#“links: quote/card credit ☆”

[utaicon]

It's showtime!

Rui Kamishiro cat stimboard・★

Nobody requested, self-indulgent・★

Reblogs appreciated・★

[luuxxart]

royal college trio 🍂🍁

[vynegar]

vyn 5th birthday ssr, part one

so… it has (yet again) been almost a year and a half since my last translation. honestly i didn’t expect to be back either since i’ve been taking a hiatus from reading CN server cards, so this is a surprise to me too! there were just some parts of this story i really liked and wanted to translate, so here we are. i hope you enjoy!

disclaimer (there is an extra one): this is a fan translation and i am not fluent in chinese, so keep in mind that there will be mistakes. please also note that although i’m translating this story, i don’t necessarily agree with everything that’s said in the story or with how it handles certain topics (mainly regarding the justice system and mental illness). feel free to let me know if you have questions, concerns, or comments.

do not repost without explicit permission. if you want to quote this or reference parts of the translation, credit and link back to me.

check my masterlist for more of my analysis/translations.

timestamps go along with the card video here. it’s not mine, please support the uploader ShiroNaya by liking/commenting/subscribing. also note that while the video uses the S-CN dub, the text is T-CN, so the on-screen text may have slight differences with the dub and my translation.

[PART ONE]

[0:31] Themis Law Firm

It was lunch hour, and the drowsy atmosphere spread through the office like a virus. Sunlight blurred the words on my screen until they were hard to distinguish. My thoughts were starting to wander, as the red circle I had drawn on my desktop calendar looked especially bright.

MC: (Come to think of it, it’s almost Vyn’s birthday…)

Last year we were stuck in Svart because of the Appointment Ceremony, but this year things were quiet. However, I couldn’t be sure if this was simply the quiet before the storm, or if Eirik had truly understood Vyn’s resolve after we escaped…

MC: (Either way… last year was tumultuous, but this year we should be able to peacefully celebrate Vyn’s birthday. Maybe I should ask him what his thoughts are…)

I unlocked my phone. Figuring that Vyn was probably still taking his afternoon nap, I instead started to search restaurants he might be interested in…

Kiki: Huh!? Is this real?!

The quiet office broke out into commotion; Kiki’s shout startled me so much I almost dropped my phone.

Kiki: MC, look at this.

Before I could react, my vision was completely obstructed by a phone screen Kiki reached over to show me.

???: I, Zheng Yan, have had my life ruined by false charges! My family was torn apart, and now they’re all dead! Do I really deserve all this?! Yes, I’ve made mistakes. But if this is all just karma, then where’s the karma for the people who harmed me?!

Kiki was showing me a livestream of a middle-aged man standing on a rooftop. His face was haggard, his hair was mostly white, and he made no attempt to conceal his pain and despair. The hoarse shouting was scattered to the fierce winds.

Zheng Yan: You’re all good people, but I… I just don’t want to live anymore!

MC: What?!

The man stepped over the railing. His cumbersome body seemed like he might lose his balance at any moment, causing several more people in the office to cry out in alarm.

MC: Is he livestreaming his suicide?!

Kiki: Yes. He’s only just started, but the stream already has over a million hits.

A livestreamed suicide made for a shocking headline. Before long, the law firm was filled with continuous sound of the man’s laments.

Zheng Yan: My son is just a boy, but because we didn’t have the money for his treatment, all he could do in the end was just wait at home to die. When he was in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, I was in prison. When he was on his deathbed crying out for his dad, I was still in prison! I’m despicable. I should just die! I’m sorry, Xiao Zhuo, I’m so sorry… (1)

He was crawling on the ground, weeping. I couldn’t help but frown at the sight of such a heartbroken father.

MC: What happened to him? What made him like this?

Kiki: It seems like he was wrongfully imprisoned in Svart, but he hasn’t gone into specifics.

MC: Svart?

The sobbing gradually stopped. Zheng Yan calmed himself, then looked back into the camera.

Zheng Yan: But before I die, I won’t let the person who harmed me get away with it!  I’m going to show everyone your true colors!

[flashback]

[3:39] Interrogation Room

The room was dim. With the only window facing a hallway, even the alternation of day and night had lost all meaning here. Worse still was the unrelenting rain – like hypnotic white noise, the incessant thunderstorm wore down even the most resilient of minds.

Zheng Yan didn’t know how long had passed, but based on the increasing impatience of his interrogator, Detective Jack, he figured his custody limit was almost up (2). Just hang in there a little longer, he thought. They had simply gotten the wrong guy. Soon, he would be free, and once he was out of the police station he could go home to Stellis. It was summer, which meant Xiao Zhuo’s birthday was coming up. Zheng Yan hadn’t seen his son since coming to Svart. Did his son still remember him…?

???: Ahem.

A coffee spoon clinked against the walls of the cup. The crisp sound immediately interrupted his wistful daydreams.

???: You seem distracted.

Ah yes, how could he forget. There was someone else in the room.

A young man sat across from him nonchalantly, holding a coffee mug. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance – except his unforgettable eyes. Zheng Yan had been to prison in Stellis and seen people with all sorts of looks in their eyes: those muddled with desire, those agonized by regret… but he had never seen eyes so clear that they made him feel ashamed. People had weaknesses because they had a goal, and this man seemed to have no goal.

Zheng Yan: Oh… what were we talking about…?

Although the atmosphere wasn’t tense, Zheng Yan still felt a sense of unease. The young man hadn’t revealed his name, only that he was a psychology consultant invited by the police and that he just wanted to chat with him. It didn’t sound very formal, almost as if the police were out of other options… However, it was still possible that this was just a smokescreen for something else. What had this person been thinking when Zheng Yan was lost in his own thoughts?

Young man: We were talking about how the different the weather is in Svart compared to Stellis. You are still not accustomed to it.

The young man easily brought up the trivial topic, wasting the police’s precious time.

Zheng Yan: Ah… that’s right, summer here is nothing compared to summer in Stellis! Xiao Zhuo’s mom would always make a big pot of mung bean soup around this time of year, and any leftovers we would make into mung bean popsicles. Whenever Xiao Zhuo got so hot he was sweating like a pig, he would eat one to cool off. You probably haven’t had mung bean soup before, have you? Back when I was in Stellis, it was too sweet for me, but now I miss the stuff.

Young man: I have tried making it before, but it is not as hot here as it is in Stellis. Its cooling effect was not that apparent.

Zheng Yan: Oho, sounds like you’re interested in Stellis! You’ve even tried making mung bean soup. I didn’t think people from Svart had even heard of the dish.

Young man: Is that enough to count as “interest?” Although, it is true that I would like to visit Stellis.

The man was reticent, but it was the first time he showed an emotion that Zheng Yan could not understand.

Zheng Yan: Sounds good! When you have a chance, come visit me at my home. People from Stellis are very welcoming to guests.

Young man: “Visit you at your home”… So you believe you still have a chance of leaving.

The man responded to Zheng Yan’s promise with an almost-instinctual disdain, as if he knew something that Zheng Yan didn’t. His tone wasn’t even that of a question, it was one of finality.

Zheng Yan: Why wouldn’t I? I already said, I didn’t kill anyone. And the police haven’t found any evidence – are they planning on arresting a good person?

Zheng Yan unwittingly rose his voice. Ever since he’d been detained, everyone had been acting like he would never be able to leave… Why? He hadn’t killed anyone! The police had it all wrong, and there was no way they found any evidence. Once the custody limit was up, he would be free to go. Xiao Zhuo was still waiting for his dad. Zheng Yan was certain he’d be able to go home, of course he’d be able to, he had to.

Young man: You, a good person? Perhaps Stellis and Svart have very different definitions of what it means to be a “good person.”

Zheng Yan quickly realized that getting emotional was playing right into his hands… But no matter how much he tried to control himself, the derision in the man’s words wounded him deeply. When he left Stellis, Xiao Zhuo had said the same thing – sobbing, he said that he didn’t want a bad person as his dad. Xiao Zhuo was only a child, so that undisguised loathing had stabbed Zheng Yan right in the heart. He couldn’t help but clench his fists.

Young man: I saw your Stellis criminal record. First burglary, then armed robbery… just one crime after another. Right now your child is only seven years old, but the sum of all the prison terms you have been sentenced to is longer than the time he has been alive.

Zheng Yan: I admit it, I made a lot of mistakes in the past. I lost my way. But for Xiao Zhuo’s sake, I turned over a new leaf – I’m a changed man now!

Young man: Hah…

The man snorted. His blatant ridicule provoked Zheng Yan once again, even after Zheng Yan’s effort to calm himself down.

Zheng Yan: Is something funny?!

Young man: Why of course. I would love to ask Xiao Zhuo whether he thinks someone sitting handcuffed in an interrogation room is a “changed man.” I am sure he would laugh even harder than I did.

Zheng Yan: You have the wrong guy! I didn’t kill anyone, the cops made a mistake!

That had provoked Zheng Yan. His handcuffs made a harsh sound as metal scraped metal, a reminder of how dire and helpless his current situation was.

Young man: The police would not arrest someone without a good reason. Only you and the deceased were in the office when the crime occurred, and you do not even have a proper alibi. Do you really think you can escape this?

The man’s index finger tapped the table sporadically. In contrast with Zheng Yan’s agitation, he seemed certain of his victory.

Young man: You are only this relaxed because you believe the crime occurred in a locked room. As long as the police are unable to determine how you committed the crime, you will be released once your custody limit is up. But were your efforts really that flawless? To be honest with you, your custody limit is going to be extended again. This means that the police will have more time to investigate.

Zheng Yan: You guys—!

On the verge of being consumed by rage, Zheng Yan was no longer rational enough to discern the veracity of that statement. The young man paused, suppressing his annoyance at having to waste time talking to Zheng Yan, then put on a charitable expression.

Young man: There is a difference between choosing to turn yourself in and having to confess. I am sure you understand this better than I do, considering all the experience you have.

Because he wasn’t a police officer, the young man spoke with no reservation. Each word was filled with contempt for someone with a criminal record.

Zheng Yan: How can I confess to something I haven’t done!

Young man: Stop with the useless defiance. Have you thought about how your son would feel? Maybe when you left Stellis for a fresh start, he still had a sliver of hope for you. But if he knew how much of a coward you were, how you were trying to escape the consequences of your actions, I bet he would wish he never had someone like you as his father. You see, all you fathers are like this. You claim that you have your children’s best interests at heart, but in reality you are nothing but selfish!

Zheng Yan: That’s not true!

Zheng Yan pounded the table, but nothing could stop the man’s scathing words. The young man was still speaking, but Zheng Yan could no longer hear it. Once again, he recalled Xiao Zhuo’s sobbing face.

“I don’t want a bad person like you as my dad!”

“He would wish he never had someone like you as his father.”

The two voices wove together until they seemed to come from one person, and Zheng Yan couldn’t take it any longer.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! You’re lying! There’s no way… Xiao Zhuo is my son, there’s no way he wouldn’t want his dad!

Young man: Who would acknowledge a father who brings nothing but shame?

The man’s voice seemed to get sharper and sharper. Zheng Yan wished he could cover his ears but was unable to. With tears and snot streaming down his face, he knew he looked a complete mess already, but he just wanted the man to shut up.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! Shut up!

Young man: There you go again, trying to run away. How utterly humiliating it is for a son to have a father like you!

Would confessing to the crime shut that man up? He just had to confess, and that man would shut up. Then he would confess – to the murder or to whatever other crimes, he would confess to them all.

Zheng Yan: I… I did it. I confess.

Young man: Now if only you had done that earlier.

Completely numb, Zheng Yan didn’t even know what he was saying. He mechanically pressed his thumbprint to the document with his confession, signing it. Then, as if possessed, he looked again toward the young man.

Young man: *sigh*

The man hadn’t left yet. Of course the victor would want to stay behind to examine his spoils.

Sensing Zheng Yan’s gaze, the man looked back unflinchingly.

[11:11] [screen blacks out]

Zheng Yan vaguely recalled a nature documentary he had once watched with Xiao Zhuo back in Stellis. The eyes of a cheetah were visible from where it was silently hiding. It wasn’t that it had no goal, but rather that it had already determined its plan.

[11:19] Themis Law Firm

The sun was still high in the sky, but Zheng Yan’s narrative was so expressive that I felt like I was really in that dark, damp interrogation room.

Kiki: Do you think this Zheng Yan is telling the truth?

Kiki clearly felt the same way I did, as she subconsciously rubbed her arms and shuddered.

Kiki: Our current justice system is so refined that I don’t believe a confession could be induced or coerced… but his story is just so horribly realistic. It’s hard not to believe him.

MC: Right. Even if he were coerced to confess during the interrogation… There’s still a lengthy trial afterwards, where Zheng Yan would have plenty of opportunities to retract his confession. If there were no evidence whatsoever, how could he get such a long sentence based only on some botched false charges? But still, he doesn’t seem like one of those suspects who puts on act in order to be exonerated…

As a lawyer, we had seen countless suspects who kept up the crocodile tears until they were faced with ironclad evidence, then finally confessed.  As a result, it was critical for us to learn how to distinguish those who were putting on a show from those who were sincere. But his words had even stirred experienced professionals like us, let alone the vast majority of the public in the comments. Immediately, the comments toward the person who forced the confession became vicious and hateful, the words they used downright vitriolic. 

MC: Pain and despair aren’t difficult for a criminal to feign, but fabricating other characters in a story is much harder. You can practically feel the pressure from the psychology consultant that he described. If he hadn’t personally met the man, then considering his rash personality, it would be very hard for him to describe him so vividly.

Kiki: Vivid? I didn’t really feel that way, I just thought that person sounded scary. Maybe it’s because you’re with Dr. Richter, who’s also a psychologist. You’ve seen so much of his work that the story affected you more.

Kiki was just making an offhand remark, but it had given an outlet to the discomfort I was feeling. It was impossible to ignore the connection after the mentions of Svart, psychology consults, and those comments about his father. And yet I was unable to associate my image of Vyn with that person who trampled all over someone’s mental defenses. There was no way that the Vyn I knew could be an immoral person who stereotyped others and lodged personal attacks.

MC: Maybe you’re right…

Zheng Yan was still tearfully describing what he experienced in prison and how he returned to Stellis to find both his wife and son had passed away. I could faintly hear police sirens in the background. It seemed that the police had arrived at the scene, and the situation was changing rapidly. Zheng Yan, however, was hopelessly consumed by his own fury.

