#nos astra

[autodiscothings]

Commission of @rawliverandcigarettes  extremely glittery OC, Nagatha T'selvi- plotting a certain something in Nos Astra, Illium.

#mass effect #asari #asari oc #nos astra #illium #my art #commissions

[t0tentanz]

find peace in the embrace of the goddess

#samara #justicar samara #mass effect #mass effect 2 #mass effect 3 #asari justicar #asari #illium #nos astra #t0tentanz #my edits #bioware

[cerberusdailynews]

[CRIME] Levipack Battery Thief Defies Police, Terrorizes Hanar

via Nos Astra Daily A brazen thief has struck again in Nos Astra, where yet another hanar resident was left trapped in the confines of their tank after their levitation pack's battery was taken by the burglar. This is the eighth occurrence of this type of crime in the past month. Nos Astra PD has declined to comment on their progress in identifying the culprit. An officer requesting anonymity cited active investigations as cause for the silence and encouraged the city’s residents to “exercise vigilance in securing their homes by their own means and by those of commercial services”. The police’s lukewarm assurance was met poorly by the city’s hanar community. Onuvenes, chair for the Invigorating Downpour service organization’s local chapter, condemned their stance. “These ones are no less than betrayed by these words. Are hanar exempt from the police’s mission to protect? Are these ones’ ability to participate in society so trivial as to be ignored? These ones are owed the humblest apologies.”

#cdn #cerberus daily news #mass effect #mass effect news #mass effect rp #hanar #illium #nos astra #levitation #levipack #theft #crime

[atomic-lola]

Mass Effect 2: Nos Astra Exchange

#mass effect 2 #me2 #mass effect legendary edition #nos astra #my screenshots #mass effect screenshots #using a reshade

[famewolf]

ok but I do actually love the rachni ... that was a really neat little nod to what happened on Noveria in ME1

#[static] #wolf plays mass effect #the asari approached me in nos astra ... v cool

[avengers-legacy]

Então você gosta da Astra mais que amigos James? E cadê ela? Sumiu

James: Eu...olha é complicado. Como eu disse, tenho medo do romance estragar nossa amizade, e nem sei se ela quer algo ou concorda comigo. Não quero deixar as coisas estranhas também.

Natasha: Astra teve que ir a Nova Asgard para assuntos diplomáticos então ela não está na base.

#james hill barnes #agent hb #james x astra #natasha barton #blackhawk #tadinho com medo de perder a amiga #harriett ja ja quer bater nos dois

[nolofejeke]

Messagerie aphp mode d'emploi iphone 5c

#http://vk.cc/c7jKeU #nofollow #<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><center>MESSAGERIE APHP MODE D'EMPLOI IPHONE 5C >> <strong><u><a href= rel= target #<br> mail iphone connexion #<br> comment ajouter une adresse mail sur iphone #<br> boîte mail apple connexion #<br> configurer gmail sur ipadadresse mail apple #<br> changer code d'accès iphone #<br> mail iphone #<br> #<br> </p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>Arrivée de la téléphonie 4G #mode d'emploi. Après une âpre bataille des opérateurs de téléphonie mobiles #les fréquences pour la technologie 4G sont enfin #Find all links related to iphone 5s connexion wifi impossible here. mode-d-emploi.bouyguestelecom.fr/aide/device/apple/iphone-5s/topic/ #l'emploi #se développent et se réinventent localement. Cela se traduit par : Nos clients : Sanofi #Bayer #Pierre Fabre #Astra Zeneca #APHP. #5 tentatives infructueuses de déverrouillage de votre iPhone avec Face ID ou Touch ID sont réalisées. Une tentative d'utilisation d'Appel d #June 15th #2019 Sony phv a7e mode d'emploi iphone 5c Geonaute montre mode d'emploi ipad air. Messagerie aphp mode d'emploi samsung galaxy s6. #Clinique commune : Les 5 C Si impossibilité de répondre à son Iphone (Clayton et al #Mettez votre smartphone en mode nightshift la. </p><br>https://dixonivovar.tumblr.com/post/694204152571658240/archos-20c-vision-8go #https://nolofejeke.tumblr.com/post/694205329608753152/le-grand-livre-du-biomimetisme-pdf #https://dixonivovar.tumblr.com/post/694204152571658240/archos-20c-vision-8go-mode-demploi-samsung #https://dixonivovar.tumblr.com/post/694205419998019584/cours-dentrepreneuriat-gratuit-pdf.

[smalllady]

Places in Mass Effect 2 - Illium Illium is a classic garden world, developed to serve as entrepot between the Terminus Systems and the Asari Republics. To abet this trade, the normally stringent customs laws of Council space on product safety, proscribed materials, and sapient trafficking are relaxed. Officially Illium is not an asari world; it is colonized and operated by asari corporate interests. This gives it the same legal latitude enjoyed by the human corporate research enclaves of Noveria. Illium is one of the youngest asari colonies settled during the 7th Expansion Wave. The first child born on the world is only now reaching her middle-age. The world is hot and massive; ground settlement is only possible at the higher polar latitudes. In more equatorial locations, the population is housed in arcology skyscrapers to escape the heat of the surface. Colony Founded: 1617 Population: 84.9 billion (surface), 80,300 (L4 and L5 stations) Capital: Nos Astra Orbital Distance: 1.3 AU Orbital Period: 1.5 Earth Years Radius: 7431 km Day Length: 25 Earth Hours Atmospheric Pressure: 1.15 Earth Atmospheres Surface Temperature: 63 Celsius Surface Gravity: 1.2 G

#mass effect #mass effect 2 #smalllady gifs #meedits #gamingedit #vgedit #dailygaming #dailyvideogames #gameplaydaily #places in mass effect

[thecodecoven]

#4. Ad astra | Portada

Acá tienen el cuarto código para el codember2023 de @elalmacen-rp. Esto iba a ser un código para ficha de personaje, pero por cuestiones de tiempo terminó siendo sólo una portada. Quizá más adelante lo terminemos como lo teníamos pensado.

La imagen es cuadrada de 260px. Los iconos son de Bootstrap, si desean cambiarlos, acá está la biblioteca de iconos.

Si hay errores con el código, háganoslo saber por ask <3

i. No retires los créditos, por favor. ii. Los colores, fuentes, imágenes (backgrounds) son modificables. iii. No cambies la estructura o uses como base. iv. Si tienes dudas o necesitas soporte con los códigos, no dudes en enviarnos un mensaje. v. Like/reblog si la utilizas, nos ayudaría mucho ♥︎ vi. ¡Disfrútalos! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ～:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Puedes encontrar el código en pastebin, sólo da click en el enlace. ✨

Inspiración en el link de source.

