together by the seams. Bridges connecting one side to another completely fallen apart, edges and sidewalks broken, husk corpses-- some of which were not-so pleasantly floating in the water.

It didn’t matter, because the blood was coming off. She had found a spot where the sidewalk had partially caved, providing a perfect ramp to the water. She had stripped off her catsuit with frightening efficiency and submerged the whole thing-- allowing her balled fists to stretch against the leather. The pads would take longer to dry, but fuck it. She didn’t care right now. She just wanted the blood off.

The first time it happened was on Omega, and she was a lot fresher faced and a lot more stupid. Eclipse merc used a hostage. Thought she wouldn’t go that far. Had, and wished she hadn’t. Kiera lectured her for days for how sick she felt. Kids didn’t know better. They couldn’t know better. They were just put in places by dumb adults and then dumber adults killed them. The recovery should have made them more important, but it didn’t and now a thirteen year old was dead. 

She couldn’t blame his father for it. He should have been safe on the roof with six floors of batarians with more experience between. Korem was old enough to want to contribute, and so he did. 

What could, should she tell the others? There wasn’t any framing to do now, but with how she left the place, the batarians would be going after STG next. Convenient for the shit she needed to get back, but it wasn’t their fault. They didn’t tell her to go. They didn’t tell her to kill a kid. And the truth… she wasn’t sure she could admit it. She never needed to the few times it had to happen. It’d been so long. It hurt. It hurt so bad. She didn’t even realize how badly until she was sitting on that stupid wall and that stupid call came in.

She shouldn’t care. It should be easy to just walk away. Take the shuttle, let them deal with the mess, and forget this ever happened. But she did care. She cared before those stupid batarians took her, before she met Keiji, before he died, before the fucking normandy. She wasn’t a monster that could just remove those thoughts and feelings aside. She wasn’t--

“Kasumi, I brought-- oh!”

And to Sha’ira, she probably looked a bit crazy at the moment. It’s not like she had a change of clothes with her when she stripped. So here was the consort, coming to help her friend in the middle of the night and finding her hunched over by a canal in her underwear, scrubbing at a catsuit and mumbling to herself. This was not a great look. Yeoman Chambers would’ve had a field day with that psych write-up. She wondered how she was doing. Probably not great. Few former Cerberus operatives were these days.

“Apologies. I imagine someone in your occupation would prefer some courtesy. I can turn around if you’d like. … I just thought you would be in the water already.”

The stench in her catsuit was going to be hard enough to get rid of. She didn’t need her whole body smelling like it. Did the consort seem a bit flustered? That surprised her. She peered over her shoulder, making out the curvature of Sha’ira back as she faced away and poised as gracefully as ever, and tried not to smile so wide. “The sewage smell isn’t the most appealing,” Kasumi remarked and pulled her catsuit from the water. Most of the blood was off, but a few spots were staining the pads. Ugh. “You can look by the way~. Just no cameras, of course.”

“Promise.” Though the offer was made, Kasumi didn’t really expect her to take it. The turn was quiet, barely discernible, but curious eyes studying her was obvious enough. It seemed fair after dragging her out of camp in the early morning hours, even though the offer had been reluctantly accepted on her part. She kept at her work however, this time finally separating the padding from the rest of the leather. The dried blood and stench nearly made her gag. 

Sha’ira stepped closer, less subtle steps, until standing just above her and studying the fabric that Kasumi was so desperately trying to get the stains out of. “... You’re injured.”

“Oh, it’s just bruising. It’ll be gone in a day or so.”

“Not a scratched cornea?” Probably not. Fists usually didn’t do that… she didn’t think. In any case, she could see fine, even if it was just a little blurry sometimes. What cybernetic work she had usually covered any surface hurt that could come out of a fight. Though the black eye would be hard to explain away once she did make it back to camp. Zaeed wouldn’t give a shit at least. “... I really am glad you’re alright.” 

She was never really in danger in the first place. It’s what she hated about thinking on her feet. Sometimes, Kasumi would come back and find about ten different plans that would’ve been plenty better than whatever stupidity adrenaline put her in. That ability to act, to not be paralyzed by fear or the unexpected, kept her alive for so long. But a great thief would never be in that situation in the first place. 

Sha’ira gripped her shoulder, squeezing once. The touch on her bare skin was temptingly warm, and distinctly, Kasumi remembered how much she craved.

Then she heard clothing shift as Sha’ira stood, and she turned her head back to her companion just in time to spot bare blue skin. Kasumi bit the urge to bawk as Sha’ira tossed her dress aside. “What are you doing?”

“It’s not ideal. I would agree with that. However, I do have perfumes to help mitigate the smell,” she offered casually, and Kasumi tried, very hard, to remember that nudity was more a human issue of decency than an asari one. This was fine. As if to emphasize its casualness and not a continuing symptom of Kasumi’s spiralling madness, Sha’ira stepped to the water’s edge, and without so much as a toe dip to test the temperature, submerged herself in murky depths. 

It was only a second later that she re-emerged by Kasumi’s hands, taking the soft padding between her own fingers and eying the fabric with a critical eye. The water was about chest-level, though Sha’ira hardly paid any mind to how odd the situation looked as she squeezed the fabric, letting the water it held to drip back into the canal. “I may have stain remover back in my tent. Though for blood, I would recommend bleach. I suppose if I had an idea on the material, I could make do with a combination of agents...”

The plain black bra was already soaked through. Kasumi was a bit surprised the fabric wasn’t sheer enough to be translucent from the water. Her freckles extended down to her shoulders, only becoming a lighter dusting as they approached the valley of her breasts. She… wasn’t in shape. It was actually sort of nice to see. She clearly took care of her body, but it wasn’t hardlined of muscle, of scars nicking her skin, and old war stories that never really went away in a person’s head. Her eyes curved easily with her smile, even as it looked odd examining bloodied material. Her hands weren’t calloused, long fingers that didn’t know strain as well as she did. 

Her smile widened just a little as Sha’ira spoke. “You must have a lot on your mind.”

She considered the padding between them and shrugged before tossing it back on the concrete shore. It landed in a rather unimpressive thump, joining the rest of the leather of her catsuit. Then, Kasumi eyed her with a half-hearted skepticism. “If I still stink after your dosing when we get back, I’m going to be pissed at you.”

“In my defense, your hands have already been in the water for a while, but I promise. You won’t leave my tent until you smell like roses, Kasumi.” And she waded herself a few feet back, giving Kasumi enough space to join her in the water. 

She slid in the water feet first and drew in a hiss as the chills ran up her spine. It wasn’t like ice, which she counted her blessings for, but cold water on an even colder evening was not pleasant. And Sha’ira had to have a damn good poker face not let that show when she dipped in.

The consort chuckled as she came closer, though refused to address Kasumi’s discomfort directly. “When was the last time anyone had seen you completely?”

An odd way to phrase nearly naked. “... Not since my partner? I’m sure Cerberus was a bit displeased with me disabling their cameras to ensure that.”

Sha’ira looked taken aback. “I… I can’t imagine you working for them for very long.”

“Oh! Oh no. That was with Shepard. And it was very much in the contract that it was a one-time deal. I just needed some extra help getting the…” Kasumi hesitated, though there was little point in it. “... Getting the greybox.”

“... Your partner was killed then?”

“Yeah. For the greybox.”

Sha’ira seemed pensive for a long moment, clearly different thoughts and suggestions coming together. Some being disregarded, others entertained more. She settled on one eventually though as she reached out, thumb lightly grazing against her bruised cheek before reaching the back of her skull, tracing the horizontal scar gnarled and aged in her olive skin. “... Is that how you got this?”

“No,” Kasumi admitted. “... That one’s been there for a while.”

“It’s deep. How old?”

“Ten.”

There was understanding there, sad but not pitying. It hadn’t surprised her that up close, Sha’ira recognized the scar for what it was. In her worst days, she thought she still heard the whispers and threats to her life if she didn’t obey. Sometimes, it felt like the plate was still there-- burning and itchy. But it wasn’t, and truly, it did make getting the greybox surgery much easier. The pain and recovery was nothing compared to that plate burning into her skin. Nothing compared to that. 

Her hand brushed through the shaved underside, through the short wisp of hair that had grown long enough in the front to brush into her eyes sometimes, and found the long, thin scar across her temple. “And this?”

“Sniper just barely missed. You know you’ll be at this for a while if you do this for everything?”

Sha’ira pulled her hand away, though the hum in her voice hadn’t completely left. “I hadn’t known until…”

“Yeah. My back tends to scare a lot of people. That’s what the tattoos are for.”

“This may surprise you, but you are remarkably well put together for someone that has gone through as much as you have.” She hesitated again, and she could feel her eyes following the path and lines of her skin-- what was undoubtedly a stark contrast to her own. Not just in the color either. Her olive skin had paled even further over the years of being in the shadows, and her skin had toned. Light enough to carry herself through the smallest nooks and crannies, but muscled just enough to get her from point A to point Z without taking the sidewalk. However, learning how to be a thief was hardly an easy walk in the park.

Some were from varren bites, lashes and beatings from old masters. She had the bullet holes and burns to prove her disastrous run-in in Illium, more from small incidents like tonight, others…

The tattoos were meant for covering others. She wasn’t the full body treatment like Jack, but she had a few. It was nice when she was younger and hated the skin she had been left with after so long. Abstract paintings were needled in mostly, splashes of color and whims that an old Omega roommate had illustrated beautifully. They dotted from the back of her neck to her shoulder blades, and even now when she would get the chance to look, she would admire the handiwork. There were other, smaller touches. Rose and thorns-- cliched but sentimental along her other hip, and her most recent addition, ‘SR-2’ on her right bicep. It took a lot of haggling to keep that artist quiet.

Her haircut was something more impressive once, but it wasn’t as if she had access to a hairdresser at the moment. The undercut did enough of a job, no matter how much Khalisah wanted to tease her about it. She used to have it longer, tied up in a bun like her grandmother had done before-- but it was so impractical. A few untimely somersaults and she would have wild black strands getting everywhere. It was a liability more than anything.

It was also very strange being studied like she was. There hadn’t been as much pressure as it was back when Kasumi had enough clothes to cover the most identifying parts of herself. Yet, there was something so inherently benign in the way Sha’ira observed her-- as if natural, as if there wasn’t anything else to do or worry about. 

She tried to lighten the mood. At least a little. “You make me feel like I should be posing or something~”

“It’s not necessary.” And Sha’ira smiled, and oh, there were only a few inches between them. She saw the water droplets slip lazily along the curvatures of her skin, separating in one valley and joining at another. Her hand fit easily along the lining of her jaw, nails lightly scratching as she held her. “... I want to memorize this. Like a rare flower found in the depths of a forest. I know how unique this is.”

So. Kasumi was being pampered. She knew this game too well to be bashful. She held her gaze, letting the smile ease onto her lips.

“Your arms were shaking before,” Sha’ira observed. “This is much better, isn’t it?”

It was hard to say. 

“Tell me what happened?”

“I killed a kid today.” The confession came out without a thought.

She felt the other hand fit around the other side, this time more careful, deliberate. “What happened?” she asked again. Maybe too close. It didn’t matter. The very look dared her to try and pull away. 

“I told him not to, but I freaked him out. … He killed Thyra. He just wanted to live.”

“Was he trying to--”

“I stabbed him and dumped his body over the parking deck.” Didn’t matter what he was doing. Samara would kill her for that alone, and the batarians would assume it was the STG. They didn’t know who she was. No matter how that conflict ended, more people would die and it would be her fault. The boy’s body was a broken jigsaw by the time it crunched against the pavement. If she studied close enough, pulled it from the depths of her own greybox, she could see every detail, down to those empty eyes starring above and how his arms and legs weren’t supposed to bend like that-- wondered how long Thyra’s death had stuck inside him, like every first kill did to someone. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if she didn’t remember every detail, fully knowing she always would. She always would remember the exact shape his body made on the pavement, the way he gurgled and suffocated from the puncture in his lungs, from the beginnings of rot and blood overtaking the overcooked varren still left on his plate. She remembered everything because she had to. 

Sha’ira wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled her tight against her. She barely registered her head resting against the crook of her shoulder, but as she felt those same uncalloused hands comb through black hair, soothing and gentle, she let her eyes flutter closed.

She didn’t deserve it, but Kasumi couldn’t find it in her to turn Sha’ira away.

[imagineurfavs]

Just One Night (2PM Jun.K smut)

“I still Stan 2PM and I 💕 Minjun! Waiting till 2020 is 😭 May I have a “ he’s home on vacation from army, so you having all the fun 😉 you can , before he has to go back” small drabble/ story? Please and thank you.”

(A/N I stg minjun isn't even my bias but like bruh the things I'd let him to do me...lord. Also strap in lol its long, sorry if you wanted something short i guess i got carried away lol oof...)