Zheng Yan: At first when I got out of prison, I just wanted to forget about everything that had happened and be together with my family. But I no longer had a family. At first I just wanted to take my own life and end it all, but I never thought that… I’d come across news of that psychology consultant. I never thought that he would actually come to Stellis, and even become a famous professor at Stellis University.

As Zheng Yan recounted his enemy’s personal information, it wasn’t clear whether he could predict the waves that those details would make.

Zheng Yan: The person who harmed me is out there living a great life, and here I am, an innocent man made into a criminal! How is the world so unfair!

Each sentence crashed into me like a tidal wave. Dimly, I guessed what he was going to say next, but I felt I could no longer think.

Zheng Yan: I know that if I say his name on livestream, it might be considered slander. But I’m willing to take responsibility for everything that I say. I’ll pay the price, no matter what it is. It’s not like I have anything left to lose!

Zheng Yan paused before facing the camera head-on, as if making a declaration of war.

Zheng Yan: It took a lot of work to find out what that consultant is called nowadays.

If he hadn’t spoken out on this kind of platform, maybe the situation could still be salvaged. But here, like an arrow released from a bow, there was no turning back.

Zheng Yan: His name… is Vyn Richter!

With a “whoosh,” that arrow sliced through the air, piercing me right between my eyes.

[END PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

(1) Xiao (小) is a prefix to make a nickname out of the name Zhuo (卓)

(2) “Custody Limit” Big Data Lab entry (under Academia>Law): A custody limit is the legal time limit that an accused person can be detained while under investigation, prosecution, or trial. Under Svart law, the police can arrest a suspect for up to 48 hours. If the suspect isn’t formally charged within the time limit, they must be released. The time limit can be approved for extension, but cannot exceed 96 hours.

[im-n-your-walls]

windbreaker incorrect quotes pt4!

list of links 🔗

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚

Umemiya: remember, when you’re burying a body cover it with endangered plants so it can’t be dug up cuz that’s illegal

hiiragi: what the fuck-

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚

kaji: roses are red. Life has no meaning. The voices in my head are constantly screaming.

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚

y/n: *on live tv* alright kids

bofurin: *watching*

y/n: stay in drugs, eat your school, and don’t do vegetables

Bofurin: ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺🃜🃚

Hiiragi: why the fuck is there a 30,000 yen charge on the school credit card?!

Mitsuki and y/n: you left us alone in a gacha store what did you expect?

[clericofshadows]

zorya

Description: Regis and Zaeed go to Zorya to fulfill his last active contract.

Paring: Regis Shepard/Zaeed Massani/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Word Count: ~14K

AO3 LINK

In hindsight, Regis should’ve known from the beginning that this mission would not have gone well.  

Zaeed took contracts for a reason, and he knew that sometimes, he could have a bit of a heart of gold alongside his desire for a heavy payout.  Sure, Regis will gladly ensure that Eldfell-Ashland stays rich by clearing out the Blue Suns from one of their refineries.  Why not?  No harm in making sure Zaeed had all his debts and outstanding missions claimed.

The Blue Suns should’ve been enough of a warning in itself.  Regis knew the story.  Zaeed was the founder working with Vido.  A good partnership, until it wasn’t.  Shot in the face after refusing to entertain Batarian help and slave trading–working with goddamn terrorists, to quote the man–and here he is, still vying his time to get his due.

And now the Blue Suns are known as a Batarian merc company, the exact thing Zaeed wanted to avoid.  The true history was long forgotten in the eyes of the galaxy.

He heard the story early on when he and Kaidan were still just two Alliance idiots taking a shore leave on Omega, getting themselves involved in the vorcha mafia all over 5000 credits and a bottle of fucking whiskey of all things.  Regis will never let Kaidan play poker anywhere ever again, but it did bring them to Zaeed.

So, when the shuttle dropped them off on the pleasant surface of Zorya alongside Kasumi, Zaeed immediately tapped into their communications and started down the path.

Another warning.  But then again, this was against the Blue Suns.  Not the first time they had faced their gang.  Not the first time Zaeed used his own tech knowledge and in-depth understanding of how the Suns operated, despite twenty years ous.

It sure as hell won’t be the last time either.

The next came in the form of a group of dead workers.  “Vido’s style,” he had growled out, cursing the man’s name and shaking his head at the brutality.

No, this wasn’t just any contract.  

That should’ve been his first sign.  An immediate call to action to figure out what the hell was really going on.  But he didn’t.  He trusted Zaeed to tell him.

Vido’s voice on the comm was another warning.  Of course, he didn’t recognize it.  But Zee sure as shit did.  

Regis should’ve stopped him then.  Should’ve told Kasumi to scout ahead while he dragged him aside and asked about Vido, and asked about the true purpose beyond his little contract.

Another song and dance of trusting Zaeed to tell him.  To give him all the facts.  To let him in on something that was clearly so damn important to him.  

He also held back when they entered the refinery and saw Vido and his little Blue Suns foot soldiers flanking him.

"Zaeed Massani. You finally tracked me down."  Vido’s voice was easy, barely full of anything other than annoyance.

“Vido.” Zaeed growled out, full of chewed up gravel.  Reaching for his Mattock immediately, Regis did the same with his Valkyrie, keeping a loose grip on it.

If Regis interfered, this could all go tits up.  Zaeed had all the cards and refused to show his hand, and he was ready to talk to him about it later. So fucking ready to tear into him and ask him what the hell he was thinking not coming clean about this?  Now Regis can’t do a damn thing and undermine Zaeed.  

Not in front of Vido.

If it was anyone else, Regis would have already interfered. Did whatever the hell he thought was right in the moment. Sometimes that worked well. 

But this was Zaeed. Not just anyone.

"Don't be stupid, Zaeed. I have a whole company of bloodthirsty bastards behind me, ready to kill or be killed on my command."

And that was the issue, wasn’t it?  How Vido warped the Blue Suns into something nasty, into everything Zaeed wasn’t and hated.  Blind soldiers ready to die.  That's exactly what mercs aren’t.  

A story Regis remembered amongst the haze of Astra smoke shared amongst Zaeed and Kaidan, lounging in bed after both of them had taken turns fucking Regis, telling them stories of past missions gone wrong.

“But the two of you are different.  Actually give a shit as opposed to everyone else.  You ain’t in it for the fucking money.  You crazy bastards do it because it's the right goddamn thing to do.” 

Regis kept an eye on both Zaeed and Vido, Kasumi hanging back behind them.  Smart.  Easy escape.  The tension in the air was thick, like a steady, foggy haze.

Zaeed’s eyes and head flicked towards some piping system.  What does Zaeed see that he doesn’t…

"Actually, take your shot. Give my men a reason to put you down like the mad dog you are. Again."  Vido was full of taunting words, and the fucking dog comment almost had Regis opening his mouth and biting back.  He's no fucking dog.  But he kept his mouth shut, glancing back towards Zaeed with a hard look.

“Shepard…” Kasumi’s voice came up over the comm link, quiet and hushed.  Private towards him, by the way Zaeed showed no sign of reacting.  “What are we going to do?”

Behind him, he made a signal to hold position.  As much as he hated it, this was no longer his mission.  No longer his call to make.

A series of gunshots from Zaeed’s Mattock broke through the air as he rushed forward, seemingly firing blindly.  

Regis reached for his gun then and there, rushing to cover, and was about to blast the mercs with a singularity…

"What was that? Gone nearsighted, old friend?" Another taunt, another snide remark from Vido.

Zaeed missed for a reason.  He held his dark energy in his hand, watching, waiting–seeing gas escape from one of the pipes near Vido.  And that was what he was aiming at.  Take out as many as can… but why take that kind of reckless shot?  Why not just nail Vido?  Zaeed’s a better shot than him, and he’ll even admit it to the bastard’s face if he’s nice enough about it.

But revenge was just as much about sending a message as it was about doing the action.

"Burn, you son of a bitch." True hatred, true anger laced Zaeed's final remark to Vido as he shot at the weak spot on the pipe–again, not at fucking Vido–and an exposion wracked the entrance of the refinery, taking down some of the Suns. He couldn’t tell if Vido was one of them.  Regis met Zaeed’s gaze, and the bastard gave him a fucking smirk.  What the fucking hell?

"You just signed your death warrant, Massani!" Vido raised up with a little bit of a struggle.  Hit, but not fully taken down.

It’s never that goddamn easy.

This time, Regis fired off a singularity towards the balcony as the remaining Suns started shooting at them, letting out a curse when Vido seemed to not get caught in the field.  

He’s about to throw a Warp to detonate his singularity when he hears banging, watching in a mix of horror and frustration as Zaeed began to hit a central valve with the butt of his Mattock.

“Zee–what the fucking hell are you doing?” He growled out, almost cursing at himself at letting his nickname slip. Already charged with emotions, compromising himself, and they haven’t even been on this planet for long.  Kasumi shook her head next to him, letting out a curse under her breath in a language he didn’t have a translator for.

An explosion started to travel up the pipes, before causing a chain reaction at the balcony and beyond, taking out more lowly mercs along the ones in his singularity, the biotic energy becoming unstable and bursting.  

Never the target, right?  

Never the asshole that compromised the mission.

For a moment, Regis didn’t know if he was thinking about Zaeed or Vido.  He pushed that thought aside.

And the refinery was now up in flames.  Anything to kill his fucking target, right?  

Zaeed holstered his gun with a shrug.  "Opening the gate."

He got up from his position behind cover, nodding at Kasumi, who met his gaze with a hard look.  She wasn’t happy about this either.  Why would she?  Figured it would be a quick and easy in and out rescue.  Right up her alley sabotaging security to fuck with the Suns.

Instead, it was all up in flames.

He stopped in front of Zaeed and crossed his arms against his chest.  “Could you remind me what the point of this mission was?  Freeing the workers here from the Suns?  So why the hell are you blowing up this fucking building?”

Zaeed narrowed his eyes.  “You saw Vido right fucking there.  You don’t know the security in this building.  You may be good–both of you–” He looks at Kasumi.  “But I wasn’t going to take that fucking risk for him to get away.” 

Regis closed his eyes briefly.  3.  2.  1.  Calm.  A breath.  “You want Vido dead?  We’ll kill the bastard, but he’s not the only person in this fucking building.”

“As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only person in this fucking building that matters.” Zaeed started to walk past, but Regis grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Zee.” He used his nickname, but his voice was sharp.  Hard.  “The mission was to liberate this refinery.  That’s the pretense you gave me.”

“Killing Vido will liberate the goddamn refinery.  We are wasting precious fucking time.  You said that we all had a last request to fill.  This is my request, and my goddamn mission.” Zaeed’s face was stony, the mismatched eyes often softened just for him were sharp as steel, his voice just as low as the threats he sent over to Vido.

A distant explosion shook the refinery.  Regis narrowed his eyes but followed him anyway through the door, not the time to argue as much as he wanted to strangle him.  Blue Suns bodies littered around the entrance further into the facility.  Zaeed did some real damage.

In more ways than one. “We are saving the workers, right?” Kasumi’s voice was back over the comms, hushed and insistent.

He didn’t answer at first, because there were two turian Suns waiting for them on the other side.  Regis fired off an overload to take care of any shields, while Kasumi and Zaeed finished them off with a few well placed gunshots.

He was going to reply to her, but he caught her gaze and nodded just enough.  She nodded back but her worried expression didn’t quite leave.

He didn’t blame her.  This was such a fucking shit show already.  

And she knew damn well along with everyone else how close he and Zaeed are.  Who is in bed with who.

The walk across the catwalk was tense.  The facility was up in flames, becoming more and more unstable by the minute.  If there truly were workers inside… 

Regis has blood on his hands.  It’s a fact that doesn’t bother him most days, but when Torfan’s anniversary rolls around the feeling becomes more intense.  Never regretting the action he made, never seeing it as the wrong thing, and yet–the skull tattoo on the back of his neck burns.  His biotic squad that died, along with many other Alliance.

Hell of a victory.  Hell of a loss.

He wears the Butcher title proudly all the same. He understands sacrifice to win a victory, but this?  Nothing about what Zaeed had done was right.  And Regis wasn’t a fucking idiot.  He knew Zaeed had methods that he disagreed with.  Heard many stories that often left Zaeed on top, anyone that had worked with him dead, betrayed, or betraying him.  But he thought Zaeed respected his moral code, respected his desire to protect civilians and innocents who had no place in this war between them.

Zaeed was about to enter the door, barely looking behind him when they heard someone call out.  Regis stopped him with a grip on his arm that was quickly shoved off, but Zaeed stopped all the same, stepping out of the doorway and letting it automatically close behind him.

Maybe seeing his consequences for real will trigger something in him.  Vido is just one fucking man…

Kasumi almost looked relieved to see someone call out for help, a worker in a standard jumpsuit. 

"We can't get to the gas valves to shut them off! The whole place is going to blow!" He was pleading for help, desperate.  And why wouldn’t he be?  He shielded his face from a relatively nearby blast, further proving his point.

Regis was about to open his mouth to ask what they needed to do, but Zaeed damn near turned his back, heading back towards the door.  He grabbed his arm again, and those eyes were once more filled with something hard as steel.  Sharp as a knife, his glare could cut.  Regis didn’t let the wound bleed for one damn minute.  “There’s no goddamn time, Regis.  Vido’s probably near the fucking docks by now.”

Is he fucking serious?

“Trust me, I know and want Vido dead along with you.” He kept his tone carefully still, as if he was reading off a report to Hackett, hiding the war slowly going on in his heart and mind. “But I want you to tell me to my goddamn face if he is really worth watching these innocents burn to death.”

For a brief moment, Regis genuinely thought he got through to Zaeed, the way he paused and turned his head to look back at the worker, who was making his way to the other side of the balcony. A war inside him as well.

“Don’t think I’m going to stick around and watch, and if we stop and help, Vido will–”

Regis now knew there was only one decision he could make as Commander.  Not as Regis, not as Shepard even, but as the fucking Commander in charge of this mission.

Vido was not the reason why they were here today.

The real mission was never the refinery, but Regis’s mission was now the refinery.  

Regis felt his corona rage underneath his skin, letting some of it flare out by flashing his eyes, pointing at Zaeed and pushing his finger into the chest of his Ajax gear.  "We're here to free these people. We're going in.  And if you want to chase after Vido, fucking go for it.  Good luck doing it alone.  I’m saving these workers since that is what you told me this mission was all about." He didn’t wait for an answer and followed the worker’s instructions, jumping over the catwalk to a different, lower part of the refinery.  Kasumi quickly followed.  “You did the right thing, Shepard.  He’ll get over it.”

He glanced over at her and saw her concerned look.  “I hope so.  Or else his bed won’t be very warm.”  Or mine.