#codes #codember2023 #rp template #foroactivo #tablilla #misc codes #portada #baúl

[samseabxrn]

specreqs 2024 fic recs

I was so happy to participate in this year's @spectre-requisitions-exchange, and I have a round of recs to share!!

what I received:

Going Up by Kahika, G, Ashley/Garrus

A wonderful story showing Ashley and Garrus’s developing relationship. I love how the similarities between them are pulled out, and this is just so lovely and romantic. I am such a fan of Ashley is written here, she is strong and she cares so much. I can't say enough about this gift!!

what I wrote:

follow me into the dark, M, F!Shep/Tali

“So are you,” she says. She’s trying to buy time. She does the same thing, every day. Tali doesn’t bite. “I trust him,” Shepard finally adds. They watch the water lap at the rocks, the way it has for millennia, the way it will for even more. Shaping the world wave by wave. Unless they lose. “Him,” Tali says slowly. It’s bitter in her mouth. Shepard and Tali, after Rannoch.

factors of safety, T, Tali/Adams

Tali gets crushes. On people who are suave and charming and would fit right in on the screen of a net drama. And if she's being honest, Engineer Adams is none of these things. He is human, he is older than her, and he's an engineer. Lights, camera, action.

(I love my little engineers)

some amazing fics

One Night in Nos Astra by goodnightxgoodbye, T, Kaidan/Liara

I absolutely loved the sense of nostalgia with this fic!! There is a real sense of comfort between Kaidan and Liara, and the details here are just beautiful.

The Crack in Everything by FerindenCadash, T, F!Shep/Ashley

Again, I love how Ashley is depicted as she's struggling with her faith following Shepard's return from the dead. The tone of this piece is just wonderful, and the dynamic between Shepard and Ashley is so perfect to read.

Reception by Vidra_on_the_Rocks, G, Human Refugee Teen & Turian Citadel Guard

This piece is written in the style of a magazine article, and it is so creative! The tone is perfect, and the family formed between these two is just so heartwarming.

Seeing a Salarian About a Ship by SaintMidnight, T, Kaidan/Coats

This fic has the perfect sense of domesticity for these two, starting a new life after the war and settling into things. It's such a hopeful fic, and there's an amazing "we're buying a home together" sense throughout the whole thing. Absolutely loved it!!

I'll probably have many more recs as I work through the amazing collection, but I am so excited to keep reading! And it was an absolute blast participating; can't wait for next year :)

#specreqs2024 #fic recs

[coraniaid]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks to @isagrimorie for the tag!

1 How many works do you have on Ao3?

14

2 What's your total Ao3 word count?

452,732

3 What fandoms do you write for?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and technically Angel, I suppose, but not really), Mass Effect (but not recently)

I've also tried writing some Avatar: The Last Airbender and Farscape and Person of Interest works over the years, but nothing that I've finished yet.

4 What are your top five fics by kudos?

Coexist: Season 3 Buffy AU in which it was Giles, and not Jenny, who was murdered by Angelus in Season 2 [27 chapters; 277,084 words; various POVs but mostly alternating Buffy/Faith]

Last Year's Rain Didn't Fall Quite So Hard: Season 4 Buffy AU in which Faith wakes up from her coma having forgotten about killing Allan Finch and everyting that happened afterwards [one shot; 16,904 words; Buffy POV]

Together: Season 3 Buffy AU in which the Homecoming Dance goes a bit differently [one shot; 2,711 words; Faith POV]

Done: post-canon Buffy fic set a few years after the end of Season 7, with Buffy having mostly stepped back from being an active Slayer [one shot; 4,312 words; Buffy POV]

Mixed Signals: post-canon Buffy fic looking at Faith's changing relationship with Buffy since first meeting her [one shot; 4,919 words; Faith POV]

5 Do you respond to comments?

Not often or promptly enough. I try though: I really do appreciate the comments I get a lot.

6 What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Think this is a toss-up between two different canon-compliant Faith POV one-shots: One Girl In All The World and Calling.

7 What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Together is the happiest and fluffiest thing I can imagine ever writing.

8 Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think so? None that I can remember anyway. (I do use the block and mute features on Ao3 though, so maybe I'm just blissfully ignorant.)

9 Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Just don't have the talent for it.

10 Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't have any published crossovers but I do have very vague ideas for a Buffy/Farscape crossover that I sometimes play around with in my mind. (Largely inspired by the joke of taking the couple of times Crichton makes references to 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' which his crewmates don't get, and pretending that they're right to assume he's talking about a person he knows rather than a TV show he used to watch.)

11 Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge (and honestly I'm not sure I'd want to know if I had?).

12 Have you ever had a fic translated?

If I have I don't know about it (and I would love to know if I did!).

13 Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I think it might be fun, but I'd probably have to change the way I write a lot.

14 What's your all time favorite ship?

Moya!

I mean, look at her!

(Oh, okay, it's Buffy/Faith, if that wasn't obvious.)

15 What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd love to finish either of my uncompleted Mass Effect fics (the first and longest, Residuum, is actually fully planned out and has been for years: I just got stuck on writing a particular chapter and never managed to come back to it; I had a fairly detailed plan for Night Winds in Nos Astra when I posted the first chapter but then I decided I hated it and never figured out how to fix it.)

16 What are your writing strengths?

Dream sequences. Internal monologues. Foreshadowing. Planning. Quoting bits of canon back at the reader in hopefully interesting ways. Hopefully getting the characters' voices sounding reasonably accurate.

17 What are your writing weaknesses?

Deadlines. Brevity. Physical descriptions. Titles.

18 Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I haven't really thought about it much before, honestly.

19 First fandom you wrote for?

Mass Effect is the first fandom I submitted anything for anywhere online. I wrote some Avatar: The Last Airbender fic before that though (a long Azula POV AU that I would kind of like to come back to one day, though I'd probably have to rewrite it from scratch).

20 Favorite fic you've written

Realistically, I think popular consensus must be correct that Coexist is the best thing I've ever written (though I sometimes wish I'd spent more than a minute thinking up a title). It's definitely the work I'm proudest of, and I think it contains some of my best writing (and ... well, most of my writing, based on the numbers I just posted). But I have a bit of a soft spot for some of my earlier Mass Effect fics, which aren't incredibly polished but I learned a lot from working on, and for Last Year's Rain Didn't Fall Quite So Hard as well.

Tagging: @juanabaloo @beatriceeverytuesday @explosionshark @bodytoflame-ao3 and anyone else who wants to do this.

#fanfic #tag games

[swaps55]

Fugue - 13 - The Weight of Everything

Pairing: mShenko

Rating: M

Tags: Angst, Grief, Major (Canonical) Character Death

Summary: Alchera, and the two-year gap.  

Chapter Summary: Kaidan meets an unexpected ally. Some ghosts you can’t outrun. There are few problems an explosion can’t solve.  

Thank you to @shadesofmauve for betaing!

Chapter 13: The Weight of Everything | Read on Ao3

12 July 2184, Arcturus Stream, Arcturus, SSV Everest

The look on Farrow’s face is not one that is ever followed by good news. Hackett raises an eyebrow when she comes into his office, clears her throat, and glances at the toes of her boots before inhaling and looking him right in the eye.

Before she can open her mouth, Hackett does a mental inventory on how much scotch is left in the cabinet behind his desk, because he’s fairly certain he’s going to need it.

“Rumoi is missing,” she blurts out, ripping the band-aid off.  

Son of a bitch.

His fingers curl, but when he speaks, it’s tight and controlled. Professional, even. “When, where, and how did he go missing, and do we have any leads on where he went missing to?”

