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     ❝ I’m pretty sure the on-board chef takes care of groceries.
              But all right.
           You’re the boss. ❞

"They do. This is for me, because - like I just said - I don’t like eating into everyone else’s supply.

And yes, I am. So hurry up.”


Lightly holds out the plastic white container with the clear lid - of the junkyard fries, in the middle was a cup of sauce. Ranch, most likely, really. A weak smile flutters on her mandibles.

" All yours. "

He took the container with a grin plastered on his face. Best surprise he had had all week practically.

"Thanks, uh…what’s your name?"

Do not       underestimate

                   my           r a g e ———-

or you’ll end up                                                DEAD.


"They have bacon on them?"

" Receipt says ‘four cheese with bacon crunches.’ They gave me levo cheese by accident and I really don’t want to wait in line again for an order fix. “

"Then fuck yeah I’ll take ‘em. Add some ranch and I’ve got the perfect snack."


"you can’t ship three people all together!"


Who do you think my character would take a bullet for?


submitted by anonymous.


commanderglowstick said:………you are my hero.

Maybe I should put a logo on the front of my outfit. A “B” for bacon…or Branka! Bacon Branka!

Bacon Branka, huh? ‘s’got a pretty nice ring to it.


so long, lonesome [ James + Ryan ]


Even the Docking Hold got old for James sometimes. It was rare that the same grit that he’s become so accustomed to did not quell his need for air that wasn’t the Normandys. Perhaps it was the war furthering the cracks on his mindset. To take a different approach to it all. That in which he did. Despite his distaste for the haughty and sheltered life of the Presidium, the vista was nice. especially from the Commons.

No wonder Liara came here to get away from it all. Just surround herself with data and work diligently there. But James wasn’t exactly into studying ancient races.

No, instead it was simple air he craved. A change of scenery that could maybe soothe his own thoughts. But it was exactly this that did the opposite. Instead, it left him alone to his own musings. A wince shot across his face in this realization, regretting not dragging along Steve for this. James knew how busy Steve was gonna be after that last shaky exit. The Kodiak took some damage, nothing too bad but it was noticeable. A nightmare for the other lieutenant.

He sucked in a deep breath of the Citadels fake air and ran a hand through his mohawk. The tips of it stuck out between his thick fingers. A sign that it was time for a trim.

Just when he feared that feeling of his personal thoughts creeping up on him again, a sound snapped him away just in time.

A blip on his omnitool.

The name of the sender was a relief to James’ system and a smirk curled at his lips even before opening the message. He could only imagine what ridiculous request this was going to be.

He pressed a single digit against the holographic key.

For the first time in several hours, Ryan checked the time and cursed when he realized that Renzo was long overdue for his walk. It probably explained why he had been so rowdy on the couch, gnawing on his ear when he wasn’t tumbling around with his Perry the Pyjak toy.

Sitting on the floor wasn’t exactly his greatest idea, especially when the pup finally tumbled down into his lap after successfully climbing onto his head for all of three seconds. But the event had broken him of his concentration, and now Ryan was getting ready to take him out.

Why go alone? he wondered. Pausing to bring up his omnitool - much to the excited pup’s very vocal disliking - he quickly sent out a few messages:

[MSG] hey. you busy?

[MSG] could use some company.



     ❝ Groceries.
            I can do that.

                                … Underwear.
                                                       Hm. ❞

"Then you can carry the food. And prepare yourself ‘cuz it’s gonna be a lot; I don’t like eating into everyone else’s supply.”

                                                      ℕo sleep,
                                                 ℕo nightmares.

One Year Later//Closed


Belle smiled softly at the man. She understood his unwillingness to speak of it. Quickly deciding to change the subject to a more comfortable topic, she backtracked to her original question. “So, um…what have you been helping out with down here? I’m working with organizing any information found in the rubble.”

He was brought out of the inevitable spiral into his memories by her next question, to which he nodded. “Moving rubble, mostly. They need biotics to move the heaviest slabs of concrete and stuff, so I decided to help. Not like I had anything better to do with my time.”



The scope in the gun is almost unnecessary. Its vision is clear; flawless, almost. But it takes advantage of the weapon’s usefulness either way, optic locked onto the figure that is several yards away. But only for a moment.

The geth brings the gun back and away, eyeing the organic.

= [ Shepard Commander. ] = 


= [ This platform was monitoring the perimeter. Is there a particular task that we should be performing at this time? ] =

Were it any other geth he would have slammed them into the nearest wall for aiming down its sights at him, but he knew Legion meant him no harm.

"Hey, Legion. And no, no…just came to talk."



     ❝ … All right.
               A touch of boredom can be good in between missions, I guess.
               Where are we going? ❞

"Couple places. Need to pick up some food and bio-bars for the next few hauls mostly.

And I need some underwear.”