She snickered, and it made him feel marginally better.  

There was a grumble and Zaeed joined them a moment later.  “If Vido gets away, I’m blaming you.”

Regis kept his back to him and didn’t acknowledge his comment.  So what?  The bastard knows how he feels about these kinds of choices.  

And what would Kaidan do?  Obviously… he would go after the workers…

Right?  Two against one.  Would he still be reacting the same way if it was the both of them?

“Fine, you bastard.”  The venom was evident in Zaeed’s voice.  Regis tried to not let it poison him.  “We’d better get fucking to it, then.”

At least he conceded.  

Why did he even think for one fleeting second that Zaeed was going to let Vido go?  After all he’s heard, after all he’s learned… even knowing that Regis’s uncle, Vikram, healed his face, a connection that kept Zaeed close to Regis’s family… 

But that’s just the thing?  If this was T’Soni, you’d be doing everything in your power to get your revenge.  Why is this any different?

If only Zaeed was honest from the start. 

Why wasn’t he?

– –

Any kind of mission that involved fire created an extra layer of tension.  Fire is unpredictable.  Fire is deadly.  Fire sees no sides.

With the conflict he was having with Zaeed, it heightened every feeling he had.  Every moment of stress, every split-second decision he had to make.  Every time he stopped and listened and helped clear a path for as many of the workers as possible.

He knew there was no way in hell that they’ll be able to get them all out.  Some were likely already dead.  All because of–

Zaeed?  Vido?  Him?

Regis pressed onward all the same.  

They didn’t face much opposition at first.  Mostly helping trapped workers get through by activating fire suppression systems, breathing a little easier with each activation. 

Hearing the pleas for help that quickly turned into thanks kept him going.  Kasumi was guiding them through, having managed to grab a schematic of the building off of one of the workers.

As they were walking through what looked to be a small storage area, she ran up to him and pointed to a spot on the map, pulled up on her omnitool.  “We might still be able to catch him…” She trailed off, seemingly scanning his face.  Zaeed was far ahead, not paying attention to them.  And he hated it.

“Might.  Hopefully.” He’s sure his face was betraying too much of what he was feeling.  Anger.  Frustration.  Worry.  Fucking love.

“Which is why I’m only telling you,” she said, with a pointed look at Zaeed’s back.  “I don’t like this at all, Shepard.  And not just because of what he was spitting in your face.  Like you would’ve ever agreed to abandon ship for Vido.”

“We’ll deal with it after the mission,” Regis said, instead of replying to her directly.  She was right.  Zaeed knew what his usual code was.  

But love changes things, doesn’t it?

There was so much love in his heart for Zaeed, for Kaidan.  But this wasn’t a line he was willing to cross.

She only hums in response.  “I’m sure it will pass no matter what happens.  I’ve seen the way he looks at you and has your back.  You're special.”

Before this mission, he would've readily agreed. Special now didn't mean shit when it meant Zaeed didn't come clean to him about what this mission was really about. Who was amongst the Suns they were trying to liberate the facility from.

He’s about to reply when Zaeed shouts there’s Suns up ahead, and it's back on the job, throwing out biotic support in the form of a shockwave so Zaeed can take them down more effectively.

Two shots clean to the heads of the stumbled mercs.  Methodical.  Clinical.

No different from usual.  But without the usual banter between them.

He tried to not let it affect him. 

It did anyway. 

The floodgates were now open as the small back area was connected to some open room full of cargo and various machinery and mechanisms that Regis would ordinarily be a little intrigued by. Instead, it was a well placed battlefield, plenty of cover for them to advance against a large retinue of Suns. 

“According to the plans, we're close to one of the landing and launching areas,” Kasumi said as they dived for cover, planting themselves behind a piece of sturdy machinery. Good on her for keeping an eye on things. Placating Zaeed with a reminder that they haven't forgotten what he wanted to do here. 

Zaeed grunted. “Lots of fucking firepower in here. Still trying to stop us… The bastard must still be here.”

And Vido’s voice appears over the intercom of the refinery, confirming his suspicion. Taunting Zaeed. Reducing himself to petty insults.  In Zaeed’s favor, he never reacted verbally.  A pinched brow on his face, an annoyed twitch, a more forceful swing of his gun to bash in the brains of some unlucky bastard that decided to don the mark of a gang Zaeed once loved.

Vido was likely waiting for him, only to get away just before Zaeed could put a bullet in the head of the man that tried to do the same to him–but this time, Zaeed wasn't going to let there be any goddamn surviving or scars for someone to trace in bed. 

A new sense of urgency heightened their actions, now free from rescuing the workers and able to commit to Zaeed’s plan. 

Too little, too late, Regis figured in the end. Not going to mean shit if he still got away. 

Engineers and biotics and all sorts of heavy hitters were left for them to deal with, burning through overloads and sabotages and everything they had. 

He felt his amp hot underneath his skin as he tossed what felt like the hundredth singularity of the mission. Normally, Zaeed would be checking in on him, brushing a gloved hand over the back of his neck, hissing out a “Goddamn idiot” when he felt an unnatural heat before telling him fondly to reduce the light show.

He rubbed his neck and watched as Zaeed shot down the floating mercs without a glance behind him to make sure his biotic wasn’t overloading himself

None of this was fucking normal. Why assume he would go back to how things were before Regis told EDI to plot a course to Zorya.

Still, the mission wasn't over yet. But does that mean their normal will return? 

He gritted his teeth when he heard Zaeed call out that they had a heavy YMIR mech on deployment.  

He rushed forward to meet him behind cover, sniping another two mercs, leaving the mech the only thing left to deal with. Kasumi fired off a nasty program of hers to stun the bastard, before Zaeed threw out the last of his custom made inferno grenades, taking the mech down in a mess of melted electronics and plating before its core overheated.

He figured he would've saved those for Vido. 

Did he use them for us?

Regis surveyed the area with his visor.  No more hits.  “Way’s clear.  Kasumi, were those doors the way out?”  He pointed to a set of doors across a bridge.

She reappeared next to him, her cloak fizzling out. “Sure are.”

“Then what the fucking hell are we waiting for?” Zaeed walked up next to him, adjusting the grip on his Mattock before stomping towards the door.

Regis wasn’t sure if he wanted Vido to be on the other side or not.

But of course, as they walked out into the humid air of Zorya, marred with smoke, a gunship was partially in the air, hovering over the ground.  A hatch was closing with a flash of blue armor.  Could be any Suns.  Yet he found himself sprinting towards it with Zaeed and Kasumi at his heels.

"Not this time, Zaeed, you son of a bitch!  See you in another twenty years!"  Vido’s voice appeared over the speakers of the ship as it began to fly off, the blast of the jets causing Regis to stumble slightly.  Kasumi stopped to help him up, giving her a soft thanks in reply.

Zaeed didn’t seem affected at all, fueled by rage and years of revenge, sprinting forward and firing blind shots with his Mattock at the retreating ship, yelling in a guttural, broken cry of defeat.

The clicks of an empty, expelled heat sink were deafening.

Regis stepped forward and watched the retreating gunship, raising his hand to try and contact EDI, but Kasumi shook her head next to him.  “It’s too late.”

She was right.  But he wanted to try anyway.  

For Zaeed’s sake, not his.

“Walk ahead and get the shuttle ready.” He ordered quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

She started to protest. “I'm not going to–”

He interrupted her sharply. “Go, Kasumi.  That’s an order.  I'll handle him.”

She nodded and started heading up towards a clearing beyond the landing area.

Distantly, he heard the sound of a heat sink ejecting and hitting the ground and the sound of another one being loaded.  

Time seemed to slow a moment later as Zaeed whirled around, gun still in his hand, and pointed it at him.  Instinctively, Regis grabbed his Eagle from his belt, pointing it at him just as fast, seeing the gun first and not the man he loved behind it.

"You just cost me twenty years of my life!" Zaeed spat at him, not cowing down one bit.  No, he wasn’t Zaeed anymore.  This was Massani, the veteran merc.  Massani, the lone wolf who always survives when no one else doesn’t.

Massani, the bastard that tackled him and pinned him to a wall in a dingy Omega alleyway when he and Kaidan were trying to escape from the fucking vorcha mafia.

No, he's still Zaeed. Don't let the man here now take away the man you love. 

Regis felt his biotics roar underneath his skin, desperate to be unleashed, spurred on by the sheer rage he was feeling. Never did he expect Zaeed to point a gun at him. 

Never did Regis expect himself to do the same in turn. His voice was cold, cruel, barking back at him with the same lack of regard for who they are to each other. "You've never stepped out of your old fucking ways, huh?  Keeping all the details of the mission close to your chest so you can come out on top?  See me as just another fucking merc that you can throw away for the best price on the target?  Yeah, I remember your stories.  You've never changed!  If those twenty years meant something, then maybe you should've let me in.” 

He narrowed his eyes and frowned, daring him to say something. But then he sniffed the air… was that gasoline?

Zaeed opened his mouth to argue, his face curved into a snarl, when a bright light caught his eye behind Zaeed. Shit, a fire. 

An explosion appeared behind Zaeed, a loud blast in the air that propelled debris up in the air, barreling straight towards them. 

Regis flared out, reaching out with dark energy to the steel beam and barely managing to fling it out of their path, the blast of energy causing Zaeed to stumble to the ground in a mess of smoke and violet biotics. 

He cried out in surprise, slowly rising up from the ground. Regis stalked towards him and holstered his gun. “No words for how I saved your fucking life?”

Zaeed stared up at him, eyes narrowing. Mismatched eyes he loves to get lost in now clouded with anger. Rage… 

He ignored what else was lurking underneath. 

Regis scoffed, stopping right in front of him. “Right. I took away twenty goddamn years of it.”

He turned his back to Zaeed. “If you still give a fuck about the only mission that matters, Kasumi is hailing the shuttle. But you can sit here and lie in your decision if you want. Your goddamn call. Your goddamn last request, right?”

Walking away was easier than it should've been. 

He wanted every word to hurt.

– –

He knew Zaeed would eventually make his way back to the indicated landing area. 

It was a long flight. Silence between the three of them. Even Samson, their shuttle pilot, didn't say anything. 

The tension in the air was evident. 

Please, just say something. 

He wasn't sure if was wanting Zaeed to say something or for him to get the bastard to explain himself. 

The moment Samson touched down in the bay and announced they were clear for departure, they poured out of the shuttle as fast as they could. Zaeed didn't even look at him as he headed for the elevator. 

Regis let him go and hung back with Kasumi. “Are you…” she trailed off, not quite meeting his gaze. 

“No, I'm not.” He answered honestly. “But he made his fucking bed and he has to lie in it.”

“I'm not disagreeing with you. Shepard, you did the right thing. Without a doubt.” They stop and watch as the elevator doors close behind them. “This is his mess.”

“But?” He crossed his arms and gave her an expectant look. 

She took her hood off and pulled out her hair, letting it fall down on her shoulders. “But you two are a good thing on this ship. Even if you both bite back against the gossip… Is one mission really going to tear you both apart?”

Regis frowned and this time, he didn't meet her gaze. “That's his decision to make, not mine.”

She hummed. “I'm here if you need me. Guess you're going to call your other beau?”

“He wasn't here. I'm not getting him involved.”

“He will, though.”

Regis did think about calling Kaidan. He also thought about calling some mutual friends. Or rather, a mutual friend.  He can imagine Dove and how she would be chewing Zaeed out right then and there if she had the chance. Small mercies for friends like Sophie.  Even if Zaeed's nickname for her tends to stick in his head half the time. And he can hear her yelling at him for that too. 

He let out a sigh and trawled over to a nearby workbench to start loosening his gear. This should be done with Zaeed. “I'll call him later. I need to cool down.”

She rejoined him and started helping with his outer armor plating. “Don't argue. You're exhausted, aren't you?  Don't usually see you go that hard with biotics.”

Normally, he would protest. He didn't this time, which was telling in a way he didn't want it to be. “Thanks. And yes, I am. Going to head up to Chakwas to get a basic scan.”

“Good. This probably also isn't a mission that should be in our books…” she said quietly, working through his armor with a surprising ease. It must've shown on his face, because she laughed. “I've nabbed your schematics for your armor. And watched you and Zaeed take it down. Don't act so surprised. You know me by now, right?”

He couldn't exactly argue with that. “It won't be. I can assure you that.”

“Throwing around your power. I like it.”

He let out a chuckle in response. 

With her help, it was easy enough to get his armor off and stored back its container to be carried back into his room for later, leaving him with his guns to also be put back in his personal armory. He gave her another nod of thanks, and he headed towards the elevator. 

His first destination was the armory, and thankfully, once he entered, Taylor was the only one inside. To his credit, he didn't ask him how the mission went and helped him check over his guns with a trained eye. “Balance is off on your Black Widow,” he commented. 

“It's always off. Don't have the magic touch to fix it,” Regis replied, keying in his code to his locker and storing his Eagle and Valkyrie. 

“Want me to take a look?”

He shook his head. “Only person I trust with a Widow is pissed off at me.”

“He flew in here and dropped off his extra heat sinks before disappearing without a word…” Taylor leaned against his workbench, leaving an opportunity for discussion open if he wants to take it. 

Regis sighed and pinched his temples. “Mission went well for the parameters I was given. It did not go well for what it was really about for him.”

Taylor nodded. “I see. At least there's some downtime for him to cool off.”

A muttered comment in response was on the tip of his tongue. But he holds it and only nods before heading out to his next destination. 

The elevator was empty for this trip as well. But these typical motions were almost always done with Zaeed, either together or with him waiting for Regis to return. It felt wrong without him. 

The medbay was never a welcoming place, even more so with the specter of Cerberus hanging over them. Chakwas made it better, standing up and motioning for him to sit down on one of the beds. “Shepard, let me get a good look at you. Tell me, what's going on?”

“Amp that's a little overheated. A few cuts and scrapes and bruises. The usual,” he said, closing his eyes as she started to scan him. 

“Yes, yes, I can see all that.” She was expecting him to continue. Regis didn't fall for it. 

“That's all you're getting.”

She pursed her lips. “Your amp is fine, but take it easy on the biotics for the next day or two. Medigel will seal those little cuts on your face, and I'll send you out with some salve for the bruising.  Blood pressure is elevated but not worryingly so.” she said methodically, shutting off her omnitool and crossing her arms against her chest, giving him a concerned look. “Regis, I know you and Massani are close.”

He got up from the bed. “Yes, everyone does. I'm fine, thanks for checking in.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“Call me if you want to share a cup of warm tea or cocoa.” Her look was sharp, but her smile was soft. “Someone needs to take care of you.”