“Our tail lost him on Nos Astra about seven hours ago,” she says, in a clipped tone that suggests she is fully aware of how much self-control it’s taking not to break his hand against the battle-tested surface of his desk, and she appreciates getting to skip the trip to medical this time. “There were signs of a struggle, and he never returned to his hotel room. Evidence suggests Eclipse mercs.”

He swears between his teeth. “Do we have any leads?”

She bobs her head. “We don’t believe they kept him on Ilium. Intelligence has narrowed it down to five possible ships that smuggled him out.”

“I want info on all five of those ships and where they’re headed, and Intelligence needs to shorten the list so I’m not wasting my time. In the meantime, get me Captain Arellano of the Ain Jalut and Admiral Anderson, in that order.”

“Yes, sir,” she says with a curt nod. After working together this long, Farrow doesn’t need to be told she’s been dismissed.  

Hackett gazes out in stony silence after she leaves, tallying up all the ways that Abraham Rumoi in enemy hands could fuck them. After a moment, he gets up and finds the scotch.  

Son of a bitch.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Fugue Playlist

#mass effect #mshenko #kaidan alenko #otp: after all this time #fugue update #real excited about this one #it's stuffed full of easter eggs #REALLY curious which ones get caught #there is very little in this chapter that i made up #the details all exist in canon #i just bent them into a new shape #it was a MASSIVE PAIN IN THE ASS to make this work #but i think i finally got there #CROSSING FINGERS #gonna go hide under the bed for a while now that it's out there

[daisywalletchains]

Dr. P'Beria leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered, “She’s a little handsy right now, I recommend you stay in your seat and out of reach so that she does not hurt herself. The painkillers do that sometimes.”

Nilea groaned, “Spirits, she didn’t … do anything inappropriate did she?”

“Oh, Goddess no. Well, she did tenderly caress my nurse’s cheek while confessing her undying love for painkillers. Quite tame for some of our more … tactile patients,” the doctor looked behind her as she spoke. Lou was leaning back against her pillows with a very stupid grin plastered across her face. “If you do not have any further questions, I have rounds to complete.”

Nilea stepped out of the way, “I’m good, thank you.” As the doctor left, closing the curtain behind her, Nilea plopped down in her seat, exhaustion almost winning out over confused amusement. “So we’re married now, hm?”

------

Dr. P'Beria is an accomplished surgeon who has patched bounty hunter Louise Miller up so many times, there's a sign in her office at Nos Astra General that says, "It has been ___ days since Dr. Louise Miller's last injury."

#mass effect #my art #priority: the last resort #asari #boy you can tell my hand tremor was flaring up bad yesterday

[omniblades-and-stars]

The Last Time (A Game of Cat and Mouse)

Read on AO3

"Bancroft Exports and Logistics Headquarters" read the sign carved from impeccably polished wood, no doubt from Earth. It was mounted on the wall next to a door made of frosted glass and featuring antique bronze hinges and a matching bronze doorknob, shaped humorously like one of Earth's large felines, a lion, if he remembered correctly. He always did. As he reached for the door knob with a green-scaled hand, Thane Krios noted it as something to ask Mr. Bancroft about. It was obviously meant as a statement, the expense of retrofitting a Nos Astra office building for an ancient human door alone meant that it was not simply a design choice.

He straightened the front panel of his expensive suit jacket as he strolled into the lobby. There was a reception desk with a high counter wrapped around the front, topped in the same dark polished wood that the sign at the door was. There was another office door directly to the right of the reception desk, and a cart against the wall with porcelain tea cups hanging from metal hooks. One was missing.

The receptionist was not at their post, it seemed. There was, however, a small sign that read "Press Button for Assistance". He was surprised when there was no audible tone when his carefully filed talon depressed the cool metallic button.

After several seconds of empty silence, a booming, "I don't pay you to stand around and look pretty! Go see who it is, damn it," reverberated from the office behind the door. A feminine voice answered back, the words of her quiet reply were lost to the barrier provided by thick walls. Thane clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently to be greeted by someone. He was going to enjoy killing Mr. Bancroft later. 

The door cracked open and the first thing out of it was a slender, human, woman's foot. It was clad in a precarious, ruby red high-heeled shoe, a thin strap buckled around a delicately arched ankle. Her legs, shapely and well-toned, were covered by sheer black stockings. A pronounced seam ran up the length of her calf, disappearing behind her knee and beneath the hem of a charcoal gray skirt so tight, it could have been a second skin. 

His eyes traveled up her body, taking in the receptionist as she pushed sideways out of the door. She held a silver tea tray in her delicate, gloved hands, and despite her unreasonably high heels, she moved with well-practiced grace and fluidity. 

A pristine cream colored blouse covered a supple chest, the promising curve of soft flesh hidden beneath whisper thin fabric. A collar buttoned high on her slender throat with dainty, round pearls, covered a scar he knew was there. He was surprised to see her here. She was supposed to be dead.

He killed her.

Bare skin burns hot, pressed and writhing beneath him. A soft moan turns to a surprised gasp and her fingers dig sharp into the muscles of his arms. Silken lips parted against his in a silent plea. Breaths ragged from exertion and the effects of the venom still coursing in her veins. Crimson rivulets wash down the cold metal of his blade. Tears bead at the edges of her clouded, disbelieving eyes, pupils wide, surprised by the betrayal she knew would inevitably come. "Why?" She mouths, unable to speak.

"We can't keep doing this. This is the last time," he whispers, and tenderly brushes wisps of dark hair from her sweat-dewed cheek. Tears that are not hers fall, mingling with the ones sliding over her skin and into the hair tangled on the pillow below her. Her grip on his arms falters as she grows weak. He leaves her alone to die in a Presidium hotel room, disquieted and regretful.

It had been too difficult to stay. He should have known she would pull through. She was stubborn, tenacious.

Beautiful, precious.

And above all, a devious, deadly viper.

But why was it relief that he felt to see her again?

Familiar honey-colored eyes glared at him as she turned to greet him. She drew the plush flesh of her burgundy lip in between her teeth, seductive and no doubt a sign of the anger she felt at the sight of him.

The anger burning in her wide, clear eyes disappeared in a flash, as though it had never existed. A wide smile took its place, creasing the corners of her eyes, and she broke her silence by proclaiming, "Oh, you must be the security consultant here to meet with the board. I am so sorry, how do you pronounce your name, Mister…" Her voice was soft, dripping with syrupy cheer. Her head cocked slightly to the side quizzically, a convincing charade played out for no one but the two of them. 

"Tuek. Rumi Tuek. It is a pleasure to meet you. Though, I am afraid that I do not know your name," he said in reply. In this, he told no lie. No living person knew her true name. Her names shifted like the crashing tides of the sea.

"Julia Tophana," she answered cheerfully and bravely turned her back on him to set the tray on top of the cart. "When I first saw your name on the appointment list this week, I assumed it must have been a salarian name," she lied easily, putting on a breathy, airy voice that he knew very well was an act. She continued putting the pieces of the tea service away with gloved hands as she filled the silence with trite chatter. "I thought, 'Surely it couldn't be a drell name, there are so few to be seen away from Kahje.' But what do I know? Mr. Bancroft always says, 'I didn't hire you for your brains, Jules.'"