Word Count: 1575 words

It was such a rare occurrence these days that both you and Minjun had a free day at the same time. He hardly ever had days off from his military duty and when he did, you were always super busy with work so you couldn't spend really the time you wanted together. Only a couple of hours here and there before you both had to go back to the real world and leave the one shared by only the two of you.

But today was not one of those times. You'd told a little white lie to work, saying that you had a small family emergency to tend to and would be back tomorrow. Whilst they were thinking you were busy helping a relative, you were really sitting in your car in a small side road waiting for Minjun to appear so you could spend the full day together.

You were flicking through your phone as you waited, looking at all the photographs you'd both been exchanging for the past few months, always accompanied by messages detailing the desires you had for each other whilst you were apart. Just as you were beginning to get totally lost in your thoughts, a small tap on the passenger side window snapped you back to your senses.

"Y/N"!! he exclaimed as he swung open the door "Oh my god I missed you so much" he said, flinging his bags in the back seat and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"me too, you can't even imagine..." you breathed out as you began pulling out of the secluded road you were parked in.

“Is there anything you wanna do today, it is your first full day off in a while, after all” you asked casually as you drove down the highway, warm sun beaming through the windows, illuminating Minjuns skin in gorgeous golden tones.

“Can we just...go back to your place, please baby” You heard from beside you, accompanied by the feeling of a large hand being placed on your thigh, squeezing ever so slightly.

A breath hitched in your throat as you swallowed loudly “Oh...sure” you said reaching to give his hand a quick squeeze, catching his meaning.

The short drive passed by in a comfortable silence, Minjun’s hand resting on your thigh throughout, rubbing small circles into your leg with his thumb. You were focused on getting you both home safely, but you could feel his strong gaze burning into you the whole time.

Whatever tension had been building between you both heightened tenfold once you arrived home and had to ride the elevator 8 floors up, cramped between an array of other people. His warm breath hitting your skin as he whispered in your ear “I can’t wait to get you inside and show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“Minjun...people” you replied quietly with a giggle, quickly turning your face away to avoid his teasing glare. He got slowly more and more daring as people started filing out of the elevator at each level. His hands running slowly up and down your hips, resting just on top of the zipper to your jeans.

The elevator opened at your floor and you both made your way out slowly down the corridor.You walked in to your apartment, throwing your keys down, saying with a laugh “wow, could you have been any more obvio- “ before being spun around quickly and pressed tightly to his chest.

“Well, I've gotta make sure people know you're taken, even thought i’m not here most the time” The coarse skin of his fingers travelled down your body, resting on the small of your back, pulling you into him and closing the remaining gap between the two of you. His lips moved with yours as he slowly walked you both back towards the large kitchen counter.

The familiar taste of Minjuns lips, the taste you’d missed so much, began spreading over your tongue as you pushed it past the barrier of your mouth and into his own. You held his face in your hands, thumbs running over his sharp jawline, pulling him closer to you. A small groan emanated from his mouth as he took a small bite to your bottom lip.

“Jump” The single word hit your ear, his low tone sending shivers throughout your body. Just as your feet left the ground, he caught you, warm hands on the underside of your thighs, keeping you elevated. With one swift movement he hoisted you up and placed you on the counter top, positioning himself between your legs.

Leaning back on your elbows, you watched his gaze travel down your still clothed body, taking your entire presence in. His eyes getting darker the more he stared.

“You can take my clothes off, Minjun” you teased as his hands came to a stand still just above your hips.

“I know, I’m just...I’ve missed you so much you have no idea”

Memories flashed through your mind of all the nights you’d spent alone in bed, thinking of this exact moment, of course you’d missed him too, but your mind was only focused on one thing at the moment. “Well then show me”. 

With those words of confirmation from you, he raked his hands under your shirt and over your waist, pulling your clothes off over your head. Hovering above you he attached your lips together once more, more ferocious than before. Your fingers taking purchase in his hair as his made a bee line to your core.

Slipping his hands inside your underwear he shot a smirk at you, separating your kiss for a moment “I know its been a while, but wow...baby, you're so wet for me already”

“Oh shut up and just touch me please!” you taunted, unable to wait any longer, pulling his face back to yours.

He let out a small breathy laugh into the kiss as his fingers went between your folds rubbing quick small circles on your clit, a quiet gasp coming from your lips as your head fell back from the arrival of the feeling you’d waited so long for.

His lips trailed to the crook of your neck, taking small bites on the soft skin as he pushed a single finger inside of you, curling it a few times before effortlessly adding a second. Your hands began blindly finding their way to his own trousers, making quick work of getting them undone.

He let out a hiss from behind gritted teeth, eyes fluttering closed, as his cock sprung free, the cold air of your kitchen hitting his hot tip. You wasted no time in sitting back up and wrapping your hand around his already hard dick. He locked eyes with you as you made one long deliberately slow stroke, your finger lightly grazing over the slit.

In the blink of an eye and without a single word he removed his fingers from you, picked you up and moved you both to your bedroom before placing you down, sprawled out on the bed. Crawling on top of you slowly, his build imposing but safe, he placed an arm either side of your face.

“I didn’t wanna cum in the kitchen...” A smile formed on the corner of his swollen lips, holding back a giggle “I had to get you in here and do it properly” He brushed his thumb over your flushed red cheeks as he placed his tip at your entrance.

He entered you at an almost unbearably slow speed, coming to a stop when his hips were flush with your own. Letting you get adjusted to him after such a long time without feeling each other, he connected your lips once more in a delicate kiss, your lips moving in perfect rhythm with each other until you signalled to him that he could move.

With an equally slow movement he removed himself from you, ran his tip over your core, gathering your juices before burying his cock in you faster than before. He set a firm but fluid rhythm, maintaining eye contact as he disappeared deep inside you, your hip bones clashing with each thrust.

You began to feel your orgasm quickly approaching, that familiar knot in your stomach returning; every sharp movement pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Minjun once again took his lips to your skin, his teeth nipping at the soft skin of your collarbones, sure to leave violent purple bruises in the days to come. You held on tightly as you feel your muscles begin to contract, the warm skin of his back under your fingertips becoming sticky with sweat as he pushes you over the edge of orgasm.

Your climax washed over you as your back arched upwards, your breasts meeting with Minjuns chest. A cry of his name along with the clenching of your walls around him was enough to make him come undone inside you, your name falling from his lips over and over as he continued to sloppily work you both through your shared orgasm.

He remained on top of you, your chests flush against one another, in a comfortable silence, feeling each others’ heartbeats for what felt like forever. He turned on to his side, holding you in his strong arms. Feeling at home in his embrace you allow sleep to take you, choosing to forget the small amount of hours you had left together

(WOWOWOWOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT OOF SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY I GUESS???? i stg minjun just has this certain...energy y’know? i could write for him forever lol)

[tentastic-yu-ki]

just pentagon things

(with links to stuff !!)

this took me so long to make heheh but i hope you like it !! <3

jinho

v o c a l s from the gods

god herself cast her hands upon him and now he has the voice of a million angels

doing ALL the parts in bohemian rhapsody bc of course

HIGH NOTES

grandpa #1

a lil bean :’)

fake maknae

his fluffy bangs during naughty boy era are on the list of my favorite things ever

his cheeks y’all

ok but he looks eerily similar to jiheon from fromis_9 when they smile idk if i’m the only one who sees it but

whenever he does the little wave thingy you know what i’m talking about

he sings in fluent english and it makes my heart flutter every. single. time.

lowkey done with the rest of the members but loves them so much

yuto lifting him up at the end of naughty boy relay dance is basically that one scene from the lion king

tbh the members are always lifting him up and it’s precious

his lil cape during shine

hui

hwitaek in general is just bsidjsbdhdb

such a good leader :’)

i have no talent

mr hwitaek has all the talent

if i’m lucky some of mr hwitaeks talent may rub off on me

i just ?? love him ??!

his piano playing in the gorilla acoustic video makes me weak in the knees

pentagon of leader

y’all remember his twin brother manuel

i play jazz piano and holy shit i could only hope to gain half the talent he has in his hands alone let alone his vOICE

grandpa #2

i have so much appreciation for him and i look up to him a whole lot as a musician i just don’t know how to express my love

critical beauty was his era bitches

constantly being corrected by hongseok

such a groovy ass mf

lee hwitaek vs the english language

he is gorgeous !??!? kills me with his gaze

smile needs more appreciation

he killed it in triple h especially his vocals in 365 fresh

jangjigi jangjigi jang jang jang

hongseok

muscles

ABS :0

‘can i have a bite’ lmao

the group mom

but he’s a cool mom

his eyes are so frickin adorable :’)

absolutely hilarious oh my god

good ass storyteller

two words: his. lips.

his laugh is precious guys like i can’t

this video from the real man

when he shaved his hair off before the real man 300

hongseok x jinho ?? cute as hell

just lovely

such an underappreciated member

i stg whenever he speaks english it’s either to correct somebody, say hi to international fans, or its something completely ridiculous and i love it

e’dawn

y e l l i n g

he and hyuna being a power couple

Y E L L I N G

popping dancing

owned the gorilla era imo

Y E L L I N G

!! tattoos !!

a whole plant dad

his hairstyle suits him so well omg

did i mention yelling

i wish the best for him (and hyuna) and he’ll always be a part of pentagon in our hearts <3

his eyes when he smiles :’))))

video of him yelling in case you don’t know what i’m talking about

also this

I MISS HIM

S U P P O R T H I M or i’m coming for u

also support p nation !!

shinwon

hot shinwon yeah u want ?!

the visual

like the man is a whole model

i kinda just want to sit and have tea with him he seems like that kind of friend

his legs are so underrated

his breathy laugh is amazing

probably slowly losing his patience with the members

when i first got into pentagon i was like hm he seems like the mature one

but none of them are the mature one

booger

VOICE CRACK OF THE CENTURY

we will never forget

it seems like in fanfics he’s always some sort of ceo or manager or fashion designer and i’m here for it

always providing quality content whether he realizes it or not

always providing quality content whether we realize it or not

trying to make food while hui was asleep and then realizing he didn’t have chopsticks

his name is actually shinpon excuse you

absolutely losing his shit during the sha la la don’t smile challenge (13:11)

can you really blame him tho it was funny as hell

screaming + running in fear? shinwon invented that.

yeo one

he cares so much about universe :’)

compilation of him asking universe if we’ve eaten today because he cares

him almost kicking himself in the face that one time i can’t find the video agh

super lovable and wholesome

ok but his teeth

his smile is just so pretty ???

boi is drop dead gorgeous

so pure and just HKSNSBSJS

his asmr videos? yes king

he really expected me to sit there for almost an hour listening to him whisper the members names over and over?

and he was right because i did

yeo one makes me feel the same things i did when i saw bubbles in the air at disney world for the first time

he’s just like that

boyfriend material

HOW DARE I ALMOST FORGET THE SPONGEBOB IMPRESSIONS

saRANGhaeYOoOoo~

the boy is hilarious

yanan

aNNYEONG CHINGUDEUL

he just reminds me of a whole bottle of sprinkles yknow

like if rainbow sprinkles were a person

it’s yanan and yanan only

high note battle with jinho

he’s tol but his voice is smol

“don’t talk with me”

earrings lmao

probably smells like vanilla tbh

‘can you please edit this out?’

he’s literally gonna give me cavities with his sweetness

just from looking at pics of him

i like don’t even know what to say he’s just a ball of sunshine :’)))

so sweet i could put him in my coffee

he deserves so much more that he gets

sUCH A SWEET SOUL UGH~!

i’m running out of ways to reiterate that yanan deserves all the love in the world

y’all better appreciate him or i’m coming for u and ur whole family

he’s just out here chillin, his smile making the world a better place

my uwus? gone. snatched if you will

yuto

it’s ya boy toto

Y U T O D A

him being spooked by ghost stories

cLINGY !!!!!

two words: back. hugs.

i want a yuto hug hmph :((

his laugh is so cute i just-

him being spooked by the dark

NICO NICO NIIII~

his guy-fieri-reminiscent shirt

(you know the one)

him being spooked in general

i will protect this boy with my LIFE

we need more yuto aegyo

but also his visuals make me spontaneously combust

somebody call the fire brigade yknow

when he had the eyebrow slit i cried

im at a loss for how to express my love for adachi yuto

can i have his dangly earrings pls thanks

he’s always feeding everybody it’s so cute

our nagano boy :’)

cough excuse me i had something in my throat i meant our nagano pRINCE

this video of his ‘high note’ and wink never fails to make me laugh

he reminds me of this guy ive had a crush on for a long while ?? like personalitywise they’re oddly similar,, he’s cute n shy but also tall and vv clingy ??? and he recently started doing his hair differently and it’s literally yutos hairstyle i almost stopped breathing ok

also his hugs feel like what i imagine a yuto hug would feel like and i only realized it just now as i’m writing this

kino

he’s my little honeybunch cinnamon apple sugarplum gumdrop babyboy

i just love kang hyunggu a whole lot if you can’t tell by um

the rest of my blog

my profile image

my lockscreen ffs

do i even need to say that he’s my bias

duality? he invented that.

hyunggu being a cutie patootie vs kino being rUDE AS HELL

like he’s a grape juice box and a whole ass bottle of fine wine yknow what i mean

the lace blindfold ?? somebody pinch me

knnovation

i mean have y’all heard voicegasm ??

he did that shit

he’s under arrest for stealing my heart~

(and my uwus)

i don’t even need to say it bc y’all already know but he’s the dance KING

the violet bby

“he’s sensitive”

when hyojong changed the number song lyrics to joke about him being sensitive (2:25)

when he wears big sweaters :’)

i miss his lil ponytail during naughty boy

ppl never talk about this but he’s surprisingly good at languages ?!?

his laugh is one of my favorite sounds on the planet

that one move in can you feel it (01:55 in the mv) gets me every. single. time.

the kino list is long but i just have so much love for this boy

wooseok

he a long boi

HIS DIMPLE

i cant find the vid but there’s this one moment at a fansign or something where he just stepped over the table like it was a completely normal thing to do ?!???!?