Was it his imagination or did he hear an unspoken “Because he's not” in her voice?  Or perhaps another reminder that Kaidan isn't here either to keep both of them in check.

She winked at him and grabbed a tub of salve from a cabinet. “Get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Now that was easily something he wasn't going to argue against. “I will. And also, my ship, my rules.” He stretched a little and took the salve off her hands. “Thanks.”

“It is never any trouble. Take care.”

Leaving the medbay knowing his amp was fine was a bit of a relief, but that left his final destination.

The cabin.

The elevator ride to it felt like something final in his heart.  He’s probably down there in his corner of the ship in starboard cargo… wallowing in the anger or frustration or whatever the fuck he was feeling that pushed him away.

While he is up here alone.  

He peels himself out of his undersuit and leaves it in a heap to be dealt with later.  The next steps he takes are methodical.  Step in the shower.  Alone.  Turn up the heat close to scalding.  Alone.  Wash his hair and body meticulously.  All fucking alone.  

It stung more than it should’ve.  Getting used to having a partner with him, both on here and the damn SR-1 with Kaidan, made things easier on ships and missions like these.  A privilege few can even claim to have.  

But he reached for Zaeed’s body wash anyway, a smoky, spicy scented kind of thing that had quite the price tag.  Regis always joked with him that he only got it because it drained Cerberus’s funds.  And he never denied it.

Routine was all that mattered.  Drying off.  Working through all his next steps.  Hair, skin, beard, and wound care…  

And he was still alone.

As he walked out of the bathroom, he tossed his towel in the hamper to be dealt with later and walked over to his drawers to pull out a tank top and a pair of cotton joggers.  He had no plans to leave his cabin until the next morning.

And thankfully, he had some ready-made soup to heat up in his mini fridge from the day before so he didn’t have to go back down.  Enough calories to help him replenish his stores along with some protein bars.

It was also cold in the room, and normally instead of asking EDI to adjust the temperature, he would snuggle up against Zaeed on the couch or in the bed, going over reports and dealing with the tasks that befitted the commander and his unofficial XO. But it wasn’t a normal evening after a mission and by now, it was obvious he was spending it alone for the first time in a long white.

“EDI, adjust the temperature in my cabin by a couple of degrees, it’s too damn cold in here,” he said, looking around for his N7 hoodie. Instead of his hoodie lying on the desk chair where it was before the mission–that damn mission–it was one of Zaeed’s, large, worn, and smelling of gun oil, smoke, and citrus.

Regis's preferred body wash. Sweet, sharp, citrus. 

“Belay that request,” he said a moment later, and EDI affirmed it, leaving the temperature as is. He grabbed the hoodie from the chair and inhaled deeply, wishing that it was the man it belonged to instead of a cold piece of fabric.

The nightmares will most definitely return tonight.  Another thing Zaeed chased away.  No dreams about dying in space or Kaidan or Zaeed in his place.  No distorted memories of Torfan.

He tossed the hoodie on the bed and let out a frustrated shout.  Full of anger and all of his vulnerabilities.  Cursing and screaming the names of Cerberus, of T’Soni, of Zaeed even.

None of this was fucking fair.  He can’t do this alone.  He can’t.  Zaeed is his only–

The beep of the microwave pulled him out of his fit.  He took a few heaving, deep breaths before walking over to grab his food and force himself to choke it down.  

He ignored the wetness on his face.  The pressure in his sinuses.

No, this will not break him.  It’s one fucking disagreement.  He’s had plenty.

Tossing the empty bowl in the trash didn’t feel like a victory, even if it did make him feel marginally better after eating something.  Nor did washing his face and pretending he wasn’t upset about what happened.  About how much this was impacting him in every way.

So, he sat down at his desk and called Kaidan. 

The vid call connected only a few minutes later.

Kaidan’s face appeared on the small screen of his display, unshaved with a longer beard that wasn’t just stubble.  His expression was pinched, and his arms were crossed against his chest, wrinkling his T-shirt that advertised Rio and the Villa.

Zaeed’s definitely talked to him.

“I’m not getting involved,” Kaidan said flatly.  “I wouldn’t even hear Zee out.  No matter what he tried to grumble at me.  So I’m not listening to you either.  Work it out on your own.”

Regis blinked, feeling a little blindsided.

Kaidan sighed and touched his hand to the screen.  Regis put his hand over his, the mockery of closeness the only thing they had.  “All I know is that a mission that was meant for him didn’t go the way he wanted.  I wasn’t there.  I’m not going to pass judgment.  He’ll cool off.”

He couldn’t help but snort.  “I was thinking that, but our third wheel on the mission made a point that he was going to call you no matter what.”

Kaidan looked a little surprised at that. He's let him know that some people on the ship knew about him--and anyone on Horizon definitely knew.  “Oh really?  Well, I love you both.  And I told him basically the same thing.  You can overcome whatever this is–and tell me all the details later.”

“Did he happen to tell you what his request was about?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Kaidan leaned back in his chair, removing his hand from the screen.  “A hit on the Blue Suns from Eldfell.  No more details than that.  And was cursing about ‘Goddamn Vido and bastards like Regis’ so I put two and two together.” He made a very inaccurate impression of Zaeed that almost made him smile.  Almost. 

“He did, huh.”

“Close to home, then.”

“More than a little.  But I made a choice that–”

Kaidan interrupted him with a sharp whistle.  “No, I’m not going to hear anything else.  You made a choice he didn’t like.  Okay.  He may not have been up front with all the details.  Alright.  Seems like you both have a good foundation to talk shit out on, right?”

“You make it sound so fucking easy,” Regis shot back, wincing at how sharp he sounded a moment later.

Kaidan waved him off.  “I’ll ignore that.  Do you need me to stay on the line for a while?  Talk to you about everything and nothing?”  A ritual Kaidan would offer when they were apart.  When nights seemed to be sleepless for Regis from insomnia taking over.  Either from his damn L2 implant or memories from Torfan leaking in.  These days, he can add in trauma from remembering exactly how he died, how every last breath felt until there was no more.

“It wouldn’t be fair to him if he wanted the same out of you.” It took a lot out of him to say that, knowing what was waiting for him when he closed his eyes.  It was the truth.  Regis valued fairness.  Even if Zaeed may not do the same–he would and you know it–it wouldn’t be right otherwise.

“I could mute you on the other line.  Same for him.  Neither one of you would ever know.”

Regis shook his head with a fond smile.  “I love you.  Talk to you later.”

“Sleep well, love.  If he calls back I’ll let him know we talked, just as I told him I was going to spill the beans to you.  I love you too.” Kaidan smiled softly.  

He returned his smile knowing it wasn’t reaching his eyes.  “Wouldn’t expect anything different.  Be safe.”

“I should be saying that to you, love.  Talk to you later.”  Kaidan ended the call.

He should get some more work done.

– –

Regis did not get much work done, beyond a few basic reports, some cleaning up of data, and some new bundles of data to send over to the Alliance later.  Hours did pass, however, and it was nearing his typical bedtime.

All in all, a wasted evening.  Not like he would’ve got much done if that mission had gone well.

He got up from his desk and finished getting ready for bed.  Brushing his teeth, dimming the lights, and letting EDI know to send anything directed to him to his inbox.

The hoodie he threw on the bed stared at him.  A grey and yellow fleece thing with a snake on the front.  A cozy hoodie.

He reached out for it and squeezed it tightly before curling up underneath the covers, cuddling the damn thing. 

It was too damn quiet.  Zaeed was restless, often taking a while to settle in the covers and getting Regis just right in his arms.  And he snored.  

It was too damn cold.  Even if he did bump the temperature up, it wouldn’t match the feeling of Zaeed’s body next to him, warming him up.

He stared up at the ceiling, at the tarp they put up together to hide the skylight.

Cerberus didn’t even have the fucking decency to give him a proper way to close the skylight.

No, sleep would not come easy for him tonight.

Hours of tossing and turning led to a restless sleep, before being assaulted with the feeling of air leaving his chest, unable to gasp and take another breath, Kaidan and Zaeed in his comms–a sound of plastic crackling woke him up with a shout.

One of the corners of the tarp had fallen, revealing the dark expanse of space.  

“I sensed increased distress from you, Shepard.  Do you need me to contact Doctor Chakwas?” EDI’s voice broke through the silence of the cabin.  He willed himself to calm down, feeling his heart racing, taking deep breaths.

“No.” He hated how rough and wrecked he sounded.  “Just a nightmare.”

“Understood, Shepard.”

He wasn’t going to get any sleep as long as he could see outside.  As long as he knew it was visible.  And so, with a throw wrapped around him, he made his way over to the couch and started back on his work.  

The hoodie stayed on the bed.

– –

When his alarm went off, he groggily let out a yawn and realized that yes, he did fall asleep on the couch, and yes, his neck and back were crying out in pain.  Lovely.  Another thing to add onto the pile of bullshit he was dealing with today.

He trudged over to the bathroom and winced at his reflection.  His scars and cybernetics almost seemed to be harsher.  Dark circles underneath his eyes made the glow appear brighter.

Washing his face didn’t make him look any better.  Nor did brewing himself a quick cup of tea to try and make him feel more awake.  Not even styling his hair and ensuring his piercings were perfect helped.

Only when he put on his N7 officer uniform–black high necked jacket with red detailing, sturdy black boots, straight pants, black and red gloves–did he at least start looking like Commander Shepard.  Sure as shit didn’t feel like him.

Before leaving… he walked over to the side table next to the bed–currently covered with a deconstructed Talon project Zaeed was working on–and pulled out the bottom drawer he put a false bottom in.  Underneath was a small package he had picked up at the Citadel a few trips ago.  Inside was a grey and yellow striped scarf.  Just like the red and black one he wears.  Just like the blue and grey one he gave Kaidan years ago…

Never could decide when he wanted to give it to Zaeed.  Nothing felt right…

He got up and set the package on his desk and closed his eyes.  Would he even still want it now?

It was time to return to being the Commander.

He decided to do some rounds around the ship, and despite how disastrous the mission on Zorya went, he wanted to reaffirm to the remaining ground crew that they all had an opportunity to tie whatever they needed up.

He already helped Kasumi.  Went on a heist, flirted with a rich criminal and felt skeevy about it, until after the mission when Zaeed laughed his ass off after hearing the story from Kasumi… and helped her move on by destroying that grey box.  

Krios was reunited with his son at the very least, but Regis felt himself having to hold back a lot of judgment.  At least Koylat has a father.  Never had the privilege to know Atlas Shepard.

Vakarian… the less he thought about it the better.  He wasn’t keen on supporting his plan to assassinate someone on the fucking Citadel, even if the turian did lead to Vakarian’s team’s death.  Mostly, Regis had little sympathy for the situation.  If he never ran off to Omega, none of that bullshit would’ve happened.  He believed Omega was worse off after his stint as Archangel, as gang activity rose up as a result.  

Ultimately, Vakarian didn’t listen to him and took the shot on Sidonis.

Regis couldn’t trust him out in the field anymore.  Did he ever?

Zaeed listened to his decision to go after the workers, isn’t that something?

He grit his teeth and stopped inside the medbay.  As usual, Chakwas had a few muffins ready for him.  Today, they were chocolate chip.  It wasn’t lost on him that she set out the usual portion for him and Zaeed.  He scooped the paper bag up after looking inside.

“I presume you two haven’t talked yet?” She asked behind a cup of steaming hot tea.

“That obvious?”

“I know when you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep.”

He let out a sigh.  “I’ve slept better.”

“I wouldn’t normally advise it, but let me know if you need a stim.” From anyone else, he would’ve fought back against that caring tone.  From Chakwas?  He almost appreciated it.

He shook his head.  “Today isn’t meant to be a busy one.  Using the downtime to check in on everyone and the ship.  As usual.”

“Take it easy out there today.  And Regis?  This too will pass.  I think he just needed time to cool off,” she offered.

“Kaidan more or less said the same thing,” he admitted with a wry grin.  “But he has to come to me.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else from Alenko–or you, in fact,” she chuckled.  “He’s been good for you.”

Despite everything, he couldn’t help but smile.  “Thanks for the muffins.”

“It keeps you coming in here.” She winked, and he let out a laugh.

“You think I don’t know your tricks?”

Chakwas merely took a sip of her tea, and he took his leave.  At the beginning, he was angry that she decided to join Cerberus for him. Now he sees it as the boon it was.

Doesn’t mean it won’t stop bothering him that he instills that kind of loyalty in others.

He didn’t have any real plans in mind today.  Usual check-ins… before going back to his cabin and doing whatever paperwork or reports were necessary.  Unlike the SR-1, he never found a good groove.  Fucking terrorist organizations.  No actual organization that makes any sort of sense, and he didn’t give a shit about most of the crew on board the ship to ever enjoy doing his rounds.

They chose Cerberus.  They were dead to him before it began.

But isn't it different for some?  Like Miranda… you are slowly considering her a close confidant ever since you learned who sold your body to Cerberus.

He frowned at himself and found himself in front of her office and quarters anyway.  He often makes a point to gain her perspective on the ship and what’s going on.  And as much as he hates to admit it, he does consider her a friend.  Brilliant mind, good with biotics… hell, they were similar in a lot of ways.  But unlike her, he had some choices to make in his life.  She had a father who only gave a shit about a legacy.

Sometimes it felt like all Hannah cared about was a good legacy.  At least, after Torfan.

He knocks on her door and watches as the yellow lock turns to green and the door auto opens for him.  

She nods at him as he walks in and the door shuts behind him.  Like him, she was wearing a black and yellow high necked jacket–a design stolen from the Alliance like most Cerberus bullshit–and her hair was pulled up into a bun.  “Good morning, Shepard,” she greeted, turning off her screen.  “Or is it a good morning?”  There was something good natured in her tone.

He shrugged.  “Time will tell.”

“For what it is worth, I do believe you did the right thing.”

“It’s up to him to decide if he sees it the same way, not me or anyone else.”

She hummed.  “There isn’t much for me to report to you… I did notice an uptick in the outputs of the core, but I attributed that to Jack and Massani sparring in the cargo bay.”

He blinked.  He hadn’t realized that was going on.  Jack had become quite close to Zaeed, ever since he offered his spot on the ship as a space for her beyond her spot in the underbelly of engineering.  Considering Zaeed mostly spends time in his cabin these days… Sparring between them wasn’t out of the ordinary, but he can’t help but wonder if there was something more to this one.  Normally, he’d watch.  Not today.  “Nothing to worry about, then.”

“Catch you off guard, did I?”