How long had she been working as the man’s secretary just to murder him?

She loved the long game.

Julia turned and flashed a charming smile at him, holding a stained tea cup in her left hand. "He underestimates me. They always pay for underestimating me. Don't they?" Thane's hand ghosted over his abdomen, where the memory of her blade made itself known. She started this destructive little game of theirs.

She cries out for help as his target tries to pull her into a filthy alley, one of so many on this part of Omega. He runs to help this stranger, a young, human woman out for a jog. A gunshot echoes out of the alley, and the woman's screams stop.

Too late, he fears. But as he turns around the abandoned building at the entrance to the alley, he sees her standing hunched over a body, hands gripping the pistol like iron. She holds it like it is both her only lifeline and the most terrifying thing in the galaxy. Like she has never fired it before.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I … I … was so scared! I didn't … oh God, what did I do?" Her cries are shrill, panicked, she is nearly hyperventilating. Her hands shake and tears streak over the gentle curve of her cheeks. She looks up at him with large, pleading, amber eyes, and drops the pistol on the ground right before she heaves and vomits all over her lavender running shoes.

"Please, let me help you get cleaned up," he offers quietly as he approaches. She clutches his hands with her own trembling fingers and allows him to lead her away. She tells him her name is Artemis, tells him about how she ended up on Omega, and how lonely it is living on that horrible station.

It's hours later and they are still together, she's pressed against him, hot and needy. Her kisses taste like peppermint toothpaste. "It was so easy. This is the last time you'll see me, see anything," she whispers against his lips. Cold metal bites into his skin, just below his lung and it twists as she pushes him harder against the wall. Her strength is surprising. Too late he realizes that she is not just an innocent woman out for an evening run. The pain forces a groan coursing up his throat. He can feel the blade scraping through his ribs, feel it pierce through the other side. "I don't do competition," she explains and strokes his cheek with a soft hand, now coated in emerald blood. She simply walks away after, leaving her blade, and him, pinned to the wall. It is the kind of folding blade engineered by and for killers, expensive and easily hidden.

The truth of the matter was that she was a small, beautiful woman blessed with large, doe eyes, and perfect, bow shaped lips. Traits that she carefully wielded to her advantage at every available opportunity. Including here, in this moment, where he was her only audience. She was like the sirens of Earth’s ancient mythology, and he too often found himself ensnared by her song.

Arashu protect me, Amonkira guide me, and Kalahira, please take this damnable woman to the darkest, coldest depths of your oceans.

She brought the cup down onto the hard surface of the desk, shattering it with purpose. "Oops! How clumsy of me!" She brushed the shards into the trash can, and in a smooth motion removed the gloves from her hands and deposited them into the receptacle after, careful not to touch the outside material with her bare fingers.

The gloves must have cost a fortune. They appeared to be made of real animal skin, unlike the synthetic leather worn by most. Even in their line of work. 

She'd always been one for flair, even if only for her own sake.

His eyes followed the dexterous lines of slender fingers, recalling the feeling of them tracing tender lines over the ridges of his scales, the feel as they dug into his flesh as she tried to tear his grip from her throat. With a raised brow, he started to ask, “Mr. Bancroft, is he-”

“Dead? He is, but he doesn’t know it yet,” The Shepherd responded while she checked the watch set into a dainty silver band around her wrist. “He will have a “sudden” stroke in approximately four hours.”

Of course, poison. 

One of her favorite methods. She had always been one for a more personal approach. She liked to get in close, get to know the target. She loved to play games, like a cat toying with a mouse that didn't know her claws were already piercing its skin. Until it was much, much too late.

She always played games. 

Thane's lips curled into a disapproving grimace. He despised that she got to Bancroft first.

He despised that she waited until she knew he would be here to do it. This entire charade, this whole show was for his benefit alone. 

It was payback. It was his turn to be the mouse, it seemed. It was probably no less than he deserved.

Deserved or not, he would not let her win.

Her clean up finished, The Shepherd picked up a datapad and waved for him to follow her into the curving hallway. “This way, Mr. Tuek. The board meets on the next floor up, accessible only by the interior elevator.” She strode in front of him, the long curve of her legs accented by the pointed heel of her shoe. Absently, she brushed a long dark lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun, held together by shining metal sticks, behind her ear. It was much longer than their last meeting.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair, Ms. Tophana. It is a shame that I will kill you before I get to enjoy it,” he whispered in her ear as they walked past the office workers diligently working at their desks in the open office space nested behind the reception lobby.

“I like the piercings you have there on the ridge above your frill, those are new. I will take great pleasure in tearing them from your smug face right before I end you,” she retorted while looking straight ahead. Her mouth curled up, confidence hidden in the upturned corner of her lips. "This is the last time, Krios," she whispered hotly.

"You are sure of this? You have yet to kill me, Shepherd," he reminded her and placed a gentle, threatening hand at the small of her back. The silken fabric of her blouse slid pleasantly over his scales. 

Their walk through the office came to a halt at the elevator, tucked into a hall filled with more office spaces. The Shepherd turned to face him as she pressed the call button for the lift. "It will either be me or you this time. To the death, once and for all. I'm not leaving this building without your life."

The elevator arrived with a chime, and the door slid open. "Then you will not leave this building," he answered emphatically and stepped into the elevator.

The Shepherd pressed her arm across the opening to prevent the door from sliding closed. She leaned in, passing the datapad to him, her lips ghosted dangerously close to his cheek, her breath hot on his skin, stirring heat deep within him. Her hair smelled like honeysuckle. It always smelled like honeysuckle. "You make mistakes when you underestimate me. Don't make it easy for me," she whispered. Suddenly, she pulled back, "You'll understand why I won't be joining you in the elevator. The boardroom is directly to your right, through the preposterous double doors. You can't miss it." 

She had the audacity to wiggle her fingers at him as though she were waving goodbye to a friend as the door slid shut. 

He looked down at the datapad and turned the screen on. Thane didn't know whether to be greatly amused or greatly irritated by the image that greeted him:

"A Game of Cat and Mouse" written out in the flowing script he knew to be hers, followed by a humorous drawing of a cat with human hair styled just like hers. And pinned beneath her feline paws, a mouse with green and black scales.

Hiding in an office suite after his meeting, now entirely pointless due to Bancroft's impending death, had concluded was a simple matter. It was easy enough to duck into the office of some executive who was almost certainly on vacation, and simply wait until everyone who was not The Shepherd left. By the time the work day drew to a close, he found himself pondering the pendulous motion of the Newton’s Cradle decorating the large wooden desk in his hiding office.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Cla-

“We’re alone now, Krios. You can come out of hiding,” she shouted down the hall from her roost in the lobby.

As he walked silently down the hall, he removed his suit jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and cuffing his shirt sleeves at his forearms. When he rounded the hall into the lobby, she was standing with her back to him. Her arms were raised, the mass of her hair held tightly in her fist as she began to wrap it around her hand and tie it more suitably to the base of her skull. The two decorative sticks were laid on the counter, perfectly symmetrical to one another.