HIS FACE IS SO VISUALLY PLEASING

i keep getting shocked over and over about how generally handsome he is

any hair works on him like ??? magic ?!?

screaming during lost paradise

and most songs

and most of the time anyway

i love him lots and lots tho

can pull off the goth look

can pull off the emo look

can pull off any look

he belongs in an opera lmfaooo

E X T R A

BUNNY BUNNY WOOSEOK WOOSEOK

his acrostic poems

i’m a star ? that shit sLAPS

this boy is carrying the entire rap industry on his bACK

i’m sad that i cant think of more stuff for wooseokie

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

weekly(ish) fic recs

i may not have done much writing this week, but i sure have done some reading... lol

soft (some fluff, some smut, some mixed)

smiled, and it was perfect by @winstonlives​: Dan and Phil in Jamaica on a youtuber trip. Their relationship is still pretty young, but the love is real. So are the bugs.

thoughts: the best combination of funny and sweet and sexy, overall just a great read. i enjoyed every second

Sleeping by cobblestyles: Dan can't sleep, they're on tour, and the middle of the night makes them cheesy.

thoughts: i read this in the morning and it was like a warm blanket and made me never want to get out of bed. it’s a v sweet little moment

under the kitchen lights by @azurephil: It’s been a long day and there are a few black hairs hanging down from his quiff. He bites his lip absentmindedly as he searches with those big blue eyes and delicate hands. His skin looks so clear and smooth.Dan can’t get enough.

thoughts: i stg i thought i’d recced this already, but apparently not, so here we are (and even if i had, great, go read it again). this fic is so gentle and i’m Living for that week in australia.

doing nothing often leads to the very best of something by @knlalla: based on this (x) and a lil imagine i wrote (x) and expanded on so thanks to the lovely anon who originally sent "that pic phil posted of dan for his bday i think where dan is making a funny face and theres a nearly empty wine bottle in the background hhhhh that makes my demon heart drop" and to the lovely anon who asked for more!

thoughts: god i relate so hard to this and i also just adore the little domestic snippet thank you for this 

you’re my home by @outphan: Interactive Introverts is over, Dan and Phil are home. To mark that occasion, they get matching tattoos.

thoughts: i lost my shit while reading this fic its too fucking cute and i’d fuck die if anything even remotely close to this happened irl and tbh it’s 20gayteen anything is possible

smut

when we try new things by @capriciouscrab​: The 3 times they try spicing up their sex life + the 1 time they don't.

thoughts: god have i whined about my love for fics that don’t display sex as 100% perfect 100% of the time recently? because i love it so much and this does a great job of it

Shameless by @agingphangirl​: Dan knows what he needs. He needs to feel the weight of everything slide away, just for a moment. And he knows Phil needs to feel as if he has some control. He knows exactly how this could all be resolved, what they do when it starts to feel like this.

thoughts: i think i’ve read this like three times since it was posted, it’s just great all around, okay?? if you like smut and any amount of bdsm, drop everything and read this.

hodgepodge

not traitors but the lights go out by @phanetixs​: “It’s not too late,” Phil whispers into his ear, like he’s heard Dan’s every thought to the universe, every silent wish, the extra bit of longing in his chest.“Yeah, maybe it isn’t.”Or, guilt and burgers served with a dash of family.

thoughts: yeee family included and introspection, i liked this one a lot. it’s the right level of not really angsty, but also not just pure fluff.

blue moon by @waveydnp​: it's storming in the middle of the night in a city not his own and phil's phone is dead, which means he has no choice but to slink back to the flat he's just snuck out of... the flat of the once-famous youtuber with whom he's just had his very first one night stand

thoughts: this was recommended to me and i fell hard into this world. read it and i promise you will too

No memory can darken the heart by @thoughtfullightcollectionii: Dan's history with makeup. It's not always pretty.

thoughts: dan and makeup already had me sold, and i loved this more nuanced and complex view, especially since it starts with baby!dan :( 

F.U. by @hey-itskxt: It was just his luck. He would end up with the worst soulmate mark ever.

thoughts: i was having a terrible day and this made me laugh, so you know it’s good.

now it’s only you that matters by @howellz: phil's a new public reactions manager and dan's a musician with a history of causing public reactions problems. naturally, phil's a bit scared of going on tour working with him.

thoughts: this may come as a surprise, but i’m, like, Here for musician!dan lol. this fic did a greatttttt job and if anyone is feeling ly deprived (soz) go read this

wips i’m reading: (it’s still the same two lol, i’m open to recs if anyone has any)

the water might be lovely by @isleofbants

the beast you've made of me by @azurephil

[cajunroe]

tbh i cant pick so i give you songbird for our world war lt dease/steele? :D

song: don’t take the money - bleachers

au!: “one of us dares the other to see a fortune teller and they tell us that we are ‘destined lovers’ - and that we will soon be brought together by the powers of fate. and though we both secretly want it to be true we laugh it off and don’t believe it but it’s been three weeks and all of this weird stuff keeps happening and i stg if we’re locked in ANOTHER small closet together i’m going to lose it and tell you everything” au

read below the cut or on AO3

send me ‘songbird’ and i’ll put my music on shuffle make an au and ficlet (optional: to send pairing/fandom)

somebody broke me once...love was a currency...a shimmering balance act...i think that i laughed at that

as they walked in another circle around the shop stalls set up in the renaissance fair, maurice couldn’t help but feel like he was floating. fred had finally come back from his three week long business trip and it was a gorgeous sunny day and the smell of jasmine permeating the air in a thick wave.

and as maurice watched his best friend admire the shimmering crystal jewelry glistening in the sun, he couldn’t help but sigh in adoration. fred was smile brightly and talking to the artisan about her technique. maurice always found it so endearing that fred could strike up conversation with anyone about anything. he’s had his fair share of jealousy trips watching fred talk animatedly with people other than him. 

“oh,” he heard the young girl called, “sorry, does your boyfriend want to take a look as well?”

fred spits his water out and onto some of the jewelry while maurice laughs and explains that they aren’t together.

the girl narrows her eyes in confusion and tells them that it isn’t funny to lie to people.

and the real kicker is that both men wanted it to be nothing more than true.

before either man can get another word in, she walks behind her curtain and is replaced by her gruff brother demanding that they visit bedisa before they leave.

the two just look at him in confusion before he points to a small tent on the other side of the shops with two words painted on a small sign, ‘fortune teller.’

normally, they wouldn’t bother, wouldn’t even take stock in being told what to do by strangers. but something about that day, perhaps the warmth of the sun or the odd lightness felt by both men, or the comfort of one another’s presence, has them blindly walking towards the tent.

before they enter, fred pulls maurice back gently by his wrist. and maurice really is too far gone on his best friend because the contact is enough to make his cheeks flush and heart race.

“which one of us should get it done?” fred is so close that maurice nearly goes cross-eyed trying to look up at him.

“doesn’t matter to me, neither of us believe in it.” maurice shrugs and pats himself on the back for how steady his voice is. god, three weeks away from fred and he’s on edge the moment he even thinks about his best friend

absence really does make the heart grow fonder. 

“rock, paper, scissors?”

maurice smiles wide and sees a flicker of something he doesn’t recognize flash through fred’s eyes, “after all this time, you still think you can win?”

fred smiles back, “anything is possible, my dear maurice.”

maurice swallows harshly at the endearment and places his hands on one another.

four seconds later and he walks triumphantly into the tent with a grumbling fred behind him.

when they walk in they see a short, middle-aged woman with slightly long acrylic nails and bright red hair.

they look at one another in surprise while the woman types away at her phone.

“have a seat please, couples are thirty-five dollars.”

they start laughing, but both men sit down gently in front of her.

“we’re not a couple,” fred said firmly and maurice can’t be blamed if the tone makes him want to curl up and cry. 

“not yet at least,” she replies just as firmly and finally looks up at the two of them.

before they could question her, she asks, “so who goes first?”

maurice smiles, shaking off the pain in his heart, and points to fred. “just him.”

she smiles back at him and he sees something in her eyes that cuts him to his cores, like she knows the hurt and suffering he’s experienced at the cards he’s been dealt. he looks away quickly while she grabs fred’s hands quickly.

she moves them around and follows the lines and curves of fred’s hands and maurice bites back the jealousy once again, a professional at it by now, and watches. 

she laughs loudly after seven or so minutes of studying, “oh my, you two have been ignoring fate for too long. she’s pissed.”

fred leans forwards and maurice follows suit.

“what's that mean?” fred asks, joking tone evident in his question.

she looks between them, mischievous smile etched on her mouth, “it mean, dear, that you two are what we call ‘destined lovers,’ and have been for a very long time.”

maurice swallowed harshly, ignoring the fact that he knew fred was looking intensely at him as he started to sweat in the small tent.

bedisa continues, ignoring the heart attack maurice is having, “true loves in all lives: past, present, and future. a delicate balancing act of friendship and romance all within one relationship.”

maurice laughed harshly, trying to make it sound genuine in his amusement, but failing. 

bedisa ignores him holds on tightly to fred’s hand, “as i said, fate is pissed because you two have been taking too long and soon the powers that be will bring you two together. do not fight it or it will only make things worse.”

maurice can feel fred next to him, every inch of his body connect with the other man from where they sit practically on top of one another in the small tent. he can feel the beat of the other man’s heart sync with his own. he can feel the easy breaths and watches as fred smiles in disbelief. 

“given what you two will experience soon, i’ll wave my fee.” bedisa smiled warmly at the two of them and walked away to the back of the tent laughing loudly. 

it’s a long while before either of them moves or speaks.

“well that was complete and utter bullshit.” fred jokes, clapping maurice on the back and slamming him out from his thoughts.

he laughs weakly and nods his head.

fred claps his hands together and stands up while maurice tries to remind himself that fred doesn’t and won’t ever feel the same way he does.

“come on then dease, i hear an elephant ear call our names.”

fred leaves the tent and maurice spends a moment once again burying his feelings before bracing himself to go back into the world.

and i saw your face and hands...colored in sun and then...i think i understand...will i understand?

fred can still remember the day he knew he was in love with maurice.

nineteen years old and watching across the table as maurice awkwardly tried to talk to christine mclaren, while janice klein sat beside him. 

they were having a double date at the restaurant on the pier after spending the day swimming.

they were all sun-drunk and relaxed and though janice klein was the dream girl of everyone in their class, fred had been watching maurice, and maurice-only, all day. there was something about his best friend, today of all days, that had made fred stare relentlessly.

he would turn his head back and forth, watching as the sun hit maurice’s slightly tanned body at different angles.

mostly he watched maurice’s hands as they lay by the side of his head, napping in the bright afternoon sun. 

the girls had went to get ice cream down the shoreline so it was just the two of them.

and fred had come to terms with his sexuality a long while before that day, but something about it being maurice that he fancied made him feel like he was sixteen all over again.

still staring at the sun-kissed skin of best friend, fred goes over every memory he has of maurice since fred moved to town five years prior. and every memory is now laced with a sweet satisfaction in knowing that fred has loved maurice in one way or another since they met.

and fred knew he had do something, say something, there was no way he could live without maurice knowing, or being able to hold maurice’s face in his hands at least once before he died.

he leans forward, hands working of his own accord, and when his hands reach maurice’s warm chest and just barely connect with the skin, he’s electrified. every nerve ending alight with a bright warmth that consumes him.

he notices maurice’s breathing hitch, knows he’s awake and just as he thinks he sees maurice’s hand reaching for his own, the girls crash down on them and hand them their ice cream.

after that, the spell breaks and fred gets too inside his own head and makes a vow that unless maurice does something, fred isn’t going to ruin their friendship. not for anything short of divine intervention. 

so years go by and fred realizes that he made the right choice. even though it hurts sometimes to see maurice go on dates or flirt with someone else, he would rather have maurice in his life and watch him with someone else, than no have him at all.