“I haven’t bothered looking at the engineering logs this morning.” He crossed his arms against his chest.  “I hope she kicks his ass.”

Miranda merely raised an eyebrow.  “So you two really haven’t talked.”

“Thought you weren’t much of one for gossip.”

“I’m not, but I do like it when the ship runs smoothly.  You and him not seeing eye to eye has already caused a disruption.”  She mirrored his pose.  “I care about the crew in my own way.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  “Speaking of, have you thought about my offer?”

She nodded.  “I’m still waiting for a contact of mine to get back to me, but I’ll let you know the moment they do.  It’s sensitive.” A slight pinch of her brow betrayed how she was really feeling.  Worried, perhaps?  Maybe the contact was later than they should be?  

This wasn’t the time to pry.  “Just let me know.”  He remembers the bag and takes out an individually wrapped muffin and tosses it to her.  “Have a muffin.”

She catches it with a twinkle in her eye.  “I’m guessing I’m not the normal recipient of the treat?”

He merely smiled and winked.  “It’s not proper to question a gift.”

“Especially not from you.” She opened the wrapper.  “Thank you, but–”

“He’s a grown man.  If he wants a muffin, he can go to Chakwas himself.”

“I remember being on your bad side not too long ago,” she mused.  “Knowing how you are with people you like… I’d hate to go back to how things were.”

A smirk tugged on his lips.  “You’re saying you would beg for forgiveness?”

She let out a chuckle, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.  “Me?  Begging?  Never.  I can see him doing it, though, to get back in that cabin of yours.”

Regis couldn’t help but be unable to share in her enthusiasm.  It’s the exhaustion, the tiredness from not sleeping with Zaeed keeping the damn nightmares away.  It’s knowing that the skylight is visible and he couldn’t bare to fix it on his own, despite how fucking unreasonable that was.  It’s remembering what the cabin meant to him before he recruited any soul on board this ship that wasn’t pure Cerberus.  A prison with a taunting photo of Kaidan.  And a dumbass fishtank that, once more, was removed all because of fucking Zaeed Massani and his admittedly great ideas.  “It’s just a place to sleep.”

She tilted her head to the side and stood up, leaning against the side of her desk.  “You can’t fool me that easily, Shepard.”

Should he come clean?  

“Perhaps it would be a better place to sleep and find peace if there wasn’t a goddamn skylight.”  His tone was flat, bored, daring her to say something.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch back.  Something softened, though, along with a widening of her eyes that went away as fast as it arrived.  She didn’t know that he remembered, did she?  She cleared her throat.  “Shepard, I only theorized how much you would remember.  Most of us assumed very little, and I, naively, hoped the same.”

He nodded sharply.  “Nearly to the last breath.”

A sharp inhale.  Her hands grip the edge of the desk tightly.  “I had no say in the construction of the ship.  I know they put in a lot of windows and viewports…” she trailed off. “I'm sorry.” She met his gaze.

He could tell it was sincere.  “Thank you.  You know, one of the first things we did was figure out a way to cover up that damn thing.  Doesn’t have a shutter like some other parts of the ship… tarp works well enough.”

“Well enough isn’t perfect.” She almost sounded bitter at the end.  “I know you barely even allowed engineering to strip out that fishtank, much less for how long it will take to deal with that skylight…”

“I appreciate the concern, but I can deal with it until the collectors are a pile of corpses behind me.  He helps.”

Miranda moved to sit back at her desk, almost looking like she wanted to say something.  She cleared her throat instead and changed the subject.  “And I appreciate the trust you’ve given me.  This will remain between us, but do let me know if you wish to change the status of the skylight.”  Not what he was expecting her to say.  There seemed to be another comment about Zaeed on the tip of her tongue.

She’s observant.  She can tell how much this short fucking distance is effecting him.

He nodded.  “You know what will happen if this information gets out.”  The threat wasn’t as strong as it may have been when he first became a prisoner under the unflinching hexagons.

“I know you quite well, yes.  Take care, Shepard.  And thanks again for the muffin.” She held it up.  “You and him do make a good team.  I hope this isn’t more than a temporary issue.”

“You and me both,” he said quietly, but he knew she heard it as he walked away.  He took a deep breath once back outside.  What the hell should he do now?

Talking to Samara always helped ground him, somewhat.  There was something to be said about finding comfort in another biotic.  Ever since he had let slip that he knew the asari language thanks to his matriarch uncle, a connection beyond the line of duty and the oath she swore formed between them.  She was a close confidant, and these days, ever since her recruitment, she was slowly teaching him how to Reave.

Especially when she heard that Kaidan, a human, was able to do it.

Regis was making progress, but it will still take some time to get to Kaidan’s level.

And how beautiful those Reaves were on Horizon…

The door to her observation deck was open, like usual during the day.  Samara wasn’t about to shut out part of the ship just for her usage.

She wanted for little.

“Shepard,” she greeted, sitting cross-legged on a mat in front of the large windows.  An omnitool popped up on her arm and she flicked her wrist.

The shutters began to close.

It should bother him that she already knows his fear.

“Samara,” he greeted in turn, walking over as she moved over on her mat, giving him room to sit next to her.  He mirrored her pose.

“You seem troubled this morning.  Care to meditate?” she asked, her tone betraying no judgment.

He stared at the closed shutters.  “Don’t know if I can get into that mindset.”

“We don’t have to.  Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” She turned to face him.

He met her gaze.  “Surely you’ve heard–”

“Word travels fast on this ship.  Does not mean it has the full truth attached to it.” Was that a smile tugging on her lips after she interrupted him?

Perhaps it wasn’t a matter of what she’s heard but from who.

Would he have talked to her knowing about her code?  Probably not.  But she and Zaeed have made quite the interesting duo on missions.

Quite the powerhouse, the three of them.

He pressed his lips together before letting out a snort.  “That’s quite a way to define gossip.”

She tilted her head slightly.  “Am I wrong, Shepard?”

Now he was smiling.  “No.” He let out a sigh.  “Not sure if I want to recount it, and that’s the thing.  I’ve been through worse.” Torfan.  Eden Prime.  Battle of the Citadel.  “Through hell and back.” In more definitions of the word than just one.  “Why is this troubling me so goddamn much?”

Her gaze returned back towards the shuttered windows.  “I could tell there was a bond between you two the moment we met on Illium.  A bond not just forged from battle.  A bond forged from survival.  A bond forged from love.  Yes, Lawson complimented you both quite well.  But you both fight as if you were once one.”

He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him.

“And I understand that you are not just a duo.” Her biotics flashed around her.  With her field, strong, sharp, yet feeling like a soft feather next to him, he activated his own biotics, a violet barrier against her light blue.  “A triad.  Something quite uncommon, from what I understand about your people.  Forged in the heat of battle.  Made stronger from a stress that no one should have to endure.”

He felt one of his hands clench into a fist, his nails digging into his skin.

“I don’t foresee your bond being snapped by one mission.  I know this isn’t a choice you can make alone.  And if I was with you instead of Miss Goto… I would have supported your choice.”

Something was lurking underneath her tone.

“And if this was your target?” He can’t help but ask, blurting the question out.  Her code fascinated him… but also made him wonder.

“There were innocents, but–” Her gaze lands back on him.  “I would not have been as reckless as he was.  But that isn’t the issue here, is it?  It began before the mission.”

Another sigh escaped him, and this time, he looked away from her gaze.  “We–I thought we told each other everything.  Naively.”  He spat.  “But he sure as shit isn’t Kaidan.  A bond forged from mutual survival… that applies to us all.  And I don’t want him to be Kaidan…”  He shook his head.  “But I heard his story about Vido.  More than once.  Traced that scar with my fingers and my lips–” He cleared his throat.  She didn’t budge at his slipped comment.  “He knows my own story.  My fears.  What I intend to do once the Collectors are no more.  Who I’m also waiting to enact my revenge on.” Destroy Cerberus.  Destroy T’Soni.

“If he had told you?” She asked softly.  Quietly.  Barely breaking the silence.

Would it have changed anything?

“It would have changed everything.  I’ve been blindsided on missions before.  Intel drops the  ball.  Something changes at the last minute.  Nothing is ever perfect.”

“I understand that quite well.”

He acknowledged her with a nod.  “It was one thing to hear Vido’s voice on the comms.  Another to face him directly and not feel like I could destroy him and his mercs with a well placed singularity.”

And another to save his life from his own mistakes.  Not the first time in his life he’s had to save a man he loves.  Kaidan on Virmire.  Zaeed on Zorya.  Both his loves were so close to being lost by fire… and he was the catalyst.  

He couldn’t say that aloud just yet.  Maybe never. 

“Undermining him would’ve made things worse.”  An observation, a comment.  One that wasn’t wrong.

“That’s the conclusion I drew.” He took a deep breath.  In and out.  His field fizzled slightly, heighted from emotions, from memory tinged with anger.  “Sorry.”

She flicked her wrist, as if she was waving him off.  “Your biotics are often like a cloudy, overcast day.  Calm, quiet, yet a volatile system that could strike and turn into a storm at any moment.  Do not apologize for power.  I did not feel that storm directed towards me.”

An interesting description.  Kaidan’s own description wasn’t far off.  A sea calm after a storm, but waves are still waiting in the distance to strike hard at land.  A velvet cocoon.  Soft, safe.

Until it rips apart.

“All this makes it obvious how much this is unsettling me,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

“I’m afraid that was clear the moment you stepped inside.” Another smile at her lips.  “My apologies.”

Her comment startled a laugh out of him.  “That’s the nicest way someone’s ever told me I look like shit.”

“It brought you a moment of peace, did it not?”

She definitely was one of the better parts of this goddamn mission.  “It did.  Thank you.  Yeah, you got what was bothering me.  Hell, I already knew that I was pissed that he didn’t just tell me what his request was really about.  Just… I have my own regrets too.”

“Saying things in anger doesn’t mean you think and assign meaning to them when the moment is calm.”

A lightbulb went off in his head.  He never said anything about the end.  And maybe she could infer that all on her own.  Knowing that he would be bothered by something more than just a mission gone wrong.  She’s seen him.  She knows the way he can lash out with words sharper than a knife.  “So you have talked to him?”

“It was late.  He was restless.  I invited him in for tea and meditation.”

The image that conjured up made him snort.  Sure, Zaeed drinks tea with him, but he’s also seen him pour out some cups in the bathroom when he thinks Regis isn’t looking.  And meditation wasn’t exactly the type of quiet time he enjoyed with him.

“Did you now?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I did not allow him to say a word about his request until he finished a cup of tea and sat quietly for ten minutes.  I happened to choose an asari blend you enjoy.  Vi’la leaves?”

He nodded, recovering a little after blinking a few times at her statement. “My uncle introduced it to me.  Similar to earth green tea, but sweeter.  Didn’t realize you had any on hand.  It’s a bitch to get outside of asari space.”

“You are welcome to partake in my stash.  He did not realize I gave it to him unintentionally, but he’s more observant than most.  In the end, he did confide in me.”

“He did, huh.” More bitterness leeched in.

“There is one thing I will leave with you.  When you’ve been alone and on your own for so long, it’s difficult to accept the open arms of others.  Consolidating past memories with current opportunities does not come easy.  Falling back in old habits feels safe.  Accepting a new reality is not.”  Her biotics ceased and she stood up.  “It is time for me to fix myself a meal.” She offered a hand to him.

He took it and let his own barrier dissipate.  “You have given me a lot to think about.”

“I always enjoy our chats.  And Shepard?  I am nearing completion of the details of my own request.  I appreciate what you are doing for the crew.”

“Of course.  It’s the least I can do.  Thanks for everything.” He followed her out of her room and stopped at the elevator, watching as she headed towards the small kitchen.

He called for the elevator.  

It’s not about you.  It’s never been about you, has it?  It’s always been about Vido, and what that incident did to him.  Of course he’d still be feeling the sting of such a betrayal.  

Survival comes first.  Wasn’t that something you believed in after Torfan, trying to push Kaidan away, as if he was tainted by being with you?

Maybe he didn’t want Vido ruining something else for him.  And that… failed quite spectacularly.  

Maybe he felt safe in his old ways.  A mission all to his own…

The elevator arrived and he entered his personal code for his cabin.  

The doors opened quick enough.  And he headed straight back towards his desk, pulling off his gloves and tossing them next to a quarian ship replica he was working on and a part of one of Zaeed’s trigger mods.

What now?  Does he send him a message?  Does he go down to his part of the ship?

A ping on his terminal cut through the silence of the cabin.  

ZM: Are you in your cabin?  I think we need to talk, baby.

His heart began pounding in his chest.  We need to talk.  Not a phrase anyone loves to hear.

But that endearment.

Baby.  Not goddamn idiot or asshole or bastard or any combination of the words.

RS: I am.  It’s always open for you, Zee.

In return, he’ll send him his nickname.  A teasing little letter.

To show things haven’t changed.

Yet.

No, nothing will fucking change.  What did Samara say?  Bonds forged in stress and survival.  This is just an extension of that.

Waiting for those doors to open felt like an eternity.  Waiting for that lock to turn from yellow to green.

Waiting for Zaeed to step out and–

That sound.

He tilted his chin up, crossing his legs in his chair.  Pure confidence.  Nothing will shake him.

Not even–Zaeed, revealed by the doors.  Wearing his work pants and a basic T-shirt and his goddamn N7 hoodie.  He looked like shit otherwise.  Dark circles.  A furrowed brow.

No rage dancing behind those eyes right now.

He steps forward slowly.  “There’s a lot more I owe you than just a goddamn talk.”  His voice is a warm gravel, yet tinged with… regret.  Sorrow.  Pure unadulterated emotion.

“You do.” He replied back, curtly, and immediately winced.   He meant to keep the bitterness away.  Dull the knives still waiting to be unleashed.  Hold back the acid meant to hurt and burn.

All Zaeed did was nod.  Not even say another fucking word.  

So Regis stands up and closes the distance, reaching out for a hand.  A touch.  Feeling that rough skin indicative of a life of action and fights and survival.  “Let’s sit on the couch.”

“Lead the way.”

The grip they shared was tight.  A lifeline.  He guided him over and sat down next to him, their legs touching, at least.  No cuddling.  No cradling.  Not yet.

Regis focused his gaze on him, searching for something that wasn’t so fucking out in the open.  Zaeed met his gaze, flicked his eyes upward before back at him, and cleared his throat.  “I need to start by saying that Vido getting away isn’t something I’m going to easily forget.  Not for one goddamn minute.  I’ll always be pissed that he was so fucking close to meeting whatever sorry bastard made him exist in this shithole of a universe.  But–”

None of that was surprising.  Still stung.  His eyes narrowed.