“That’s close enough, Thane. Rules first,” she said firmly without turning to him. She grabbed one of the sticks and popped the bottom tip off of it, revealing a very fine sharp point. She leaned to the side and pulled the hem of her skirt taut in her fingers. The Shepherd drove the point into the stretched fabric and then pulled it. The organic fibers parted noisily up the side of her leg, up to the leather belt fastened around her thigh, just above where her stockings came to an end, teasing him.

Thane drew his gaze back to her hair. Her hair was safe, it was drawn up messily in a simple elastic band, and was quite possibly the only part of this that wasn't a performance. “I am listening, Shepherd,” he confirmed. She paused, and almost imperceptibly shivered before leaning to tear the other side of her skirt.

Muscle and bone shifts beneath the tan skin of her back as she undulates. Her back is a star-chart, made up of tiny constellations of freckles and scars. Bruises blooming purple and blue prove the background of the galaxy mapped out between her shoulder blades and beyond. He props himself up on one hand before gently running a short talon over a long jagged scar just below her shoulder blade.

"This one?" He asks, breaking the silence. Her skin pebbles beneath his touch, goosebumps, she calls them. She shivers as his finger trails across her back.

"From the time I killed an elcor diplomat," she says through heavy, panting breaths. "Didn't think he'd be sneaky enough to hide a knife." She is lying, a preposterous lie at that. He has asked her about it before. The last time, it was from a krogan battlemaster's pet varren. He is fairly certain it is a scar from a turian's unfiled talon.

He moves again to sit up completely, and her back arches to accommodate him. His left hand circles around her body, tracing gentle lines over her skin, admiring the bumps that form in its wake, but only for a moment. He presses his other hand around the base of her throat, he can feel the tendons shift as she swallows and moves, and the beat of her heart, fast and strong. He can feel another line, just under her breast. "And what of this one?" He asks with his lips pressed against her neck, he can taste the salt of her sweat.

He knows the answer. He put it there. 

They are moving in tandem, languid, and unhurried, savoring this beautiful charade, awash in blinding pleasures. This time, they started as enemies and ended as lovers. He much prefers it this way than the other. Tonight, she is sweet … by the gods is she sweet. Her hair smells of honeysuckle, and the softest sounds drip like nectar from her lips. And he is an addict for them. He can almost imagine that she isn't like a poison to him, or him a sharpened knife to her.

"I tripped and fell into that one. It was an accident, really," she says with a smile in her voice. "Dropped my guard, for the last time," she explains and lies and tells the truth all in the same sentence, through the same panting breaths. He can't explain why he finds these little, unnecessary lies so charming, so enrapturing, but he does.

He is caught in her web, and he climbs further in of his own volition.

"No guns, no poison, no omni-tools, and no warp fields. Agreed?" The Shepherd rolled her shoulders back and stretched her neck, the elongated curve of it far too tempting. The very edge of the silvering scar peaked over the edge of her collar.

"Agreed."

She stood on one leg and pulled her foot up behind her, stretching her leg and rolling her ankle. She was still wearing those impractical, ridiculous, attractive shoes. "Good, any additions you'd like to make?" She continued her stretching as though she were preparing to go on a run,  and he was not a professional assassin ready to attack.

"I would appreciate it if you did not use your biotics to pull my central nervous system apart this time," he requested with a smile. One encounter with her biotics had left him twitching and blinking sporadically for weeks. "I believe that is a fair exchange in return for not using mine to rip you apart from the outside."

"Oh, I hate when you make a good point. Fine. Questions?" She asked as she turned to face him. He had expected to see her cocky smile, or a demure smirk. Maybe even a deep, hateful scowl. 

But her lips were pressed in a hard line, and her eyes were bloodshot, and lined harshly red at the edges. Had she been crying? Was she frightened?

Or was this a part of her game? He could never tell with her. It could have been another of her little lies. Even still, it gave him pause, tightened a knot in his gut. 

Thane shook his head and tried to push off his reservations. He was in her snare, he knew. He tossed his jacket to one of the small chairs in the lobby and clasped his hands behind his back. "Who hired you to kill Bancroft?" 

He was merely curious, very few people earned having more than one assassination plot against them.

"His wife. You?"

"His son," he answered with a smile. Even fewer people were so hated by their families that they would independently hire someone to kill them. "Do you have any questions for me?"

The Shepherd cocked her head and furrowed her brow. Her question fell from her lips quietly and without preamble, and it detonated like a hydrogen bomb, "If I die tonight, will you mourn me? There isn’t anyone else." She fumbled her words and hastened to add, "Who would even notice, much less care if I die, I mean."

The aftershock rolled into him and sent blood thundering through his chest. "Yes, I mourn you every time, " he answered sincerely and before he could grasp the magnitude of his own words. "Shepherd, if Kalahira calls me to the sea tonight, will you mourn for me?"

"Yes. Every time."

They had killed each other, or tried to anyways, far too many times.

The seconds that passed before either of them moved crackled with electricity. The only warning he had before The Shepherd leapt at him was the flaring of her nostrils. She held the slender stick in her hand like a blade as she pushed off the ground without a sound. He threw his left arm up and pushed the blade away with his forearm, and curled his right fist up towards her ribs.

Her body bowed out of the way of his strike, and stepped in towards him. She hooked her foot around his ankle and pulled him off-balance. Her elbow connected with his collarbone sending a sharp pain shooting through his neck and shoulder. Just as the tiny little blade made its way to his chest, he thrust the flat his hand up. The air around his body ignited cerulean blue, and the blade struck the barrier and snapped. 

The Shepherd stumbled backwards, dropping the now useless implement to the ground. "Shit, I hate it when you do that," she grumbled and adjusted her stance again. 

He pressed his hand into his shoulder and rolled it, stretching out the muscle. "You know, you possess the same skill? It might be useful for keeping much more of your blood inside of your body."

Her small nose crinkled up before she smirked, "That your professional opinion, since you're so good at freeing me of mine?"

"Deserved, although the same could be said for you of mine," he retorted right before advancing on her. They fought. Fists, hands, feet, all moving with blinding speed and precision. He pressed hard against her, and she took steps back, all the while blocking quick strikes and narrowly avoiding getting caught in his grasp.

She came to a stop with her back pressed against the reception counter. The Shepherd reached behind her without looking away from him, and snatched the other hair pin up, releasing the pointed tip hidden under a small metallic cap. She was quick, and aimed the small weapon for his neck.

Thane wrapped one hand around her wrist, and pulled the implement free with the other. He didn’t hesitate and drove it into her side, earning a snarling hiss from the woman.

He’d always been faster than her.

The Shepherd struck him hard in the chest with her outstretched palm, and a concentrated blast of energy followed it a fraction of a second later. Indigo light flared from beneath her hand and he was pushed back across the room, knocking the air from his lungs, and his body to the floor. She pulled the weapon from her side with a grunt, vermillion spreading across the thin fabric of her punctured shirt.