which is why when the fortune teller says what she does, fred tries his hardest to play it all off as a joke and not look at maurice at all because if he doesn’t, everything else could come back to the surface, stronger than before, and ruin the only thing, the only person, that matters to him. 

and once he’s out of the tent and into that same sun that had shone so brightly on maurice that day at the beach, he feels like he can breathe again.

maurice joins him a few minutes later and is happily pulling fred towards the food stands.

and as they share a large elephant ear in the shape of a heart - the worker had said ‘the dough shapes itself’- , fred thinks that it’s enough, that he could happily live out his years so long as maurice was a part of his life.

will we fight, stay up late?...in my dreams i’m to blame...different sides of the bed...roll your eyes, shave my head

two weeks later and maurice thinks that maybe there was actually something to what bedisa told them. 

for example, they’ve been consistently mistaken as a couple and, while not necessarily new, it been increasing in frequency. fred somehow caught the bouquet at their friends wedding and since the two of them showed up together people assumed they were together. maurice started taking shots and fred disappeared after that. they were cutting through the park to get to a movie and street band pulled them both on stage and sang two love song to them before fred ran off stage. the movie theater was packed and the two of them were forced to sit closer than normal because the people beside them demanded more space than necessary. maurice couldn’t tell anyone what the movie was about because the only thing he remembers of that night is the smell and feel of fred plastered to his side. he only wished it happened of their own accord. then, two nights later,  their favorite pub had a random karaoke night and all anyone wanted to sing were love songs. after the second rendition of stand by your man, maurice was ready to crawl out of his skin. 

so now, two weeks after the fair and the fortune teller, maurice was starting to lose his mind.

fred just rolls his eyes and says that he thinks that is some sort of psychological play because anyone can tell that they’re close friends and people like to play jokes. he always shrugs like it’s nothing. like he doesn’t see what everyone else sees.

maurice wishes fred would stop doing that because it breaks him more and more every time. 

he was hoping that maybe, even if the whole fate thing was a joke, this was a sign, an opening, to be able to tell fred what he couldn’t tell him that day on the beach. tell him that he knew, he knows, has known since before that day that he loves fred more than anyone else in the world. and that he can’t ever love anyone else like he does his best friend. fred is it.

but fred keeps laughing and saying that it’s all coincidence, but seeing as how they’ve never been locked in an elevator together every before, maurice thinks bedisa’s word might hold some weight. and for the first time, in a long time, he hopes. hopes that he’s right and that this will eventually lead to them being together. hopes that fred loves him in the same way he loves fred. hopes that this won’t destroy them. 

but his mother always told him that getting your hopes up was never good because that meant they always had somewhere to fall. and he should’ve listened because two days after the elevator comes “the fight.”

the beginning of the end. 

now we’re stuck in the storm...we were born to ignore...and all i got is a chance to just sit...(i’m in love and you’ve got me, runaway)

it had been a long day of work and maurice hadn’t talked to fred all day and was hoping for a moment of reprieve, but as fate would have it, and damn it if he didn’t hate that phrase, he remembered they had a concert to go to tonight.

he would’ve passed, faking a migraine and trying to spend the night taming his emotions, but they bought the tickets months in advance. and fred sounded so excited when he called to remind him that maurice would’ve never have had the heart to turn him away.

though he wishes he would. as he sits on stage and is serenaded by the lead singer of one of their favorite bands, maurice wishes he would’ve stayed home.

he smiles as the singer continues on touching and pulling and carressing him in a playful manner, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation and look to fred for confirmation in the way their lives have been lately. only when he locks eyes with fred, he doesn’t see mirth or joy, he sees anger and resentment and, he dares to say, jealousy. and maurice knew he had gotten his hopes up for nothing.

he knew how much this band meant to fred and for him to be pulled up instead and serenaded by the lead singer that fred practically idolized, it was enough to wipe the smile off maurice’s face because if fred wanted this then he didn’t want maurice. and if he didn’t want maurice then bedisa was wrong and everything that’s happened was coincidence. and as maurice slowly climbed off stage he felt his world come crashing down. he walks to the back where the bar is, noticing that fred doesn’t follow, and sits down heavily.

he orders a beer, for lack of anything better to do and because the bartender won’t leave him alone, and watches fred through the rest of the show. he just sits and watches his best friend and the man his loves more than anything grind against the others around him.

he leaves when he can’t stand it anymore. running up the stairs and out into the cold night air. lungs begging for oxygen as the tears start to form. 

god he was so fucking stupid to think that, after all these years, anything would happen. 

“so fucking stupid,” he murmurs against the brick wall.

he jumps when the door beside him slams open. and there pops fred, unwanted, back into his vision.

“hey why’d you leave?”

and maurice was so tired. so fucking tired of it all. of fortune tellers and fate. of this night and the past weeks. of loving someone who will never love him back. most of all, he was tired of fred steele, his best friend, being absolute fucking clueless to the living hell that maurice has been in. 

“because i couldn’t...” maurice trails off unsure as to whether or not he’s prepared for this. and then he steels himself, and tries not laugh at the connection, because maurice knows he can’t continue on like this. if he loses fred to this, then it’s worth. it’s killing maurice faster having to hide it all than if he were to lose fred. and if he does lose him, then fred isn’t the man maurice thinks he is. and it’ll all be better in the end.

at least that what he tells himself.

and fred, fuck, fred looks so worried and earnest that it break maurice’s heart a little more to have to do this, but he’s so far beyond breaking point that he’s surprised he’s even functioning. 

“you couldn’t what? maurice?” 

and at his name maurice looks up, tears flowing freely by now, and when his eyes meet fred’s, he breaks.

“i couldn’t watch you with those people anymore. i couldn’t watch as they kissed your neck because i wanted to. i couldn’t watch as you held them close because i’ve spent so many night longing to be held in your arms. i couldn’t watch to you flirt with them the way you never do with me. i just can’t do it anymore, fred.” 

fred is staring him, not moving, not saying anything. just staring, the same way he did that day on the beach. and god dammit if maurice can’t feel fred’s hand warm on his chest again, reaching for fred...always reaching. 

maurice wipes the tears staining his face harshly and clicks his tongue, cursing everything that has ruined this moment and forced him to reveal his deepest secret to the one man he could never tell. 

he looks back into fred’s eyes and states plainly, “i’m in love with you, steele. have been pretty much since the day i met you. and i know you don’t feel the same way. i know that this will pretty much ruin our friendship because there’s no way i can live a life where i’m not the one you fall asleep and wake up next to. but i can’t continue on like this. it’s been killing me all these years and i’m so tired.”

he drops his hands heavily at his sides and shrugs, “you’ve got me, fred. in every possible way, i’m yours.”

maurice sighs, feeling simultaneously relieved and worried that he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life. but he can’t take it back and he just watches as fred stares at him. watches as his best friend’s eye flashes with emotions so fast that he can’t keep up.

he can’t keep looking and the fact that fred has done nothing, said nothing, make maurice cave in on himself and walk away.

so it’s over. god maurice wishes he could feel anything other than the numbness consuming he body at the loss of the only thing he held dear in his life.

he’s halfway down the block when he hears footsteps rushing towards him.

he’s about to tell fred not to even bother when his suddening stop causes fred, who was running, to crash into him.

they’re both on the ground before they can realize what happened.

and when maurice feels a droplet of water hit his face, he opens his eyes slowly.

above him, fred is crying and the brightest smile is plastered on his face.

“sorry mate, but i was hoping to one day sweep you off your feet. seems i already have.”

and maurice, cursing at the pain in his pain from the fall and fred’s ability to make him laugh no matter what, burst into a laughing smile.

then the words catch up to him, “you mean...” he exclaims in shock,

fred nods and places his hand gently on either side of maurice’s face, finally fulfilling that promise he made to himself all those years ago.

“since that day at the beach.”

after a long moment of just looking at one another in the brand new light of love, mutual and undying love, they both move.

and when their lips meet in the middle, it’s a unhurried and gentle first kiss.

the first of so many throughout the rest of their lives.

you steal the air out of my lungs, you make me feel it...i pray for everything we lost, buy back the secrets...your hand forever’s all i want

                                                   six months later

“do you wish this would’ve happened sooner?” maurice asks, head against fred’s naked chest, in the soft morning light of another lazy sunday in their apartment.

he feels fred shake his head, “i think it happened when it was supposed to happen, but i do think of everything we might’ve lost to time.”

maurice sighs, a little melancholy at the wasted time, but then shrugs, “can’t very well miss what never happened though, right? can’t want what you don’t don’t know you want, that it?”

fred pulls maurice to him and kisses him gently. he looks to maurice, serious and nervous. 

he places his hands gently on either side of maurice’ face, the same way he did six months ago.

“i want nothing more than to hold you hand for the rest of my life.”

maurice gasps, “the rest of...are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

fred smiles, “i think we’ve wasted enough time beating around the proverbial bush, maurice. it’s you. it’s always been you and it will always be you. past, present, future.”

maurice smiles and rubs against the embrace in fred’s hands, “past, present, future.”

[sleepymarmot]

MEA liveblog #7

Spoilers!

Multiplayer

This interface is a mess. I move my mouse onto "exit lobby" and it turns into "kick player". Buttons just jump around and transform all the time.

And the APEX mission shit needs to be fixed. When you select a mission to play, don't direct me to lobbies who play the same enemy/map/difficulty but not as the mission! Join lobby, see "custom", exit lobby, select "custom game", re-select mission, join, end up in the same lobby, rinse, repeat...

At least I can end up second when I join on wave 5 as a human vanguard lol

F Human Vanguard card!

Tempest

Non-custom weapons of different rank shouldn't exist as separate items in the inventory! Unlocking a higher rank should upgrade the old item like in ME3! This stupid inventory system exists solely because of crafting! If you need inventory limits so much, let them apply only to the crafted items! I've already complained about rewards being lost with no warning if the inventory is full and it's still bullshit! 

I crafted the N7 chestpiece! 25% shield on kill (of course), 5% damage resistance, 2% shield restoration, 2% health&shield regen speed, 2% max shield. I called it "N7 Slayer X". And turns out, it was dad's armor...

Oh right, it needs a new color scheme!

Havarl

I like this ex-STG, he's talking properly.

I don't like the sound effect from Annihilation -- it's like water in my ears!

Hey Peebs, how do you immediately know where the next piece is as soon as we pick the current one?

Kadara

Here's the bar fight. Animation is not bad but has no energy.

Told the asari dancer that I'm done here and she needs to talk to the dude herself, but the quest still sends me back to him -_-

Tempest

So, Kesh was adopted?

Okay, Kalinda is 100% Marjolaine. Peebee's personal storyline is even more copy-pasted from Leliana than Drack's is copypasted from Wrex.

Aya

So many sidequests again!

The Moshae's words about the definition of victory! That's the smartest thing I've heard in this game in hours.

It's really weird to hear her talk so sweetly to me... When we first met she didn’t seem to like me.

When Vetra said people were staring at her, I couldn't resist suggesting they're just all in love...

I suggested taking people who sold their Aya slots onto the Nexus. That's not even charity -- the same ambassador gave me a task to convince angara to come there anyway! So this would kill two birds with one stone.

For the visitor who wanted contact with his family, I had to reload. The options didn't even seem too different... Got it right for the other two: gave an honest professional answer about health issues, and a confident casual answer about finding work.

Great, now I have to head back into the city to buy stuff... This is literally a fetch quest lol

Eos

Omg, the Architect is in orbit now!

The Roekaar fight in an old settlement was very chaotic and fun with Flamethrower/ED/Lance, though it'd probably be easier to just charge

Tempest

Aaaand Jaal gives me his loyalty mission. It's funny that I'm going to do my own love interest's mission last...

Jaal's LM

I continue to be unimpressed with the Roekaar being pure antagonists. :/

Didn't shoot the guy, told Jaal he was badass.

Why are loyalty missions so short?

BTW Ryder just looks wrong in N7 armor... She's not Shepard, that's not her allegiance or her story.

Tempest

Jaal, just as we're leaving Havarl you decided to invite me for a visit down there?

Turian ark

Avitus has very stylish armor

For fuck's sake, Bioware, why do you hate gay men so much?

I convinced Avitus to take the mantle. It was a very sentimental decision for Ryder -- because her situation is very similar. Her SAM and the connection he had with her father are unique, but she didn't think of that in that moment.

Nexus

"Better to find your wings as you fly" Easy for you to say, Sarissa, your predecessor wasn't a loved one

Tempest

I'd agree with Peebee about relationship and baggage, but of course I felt obligated to take the romantic option

(I don’t think there’s an option to agree with her, though, so it’s only for the best)

Voeld

Liam, Vetra, don't fight!

Whoops, sorry for leaving you to die in the purification field, Vetra

...I liked the old color scheme better. Green light looks more alien, but less pretty.

Nexus

Final memory -- here we go!

My theory was that the Archon was somehow Ellen, but that made so little sense I didn't even write it down :D This is simpler.

