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HAPPY BIRTHDAY AERITH. time to cut the cake! just don't let sephiroth do it ok, i don't trust them. that diva is evil.
❝ well ... he does have that super long sword. so maybe, if he just stands really far back, they could still help us out, don't you think? ❞ she muses, as a finger tapes against her chin, her brows knitting together in display of the most seriousness of thoughts. ❝ i mean, it does look very sharp! hey, do you think sephiroth likes birthday cake? ❞
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happy birthday to mason greene at @greenelight 💚❤️ sebastian loves his husband so much and plans to spoil him today with homemade meatball tortellini soup and mason's favorite wine!
with @greenelight, for garrus vakarian. — " i'm impressed. i didn't know you could dance." / for garrus. 😉
there are worse ways to spend an evening on the citadel. as the walls of the world cave in on them, danger at every turn, around every star, every planet, it's nice to find comfort here. two days of shore leave. two nights to sleep in, stow guns in lockers, put armor away, and just... exist. the dark star lounge is a nice place to do just that — most rooms are full of gambling tables and noisy machines, but here in the back corner, away from the crowded bar and the busy front entrance, garrus and mason stow away for a spell of drinks and... apparently, dancing. "for you, i'll try," the turian chuffs, glancing over at their half-empty glasses on a table nearby. his hands settle on mason's hips despite their height difference (maybe garrus has to reach a bit, but it works out in the end). "i've watched a few vids here and there to refresh my memory. it's nice to put them on in the background while i'm working on the cannon." calibrating. naturally. two steps, then three steps, then a couple more... then a little pause near their table, and garrus's browplates furrow. "what was that you ordered again? i didn't recognize the name of the drink." here's hoping his conversation distracts mason from his lousy dancing. garrus tries his best, but a few misplaced steps almost make him trip. "not that i could try it, but... still curious. is that your favorite thing to order when you go out?" they don't get many chances to be social and roam the citadel so casually, so garrus takes the opportunity to learn a little about mason beyond the battlefield. "it's a human drink, obviously. is it common on earth where you're from"
@greenelight sent: how much are we talking?
you have no idea how much i'd pay for a good drink, is what he'd said. and, after some talking, mack had learned that apparently, this guy knew victor, and apparently, this guy knew him too. at least enough to recognize him when he stopped in some random coffee shop on his way home. it was kinda funny. he'd probably call vic on his way home and then see this guy again at some point soon. he should probably stop calling him this guy too.
“ i dunno, man, probably like... i dunno. i once paid $30 for a matcha latte because i really wanted it. ” granted, that was when he had a better job, and that latte was really fucking good... “ but right now, maybe... for a latte, $20. ” he sniffs. “ my expectations are high. i'll tip the rest if it is. ”
with @greenelight / for garrus — you're plotting something, aren't you?
leaned over the afterlife bar, the turian peers around the foggy, dark space and searches the crowds for any sign of trouble. his gaze dances over mason, the bartender, and feels a small wash of gratitude for this new connection, this new source of valuable information. if only aria t'loak knew her favorite bartender was feeding archangel the same information he gives her. "nothing right now," garrus promises mason in a low huff, mandibles fluttering close to the sides of his face. he's not archangel here — not in public, not without the helmet hiding his true identity. here, he's just an ex agent of c-sec blending in with other turians and visitors to the busy omega bar. "i'm actually here for you," garrus goes on, sitting back in his seat. the music pounds around them, but garrus pays it no mind. "i wasn't expecting to see you here. have you thought about what i said? and have you made arrangements to leave?" people like mason shouldn't be on omega, and never should have come here in the first place. that's why garrus demanded he take the next shuttle to the citadel, hitch a ride somewhere, and leave this place for good. without his abusive ex boyfriend keeping him tied here, mason has no reason to remain; he should flee, find better work elsewhere in the galaxy, and stop playing around with bad people and even worse mercs. "i spared your life for a reason," he goes on, his voice low. "you said you'd leave. you promised me, actually. i gave you my contact at c-sec, and you said you'd reach out to them once you reached the citadel." a low noise rumbles in the base of his throat. "you don't belong on omega, mason. so call your afterlife manager over and tell them you quit... or we stage something together. your call."
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@greenelight, mason greene ... ❝ hey blondie, what if i told you a really hot and sweet guy i know wants to ask you out on a date but is afraid of rejection so he isn't brave enough to pop that question to you just yet. would you give him a chance? ❞
manicured pink nails gently pinch at the striped red-and-white straw nestled within the lavishly crafted milkshake situated before her — a confectionery marvel. four scoops of creamy ice cream crown its summit, festooned with a cascade of rainbow sprinkles and delicious chocolate buttons, topped with the daintiest, most inviting red cherry. with a graceful lean and elbows resting lightly on the table, barbie takes a slow, unhurried sip, savoring the sweet richness until nearly a quarter of the glass is gone.
such occasions were rare — a fleeting overlap in their otherwise bustling schedules. but today, nothing would keep barbie from cherishing a few blissful hours in a quaint, family-owned diner, tucked snugly between looming skyscrapers with her favorite green bean sitting across from her. ❝ hey greenie. ❞ her gaze lifts to meet his, curiosity flickering. as he continues speaking, a subtle shift crosses her expression — a single brow arching in quiet intrigue, rising in tandem with his words.
seems like their lunch date had an entirely different purpose — at least on mason's part. barbie pauses mid-sip, parting from her milkshake as her full attention shifts towards mason. and at the mention of this so-called hot and sweet guy, her heart flutters within her chest, skipping like a pebble across a lake's shine. her mind immediately fills with his face — ken's endearing, dorky grin, and the way he stumbles over his words with bashful charm. warmth creeps over her cheeks, painting them her signature rosy hue, yet, she fought to maintain an air of cool composure.
❝ well, that depends ... could you vouch for him? ❞ it seems to make the most plausible sense — surely mason was asking on ken's behalf. after all, they were roommates, weren't they? or perhaps, barbie's simply letting her heart run away with her, clinging to a fragile hope. maybe ken didn't feel the same way she does, maybe this was all in her head, and she was just setting herself up for bitter disappointment. ❝ can you think of any reason as to why i shouldn't give this ... how did you describe him? really hot and sweet, stranger a chance? ❞
He'd been retired for a few months now, something he was still trying to get used to. The whole staying in one place thing was a big difficult, but Atticus liked that he got to stay with Mason the whole time. He especially liked when @greenelight had the whole day off, and they got to have breakfast together. He stood at the stove, making hashbrowns while his boyfriend read at the table behind him. “ I was thinking, maybe we could go to that one museum today. The one down the street from the book shop. ”
❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜
“ lets not get too ahead of ourselves, ” astarion attempts to backtrack, clearing his throat. he wasn't about to let the man plummet to his death, as entertaining as it would have been to watch; the cobwebbed and precarious terrain wasn't for the faint of heart. one misstep and the chasm would swallow them whole. besides, there was surely some use of the prince yet― if not for any undisclosed talent, for his name and position alone. astarion had taken to him rather quickly upon that little revelation.
the vampire releases the man's wrist once they're both steady and he continues along their path. the rest of their companions have assumed the lead, it was every person for themselves these days. “ if i let our darling little prince fall to his death because he lost his footing, it would be embarrassing for all of us ... not to mention detrimental to your cause. ”