She closed the gap between them with a short run. She raised her foot to bring it down hard on his chest. Thane shifted and rolled away just as she brought her foot down, throwing her off balance. He struck her other foot with a blunt kick, bringing her down to his level.

“Fuck!” she shouted as she crashed to her hands and knees. Immediately, she began to crawl away, working her way back up to crouching, trying to stand again.

Until he grabbed her around the ankle and began to pull her back towards him. “No you don’t,” he grunted as he dragged her thrashing body, preventing her escape. “Why do you wear these shoes, Shepherd? They are quite impractical for walking, much less a fight.”

The Shepherd stopped thrashing and allowed him to pull her nearer while answering, “Have you seen what they do for my legs and my ass?” He had, he could see it right now. “Besides, they serve a function.” She pushed her hands up under her body and flipped herself onto her back. She drove the hard, narrow point of her heel hard into the musculature just below his left shoulder.

He growled and nearly bit his tongue. 

Evil, demon of a woman. 

The stiletto ground against sinew and bone, the pain sending a flash of white static through his vision. He dropped his grip on her leg, and groaned as she pulled her foot free from his shoulder, centimeter by visceral centimeter.

The woman scurried away, standing and disappearing around the corner in the hall at dead run. 

He stood and tested his shoulder, it seemed that she managed not to tear any ligaments or tendons. He could move through the pain. Thane darted off after her, “Running away? That is very unlike you.”

“No … ugh … just looking for a change of scenery,” he heard her breathless and grunting reply from down the hall heading towards the elevator. As he neared the hall, he saw her forcing the doors open and pulling herself up and into the empty elevator shaft. He followed after, fully expecting her to be waiting at the next floor to push him to his death down the shaft.

But she was not there.

Instead, a small ceramic saucer came flying at him, a projectile sent from inside of the truly ridiculous, large double doors leading into the boardroom. He ducked below it, but didn't see the next saucer, until it struck him right in the side of the head. The ceramic shattered against his scales, and he could feel the stinging heat of blood gathering on small cuts.

The Shepherd was standing on the board room table, an enormous expanse of wood cut from a singular tree, stained and sealed with resin. She pulled her foot back and kicked a holo-conference terminal, sending it sailing towards him. Thane leaned to the side, easily dodging the awkward projectile.

He balled up his fist and pulled it back, gathering biotic energy before releasing it. It sailed into her and sent her sprawling to the surface of the table. Paper, more saucers, and a datapad or two went scattering out from under her fall. He jumped onto the table, rapidly closing the distance. 

She crossed her ankles around one of his legs, pulling him to the surface of the table. Their fight turned into something more akin to a schoolyard brawl. They traded sloppy, awkward blows, rolling back and forth on the broad meeting room table.

Suddenly, she had him pinned, pressing hard into the wound on his shoulder while she reached for the belt secured around her leg.

Thane wrapped his right hand over her face and pushed her head back hard, and grabbed her wrist with his other hand as she attempted to stab him with the knife that had been hidden on the inside of her thigh. He pushed up while she pushed down. She shifted her head and snapped her teeth around the base of his thumb hard enough to draw blood.

He bared his teeth at her and growled. Thane shifted his weight and wrapped his leg over her hip, with her knife-wielding hand still held firmly in his grip, he pulled her down close just before rolling over her. He sat fully on her abdomen, preventing her from rolling and thrashing.

She clawed at his throat with her free hand, curses quickly turned to animalistic cries as she struggled to keep her grip on her precious little knife. Much of her hair had come loose, splayed out in messy tangles around her head and cheeks. Blood seeped from a bite mark on her lip and her eyes burned with fury, and perhaps, fear.

Thane wrenched the knife from her hand and threw it off to the side. It hit the tiled floor with a sharp, metallic crack, but was immediately forgotten as the woman returned to clawing, scratching and hitting him with every ounce of energy she could muster. And it did hurt. He wrapped his hands around her slender wrists with crushing strength. She let out a guttural cry and twisted at the abdomen, trying to free herself. Her legs scrambled to find purchase on the table and push him up from on top of her, but all she accomplished was scraping deep ruts into the resin coating on the wood.

He gathered her wrists in one hand and brought them down hard and awkwardly just above her head. He brought his other hand to her throat, the buttons of her collar long since pulled free during their struggle, and he paused.

Beneath his fingers, the smooth, but too long line of the scar taunted him. It was thin, almost surgical in its precision, but cruel. His cruelty, not hers. 

His heart skipped while hers thundered beneath his ghosting touch. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly, she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Genuinely.

The Shepherd looked up at him with those wide, terrified eyes of hers. She let her head fall back to the tabletop, exhaled, and squeezed her eyes shut. “Just do it, Thane. You win. Better this way, wouldn't want it to be anyone else.”  Silent tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. “The last time, right?” she asked with a choked, pitiful laugh.

"No," he said, frozen in place with just the barest contact with her skin.

Her breath hitched and her eyes flew open. Impossibly, her heart began to beat faster, breaths came out in short, fast bursts from her nose. "What? Fuck, don't drag this out!” She cried out. “Just snap my neck, or shit, strangle me. Plea-"

Her confused protestations were silenced when his lips covered hers in a bruising, searing kiss. She gasped and he released her hands. Just as he was pulling back to ask her if that was alright, she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and brought him back to her lips.

In seconds they were consumed by each other, psychological games, anger and violence all but forgotten in the blinding heat of raw, pent up desire. The way she moved and how they were suddenly undressed was dizzying. His memories of the softness of her skin and sweet melody of her voice could never compare to the satin plush of her thighs gripping his waist, or the sounds that tumbled from her mouth.

By the gods, the sounds she made. They were healing waters from the wellspring of her lips. They were quiet, keening mewls, breathy gasps, and those hushed moans pressed against his lips like mumbled prayers. And oh, the way she whined when his teeth scraped against the delicate curve of her throat. He was drunk on the way she breathed his name with muted fervor.

His world turned upside down, and the cool surface of the table met his back. Loose tendrils of her hair brushed his scales as she moved over him. Her head tipped back and her lips parted, forming the perfect silhouette of ecstasy. The muscles in her stomach slithered and writhed with the hypnotic rhythm beneath his hands.  

He was lost in the intoxicating, feverish warmth of her. 

It crested, they existed on the edge of a corona, just before falling over the edge into the crushing gravity, and all-consuming, plasmic bliss. It surged through him like an electric shock and stole his breath, made his fingers tingle like her skin held a static charge.

She collapsed on top of him, the full weight of her small body pushing what little air was held in his lungs out with a groan. The Shepherd laughed, breathless but musical. “It happened again,” she muttered against his chest.

Thane wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him and carding his hand into her hair, and drawing gentle circles between her shoulders with the other. She shivered, goosebumps rising beneath carefully filed talons. Her fingers traced lines over the soft ridges of his neck. He stared up at the ceiling above them, struggling to control the surge of confused emotion mounting inside of him. “It did,” he agreed quietly. “Will you tell me your name?”

He could feel her muscles tense, and her shoulder blades drew close together before she released the tension with a sad sigh. “No,” she started and then hesitated. “My real name belongs to someone I’m not anymore. Call me Sophie, always liked that one.”