BTW there's finally Shepard's gender we had to select in the beginning -- in translated subtitles :D Didn't hear it even once in the audio -- could it be Bioware actually took their foreign audience into consideration? :O

Honestly, it's weird that the Reapers info is so secret... From the OT I got the impression that Shepard was yelling about it to everyone at every opportunity...

Fine, fine, you made me emotional with Liara's message.

Shit, I was expecting this decision...

I feel pretty sad now. That's all?

Peebee's LM

Oh, so that's why she lives in an escape pod :D I thought this was only a characterization thing, not a Chekhov's gun!

I said I wasn't mad, though I was a bit. But I mean Ryder *is* mad but also having the time of her life so...

Shit I just shot Kalinda instinctively lmao

Ok I replayed the entire sequence and Idk. This is really the hardest choice in the game...

I'm tempted to say "Yes, literally" :D

Since it's so hard to reaload, it's fair game to watch videos before deciding for myself. Okay, "Yes, literally" is way too harsh.

Alright, this Ryder is not going to make Peebee sad, but I've already planned a Renegade-ish playthrough with a Ryder who values knowledge over everything, so... :D

(Btw, I love that MEA's brand of a more ruthless protagonist is not "uncontrollable brute" but "intellectual snob". As tedious as this game is, I'm already super eager to play character who has those values & takes urgency of tasks seriously.)

This mission is enjoyable and the choice feels maybe the most meaningful... But it has all the classic Mass Effect problems. Kalinda sends a shitload of people to murder us, we murder them, but when she's helpless and we have a finger on the trigger all of that suddenly doesn't matter. Sidonis all over again. Sure, murdering people begging for help is bad in a lot of ways, but she did just try to kill us, a lot of times... Plus, why the fuck can't Ryder jump over and catch the Remnant thing?! That needed to be a second, Paragon interrupt after the Renegade "shoot her." And Ryder is a goddamn biotic, as is Peebee, as is Kalinda! Peebee, Pull is your first goddamn skill! It'd actually be completely plausible if the artifact had shields and/or armor and therefore immune to Pull or Singularity -- but not giving the characters even an idea to try is just stupid!

Tempest

Inviting Peebee to live with together made me revisit my room and inspired me to make some changes. You know what, I'm going to play music in my quarters and change into the short-sleeved pajamas. It's my own ship, why do I walk around it in street clothes? The jacket is stylish but too much to wear at home. I wish we had a "formal" outift for Nexus/Aya/other hubs in addition to the "casual" clothes we wear on the ship.

Shit I went to read someone's post about Peebee's LM and caught a spoilers about the romance post-LM

Addison is right, getting pregnant in that situation was irresponsible

Ah the continuity in this game. "Found more outposts"? I have every possible outpost and all planets at 100%!

"On hold: Place an outpost" bitch where

Voeld

What, there's still a cold hazard?! What was the point of the vault, then?!

Whoa, so the angara believe exaltation not just kills their people but destroys their immortal souls? Wow! That should have been said by a major character during the main story, not by an easily missed NPC!

Oh great, I died and the game refuses to load the last autosave

Dear game. Why did you create four autosaves for the same second. All glitched. Half hour of gameplay lost... God please let the last manual save work. I was sure I saved in between, but just now my PC decided that we still have daylight savings clock change when we do not, and the timestamps on all recent saves are messed up. This especially sucks because I'm trying to rush Peebee's romance because I don't know when the sex scene comes up but I want to make sure it's not when my mom is home while I play it on her PC lol

Tempest

Fuck, that was cute! And Peebee did tackle Ryder, as promised! :D I wonder what she says through Zap in the platonic version...

Addison please don't say the baby screams "like a banshee". I fucking jumped.

"Before you say anything: no PDAs" :D

Level 50! Time to craft myself a powerful new Dhan. I've been running with rank three all this time...

I love that whenever you ask about Kalinda and then return to the general dialogue tree you say "Let's talk about something else" and Peebee responds "YES. Please."

Voeld

Alright, so: the kett leaders are dissatisfied with the Archon because he hasn't reported to them recently, the communication with the kett homeworld(?) might be disrupted in general and the Scourge might be to blame.

Tempest

Damn, SAM has a pretty insightful speech about death! The only thing that can't be rationalized after experiencing it, which is why it fascinates. I actually haven't heard it explained this way before.

My movie night quest hasn't progressed since I brought Jaal his device...

Eos

Ryder watching and playing football with two giant guns floating near her hips... omg

Elaaden/Kadara

What? I'm completely confused by all these identical salarians.

I don't understand this choice. He promises to give us the intel if we let him go... what proof do we have besides his word? And how would arresting him stop us from getting intel from his computer etc?

Reloaded to see both options, chose to arrest him

Havarl

I'm not hugging Jaal's mother wtf

Ryder has surprisingly good facial animation when Jaal shows his mementos

In theory Ryder should like Jaal for being such a nerd but the only thing he makes me feel is mild irritation. His interest in "taking things apart" is an informed quality just like his supposed emotional openness. It's not reflected in his dialogue or storyline at all.

And now I'm finished with all quests in the ally category. I wanted to finish the game asap, but now that we know the patch is coming on Thursday, I'll wait for it.

Multiplayer

Extracted from Silver for the first time as Human Vanguard (level 8, rank IV)! It was against Remnant, so Observers and Destroyers were the only problem. Nullifiers are ridiculously easy for a melee character -- like Ravagers, but without acid.

Got Krogan Vanguard from a pack. Will I have to tolerate the Rage overlay?

The first game with Kroguard was going well, he's got a stong melee even though he's slow... and then wave 6/upload/Kett killed us all :(

Completely unrelated to anything, but I just realized that if you pick the romantic option in the escape pod with Peebee, they don't actually have sex. Call me stupid because that's what Peebee's initial condition is, but I thought Ryder's response changed her mind! When Ryder said "Let's not rush things" I interpreted and meant it in the emotional sense, as "It'd be dishonest to hide that I have a crush on you, but you don't owe me anything, and if you don't ready for a Serious Relationship and Grand Romance yet that's fine because I'm not either, so let's just hook up and leave reflection for later" -- which I thought was pretty sweet and interesting? Because this whole relationship to me was built on the fascinating contrast between Peebee's emotional reservations and casual/flirty attitude, and conversely, on Ryder very consciously respecting Peebee's emotional space. Maybe I just fundamentally don't understand sex and romance lmao. But if character A propositions character B, character B says they have feelings for character A, and the scene promptly fades to black, I assume they do the do because that's how these things are filmed? Only in comparison with the other option, which is actually pretty explicit, it became obvious to me that's not what the director meant. I'm pretty disappointed because I thought it was a good subversion of Jack's "either sex or romance" thing in ME2. And it messes with my headcanon/characterization... I guess I'll have to retcon it into one of the two options. I'll probably go with casual, not romantic in that case. But I just read that Peebee will tell you she's glad you said no, so... :/

Multiplayer

Failed a Silver APEX mission agains the Remnant as a human vanguard :(

Got an asari sentinel!

The patch is here, but I can't launch the game now :( This needs some work.

Ugh, I stop playing for two days and have no motivation to pick the game up again...

[akiwisfics]

In the Middle Chapter 7

Notes: Not technically cross-posted anymore, but two chapters already written.  If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes.

Description:  The war's over, but the mess is still left behind. Kasumi finds herself among the wreckage with unexpected companions and questions that seem almost impossible to answer for. Life keeps moving forward, however, and the surprises it leaves behind aren't always pleasant ones.

Pairings: KasumixSha’ira

--

“Ms. Maeda, come out please.”

The major was using her alias. That was a good sign. She kept her eyes closed as she listened carefully, noting that most of the steps outside the tent at the moment were whisper-quiet. Trained and unlike the cacophony that Kasumi had grown accustomed to at their camp. The STG had taken over completely at this point, then, but where were the others exactly? 

Kasumi had seen no reason to report the initial incident to the STG exactly for this reason. She didn’t want them crawling over the place, rifling through things better left private. They’d done enough already, enough so that she was half-tempted to play up her injuries, appeal to their humanity as a wounded gazelle. 

It was probably Sha’ira. She couldn’t blame her for her due diligence. While no doubt she knew there were more secrets to uncover, one of their group members had been killed. She was going to do her own investigation this morning, though mostly to make sure there weren’t any other trip mines in the area they needed to worry about. From there, she could likely figure out some information based on the mine alone. They were a common enough accessory in both various militaries and the terminus systems, but rarely were the models of the same caliber. Most mercenaries had to make do with whatever and whoever would be willing to deal outside of the Citadel, so they were usually handmade or modded in some fashion. Military, naturally, were usually more manufactured, less prone to misfires.

However, a really well paid mercenary could get what they want, especially if they’d been working for a long time. Not many survived in their line of work without knowing how to make their own shit.

Her alibi checked out if there was trouble, at least. Despite what verbal spat (? if it could be called that) her and the consort had the evening before, there was little denying the fact that she had been laid up from her injury, and as far as they were aware, unarmed. Rolling over just confirmed what she knew already. Sha’ira had left early that morning. Her hands still felt warm from when they touched. She admired how freely the consort gave her affection, a small gift with every passing brush and squeeze. While Kasumi affirmed what she could with what ways she could afford, she hadn’t remembered anything beyond a smile or a pat on the shoulder recently. Hugs were even foreign after Shepard’s passing. 

Their conversation wasn’t really done, was it? She could admire Sha’ira’s stubborn passion if she wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Maybe it was just a common feature for people like them. It was the only reason she could think of as to why she still hadn’t stirred from her cot.

The tent flap zipped open, and Kasumi met the Major’s exasperated gaze with a placidly affable smile. “You should know better than to spoil me with all this attention,” she greeted, and decided the joke could last a little longer. “I have nothing to do with what’s going on.”

He sighed and pitched his voice lower, just in case there were any prying ears. Based on what little she heard beyond more salarians, he didn’t need to worry. “I’m well aware. Can we discuss this outside?”

“In my condition, Major?”

“The mine didn’t kill you, and it clearly didn’t leave you deaf. Outside.”

He seemed more hurried than last time. If it’d just been the turian’s death, they would’ve swung by sooner. Maybe they had. Though the recovery was quick, Kasumi had been left to her own devices for the most part yesterday. She had her visitors, but beyond a few awkward conversations, the last 24 hours had been a hazy doze-- likely thanks to whatever medigel and drugs Sal had tossed together. 

Maybe she could get a change of clothes first. The t-shirt and sweatpants was even more bare compared to their last meeting. Despite a little soreness in her knees, a little bit of heaviness in her chest, it was still easy to stand. What work Sal had done did its job. 

A small contingent awaited her as she finally emerged. Major Kirrahe waited just a few feet away, flanked by two members that she vaguely recognized from her run-in. The camp was deserted beyond the rest of the unit, soldiers listlessly flitting from tent to tent, though never staying for longer than a minute or so. They weren’t searching through belongings. Not yet anyway. Clearing the area then? The others were probably secured in a smaller perimeter then, maybe the building where their tower had been installed. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but the interior was gutted enough to house all of them. 

Something had happened. She doubted Sha’ira would be considered among the suspects, but Kasumi realized to the STG-- she was the only one accounted for yesterday. 

“Nothing in your tent was touched,” Kirrahe offered as he approached. His brow was furrowed and he looked tired, more than anything. Though salarians rarely needed to sleep for long, the major looked overdue for at least an hour or so. 

“Not that we’re on the best of terms right now but--”

“One of our men went missing yesterday.”

Ah, another victim then. That narrowed the scope considerably. An average mercenary or soldier wouldn’t easily get the best of an STG member, not without some considerable knowledge of the area. However, that didn’t make much sense. Their group had been there a week, tops, and as far as she was aware, only herself and Sha’ira knew about the other camp in the old university section. “You think one of us did it?”

“... Not necessarily…” he scratched at one of his scales, a nervous habit. She would have to remember that. “We’re simply narrowing down our suspects, Ms. G-- Maeda. Your camp is the only other known party in the area.”

Not the only, but a tabloid reporter didn’t strike her as a murdering type.

“We found him dead earlier this morning. How did the turian die?”

“I never actually saw the body, so.”

Kirrahe hummed in response. “Justicar Samara has offered her expertise with interrogations, but considering you’re the least suspicious person here…”

Oh. This was a nice position. The plan right now had been just to sneak in at some point and take her mods back, but this was a much better and less risky solution to that problem. The major didn’t need her, and Kasumi wasn’t thrilled over the prospect of interrogating people that barely knew her-- people that likely had their own ideas as to why she hadn’t really socialized with anyone else. However, it beat trying to aggravate what good grace that had been left from their first encounter. “How about a deal then?”

“Absolutely not.”

“If there’s a murderer around, I’d like my pistol at least.”

His saucer eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you have another elsewhere, Ms. Maeda. The mods are staying in our possession.”