He still let him say his piece.  All he can do, right?  Zaeed made the move to talk, and Regis wasn’t going to shut him out.  Not when his heart ached and yearned and wished.

“Icing you out and acting like I could do this all alone is all my fucking fault.  Vido getting away… is not just my fault.  I don’t know what the hell I was thinking by not just spitting out what my bullshit was really about.”  Zaeed’s hand moved to grip his thigh.  Regis put his hand on top of his.

Softening his gaze, he took a deep breath.  Focused back on the man he loved with all his heart.  The man that helped complete him alongside Kaidan.

He’s always been Zaeed. You know what he’s like.

“That’s exactly it.  You weren’t thinking… but maybe you were.  Just because we’ve shared this bed and said the four letter magic word doesn’t mean that secrets need to always be shared.” He squeezed his hand.  “But what you did made me wonder what the hell I may have done for you to not trust me when…”

He trailed off.  When I told you all about T’Soni.  About dying in space.  About how much Cerberus struck fear in how they were able to bring me back...

He cleared his throat.  “When I could’ve just flinged that bastard off the balcony with a beautiful fucking lightshow as you nailed him in the head with a damn headshot.”

He knows what you really wanted to say.

Zaeed raised up his other hand and touched it to the Blue Suns tattoo on his neck.  A tattoo Regis worshiped just a few nights before.  “I’m not good at this shit.  I’m… no.  I’m not mad at you.  Far from it.  I’m pissed at myself for turning into the bastard I thought I buried when I met you and Kaidan.  When I realized that maybe being on my own was a sack of shit.  Even when we all lied to ourselves and walked away.”

Regis found himself leaning into him at that statement.  Zaeed wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into his side.  He inhaled deeply.  Smoke, gun oil, citrus, home and love and Zee.

“I thought going back into my old ways was the only fucking way to handle this.  Despite having you and your skills by my side.  This has been my goddamn plan, my goddamn revenge for years, and part of me couldn’t stand knowing that someone got the shot off of Vido before I could.  I survived and made a name for myself for years under that mindset.  What was one more fucking mission.” The venom directed at himself made Regis knit his eyebrows.  The self-deprecation.  

The words he remembered flinging back at him on that landing area.

But he still let him speak.

“Nothing you said was a goddamn lie.  You know me too well.  Maybe I haven’t really changed. Maybe I am still just a merc vying for survival and a big payout all to myself… never giving a shit about anyone else involved.  Maybe that’s why I didn’t come back up to our bed.  Let you sleep alone… because I treated you like every piece of shit I’ve worked with.”

Another wince. Remembering what he said to him, remembering how much he wanted him to hurt. 

Regis studied his face. Open and full of regret. “When I said those things to you… all I wanted to do was make you hurt, Zee. You have changed.  You're a better man than you were.” He shook his head at himself. “Even during our days when we first met on Omega, when we were two goddamn Alliance idiots fucking up your hit on a target, you never treated us like two bit mercs picked up off a street.” He gestured over to the bed, and Zaeed followed his gesture. His face softened when he saw the hoodie. “I slept with the damn thing and I wanted it to be you so fucking bad and–”

“Everything is my fuck up, Regis,” Zaeed said, interrupting his rambling, his hand moving to cup his face.  Zaeed opened his mouth to continue, but Regis surged forward to claim his lips, pressing a soft kiss against them, swallowing anything he was going to say. 

“We both made mistakes yesterday. Let me say my piece,” Regis murmured against his lips before pressing a kiss next to the scar by his white eye. Zaeed's eyes closed at the contact, letting out a sigh before nodding. 

“If it absolves you, Zee, you're forgiven. We aren't perfect. Shit happens. We're owning it right fucking now.  But–” His voice cracked. “I nearly saw you die. That fucking beam--if I wasn't there with my biotics, who knows what would've happened. And in the moment and after I was so fucking pissed you didn't acknowledge that.”

Zaeed's eyes were still closed, but his face was tightly knit together. Regis moved to cup his face instead, letting himself be vulnerable, admitting yet another fear in his heart. “There’s been two times in my life now where I nearly saw my lover die. And I was the catalyst that prevented it from happening. The catalyst that may have even caused the fucking situation to happen.” Sending Kaidan to the bomb site. Choosing the workers on Zorya instead of Vido. Even if he saved them all–Ash and Kaidan, Zaeed and the workers…

“And–” Regis’s voice cracked again, and he cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.  “And I was so fucking angry that you didn’t acknowlege what it means when someone I love is in danger?  Isn’t that fucked?  We’re not even ready to face that damn Relay and I couldn’t handle seeing you–”

“Regis, baby,” Zaeed said, cupping his face and making him face him.  Glowing red eyes to mismatch scarred and green.  He met his gaze and blinked away the frustrated tears that were forming.  How fucking pathetic.  “I should’ve said something.  Should’ve acknowledged what you did and continued to do.  Shoud’ve been me in that fucking bed even if we couldn’t stand to look at each other… fixed that tarp for you.” He let out a rough sigh and snorted at himself, clearly unkindly. “Again, all this bullshit is because of me.  What would putting a bullet in that fucking bastard’s head done for me?  Couple of seconds of glee before his corpse cools?  And realize… twenty fucking years led to that…  That I wasted twenty fucking years, no one else…” His voice was a low growl before he closed the distance between them, their foreheads touching.  Regis leaned into the touch, feeling something in him… soften and almost break down with how fucking raw Zaeed was being right now.  Never quite expecting this from the man.

Jack must’ve really kicked his ass.  Maybe he should get his head checked out.

“We will handle the Relay together as a goddamn team, always as a goddamn team.  Just like we promised after you recruited me and I saw you again.  Samara also kicked my ass.”

Regis snorted at that, interrupting him.  “How we are as one.  How we should always be.”

He barked out a laugh.  “Thought it was a sack of stinking shit until I thought about it longer than a goddamn minute.  Should’ve realized that far sooner.  No more secrets.  No more hiding shit.  Just us.”

“I think you already knew all about it… considering you never bitch to me when I almost always drag you along,” Regis teased slightly.  

Zaeed smiled back. “I bitch, just not to you about it.”

“Thought we just agreed to no more secrets.”

“Didn’t say it applied to past bullshit,” Zaeed chuckled, kissing his forehead.  

“Fair enough, you bastard.” Regis shook his head, smiling.  “I love you.  Always.  Our bullshit didn’t change that.” Never will.  “We’re making it right and acknowledging our shit, and we both made mistakes.” He gave him a hard look.  “I could’ve done more before entering that damn refinery.  Or–” He cut himself off sharply.  “Doesn’t matter.  Things could’ve been different.  It’s about what we do now. And how I’m going to use every resource I can to help you hunt that bastard down, just as you’re willing to do for me and my due with T’Soni…”

Zaeed pulled him in close, pulling him in against his chest.  “We’re going to win.  We’re going to get your revenge.  And I’ll take that promise of yours when the time comes and get my due.  But for now?  I have you back in my goddamn arms and I should have never let you go.  I love you too.” He moved to plant himself more comfortably on his lap, staring down at him.  His boyfriend.  His comrade.  His everything.  “As I said, you’re forgiven.  I know you aren’t going to let me go tonight.  Or tomorrow.” Or ever.  A yawn escaped him and he cursed at himself.  “Well, shit.”

Zaeed pressed a kiss against his lips, a soft and chaste one, all things considered.  “I didn’t get a minute of good sleep either.  Punished myself and you.”

“We’ll just have to make up for it.”

There was still plenty they needed to talk about. Lay more shit out.  But this was enough for now.

And if he was honest with himself, it was all he needed.  Acknowledgement of what went down.  How they need to do better.  Being back in his arms…

“Your goddamn ship.  Your goddamn rules,” Zaeed chuckled.  “Chakwas could write you a damn note.”

“I have on good authority that she will.”

“Abuse that power of yours.” A fond expression was on his face.  “Couldn’t believe Kaidan iced me out at first.”  He almost looked annoyed now if it weren’t for the smile tugging on his lips.

“I couldn’t believe you got to him first,” Regis laughed.  “And zipped inside my cabin to nip my hoodie.” He pulled on the hoodie strings.  

“Selfishly, I wanted a part of you, but didn’t want to face you or some shit… still working that out.  Consolidating all the shit in my fucked head.” A wry smile formed on his face.  “We should call him.”

It hasn’t been quite a day yet, but he so desperately wanted to hear his voice and see his face again.

“Let’s move to the bed first.” But Regis made no move to get up.

Zaeed rolled his eyes.  “I’ll pick you up, princess.”

“Wasn’t that many evenings ago you were the one who was writhing against that pillow.”

“Takes one to know one, then,” he conceded with a smirk, picking him up as they stood up from the couch.  He wrapped his arms around his neck and squeezed his legs around him, smiling as he sat him down next to his hoodie.  Before Zaeed joined him, he unzipped his jacket and tossed it to the side and pulled on the hoodie.  The one he wanted to wear but didn’t.  Figured the smell would stay longer if he just cuddled the damn thing….

But the real damn thing was pulling him against his chest and none of that fucking mattered anymore.

It was easy to reach for his portable display on their nightstand and queue up Kaidan’s number.  Didn’t take long before it connected and his face filled the screen, concerned only for a brief moment before a warm smile broke out on his face, lighting up the room despite being so far away.  “Hey boys.  You both look like shit.”

They both laughed.  Zaeed snorted.  “Great to see you too, baby.”

“Couldn’t resist.  I love you both.” Kaidan adjusts his screen, and he notices the uniform he’s wearing.  Blue high necked Alliance jacket much like the N7 one he was wearing before trading it for Zee’s hoodie.  “Caught me on break, by the way.  I’m on Arcturus with some of my new students…”

They launched into a conversation about everything and nothing.  Learning about the work Kaidan was doing post Horizon.  Biotic students and potential spec ops squads.  Checking in on their on-goings on the Cerberus ship.  New recruits.  Possible future recruits.  Opinions on current ones…

Acting like everything was normal.

But they only had so much time…

“It made my day seeing you both trading hoodies, especially after last night.”

“He stole mine,” Regis laughed.  “Traded it for his.”

“You appreciated the goddamn gesture anyway.”

Kaidan just stared at them adoringly.  “See, I knew you two would be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zaeed waved him off.  “I love you, you bastard.”

“Oh, I’m a bastard now?  Not Regis?” Kaidan teased.

“So what exactly did you call me when you talked to him last night?” Regis asked, raising an eyebrow.  

“You're a smart little bastard.  I’m sure you can figure that out.”

He rolled his eyes.  “There’s nothing little about me and you know it.”

“Your tolerance for bullshit is quite short,” Kaidan purred with a wink.

He missed this so goddamn much.  Missed having Kaidan by his side… by their side.  “You should be thankful you are many systems away,” he purred back.  Zaeed kissed him on the top of his head, ruffling his curls.

Kaidan opened his mouth to reply, but a quiet alarm sounded from his end of the call.  He made a face, furrowing his eyebrows and losing that easy, open expression.  “I wish I could stay on longer, but I need to get back.  I love you both.  Stay safe out there.”

Both him and Zaeed murmured a soft, quiet, “I love you, too.”

“Be safe out there, baby,” Zaeed affirmed.  “We’ll be just fine.  We have each other, yeah?”

“I long for the day the three of us are together.  I might even make N7 soon…” He trailed off with a grin.  “Kick the Collectors asses.”

“Hell yeah, love.  Can’t wait to see you in the stripes.  We’ll destroy them in your honor,” Regis said, his hand moving to lay on the screen.  Zaeed’s hand joined his, and Kaidan pressed his against the screen before ending the call.

This was the time.

He raised up out of his arms, and Zaeed made an annoyed noise. "Why the hell are you getting up?"

"Got something I need to get," he replied, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose.

"And you can't get it with your damn biotics?"

"Chakwas told me to lay off them for a day or two." He bit back the comment about someone who didn't keep an eye on his usage. "I'll just be one second." He held up a finger and walked over to grab the scarf box from his desk and handed it to him once back on the bed. "Picked this up a while back from an order on the Citadel. Never could figure out a good time to pass it on... but there's never really a perfect time for anything," he rambled on as Zaeed took off the top.

Zaeed's face softened before taking out the scarf, holding it up. "And here I almost fucked--"

Regis closed the distance between them, cutting him off, swallowing whatever apologetic bullshit he wanted to spew. "Don't want to hear it." He whispered against his lips when they broke apart, when Regis kissed down the scar on his face. A mark of survival. A mark of revenge.

Zaeed put the scarf on. "Is this your way of giving me a fucking marriage proposal?"

He sounded so fucking happy and earnest that a snort escaped him. "You know, Kaidan and I always treated it like one too. Once we're together again, I'll put in something for some matching scarves for all of us, but this is yours. You're a Shepard. And from what I know about Atlas, I think he would be okay with you joining in on the tradition. Because I'm told he was a stubborn bastard, and who else but the asshole who warms my bed?" A smirk tugged on his lips.

One also tugged on Zaeed's, his eyes shining despite the low light.

Wearing a scarf on armor as a way to differentiate yourself. An act of individuality. Another way of identification that barely passed regs.

A sign that you are part of Regis Shepard's family. First Kaidan. Then Ashley.

Now Zaeed.

And this time, Zaeed closed the distance between them, pushing his tongue into his mouth and holding him tightly as they poured their love and passion for each other in every touch and taste.

When they broke apart and Zaeed’s arms wrapped around him tighter, he didn’t say a fucking word.  He pressed up against him as close as he could, closing his eyes and inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth and love.

Nothing more than quiet touch and reassurance.

Later, Zaeed will fix the tarp, and maybe Regis will submit his request for some “medical leave” and spend the rest of the day catching up on sleep… and taking the time to make up on lost time with each other.

Now?  Regis was content with being in his arms once more.  

More talk, more comfort, more enjoyment in each other and their bodies can come much later.

And when he looked up at the corner of space revealed by the unstuck corner of the tarp, he didn’t feel like he was losing the ability to breathe as long as he was in Zaeed’s arms.

[dontforgetukraine]

Rachel Jamison: Going to try a new method! Did you know credit card points can convert to airline miles? Some of them can. If you have credit card points and want to use them to fly a volunteer to or from Ukraine, sign up to do that here. We have a volunteer who is an expert on points (seriously he is amazing at it) and he can help you figure out what you can do with your points. We use points and miles to get qualified volunteers to Ukraine and help volunteers go home after long service or injury (military veterans and medical professionals only)

Rachel Jamison, the director of Protect a Volunteer (PAV), is putting out a call for help. PAV is running low on donors with airline miles, which are donated to help qualified volunteers get to Ukraine. If you have credit card points that can be converted to airline miles, and you want to help Ukraine, consider filling out an application. You can find this link in the quote above too.