“Sophie,” he repeated into her flower scented hair.

“There isn’t anyone else. To love or to hate me,” she said suddenly, somehow disarming him again.

“You have me,” it rolled off of his lips too easily. She did that to him, pulled his guard away and rendered him loose with his affections and tongue.

She’d probably try to kill him right now. Tear him apart with biotics, or reveal that she’d poisoned some innocuous part of the office that he touched. Maybe that absurd lion’s head door knob at the entrance to the office. Maybe even the heel of her ridiculous shoe. That’s how this usually went.

Instead, she raised her head and looked at him with tired, quizzical eyes, “To love, or to hate me?”

“Perhaps, it is both,” he responded honestly. Maybe the gods knew, because he certainly did not.

“We can figure it out the next last time,” she said with a small smirk playing at the corner of her bruised, cut and perfect lips. “Assuming we don’t kill each other first.”

He returned her smile with one of his own. “I would not want it to be anyone else.”

#mass effect #fanfic #thane krios #femshep #shrios #assassin vs assassin trash #reposting my own work because i can #the shepherd #wicked game #daisy screaming into the void

[atomic-lola]

Ilium: Nos Astra

#mass effect 2 #mass effect legendary edition #me2 #nos astra #ilium #mass effect screenshots #my screenshots #using a reshade

[astrvia]

𐚁 ˚ FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS, ASTRA EUN ! ( 21/09 )

Localización: Hospital Kangbuk Samsung.

Fecha: 21 de septiembre de 2021.

Advertencias de contenido: menciones (muy leves) de muerte y negligencia parental.

—¿No vine demasiado tarde? Parece que últimamente nunca tengo tiempo para nada —Afirmas con un bufido, un sonidito quejumbroso que fácilmente podría confundirse con un suspiro cansado.

Cansancio.

Últimamente, parece que esa sensación no abandona tu cuerpo.

—Ya sé que piensas, así que ni te molestes —Le dices, mientras te sientas enfrente y acomodas la silla de siempre, esa que usas todo el tiempo. Esa que parece hecha para ti, aunque cambia de perspectiva a medida que la utilizas.

La altura varía. Antes veías el borde de la cama, y ahora, estás por encima de ella. 

—Esas flores son nuevas, ¿cierto? —No puedes evitarlo, fijarte en ese detalle. En los frescos tulipanes cerca de la ventana. —Supongo que mamá vino antes que yo. Pensé que podríamos encontrarnos, casi no nos vemos estos días.

¿Y no era triste? Tener que admitir todo eso. Pero bueno, no viniste a quejarte. 

—Imagino que ya te contó sobre todo. Pero no sé, quizás solo habló sobre ella y el trabajo, en lo bien que le está yendo al local de pollo que abrió cerca de Ahyeon-dong. Las señoras aman el sitio, y parece que tiene muchos clientes que le son fieles. No es algo con lo que haya soñado, pero parece muy conforme. Me alegra que tenga alguna cosa con la qué entretenerse. 

Un mensaje interrumpe tu discurso, y tienes que hacer tiempo fuera de la plática para mirarlo. Le respondes rápido al gerente, presa del fastidio por tu tiempo libre interrumpido.

—Creo que mamá está enojada —Continuas, y juegas con tus manos luego de guardarte el móvil.  —No me habla desde hace bastante. No se ha tomado a bien ninguna de las últimas decisiones que he tomado —Y tienes que admitirlo con un suspiro— Pero bueno, sigo desviándome del tema. ¿Sabes porque vine, en realidad? 

De ese modo, te recargas más en la silla.  —Hoy es mi cumpleaños, y resulta que estoy solo, así que vine a celebrarlo contigo. Es una lástima que todavía no pueda beber soju como prometimos, porque bueno, recién estoy cumpliendo los diecisiete. Pero en tres años dejará de ser ilegal, y podremos hacer lo que acordamos. ¿Cuando fue que me diste la idea? ¿Hace más de trece años?

Recordarlo te saca una risa. 

—En ese tiempo solíamos cantar toda la tarde. En el patio donde mamá tenía sus hortensias, esas raras veces en que podías volver a casa y te quedabas por muchos días. Ah, digo muchos días, pero siempre fueron como… ¿Dos, o tres? Bueno, para mí eso era bastante en su momento. Habían veces en que solo alcanzaba a verte un par de horas y entonces te ibas, siempre te ibas. Luego volvía a verte, pero no en casa. Siempre, siempre en la televisión, o en las revistas. Así que, en las inusuales ocasiones donde podías quedarte por mucho tiempo, recuerdo que siempre bailabas y cantabas conmigo. No recuerdo si eran canciones tuyas, o del grupo del momento, pero no he olvidado que tu favorita era una de S.E.S que incluso bailabas cuando tenías la energía suficiente para hacerlo. ¿Era la de Dreams come true? —Tienes que darte un golpecito en el mentón y mirarle, porque no estás seguro de haber acertado. Pero como no recibes una confirmación, asumes que es lo correcto, y sigues hablando. —Ahora que recuerdo… La canté y bailé para una evaluación mensual, pero supongo que no me sale como a ti. Me dijeron que ese tipo de energía pegaba bien conmigo, pero no creo que sea cierto. En realidad, siento que ningún estilo me queda como te quedaba a ti. 

Ríes, porque esa es definitivamente la única cosa sobre la que jamás podrás dudar. Y es que eres inseguro y desconfiado de ti mismo, y no importa cuantas veces te digan que lo haces perfecto, todavía te sientes a la sombra de la persona enfrente tuyo.

Es normal, aun así. ¿Qué niño no lo hace? 

—No espero que me cantes el cumpleaños feliz en todo caso, ni tampoco espero un regalo. En realidad, hace años que dejé de esperar eso. De esperar por ti. —Admites, y tus hombros se encogen. Te terminas inclinando hacia adelante y parpadeas, como si estuvieses dudando. No viniste solo a decirle esto. 

—¿Sabes? Debutaré como idol en unos días. Justo como tú.

Y sonríes, pero no recibes una sonrisa de vuelta y eso te parece triste de algún modo. Lo único que obtienes es un gesto tranquilo y apacible, neutro como la muerte misma.

Es mejor que nada, aun así. Podría ser peor.

—Mamá odia la idea, y desde el momento que empecé a entrenar jamás ha dejado de decirme lo en contra que está. Supongo que no tengo más opción que avisarle que la fecha de mi debut ya está agendada. No creo que vaya al showcase, ni a nada, pero todavía voy a invitarla. Y es que sé que no está contenta, porque ella siempre lo dice. ¿Quieres terminar como tu padre? ¿No te das cuenta de como su carrera arruinó a nuestra familia?

Te detienes, porque necesitas pasar un trago de saliva antes de continuar. Quizás de ese modo sea más sencillo deshacer el nudo en la garganta que te dificulta hablar.