Sore loser. “You’re making it very hard to do my job, Major. I don’t mind the challenge, but can you really afford it?” She had copies back home, at worst blueprints in case she had to make any necessary repairs or replacements. However, “home” was currently Illium, and wasn’t really easy to access at the moment. She could have Urch or Tianna dig through her workroom, but that wasn’t really time that they could afford. Not with dear Kiera breathing down their necks and Urch’s own research on Khalisah. 

“Based on your little save the other day, your observational skills are fine without them.” He sighed and seemed just a little bit less like a military man and more salarian. More like they hadn’t just gotten out of war, hadn’t just pulled himself out of the front lines. “I’m not asking for your help for free. Consort Sha’ira had made very specific… requests on your behalf.”

“She isn’t a suspect then?”

“While technically not cleared, she doesn’t really have means or motive. Her and Sura will likely be released shortly.”

That was nice to hear. “I guess I’ll ask her when I see her.” Clothes came first though. She wasn’t exactly intimidating in her pajamas. The soldiers by Kirrahe stiffened at first as she moved to leave, hands just a tad too secure to their guns for comfort. Right. Just because she had been cleared of one crime didn’t mean they weren’t aware of plenty others. Hopefully they had the sense not to panic the rest of her camp even further with the behavior. They weren’t really known for their panic, but there didn’t always need to be a lot of change for people to start noticing. Sometimes all they needed to see was them with a bit more unease around her than usual. 

Still, Kasumi smiled in return and was relieved to see them leave her alone as she began retreating back to her actual tent.

“Ms. Maeda?”

Though she guessed they weren’t done yet. She showed nothing as she turned back, waiting for Kirrahe to continue.

“Do you have any suspects?”

Katul was a thought. He went missing first, but no one had actually mentioned if he was still alive or not. If he had returned after the one person he seemed to have tension with had died, that didn’t look good. However, nothing could shake the ghastly visage he carried and how much it resonated inside of her. She doubted little could shake him from his deep, pervasive grief. It took her months to even want her life again, much less act out against those that took Keiji. Whatever problems the two turians had, it wasn’t like revenge. They would’ve seen something happen far before this. She would’ve acted much faster than this. 

Dharshan was also… strange, though she doubted her suspicions on him were anything more of shades from her own past. Though she tried desperately to not let that inhibit her work, she could count what few positive interactions she had with other batarians on one hand. The man was a source of ire recently, but that wasn’t out of any murderous intent on his part. He just couldn’t take the hint that she wanted nothing to do with him. 

“If I’m honest? I don’t think it’s anyone from here,” she answered after a moment. “No one really strikes me as the serial murderer and poke the bear type.”

“Poke the bear?”

“... You know. Big, scary, and a bit silly to go after?” Maybe the bear thing was the problem? She wasn’t sure if the major was familiar with Earth biology. “Lot of the people have military experience, but none of them would be dumb enough to go after the STG is all I’m saying.”

“True. I have to ask--”

“Sha’ira and I haven’t mentioned you all were here, no. They either had to have stowed away in the shuttle without us noticing somehow, or had access to the channel like I did.”

“Right. … Thank you anyway.”

She hadn’t blamed the Major for the thought. It would be easier for it to be someone from the group. Someone that they could get today, and not be left digging in the ruins for some phantom. A phantom that was laying traps for everyone. Kasumi knew she had plenty enough to ask still, but unfortunately for them both, a phantom seemed far more likely than anything else at this point.

About all they could hope for was someone close by, and that it was just that. One. 

However, Kasumi knew better, and Kirrahe did too.

--

Her tent was well kept, despite the knowledge that Sha’ira had been in at some point. She knew to grab the QEC, knew to bring it to her when she needed it. It hadn’t surprised her. It was the same reason that Sha’ira was one of the last to leave her tent in the mornings, but one of the first to have movement inside its confines. She didn’t know what all went into being a half-retired consort, but any job worth its credit had its fair network of associates to make it all work. 

Maybe that was why it was easy for her to pick Kasumi at her seams. She learned as much as the consort gave away, and yet she couldn’t help thinking that she was just at the surface of what was there. It wasn’t an alluring darkness that drew her in, that much Kasumi was certain. She knew enough to recognize the shades of someone with blood on their hands, how they looked onto the world and regarded the value of life around them.

Like Kirrahe. She didn’t doubt that an unexpected loss of someone from his command affected him, but he made sure not to show it as he talked, as he observed the world around him. He knew enough. Knew that letting that side show meant it was a vulnerability for someone to pick at later, and maybe then another man would die under his watch.

But Sha’ira was different. Her hands had trembled when she spoke of Nelyna, even as she knew enough to try to obscure the incident from Kasumi’s questions at first. She still worried and fussed over Kasumi after her injury, even though someone as close as Shepard would’ve stayed, but she wouldn’t have--

What would she do here? The Major had known her from the war, so perhaps he would’ve approached the situation entirely different either way. She couldn’t recall meeting the man on the Crucible project, but that didn’t really mean much.

The grey-box was still safely tucked in her duffle bag. She ran her fingers against the cool metal and allowed a brief rush of comfort before she finished getting dressed. She could peer into the contents later, maybe to glean some advice from his past experiences-- ones that she hadn’t been afforded on her own.

She spotted a shadow looming over her tent from the corner of her eye and tucked the keepsake back in the confines of her clothes. It was only a second of hesitation before she took the locust instead. Kirrahe already mentioned her having another weapon on her. It shouldn’t spook him too much, and now that there was someone actually making moves against them, she sure as hell wasn’t going to go unarmed. 

“Just a second!” she called out as she holstered the gun on her hip. In one fluid motion, she unzipped her tent and emerged-- and froze, half smile at the flash of red and gold in front of her. Well. Maybe should’ve gone without the gun then.

Samara regarded her with a tad more warmth than before, though it really wasn’t much. Her eyes didn’t have the glean of murderous biotics, which was comforting. She found the pistol at her side immediately. “... I see the Major was correct.” Was that relief in her voice…? “I had brought an extra pistol in case you were left without.”

“It’s an old habit.” She stepped beside her as Samara turned back to the main road and halo of buildings. Their target was in the middle, close enough to camp for anyone to pick up the signal of the comm tower from the comfort of their cot. Unless Sal spilled on her work on the Crucible project, this would probably lead to some questions. She just hoped any lies that came up before were believable enough, or so outrageous that they were easily disproven if needed.

Kasumi glanced to her companion, noting idly how quiet her steps were beside her. Her skills were as sharp as ever. “... Can I ask you something?” she chanced. 

Samara regarded her with cold eyes, but still she nodded. 

“What are you doing here?”

“... I could ask the same, Ms. Goto.”

That was fair. Sha’ira mentioned some grand plan that fell into place with everything, that their intentions and choices would always have meaning. If she thought more, she would know. If she was truly, deeply honest with herself. She wanted to see that red hair in the wreckage and a beating heart. She wanted to find herself again, for once building instead of taking. It wasn’t that simple. It never was. Here she stood, walking with a justicar to solve a murder. Sure, a different sort of thing, but it wasn’t the sort of closure that Sha’ira had been talking about before. 

Still, the fact that Samara was talking to her was a good sign. A good chance that Samara would try to murder her by the end of it, but… Shepard still connected them all somehow. 

It wouldn’t hurt to give. Just a little. “The crucible plans are gone, if it helps.”

“We had suspected, but it is good to hear confirmation from you directly.”

“Did you know it was me?”

Samara hesitated, stopping just shy of earshot from the salarians guarding the building entrance. It surprised her to see some sort of softness in the way she regarded her, nurturing and motherly. “... I had believed it, though you left no proof,” she said, voice startling serious for how she regarded Kasumi. “... My code may dictate your fate; however, I am allowed… discretion in regards to your heart. It’s rarely necessary, nor is it a train of thought a justicar should explore often. Yet…”

She hadn’t needed to say it, but it still felt nice.

“Commander Shepard trusted you. Whatever reasons you have to be who you are, there is some righteousness in how you regard the world. I am simply grateful that assessment had been correct the first time.”

It was the closest she would get to a compliment. A strange feeling settled inside her at receiving it, undeserved… or maybe just as weird for the justicar to give. Kasumi gave a taut smile in return. “That’s sweet… I think.”

“Do what you will with it. It saved your life this time. It may later.”

Ah. That feeling was gone now. What a surprise. 

“We have more important matters to attend to. I would focus on that for now.”

“Right. How do you want to go about this?”

Samara hesitated. “... You are aware I’m afforded little gentleness in my work.”

And neither was Kasumi. However, she didn’t have the same weight dictating her every move. “Right. I’ll lead then… uh, if that’s fine?”

She nodded in agreement, giving away nothing as to how she actually felt about the matter. Probably for the best. They had enough of a heart to heart to last a lifetime. Samara was rarely afforded an unique voice on matters, one that wasn’t dictated by law or code. It was nice to see underneath that she seemed… almost normal. Kasumi was aware she had one daughter still, back in Thessia last she heard. It was strange that they weren’t together, but no doubt she was safe from any remaining trouble left in the galaxy. She still had something pushing her forward to each new day. 

Kasumi felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, one quickly buried for later. There was little to envy from Samara. She hadn’t needed to murder Keiji. She hadn’t needed to murder any family for being monsters. There was nothing to envy of that pain no doubt buried inside. And if she was healing, allowed herself the thought? … It was good for Samara. Something that she probably never let happen before. She deserved that chance.

Then Sha’ira’s eye met hers. They must have finished their interrogation with her, just stepping out of the gutted building with a new weight of exhaustion sagging her shoulders. She remembered, albeit vaguely, that she seemed to struggle sleeping the night before. Either not adjusted to the uneven ground, or their conversation still hanging over her head. She wished there had been a better way. 

Still, the smile was warm, even tinged by the lack of sleep clear in her heavy gaze. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she bounded the broken steps to where her and Samara stood. 

“Better, thanks to you and Sal,” Kasumi said, just as the consort’s finger tips found her again, grazing over the bandage against her temple. She ducked her eyes out of courtesy to the attention and tried to ignore the curious eyes boring into her back. 

Sha’ira remained undeterred as she pulled the bandage back, studying the healed over gash. Whatever she saw was to her satisfaction it seemed, as she peeled the bandage completely off this time and folded it neatly between her fingers. “I would have preferred you in bed longer, but I understand these are extenuating circumstances. I trust you two will clear up matters quickly.”

“What’s the next step for yourself, Consort?”

She smiled just a bit wider. “Not wise for any of us to have idle hands right now, Ms. Maeda. Come by my tent later?”

“You bet.”

Satisfied with the response, Sha’ira slipped between them, hand briefly brushing one of her shoulders as she left.

Kasumi sighed in relief, happy to know that she could put off that awkward conversation just a bit longer. Then felt those curious eyes on her again. She looked to the justicar, and noted the bemusement sent her way. “What?”

“... How long have you two known each other, exactly?”

“Does it matter?” She kept the defensive edge out of her voice. It wasn’t like Samara to be curious, and while not welcomed, it wasn’t for malicious purposes. God, she hoped not anyway. 

“Simply…” Then Samara caught herself and shook her head. “No, that’s true. Let us continue then.”

“I didn’t think you were much for gossip either way.”

If she didn’t know better, she would almost say there was a blush on the justicar’s cheeks. Honestly, she appreciated signs of something beyond the stern warrior bravado she put up. Even if that figure was so morose underneath. 

She let Samara lead the way into the gutted structure, following about a half step behind and naturally falling into what habits she knew and felt comfortable in. Interrogations weren’t new to her, though rarely did they involve people that already knew her in some capacity. She usually didn’t have her face out in the open either. And there wasn’t an obligation to keep those people alive afterward-- usually. Sometimes she had if the person was freaked out enough, but that was as rare as innocence in the Terminus Systems. 

Ten of them total? Nine, if they disregarded the victim’s widow. No one looked surprised to see her as she crossed the threshold. There were four more salarian guards positioned around the large ruined lobby, ones that didn’t directly look at either her or Samara as they came in. The ramp leading to the roof was installed in the back, and through its make-shift stairway, she noticed another soldier casually squatted on one of the remaining pieces of stone, idly checking the sniper rifle secured in his hands. They had a skeleton crew back at their own camp then. Made sense.

Katul and Sura sat furthest from the entrance, talking quietly amongst themselves. Though the turian looked haggard, he didn’t appear injured, which made his disappearance odder in her eyes. What had he been doing to be gone so long? Sura seemed… better than yesterday. Maybe her words meant something after all, even if it barely covered everything. 

Darshan was, predictably, praying by the ramp, robes trailing on the dirt and dust as he paced. She smelled a hint of rosemary in the air. Though it wasn’t typical for the few rituals that Kasumi knew of, perhaps he was making do with what resources were still around. Sal sat on his knees against the left wall, another cigarette planted between his odd litt lips. He waved as soon as he saw her, but for once didn’t seem to be in the mood to follow that up with any remarks or questions. Mostly normal then.