[draph91]

A little update regarding AB3080, turns out it’s actually an amendment to an already existing law. The law in question is called The Parent’s Accountability and Child Protection Act

This law requires a person or business that conducts business in California and that seeks to sell specified products or services to take reasonable steps to ensure that the purchaser is of legal age at the time of purchase or delivery, including verifying the age of the purchaser. The act provides that reasonable steps include, but are not limited to, any of specified options, including requiring the user to input, scan, provide, or display a government-issued identification, as specified.

AB3080 would expand the above-described provisions to require a person or business that conducts business in California and seeks to make available products that are illegal to make available to minors, as specified, to take reasonable steps to ensure that the purchaser is of legal age at the time of purchase or delivery. The bill would provide that reasonable steps include, but are not limited to, any of the following: (1) requiring the user to input, scan, provide, or display a government-issued identification, as specified, (2) requiring the user to use a nonprepaid credit card or debit card for online access, or (3) implementing a system that enables only individuals with accounts designated as adult accounts to access the internet website.

Quoting some text in the link btw

[professoruber]

Incorrect Quotes: Bruce giving money to the Bat-Family | Part 4

Previous Part: Link | Next Part: Coming Soon

Bruce: Your recital tonight was lovely, Cass.

Cassandra: <Smile> Thank you.

Stephanie: No need to undersell it, B. That was great, Cass! I’ve never been into all that fancy ballet opera stuff; but that was… breathtaking.

Cassandra: <Smiles more and then yawns>

Alfred: All of you please cease crowding the poor girl. It seems Miss Cassandra is tired out by her performance routine. I suggest taking a short nap before the festivities later tonight, dear.

<Cassandra nods and Alfred guides her back to her room, leaving Bruce, Steph and Tim in the lounge>

Tim: So… you’ve both got something for her something to celebrate, right? I mean, I started working on a surprise for her the moment I heard she’d be preforming in the Gotham Opera House.

Stephanie: Well duh. It’s Cass! She deserves only the best. I’ve been collecting the finest ingredients to bake a feast of her favourite flavour of waffles.

Tim: Nice. No I can’t disagree with that, Cass deserves the best. Uh… you brought something for her, right Bruce?

Stephanie: <Eye roll> Of course he got something. Even the grim and grumpy Batman isn’t that heartless.

<Bruce suddenly coughs and then lets out a nervous laugh, prompting incredulous glares from Tim and Steph>

Bruce: I may have… forgotten.

Stephanie: Seriously dude? Even I’m disappointed in you for this.

Bruce: In my defence… I was distracted by a sudden gang war between the Mafia and Yakuza.

Stephanie: Well Tim and I managed to get her stuff even though we were busy chasing the Riddler through a series of heists!

Bruce: Oh please. Between the two of you even Nygma would be put on the ropes… but I agree that I made a mistake. And now I must rectify that mistake. <Gets up from couch, looking determined>

Tim: Tracking down something appropriately meaningful so late at night and having it prepared and delivered before Cass wakes up… is a tall order even for Bruce Wayne.

Bruce: For Bruce Wayne, yes. But not for Batman. Alfred! I’m heading out.

Alfred: Of course sir. And I trust you already have the, uh, Bat-Credit Card?

Bruce: Never leave the cave without it.

———————

<An hour-ish later, Cass is happily eating waffles made by Steph and Tim>

Cassandra: Very tasty. Mhm. <Chews> And… thank you, Steph. For waffles.

Stephanie: Figured you would have quite the appetite after that.

Cassandra: I do. And thank you, Tim. For this. <Gesture to custom album of her favourite dancing tunes that Tim edited together>

Tim: No problem, Cass. Wanted to do something special to celebrate your big show. We all know how hard you’ve been working on your ballet prac-

<Tim is cut off as Bruce Wayne comes tumbling into the room, looking exhausted>

Stephanie: <Muttering> Look who finally showed up, it’s about time.

Cassandra: Are you okay?

Bruce: I… huff… I…

Tim: You doing okay Bruce?

<Bruce takes a brief moment to steady himself before marching over to Cassandra with renewed vigour and handing her a wrapped box>

Cassandra: For me?

<Cassandra unwraps and opens box to find her costume from the performance inside>

Stephanie: Woah. Wasn’t that on loan to the Gotham Opera House by some fancy French designer dude?

Bruce: Yes. I… tracked him down and purchased it before anyone else could.

Cassandra: <Smiles and hugs Bruce> Thank you… dad.

Bruce: I… I’m glad you’re happy with it. You were beautiful tonight, Cass. And I know you grew a bit fond of this costume during all those rehearsals, so I figured it might make a decent memento of the performance.

Cassandra: No matter what you got, I would have liked it. I know you care. But… thank you, again.

Stephanie: As touching as this whole father-daughter embrace is, I just wanted to let you guys know everyone’s starting to arrive.

Bruce: Right. Let’s go greet them.

<The rest of the Bat-Family arrived and they all had a good night celebrating Cass’ ballet>

[lucyav13]

Nastasia

(Credits of the art to @starlitwishes-art all of their art is great! <3 )

Nastasia's past is explained by Carson in one of his histories:

'Once upon a time, a man went to look for the girl he loved, who was missing. As he passed through a forest, he found a bat stuck in a trap. He set the bat free. It promptly thanked him and disappeared.

As he lay down to camp that night, he heard a voice and looked about. He noticed the sky was filled with a huge, round moon. There stood before him a woman he had never seen. The bat had transformed into the species of the one she had fallen for.' Now, I don't know if that's true or not...

The last part of the story was... 'The bat pledged eternal loyalty to the man out of love on that night.' ...

Obviously, we can suppose that the man in the story is Blumiere (before he turns into Count Bleck), the girl who he was looking for is Timpani and the bat who then turns into a woman is Nastasia.

Her name is Greek for "She who shall rise up again", possibly a reference to her only falling unconscious from a deadly attack or the story with the bat and the man Carson tells titled "Of Bats and Men". It is also a portmanteau of "nasty" and "Anastasia".

In the English version, she speaks in a casual manner, using words like "'K" and "gonna" often, although in the Japanese version she speaks much more professionally.

Her abilities enables her to control several people at once and command them to do tasks they would never consider doing in their right mind, such as forcing Luigi to attack his friends. However, her hypnosis is at least possible to resist, as shown by Peach during her wedding with Bowser. Nastasia seems to use her power by lifting her glasses, upon which a white glow flashes and her target is surrounded in square lasers, which puts the victim under Nastasia's (and by extension, Count Bleck's) control. Notably, the hypnosis she uses may sometimes cause physical changes in the victim, such as hypnotized Koopa Troopas donning dark glasses and spikes. (And perhaps that would explain the drastic change in Mr. L outfit)

Another fun fact is that, in the post-game, there's a boy on Flopside who was in love with Nastasia, but she comments to us her feelings for the Count, and decides that even if she could learn to love again, she probably never could have measured up to Timpani anyway.

Card type: Rare

Card Description: Nastasia is Count Bleck's executive assistant. She's in charge of scheduling, organizing, and brain-control. Word is, she's got a secret crush on her boss.

Trivia: Before the game's initial release, artwork of Nastasia and Tiptron together was released despite the fact that the two never interact in the game.

Tippi originally had a tattle for Nastasia in the postgame, though since Tippi would have already been gone by this point, it went unused and remains in the game's files. The tattle reads, "That's Nastasia, the count's executive assistant. She has served him the longest... Without him, she is quite lonely, but she manages to go on in her new life... It is hard for me to see her like this... I think I know exactly how she feels..."

Quotes:

"Yeah, I'll fire off a memo on that...but for now, we have another item on the agenda..."

"Yeah, so some minions in the Bowser organization are still resisting assimilation. So I'm heading out to squash the resistance..."

"So I guess you finished up that report on your own inadequacy that I needed?"

"Um, no, my count. I won't be doing that. My life is already sworn to you."

"If only I could have, y'know, been that girl... Things would have been different..."

"Yeah, I'm afraid your orders mean nothing anymore."

The above text is from the Super Mario Wiki and is available under a Creative Commons license. Attribution must be provided through a list of authors or a link back to the original article. Source: https://www.mariowiki.com/Carson

[queerfanfiction]

Topic Of Study (Ch. 3)

Larissa Weems x PhDstudent!Reader

AO3 link

Smutty Spotify link

Going about your day after the almost-kiss was awful. Frustrating. Time was moving so slowly. You tried your best to study in the library that you found so charming, find books for your research that you adored, and seek out quotes that invigorated you. However, your gaze kept falling back to the bookcase you were pinned against by Larissa earlier.

Distracted, you decide to pack up your things and walk around Nevermore before eating lunch and returning to your living quarters. It felt like the hours would never pass, not when your main distraction retreated to her duties. You wanted to study her reaction; you were sure she would have a slightly frazzled and confused look as she considered her utter lust for someone almost 20 years her junior.

Finally it was time to get ready for Imogen to pick you up. You needed no doubt in the other woman’s mind of what the night would entail. You chose an oversized blazer with nothing underneath except a dangling gold, body chain and some fabric tape. If the open front wasn’t enough, its short sleeves hinted at the sides of your breasts. You were hoping for the security of not having the top move but the illusion that at any moment it could.

With such a statement on top, you opted for simple, tight and high waisted pants on the bottom. You finished off the look with black, heeled boots. You didn’t want lipstick to be a factor to consider throughout the night; rather, you were in need of easily accessible lips. You selected a graphic, blue cat eye that emphasized the negative space on your eyelid and went into your crease for eyeliner.

Imogen texted that they were pulling up now. Who exactly were ‘they’? Grabbing only a credit card, some cash, and your ID, you walked downstairs. Your outfit didn’t exactly beckon baggage. You wondered if you would be lucky enough to bump into Principal Weems on your way out. 

No such luck.

You were able to make it outside and to the car without seeing much of anyone. Imogen opened the rear door from the back and called out for you. Inside the beat up Toyota Corolla was were three other people you’d never met. Music is playing and the two up front seem to be in a somewhat heated discussion about the Red Hot Chili Peppers. This had the possibility of being a long night.

Imogen scoots over to the middle seat in the back to allow you entry. She doesn’t mention your outfit but eyes you hungrily as you get settled. It seems you didn’t misread her interest after all. She puts a hand on your thigh and keeps it there throughout the 35 minute drive.

You didn’t care she brought an audience. You didn’t care which places you patroned. You didn’t care what specifically you had to drink. You just wanted to feel the heat of her body moving against yours as music blared, threatening to blur out everything but that moment and the pleasure associated with it. Ever since that moment in the library earlier in the day, you’ve been wound tight. You wanted to unravel.

—

What was it about night clubs that prioritized pool tables and cheap neon strobe lights? Every club you've ever been to in a city less than 100,000 in population has been like this—dirty carpet, stale sweaty air, a D-list DJ. Then again, you suppose no one really seeks out nightclubs for the posh atmosphere.

Trying your hardest to get into the current beats playing throughout the space, you decide you’re going to have to request a few of your own songs if you’re going to let loose. You and Imogen slip in among the crowd, hands clasped, making a beeline for the bar.

Two whisky sours later and you have your hand on Imogen’s ass and your mouth at her ear letting her know that you expect her on the dance floor momentarily.

You traverse over to the DJ, requesting a few songs with the pleading, seductive eyes you’ve mastered by now. Once you’ve made it near the center off the dance floor, you spot Imogen with four shots, gesturing you over. You and her link arms to throw back the shots in succession. You’re not even sure what liquor was currently making its way down your throat, igniting warmth into your core.

With impeccable timing, your selected song begins as you two put down the now empty shot glasses. You begin to feel the music and the alcohol melt your nerves and relax your muscles. In only a moment you are moved like a puppet on strings by the beats and Imogen’s hands on your hips.

The ping-pong beat and the anthemic melody of “Untrust Us” by Crystal Castles plays on as you bring your lips to Imogen’s neck and lightly suck her pulse point. She moves her dark hair aside to give you better access while her hands roam your body—one at your hip and one settling into a grasp at the nape of your neck.

As you dance recklessly, the sweat begins to accumulate over your skin, not all of it yours. Imogen attempts to bring her mouth to your own skin, only to be shut down by you enforcing and focusing on your claim to her neck with fire in your eyes instead. Her hips rock into yours at almost the same pace as the music due to your assertive response.

The colorful strobe lights mask the fluidity of your movements, and you two seem to glitch on the dance floor. You take your time marking up and down Imogen’s neck, feeling how hot and humid the space surrounding you two is getting.

The next thing you know, you are being dragged out of the club in a frenzy by your upper arm like a rag doll. You immediately miss the vibrating bass and faint smell of weed wafting off of the other dancers. The quick jolt and change in scenery made your head dizzy. Disoriented, you attempt to focus your eyes to your new location, which was outside in the quiet night air with streetlights in the distance.

You recognize the two people in front of you—both Imogen’s friends from the drive here. One was the driver and the other was in the back with you. Rage marked their faces.

“Where’s Imogen?” you tried to articulate. It came out slightly garbled.

Everyone knows everyone in Jericho. You eventually found out that the people you came with were Imogen’s friends that she had known since she was little. 

“So you can drain her like the Fang you are? No way!” Something connected with your stomach. You weren’t sure what. The only thing you were sure of was the pain. It took you a moment to realize that you had been misinterpreted to be an outcast. Being picked up at Nevermore and mouthing Imogen’s neck were apparently the strikes against you, unless there was more. You didn’t understand the ins and outs of vampires yet. Your research was still honed on literature review.

You doubled over in pain while the two friends hurried away while you were distracted. Noticing a concrete parking block close by, you clamber to sit on it before your legs have a chance to give out.

Pulling out your phone, you text Imogen. You weren’t sure if she was part of the assault directly. By the way she was moaning in your ear only minutes ago, you would assume not. However, that means she didn’t explain anything about you to her companions and likely was not clued into what happened.

Outside. Where are you? you type out slowly. Damn your one bar of signal and 20% battery alert. Movies don’t get it all wrong. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, no matter how far fetched it seems.

You wait 10 minutes with no response. Still sitting on the parking barrier, you stand and squint into the parking lot. You didn’t see the Toyota you all arrived in. Shit.