—El señor Eun me acogió en su agencia, y no ha dejado de ayudarme en todos los sentidos. Y se siente incómodo, porque no debería hacer tanto por mí. Pero parece que tú eras realmente importante para él, y quiere ayudarte aunque tenga que hacerlo a través de su hijo. Él dice que nos parecemos, pero yo sigo pensando que solo son excusas... En realidad, tengo que confesarte que estoy asustado. Pararme en un escenario me da miedo. No sé si voy a hacerlo bien.

Con los dedos frotándote los ojos, crees que puedes dispersar el agotamiento, el como los párpados se te cierran, porque no es momento de dormir. —Él dice que tengo potencial, y quiero creerle. Pero me han dicho tantas veces ese tipo de cosas… Desde que era un niño y me metieron en el set de una publicidad de cereales, y entonces fui escalando hasta terminar actuando. A veces pienso que no debieron subirme tanto el ego. No debieron ilusionar a un niño. No debieron hacerme creer a una edad tan temprana que tenía futuro en eso, porque lo vi como si fuese mi mundo entero, y cuando tropecé y me caí de cara al suelo y se derrumbó todo me dolió, ¿sabes? Fue doloroso ver como me daban la espalda y ya no veían más potencial en mí. Fue doloroso ver a mi mamá triste pero también aliviada al mismo tiempo, porque podría dejar de estar ante las cámaras. Fue doloroso pensar que no podría seguir ayudándola a ganar un poco de dinero porque parte de las finanzas se le iba en los gastos del hospital. En tus gastos… Me daba miedo pensar que no habría suficiente dinero para mantenerte vivo, porque ibas a despertar, algún día ibas a despertar. 

Tienes que exhalar, porque de repente se vuelve duro hablar demasiado. Siempre te pasa, y creíste que lo habías superado, pero como todas las veces, te equivocas. Ni siquiera te sabes leer a ti mismo.

—Creo que la actuación me dejó algo bueno, aun así. No sé ser un idol, así que cuando bailo, canto o estoy en el escenario, miento. Me convierto en ti. He visto todos tus videos; tus entrevistas, tus presentaciones. He visto como sonreías y como hablabas, como encantabas a las cámaras. Al público. Si no puedo ser un idol bueno, entonces sé que al menos soy un buen actor. Un actor que interpreta el papel de un idol, un idol que fue amado por todos. Un actor que amó a todos. Y tienes tanta suerte, de que todos te amaran. que pudieses amar. Pero aun siendo como fuiste, ¿como es que ya nadie te recuerda? ¿Como te cambiaron y reemplazaron tan fácil aunque los amaste tanto, al punto de que ni siquiera priorizaste a tu familia? 

Te pones de pie, apretando los labios. Tus manos se empuñan y eso arde. —A veces pienso que tiene sentido. Vemos a las estrellas solo cuando brillan, al fin y al cabo. —Inevitablemente, ríes. Recuerdas algo que te causa gracia, y quieres decírselo. —Me pusiste Byeol porque eso significa, ¿cierto? Estrella. Cuando mamá me lo dijo, pensé que eras cruel. Se siente como si me hubieses dejado una maldición. Como si me hubieras condenado.

Tomas tu bolso, miras el móvil de nuevo, y la hora marca las siete y cuarto de la tarde. Te has excedido en el tiempo de la visita, y es posible que pronto venga alguien a sacarte. Es gracioso, porque nunca te quedas lo suficiente.

—Quería decirte que dejaré de ser Kang Byeol. El señor Eun ha decidido ser mi tutor, y ahora voy a ser un Eun, como él. Su hijo, supongo. Se siente raro pensar en él como mi padre… Pero ya dije que soy un buen actor, ¿no? No será difícil acostumbrarme a fingir que siempre fuimos familia. Mamá no dijo nada al respecto, quizás porque lo respeta, incluso si odia que me haya entrenado para seguir este camino. Siempre ha estado acompañándonos. Él acabó pagando tus gastos cuando me volví un fracaso. Y cuando le pedí que me convirtiera en idol, lo dudó, pero al final me acogió y me enseñó todo lo que necesitaba. Es un buen tipo. Agradezco cada cosa que hizo por mí, haría lo que fuera para pagarlo. Y además, no creo que importe mucho, ¿cierto? Da igual el apellido que tenga. Kang, Eun, ninguno de ellos me conecta contigo. Porque soy tu secreto. —Hay frustración en tus palabras, sin importar que las digas con una sonrisa. —Soy el secreto de Lee Inhoon. El famoso idol, Rui.

Te inclinas un poco sobre la cama, y te fijas en ese rostro. Delgado, pálido y demacrado, sin rastros del alegre hombre que brillaba sobre los escenarios, el mismo que viste en los videos que estudiaste con tanta concentración. Oculto tras un tubo que invade su boca y pasa a través de las cuerdas vocales que alguna vez entonaron dulces canciones de esperanza y amor. Con el sonido del monitor llenando tus oídos, percibes el pulso del hombre que le dio su corazón a toda una nación, ahora débil. Apagado. 

—El famoso idol, que nunca dejó su trabajo y formó una familia a escondidas de todos. 

El famoso idol que no dejó que su esposa y su hijo fuesen conocidos por nadie. Que no quiso abandonar su sueño. 

Cuando actuaste como un niño, pensaste las cosas fríamente. Siempre fuiste natural frente a las cámaras. Tenías personalidad y a las empresas les gustaba eso de ti, sabías lo comercializable que eras y cómo tus habilidades se alineaban con sus necesidades. Tu madre no estaba muy segura, pero el contrato comercial era bueno y pagaban bien; aun así, un día las cámaras se sintieron demasiado grandes, o quizás tú te hiciste más grande. Y crecer era aterrador, porque incluía pensar en cosas en las que antes no habías tenido que pensar. Y mientras más grande, más miedo sentías. 

—A decir verdad, no sé si quiero ser idol. Pero tu amabas esta vida, amabas ser uno. Amabas cantar, amabas bailar. Amabas a tus fanáticos. Y yo, yo amaba bailar y cantar contigo. Entonces si canto y bailo, ¿crees que podrás despertar? Sé que puedes oír lo que digo. Dijeron que perdiste varias funciones cerebrales, pero todavía escuchas. Es el único sentido que conservas, y por eso, voy a cantar. Todavía quiero que compartamos ese trago de soju. No es justo que cuando cumpla veinte tenga que beberlo yo solo, papá. 

En silencio, te acercas a la puerta. Sostienes la manilla, pero te detienes solo a mirar un momento hacia atrás.

—Ya no podré venir tan seguido. Esta es la última charla larga que tenemos. Solo espero que me oigas. Prometo que estaré cantando para ti. 

Luego, sales. Sabes que el señor Eun preparó algo para ti, pero no quieres ir. Tener diecisiete era tan amargo como haber tenido dieciséis, y quince, y catorce y todos los años anteriores. 

Solo esperas que cumplir dieciocho el septiembre siguiente sea mucho más sencillo. Y solo esperas que lo único amargo que degustes cuando cumplas los veinte, dos años más tarde, sea ese frío trago de soju.

#yo podría haberle hecho un edit bonito y ya #pero mi mente quería algo más y termine escribiendo un self para #e n ways #feliz cumpleaños mi cielo prometo darte cosas mejores el año que viene (no)