Elcor and Krogan on the other side. Neither of them were up for talking, it looked like, but she wasn’t sure if that was how they actually felt or a natural disposition of the species. Meeran… Maron? The pilot was absent once again. Either speaking with their benefactor or had already been cleared to leave. The volus was sat on a broken piece of concrete, short suited legs dangling over the ledge as he observed the space around them passively. Maybe Nora helped him up it. The drell appeared to be asleep next to the broken piece, using the cool concrete as a backrest as she slept.

No panic. They had been stuck inside here for a while then, but not quite long enough for anyone to start complaining. Likely the structure and how very armed their guards were kept any aggression to a minimum. 

Frankly, Kasumi didn’t know enough to really exonerate them, but nothing from the dossiers she read stood out either. Military backgrounds, but so did everyone in some capacity or another at that point. They just got out of war. Near extinction. She was surprised anyone had the energy right now to go on a killing spree.

“I will let you lead,” Samara reiterated as she observed the crowd herself, just as passively. If she had any suspicions, she kept it to herself. 

The only thing they could do was just… start. With any luck, Kasumi would get more answers along the way. She scanned the field of faces in front of her and chose the first name that came to mind. “Sura?”

The asari stopped her conversation short and turned her head to them, obvious relief shown in soft eyes. Kasumi only hoped that relief wouldn’t be misinformed.

--

There were a few theories.

The happiest would be that the murders were coincidental. Sure, that would mean that there were two separate murderers out there that Kasumi no doubt would be involved in, but separately? They wouldn’t be so competent as to make two people from two separate camps to disappear and then murder them. It would just be one-- one which may have been some crime of passion or whatever, and another competent enough to take out an STG member. Two people not working together, weren’t collaborating together and now were more likely to make sloppy mistakes.

Or they weren’t coincidental. Then… why a group anyway? It just seemed natural. A hunch, it would be called on any popular media. Really it was just recognizing the signs from personal experience. Sure, one person could’ve killed the turian Thyra then placed mines all over the place, but that was a pretty short time window from them starting to search for Katul, to finding and killing Thyra, and then placing the traps. Guy would have some pretty decent cardio. 

Then the next day killing someone from the STG? Something that would give Kasumi trouble even on home turf? Just having another body somewhere facilitated every single step.

 Exactly who and why were harder questions. If it was just STG targeted, she could maybe suspect another government organization, like the Alliance or one of the few surviving spectres in the galaxy. Maybe to protect what few secrets could be found in the remnants of the Crucible. However, it wasn’t just one of their members dead, and whatever secrets could be found weren’t very much and would require a shit load of resources to make. Those few organizations left also, almost certainly, had better things to do with their time than just blanket killing other groups in the area. If there were other ones here, no doubt STG had or were investigating them as well.

The other option was either mercenaries or just a couple of crazies, though they weren’t mutually exclusive categories. People like them tended to be shorter-sighted, and usually, they didn’t need a lot of resources to sell information to the highest bidder. If Liara was still alive, she might have even expressed interest in something like that. It was a thought, briefly in the haze and chaos of everything happening, to keep the plans for herself, sell them when things calmed down, and go about her merry little way. Maybe Shepard had improved her a little. 

So mercenaries were her strongest theory, but it hadn’t exactly explained Thyra’s death. Their camp was stationed near derelict reaper carcasses, something that would pique Kasumi’s interest if it hadn’t reminded her of nightmares-- screaming, melting colonists, the screams of banshees ringing in her ears, the metallic taste in her mouth turning everything to ash--. Perhaps others were able to stomach looking into the jungle of wires of old gods. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

(They also weren’t close enough to the old university to be a bother, but maybe, just maybe, there was a scrap here or there near their position to grab someone’s attention. Either way, they’d need everything to know how it worked. Kasumi made sure of that.)

So it really wasn’t interrogation perse. Just… asking questions. Knocking herself out had left her without crucial information. She would go out in the night later, find the graffiti wall and the spot where Thyra died. She wouldn’t leave without more information though, and preferably not without her mods. She did have a spare cloaking unit, tucked between the pages of one of her books. If she was really that desperate--

“Um.”

Ah. Sura first, she guessed. There weren’t many spots left that would be considered private in the vicinity of the camp. Sura’s steps were expectantly careful on the plywood, practiced like a commando should be. They weren’t quiet-- commanding the building to heed to every step. In another time and place, Kasumi would imagine her head hanging just a bit higher, not lost on grieving her lover. 

“I’m sorry. I was just getting my thoughts together.” Kasumi provided a bit lamely as they all stood somewhat listlessly in the open expanse of the roof. The sky was clear today, sun a bit harsh on the high point of the roof. Neither Sura or Samara seemed bothered by the heat, even though she couldn’t recall Thessia being particularly tropical-- especially when compared to the likes of the Salarian homeworld. Her stops at both planets were brief affairs.

“I know this is…” Sura half-started, then seemed to think better on her approach. “What did you do again?”

“Consulting.”

The asari looked awkwardly between them, but knew better than to question the answer given.

Kasumi scratched at the healing scar and sighed. “... I don’t think you did it for the record. You both seemed, well, happy with each other. And we talked before.”

Sura sagged at the very thought, and Kasumi was reminded how little she wanted to do this. She hadn’t even wanted the conversation yesterday, and now? Now she was expected to pick apart a story she didn’t have. What a dumb string of events.

And despite it, she mustered what voice she had and continued. “I assume you went with Thyra that day? Did you two get separated later on?”

Sura nodded. “We were just trying to cover more ground. She-- Thyra was never much for trekking. Small for a turian, you know?” She knew that look. Sura was already on that stage of ‘what if’. The very thing she warned her against. “... She promised she’d stay on the main roads. I… I guess she heard something.”

“I’m sorry,” and Kasumi truly meant it. “No one could’ve known this would happen. Just… don’t think on it too much. It just makes it worse.” Like how she could’ve stayed with him. She could’ve called off the plan. All sort of things. It didn’t, wouldn’t bring him back. “... How did she die? I was uh, out of commision before the body was actually found.”

And why did Sura look surprised by that. She didn’t say, but it was enough to get Kasumi’s mind to wander. “... She was shot. Sal suggested a sniper, I think? I’m sorry, I- I don’t really have much more than that. The shot looked clean? I’m not really--”

“It’s fine,” she wasn’t expecting her to memorize every detail. Not everyone had a morbid recollection like that. “Tell the guards you’re free to go.”

“... Thank you.”

--

Samara hummed behind her, just as she had bid Sura on her way. “... I am surprised,” she noted, though her tone indicated nothing on that actual feeling. “I would expect you to be much harder on your associates.”

“If I thought she had more to say, I would’ve asked. You said it yourself. I’m not heartless.”

“What brought you on the Normandy to start with, if I may ask?”

That was… fair. Kasumi knew her story, even if Samara didn’t know that she knew. Maybe she had. While she wasn’t part of that initial trip into Illium, she had listened in on everything that happened on the Normandy. It kept her safe, and it kept her from being too bored when she was relegated to support. That became less so once Shepard and her had developed their odd sort of friendship, but well, it still didn’t hurt to listen. 

Would it benefit Samara at all to know more than she did? … Probably not, but that didn’t mean it was worth sharing the sordid details. If anything, she was glad to hear that Shepard respected her privacy. “Cerberus offered a good deal at the time. I didn’t have a reason to stay once that was done.” Not technically a lie, but Samara could guess that there was more to the story if she really wanted.

“You don’t work for credits.”

“Presumptuous, but you’re right. Again--- does it really matter?”

“If you have personal matters that might affect your reasoning--”

“Noted, Samara. The concern is touching though.”

The small hiss of breath on her end was interesting, but Samara didn’t press further.

---

Sal came up next, though that wasn’t who she asked for. He was smart enough to put out the cigarette in the lobby and left his smile there too. If anything, he just seemed annoyed about the whole situation. Kasumi could understand it on some level; he likely knew some of the people currently holding him there. It probably didn’t feel great to be under their scrutiny for once. 

His steps were quick up the roof, not subtle at all and lacking the grace she would expect from someone in his rank. Maybe he had been forced into the Crucible project early, and hadn’t been on the front lines in some time. Either way, he bursted through the door to the roof and was immediately on her, grabbing her arms and lifting her jacket up.

“Hey!” Kasumi called out and tried to push her jacket down through his grabbiness. Sal was undeterred as he snatched one of her wrists, twisting it out of the way.

“I can’t believe you just walked out of that tent without clearance first! You’re my patient first of all and--”

The warp immediately knocked him off his feet. He crashed onto the hard concrete and screeched several feet away, nearly off the roof completely. He looked kind of sad crumpled like that. The only indication that he was alive after the assault was a meek and pained cough.

Samara breezed past Kasumi, the aura of biotics surrounding her frightening and sudden. 

“Hold on!” she called after the justicar. The cry was ignored.

Latching onto Sal’s collar, Samara dragged the poor salarian back to the center of the roof. He was only given a moment of reprieve before being dropped back onto the ground once he was at a position that seemed satisfactory to her. “Explain. Now!” she snarled.

Sal groaned, pathetic as he curled into himself.

“... He’s a medic,” Kasumi supplied for him. 

--

And she was fine, for the record. Sal? A quick once over from Kirrahe after, and he was sent on his way. It was little consolation at that point.

--

Nora came up next. The drell was a strange sticking point for everyone at that point, she assumed. Between the birds, how she often wandered alone-- and as far as she could tell, she had been just as reclusive as Kasumi herself. All things considered, she was the most suspicious person among them, but it was all the more reason she hadn’t considered her at all.

Frankly, it was too obvious an answer. What she remembered from the dossier was that she was like most drell-- she served the hanar until the war, and then went from company to company, doing what she could for the war effort. Her specialization as a sniper was a point against her, but beyond maybe a bit of post-indoctrination crazy (or something), she was about as normal as what she expected from anyone that spent most of their life fighting. Especially for folks like the hanar.

As an aside, she hadn’t heard much from the hanar since the war finished. She wasn’t sure if the insular nature of its society kept it that way, or if perhaps, enkindler proselytizing at the moment would be in… poor taste. 

Nora didn’t stand out much as a drell. Her blue skin and spots were something Kasumi had seen in plenty of others, though the way her eyes constantly observed her surroundings, using the drell’s photographic memory to its full advantage, spoke of someone with experience. Compared to the previous two, she stood very nonchalantly and seemed unconcerned by the turn of events. 

“It must be nice to have friends in high places,” Nora said, observing the concrete and brokenness below them. 

“It’s not as cozy as it looks,” Kasumi responded in kind and sat at the edge of the building, letting her legs dangle over the asphalt. Nora plopped down beside her and it was like any other morning.

“They must like you. No chaperones… well, one chaperone, I guess.” And she blinked and twisted her body around to peer at the justicar, head tilted at an odd angle. “You must have a lot of work to do, Justicar. Lots of bad people left in the galaxy, I would imagine. Though you folks stay in asari space, don’t you? And lots of you died when...”

Whatever look Samara gave Nora shut her up pretty fast. She turned back around, huffing.

“You don’t keep good company.”

Kasumi snorted.

“Am I a suspect?”

She shrugged. “Who did you go with?”

“The batarian. He’s the only one that likes me enough. Except for you, maybe.” She tapped on the concrete space between them, and seemed to wince at the temperature underneath. “Are you familiar with drell physiolo-- no. Of course you are.” Kasumi wasn’t sure why she would think that, but plenty of time with Thane taught her enough. “It’s cold here. And wet. If I did more than I’d need to, I’d kiss my sorry ass goodbye. I’m already going to have to for coming here at all.”

That was an interesting point, actually. “Why are you here?”

“Simple. I don’t want to go back to Kahje. At this point? I’m gonna die somewhere. Might as well be at a place I like. Picking fights with STG and people just trying to live aren’t on my to do list in the meantime.”

“Do you have your rifle with you?” Samara remarked from behind them.

“Nope! Feel free to check. Make it this girl that does it though? She gets me.”

Kasumi paused. “Do you even know my name?”

Nora threw her arms up. “It’s probably fake. Mine is. Who gives that shit for free these days?”

--

“Izumi Maeda.” Samara practiced the words with careful fluidity, as if testing the strength when spoken out loud. Admittedly, it sounded strange coming from someone that had long known better. Like it was too thick in the justicar’s mouth, too careless and too big. It would spill over any second.

“Did Sha’ira tell you all?”

“Among other requests,” she replied, a bit more thoughtful than before. Maybe she felt bad after nearly cleaving Sal in half. “... She is… unexpectedly shrewd.”

“Surprised me too.”

“Are you close with her?”

Kasumi wasn’t sure what she meant. That they talked? That they were friends? Had she slept with her? That was always the problem with being too tactful. Sometimes that ambiguity hung in the air, and she was left wondering if one answer or another would give away too much. Deflection it was then. “You met her before?”

Samara sighed through her nose, glancing only once or twice to the door. Perhaps to make sure they would stay alone for the moment. She hadn’t heard any footsteps. Krogans especially were loud, no matter how hard they tried to be sneaky. “... Our paths have crossed a few times. It seems it always ends the same.”

“Yeah?”

“It is the nature of politics to fall into a realm of grey, Ms. Goto. I’m sure you’ve seen that enough.”

That she did, but where was she going with it, exactly?

“A word of advice as friends,” and her voice was grave, graver than usual. “I would be careful with her. A knowledge like the consort’s... at so young an age? It is rarely gained through clean hands.”

…

Why couldn’t she just have nice things?

--

The krogan, it turned out, was named Belak, and was one of many that joined Urdnot after Grunt’s infamous joining. She was surprised to hear it-- considering the age that clearly showed on his scaly skin and the worn scars that gnarled deep into his plate. He looked happy to see her alive, and a little gentle prodding kept him from trying to headbutt her in greeting. She didn’t need a more severe concussion as congratulations on her speedy recovery.

Still, they talked for a while. He had gone with the volus, figuring that he needed someone big to keep the scrawny thing from rupturing his suit somewhere. They had been on the other side of the perimeter when the call came in, not nearly enough time to set up something so elaborate and then book it. 

“Wasn’t long after we found Katul, actually. Guy was banged up from a nasty fall,” and he laughed, a deep bravado and gruffness that was so, so krogan. “They’re just all bones and so, so tiny. Surprised he didn’t break his back.”

“It was the other turian that died, remember?” Kasumi remarked, but couldn’t help feeling a bit nostalgic honestly. She wondered how Grunt was doing with all this mess. No doubt he was back at Urdnot helping to clean up. Though she didn’t really know what a normal Tuchanka was supposed to look like.

“Yeah, I guess that’s sad, or whatever. At least you got hit doing something nice.” He perked up then, as if remembering something. “Hey, is Sal going to be alright? Squishy bastard owes me a few hundred credits.”

A lack of empathy didn’t mean a guilty conscience, so after checking in with the volus, both were let go to continue their business. 

“Should we get the elcor next?” Samara asked as the volus left, bumbling down the stairs with a heavy sigh.

Kasumi looked at the width of the planks and shook her head. “He won’t make it up. We’ll talk to him once everyone else is done.”

“That leaves… the batarian and the turian, correct?”

Neither of which Kasumi really wanted to talk to. However, no one would let her procrastinate further. She would keep her words as neutral as possible and hoped the threat she left the priest with yesterday was enough to keep his mouth shut. The last thing she wanted was Samara to know.

To push off that particular issue a bit longer, she chose Katul first. It would be good to start with something simple maybe. A cursory check of his injuries? Maybe a lighthearted joke about him being her errand boy? Neither of them seemed appropriate. Perhaps a simple ‘how’s he feeling’ would do to ease an already skittish man into talking.

His steps were heavier and slower than usual. A surprise with how haunted he was ordinarily.

He came to the roof, and Kasumi’s voice died in her throat.

Something was wrong. She hadn’t noticed in the crowd before, but now that it was just three of them, she had much fewer distractions. The shiftlessness, the way his eyes seemed to drag as he flitted his gaze from her, to Samara, to the expanse beyond them, to the sky above. He… he was ghastly. And the pain inside was so open for the world to see, so much more raw and visceral than before. 

She saw a man a moment away from wailing, and she felt that brewing inside her, always ready to claw itself to the surface. It just needed the right trigger-- a smell, a tugging thought, sometimes just a certain shadow that would creep in at night, tricking her just long enough to think it was Keiji in her sleep-addled mind. 

She stared and dug right into Katul’s soul, and found something even worse inside.

Samara’s touch on her arm startled her, and at once she was back in reality. She wasn’t alone, and too quickly she would have to put herself back together. Kasumi brushed the touch away with as kind a hand as she could muster and found her voice again. “... What happened?”

“Sura hadn’t told you?” his voice was even, but he stayed rooted just past the door that he came from. “Thyra is-- was my daughter.”

No.

No, she wasn’t doing this.

It didn’t matter that he was gone for too long. That his movement and time was the most unaccounted for. It didn’t matter. The STG could work that out for all she cared.

“Leave,” couldn’t come out quick enough. 

--

“Ms. Goto?”

She didn’t know she was staring. 

“Would a break help you?”

How come it didn’t bother Samara? Maybe she wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Maybe it shouldn’t take a new piece of her every time, leaving her with holes and broken parts that no amount of wiring and tinkering could fix. She wanted to stop remembering, but it-- it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to her. The emotions, the passion, the love and inspiration that carried her forward. 

Samara had lost more. Lost worse. It was one thing to lose a lover. It was another to lose a child. To lose children. Her daughters. And she did it by her hand. Her hand with the same biotics and skill that terrified her. Who was Morinth? How could she put so much inside herself that she was okay again? Kasumi wanted it. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t--

She felt cool fingers curled against her temples, and suddenly she found two passive eyes looking back, except they were warm, motherly. She saw a gentleness there, of a person buried underneath. Someone that saw her daughters before her, trembling and vulnerable.

Sympathy. Understanding. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Kasumi closed her eyes and breathed.

--

She didn’t ask for Darshan, but he found them just the same. Kasumi had slumped against the wall next to the door at that point, already more exhausted than she had ever been. Samara was messing with her omni-tool not far, back to the cool demeanor she was used to. The silence had been comfortable, but it didn’t take much to pick up Darshan’s heavy gait, weighed down by the robes he had on him. 

“Company,” she called out to Samara, who quickly shut the omni-tool down and turned to greet their visitor. By the time Kasumi stood, the door had creaked open.

There he stood, and already she felt herself stiffen.

“You weren’t requested,” Samara greeted coolly. “I understand this is a process, but you must exercise patience, priest.”

She rubbed her temples. “It’s fine. We’ll get this done quick.”

Samara looked ready to disagree, but the priest interjected quickly, sweeping into the roof. “I appreciate your accommodation, Ms. Maeda. I… I must confess something.”

Not this again. Kasumi rolled her eyes and crept closer to the man, ready to throw him off the building if even a single word came out about her time in slavery. She was not going to be this man’s redemption arc, no matter how badly he wanted it. “If this is about what we--”

“There is another group here.”

What?

Samara seemed less than impressed. “We’re aware of several actually.” What?! “But please elaborate, priest.”

“... I had tried telling you yesterday,” he was not going to blame her for this. Fuck that. “It’s a band of batarians. I’m not sure where they are exactly, but one of their members reached out when we first landed.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” She tried to keep the irritation down. Certainly, certainly he had his reasons. They could be refugees. Could be another dead end. It’s not like slavers had the resources or the market to start culling again. 

“I…” Darshan glanced to Samara, and thought better on his initial response. Fortunately. “... I am aware of our reputation right now. I assumed they were just trying to survive. It didn’t make sense to incite panic at the time.”

“But if they have been here for some time…” Samara found her mark.

“Please. They might have their reasons. We didn’t all just die when the reapers came, and if there are some life left--”

“It’s okay,” she found herself saying, even if she wasn’t sure she really meant it. It would do better than to panic the priest further anyway. “Did they say where they were when you talked with them? How did they make contact before I had the tower up?”

“I ran into a scout while we were setting up camp. He… he didn’t mention where the rest were.”

That was a lie, but that was fine. If his story checked out, they were likely between the two camps. Still a lot of ground to cover, but if they had a settlement, there would be signs before she saw it. Pathways, landmarks for strays. She had a lot of work to do this evening. After all of this, she wasn’t sure how much sleep she would be getting anyway. Though they had a sizable unit at the camp, Kasumi knew enough about STG habits to sneak out. A quick chat with Sha’ira, a stop by her tent, and she would be out as soon as the sun set. 

But what to do with him? It would be easier to let STG do what they liked, took out a potential liability before he had the chance to spill further information and awkward conversations. He didn’t really deserve it though. Despite hiding this for as long as he did, he had… reasons. Understandable reasons. He didn’t know she recognized her own biases. As far as he knew, she was just an angry woman that wanted nothing to do with him. 

But even beyond that, she doubted the STG would let him roam freely around the camp. She looked to Samara, who remained carefully stoic. “... I’m sure the major will have his own ideas, but don’t kill him?”

She nodded. “They will be upset if you leave.”

Kasumi offered a smile in apology. “I’ll bring good news back. Promise~.”

---

The elcor was still waiting patiently by the time she bounded down the last few steps. Oh. She forgot about him. 

He craned his neck and looked at her. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough, Kasumi would say that the elcor were a species that was constantly smiling. Still, he had clearly behaved, and she had enough information to go about her business. It’s not like an elcor could hold a sniper rifle. … Or could they?

“You’re free to go,” she still offered.

“With relief: I am happy to hear that this matter will be resolved shortly. Exasperated: I have much to do, then. Please, excuse me…” and off he went, lumbering and squeezing through the entrance of the gutted building with some effort.

She would have to brush up on her elcor biology later.

---

The QEC felt good in her hands. It was modded of course, like most any piece of tech Kasumi carried around with her. Multiple encryption channels, decryption keys for whenever she was ever curious, voice modulator and screen distortion if she ever felt like being super spooky. Amazing how many people still fell for simple tricks like that. 

“I’m glad I could keep it safe for you.” Sha’ira’s eyes wrinkled when she smiled. The one just wide enough to show perfect teeth. It was nice to see such warmth easily given after spending all day with a justicar. 

“I hope you didn’t just guard it all day. You certainly had better things to do.”

“Something more difficult, I’m afraid.” Sha’ira brushed her shoulders, dusting off what soot and dust that may have collected clamoring up and down the building all day. “Did we find anything?”

She grinned. “A crumb trail. Don’t wait up for me.”

Sha’ira’s smile waned, eyes deadly serious. “... Alone?”

What other choice was there? Samara was good at what she did, but what she did wasn’t subtle. Major Kirrahe would be doing his own investigation, and following up with whatever parties were out there. If she asked, sure, she could probably get a guard or two to keep her company, but that was if he let her out of the confines of the camp in the first place. “Sneaking around is kind of what I do. I’ll be fine.”

“What about you friend?” Her brow furrowed. “... Do the others know about them?”

Khalisah? The idea of seeing her in a catsuit was hilarious honestly, but she had a better use for that camera this evening. Maybe a bit of bargaining and she could be a security camera. Make sure no one was looking for her back at camp. Though she wouldn’t really expect someone so… normal to make a habit of staying up all night. “I’m sure she’d like to keep the others from finding out. Do you mind?”

“If you trust her, then I shall as well. Hopefully she’s able to defend herself.”

Oh, most definitely not. The reporter seemed smart enough to have a security system in place at her campsite though. She wouldn’t be taken out easily. 

Still, Sha’ira didn’t look pleased. Her eyes flickered to the rest of the campsite, careful-- always careful of who was watching or listening. “... If I can’t dissuade you, at least stay long enough for me to apologize.”

There they were again. How often they danced like this? Sha’ira was an adept one, Kasumi admitted. She tangled herself in her words and slipped through where each opening laid. She didn’t think the consort meant an actual apology, but more an olive branch, ensuring the conversation continued in a way that Kasumi wouldn’t shrink away again. It was being offered with an open hand again.

To Sha’ira, was she a ghoul looking back? An empty face, staring unblinking into her well of grief, just as Katul had before her?

“... You don’t need to,” Kasumi chanced, awkwardly given between half-starts and half-finished thoughts she didn’t want to voice. “... I… I would like to continue that talk, actually. Maybe when I get back?”

The relief that washed over Sha’ira made the concession alone worth it. “I believe it would be good for us both.” She found her left hand, threading it between her own and squeezing gently. “... It won’t be without its rewards, Kasumi. I promise you that.”

She still wasn’t sure. But maybe she would find something in it, or make something new out of the little bits of herself she had left. If she could be better, was it wrong to reach for it? Samara had. Katul would, in time. She saw the earnestness in the way Sha’ira looked on her, so open. The only thing she could think to do was tuck herself further away. “... I like chamomile?”

“Done. Oh!” The smile was back as she stepped away, back toward the entrance of her tent. “... I left a surprise for you at your tent. Though you feel it unnecessary, I think you’ll find it apology enough for the trouble.”

As if talking about her problems was a burden to anyone but the listener. “All day for me? You spoil me, Consort.”

And there was pride in the way she smirked. A look that wasn’t so unfamiliar on herself. “I do my best.”

--

Please don’t ask for anything else.

- Kirrahe

She stared at the assortment of mods, having been packaged neatly in its own dark bag-- secured safely inside her tent and out of sight. She began sorting through the collection, knowing the order with automatic, fluid grace and motion. Though she rarely disassembled her omni-tool completely, it never hurt to know how each one connected to one another.

Her hand brushed against another datapad, buried deep within the bag.

Be safe.

- Sha’ira

…

Of course. Of course she knew Kasumi would. Maybe the woman was dangerous.

It made the whole game more exciting that way.