Willing your 18% phone battery to hold out long enough to secure an Uber, you close all your apps in the background and lower the brightness. Thankfully Burlington had a fair bit of drivers out tonight. You input the address to Nevermore and wait to get connected with a driver.

An alert lets you know that Brian with 4.83 stars is on the way and will arrive in 6 minutes. Minutes pass, and you see that Uber is loading, attempting to secure a new driver. Another profile pops up to escort you, arriving in 3 minutes.

You almost immediately receive a notification that there are no available drivers in your area, despite the fact you can see the moving vehicles on Uber’s real-time map. Irritated, you consider whether or not they realized your destination and canceled or if the possibility of a sober passenger was slim being picked up outside of a nightclub. Regardless, you’re fucked.

Before Uber can continue draining your battery, you close the app and try Lyft. When a similar experience occurs with Lyft, you Google taxis. With the influx of 1 and 2 star reviews regarding wait times, you decide to forgo that option with a heavy sigh.

At a loss for next steps, you consider the only number you could try at Nevermore—the main reception line. Besides Imogen who is curiously missing in action, you don’t have anyone else’s number around Jericho or Nevermore. You could at least try the number before your phone dies.

You press to call. It rings many, many times. Honestly, you’ve lost count with how dizzy you feel and how repetitive the rings were. You are about to accept defeat when you hear the receiver click and a concerned voice speaks.

“Hello?”

“You sound cute when you’re concerned,” you mumble smugly. Too smug for your own good right now.

“What are you doing calling the main office at a time like this?” The worry in Larissa’s voice turned into a reserved, controlled tone. She had heard the ringing from within her own office. No one used the main number for Nevermore unless they were reporters or prank callers, and reporters wouldn’t dare at this hour.

“Um, I’m in Burlington and don’t have a way back to Jericho or Nevermore.”Knowing she would exhaust every option, you continued, “The rideshares I have tried keep cancelling my request. Even though I have an amazing rating. Almost 5 stars. I tip very well. I guess they don’t want to go to Nevermore in the middle of the night.”

You could almost see her scrunched face through the phone weighing her options. “Oh, and my phone is about to die. But I can figure something out. No worries.”

Exasperated, she concedes, “Where are you?”

After you give her your location, she agrees to come right away and recites her cell phone number for you to have in case you need to contact her.

“You’ve been waiting to give me your number, haven’t you?” Knowing it was not the time to tease and push the older woman who was doing you a favor was different than being able to control doing so.

You were met with silence. You brought the phone away from your ear and saw that Larissa had hung up.

—

After waiting until your ass began to go numb, you finally glimpse the Nevermore van turning onto the street the nightclub is on.

Larissa spots you stand up and almost stalls the engine with her feet hitting both the accelerator and break at the same time due to being distracted by your outfit. With everything that happened, you forgot you looked like sex personified. An imminent smirk played at your lips.

You stumble towards the car’s passenger door. Once inside, you notice her own outfit—a silk robe and sleep bonnet, not unlike her exquisite headscarves. They were the color of amber honey and drew you in to wonder if there was anything under the soft, glistening robe.

Her voice interrupts your less than innocent thoughts, “What were you doing all the way out in Burlington in the first place?”

You gesture to the nightclub in front of the idling van. “I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t find Imogen.” The information sits heavy in the air between you.

Larissa sets her jaw rigid, but her eyes remain calm and concerned in your direction. You let yourself consider if she is jealous. It would explain her stiff demeanor.

Before she can take the car out of park, Larissa notices the bottom of a darkening bruise forming on your upper arm. Her fingers lift up the fabric of your sleeve to reveal skin changing color in the shape of a large handprint. Her red, manicured fingernails tickle your skin, raising goosebumps on your arm. Staying silent, you didn’t trust yourself to speak eloquently or to not make matters worse.

After gently turning in her seat, hands reach out to cup your face. “Are you okay?” The soft syllables come forward, waiting for a response. When none comes, Larissa resumes carefully, “You’re safe. Everything will be okay.”

Looking you over again with a protective eye, she observes your smudged eyeliner. Had you been crying?

“You look like a blue raccoon,” Larissa breathes, subconsciously finding herself licking her thumb to wipe away some of the eyeliner remnants on your face. The action makes you stare at her lips, distracted by her moist tongue’s appearance.

Almost overcome with protection and want for you, Larissa is cognizant of your longing gaze and your body buzzing to bring yourself closer to her. She doesn’t stop you or pull away when your hungry lips crash into hers.

Heat immediately rises between the two of you, and desire flares as your lips move against each other. Nearly pulling free your fabric tape, Larissa’s hands grip and pull your lapels to lessen the distance between your bodies. You crawl into the older woman’s lap, straddling her with a leg on each side of her thighs.

She tastes faintly of sweet, spearmint toothpaste, and you’re regretful that her fresh mint breath is mingling with the robust, smoky notes of oak from your earlier whiskey. 

Your fingers progress to the area behind her ears near the nape of her neck and at the edge of her silk head wrap. You tighten your grip on her neck, your knuckles nearly becoming white, as you roll your hips over hers needily. With a guttural moan into your own mouth, Larissa places one hand on your ass to continue its motion. Her other hand palms your breast over your blazer, about to pull back the fabric to expose more of your skin.

Larissa probably would have continued if your behind didn’t hit the horn, scaring you both as you tried to grind into her with more enthusiasm.

Realizing the gravity of what was occurring, Larissa breaks away from your mouth and puts her hands gingerly on your upper arms, careful not to press against your bruising. You both pant heavily, your chests heaving for oxygen.

Panic, shame, and guilt ambush Larissa after breaking you two apart. She can’t encourage this behavior while you are under the influence; she could taste the alcohol on your breath. Besides, you were a graduate student under her care! You were the first ever graduate student Nevermore had as part of a proposed pilot program. And a normie, for fucks sake. She could imagine the normie headlines now, reporting that this great beast had seduced and preyed upon you.

Most of all, Larissa dreaded having her hand forced, feeling as if there were no satisfactory conclusions. She hated mistakes—hated not being in control. Finally, she hated the ease in which you could be with Imogen, a fellow normie. No obligations to maintain a certain appearance.

You were confused and startled at the abrupt end between you. You shift back into the passenger seat and study Larissa.

“Seatbelt,” she quips in a dry tone, her voice hoarse.

The ride back to Nevermore is essentially noiseless. Only the road sounds and blinkers permeated the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Days go by without seeing each other. You wondered whether or not Larissa was hiding from you or if she was busy orchestrating your departure. You worried about your placement at the school. Could it be revoked?

The next morning after having this intrusive thought, you are approached by Mrs. Cunningham, the stout woman who interrupted you in the library. Larissa had requested your presence. Once seated alone in her office, Larissa warns from behind her desk, “Nevermore’s board did not select you over many other qualified candidates for you to waste this opportunity.”

Ah, so the board may be involved now. You wince. Behind the upright and stern façade, you caught a glimpse of hurt and fear. In denial of or recompense for her past actions, Larissa was acting as if she were turned to stone by a gorgon. Unyielding.

“I understand. I will pack my steamer trunks,” you surrendered, barely able to look at the principal.

Her eyebrows twitch only for a moment. A moment hidden from you. “That is hardly necessary, even though your actions have put me and the school in an impossible position.”

Larissa stands, smooths her dress, and walks to the front of her desk in front of you. “No more infractions,” she warns. You nod with a lump in your throat while your eyes meet. You each hold the gaze longer than needed. She enunciates decisively, “You’re dismissed.”

—

Tagging: @readingtheentrails, @justcallmelittleone. Not sure if anyone else wanted tagged for updates. Let me know if so! <3

[utaicon]

Pain, pain, go away...

"At This Festival Bathed In Twilight" Mafurui stimboard for @rookmeo・★

Enjoy! Lmk if you'd like any changes・★

Reblogs appreciated・★

Mafuyu transparent by @aroace-poly-show・★

[lnmeetuphub]

Helllooooooooo Tumblr! I hope you're all well - these were just posted over on our twitter account, so here's more information for you all!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tickets going on sale tomorrow are just for the party on Sunday which is only one portion of the meet-up. If you do not get a ticket to it, don’t worry! You are still more than welcome and encouraged to come to the rest of the meet-up as there are plenty of very fun things planned for it.

Tickets are going on sale for those who filled out the interest form tomorrow at 7pm GMT (Friday March 1st). The link to purchase a ticket will be emailed directly to said people.

Please for the love of whatever deity you do or do not believe in, if you are not in the GMT timezone check the time difference to it so that you check your email at the correct time.

Due to how payment and funds in general are working for the tickets for the party portion of the meet-up, if you purchase a ticket and can no longer attend the party for whatever reason, we will not be able to issue you a refund.

If you purchase a ticket and can no longer attend, please tell the meet-up team ASAP so that we can give your spot away to another person.

We will have a wait list set up so that if you do not obtain a ticket to the party but would still like to attend, you will be able to put your name down if someone who does get a ticket is no longer able to attend.

Once you are in, you will have 10 minutes to fill out the short form and check out

The website we are using, Eventbrite, accepts credit cards as payment so please keep that in mind.

Make sure you have an account with Eventbrite set up beforehand as that will save you time tomorrow.

We are not sharing the specific location of the party at this time due to issues caused at the last event with people showing up without a spot/reservation (no, I’m not talking about Cameron and Ali). If you share the general location or later the specific location of the party to anyone not attending, Hayley will hunt you down, and I quote, chef you up. (this is a joke. I can barely cut a slice of bread)

To prevent people buying up a bunch of tickets and distributing them to their friends (which I did catch wind of the other day), you will only be able to buy two tickets per email/account made. I double-checked the form, and no email was used more than twice for submissions (and only was for additional parents/family members coming), so this shouldn’t be an issue.

If you buy tickets for people who did not have a form filled out for them (either by themselves or by you) or distribute the link to someone who did not fill out the form, the people who receive a ticket/the link will be barred from the event and so will you.

Thank you all for reading! ✨️ see you in 149 days for the kickoff!

[vynegar]

vyn empyrean’s touch MR messages

disclaimer: this is a fan translation and i am not fluent in chinese, so keep in mind that there will be mistakes. feel free to let me know if you have questions, concerns, or comments.

do not repost without explicit permission. if you want to quote this or reference parts of the translation, credit and link back to me.

check my masterlist for more translations.

listen to the messages in S-CHN here and T-CHN here.

Title: Companionship (厮守)

Private Message 1: Like the Beginning

In the garden, the rose that I planted for you has bloomed.

Every time I see it, I cannot help but remember the first time I saw you.

I remember that card you chose, and the tower of cards that predictably collapsed after…

I remember that song “Emperor” playing on loop… and because of it, we began to discuss the topic of “change”.

For some reason, those memories are still so clear, even though they should have blurred over the test of time.

Just like how my heart pounds the moment I see you… Every day, it leaps in my chest, as it always has.

Did you know, before you arrived that day…

I thought I would be the same as usual… objective, distant, and able to remain uninvolved.

I found, however… that things did not turn out as I expected.

I felt a hint of emotion that I could not, and did not want to, control.

I allowed those feelings to ferment, until we confessed our feelings with each other and established our relationship in that manor…

It turns out that sometimes, being subjective and becoming involved… can bring about a precious experience.

And with you, I am willing to drown in this sea called “emotions”…

Considering all of this, then remembering what I asked you that day…  I feel like it was actually fate, testing me.

And my answer is… I will.

As long as I can meet you, I will repeatedly, without hesitation, draw that card.

Private Message 2: What One Sees

Once again it is time for bed.

Recently I found a book of mythology stories. I have already read quite a bit of it.

The page that I have flipped to right now just happens to have some connection to you...

I have always felt that you embody many of Themis's traits. Fairness, selflessness... Though of course, you are warmer than she is.

That was not intentional praise. Rather, that is my honest evaluation.

My impression of Themis actually originates from a sculpture.

The sculpture is from a castle belonging to the Haspran Family. Apparently, it has stood there for over a hundred years.

When I saw it as a child, all I felt was the pure awe and reverence that one feels toward art.

Later, however, I felt... pity.

Perhaps the goddess was weathered to the point that she was damaged and broken...

Or perhaps, despite how she wields justice, the unfairness and evils of the world continue to grow.

They say her eyes are covered to show fairness, selflessness, and impartiality, but there is something I have always wanted to ask her:

"Is this a sign of equal treatment, or can you not bear to see any more of the suffering around you?"

There were even times that I had a peculiar idea.

Regardless of whether that blindfold was put on by the goddess herself, or if someone around her wanted to cover her eyes...

Perhaps one day in the future, she would remove the blindfold herself and bring down a new judgment upon the world.

Of course, these are just my idle thoughts before bed.

Gods are only the embodiment of an image. They are unable to actually adjudicate everything on behalf of people.

None of the world's equality or wonders are a false image...

For me, you are the only truth.

[zenithabovemarshland]

Astrology of Zettelkasten

An example of adapting to oppositions in the birth chart

What is Zettelkasten?

I went into a deep dive about zettelkasten yesterday. If you havent heard of it, it's a system of knowledge-keeping. It contains one idea on an index card that links to other cards (like a wiki). It's an information collection system with the primary aim of connecting ideas into knowledge (1).

A famous user of the zettelkasten was the sociologist Niklas Luhmann.

Luhmann's Astrology

In his essay "Communications with Zettelkastens", Luhmann personifies his zettelkasten and calls it his "communication partner" (2), which is interesting to me because it implies an emotional relationship to... information. And sure enough, Luhmann has Moon in Gemini (3) (sense of security and goodness in the collection of many ideas).

His Moon opposes a Sun-Saturn conjunction in Sagittarius (instinct to establish structure in meaning, one that can adapt to changeability).

On this point, I like this quote from his Wikipedia page: "Luhmann himself described his theory as "labyrinthine" or "non-linear", and claimed he was deliberately keeping his prose enigmatic to prevent it from being understood "too quickly", which would only produce simplistic misunderstandings." (4) A great example of the control and imposition of Saturn, and how the Sun contradicted the Moon in his work. But it's also an expression of his Mercury-Neptune square--obfuscation in communication.

Luhmann's Moon is conjunct the North Node, and the Sun is conjunct the South Node. This is really interesting because the comfort point (South Node) opposes his comfort planet (Moon). Suggests a dominance of the Sun, frequent shedding of meaning-making strategies (he was a sociologist who developed social theories; checks out), and learning to value intellectual dabbling (which perhaps he does in the zettelkasten). (Subordination of the Moon is also supported by the Mercury-Neptune square, which could also indicate a relinquishing of thought, or a cutting-off from one's own thoughts for some period of time. Because Mercury rules his Moon, the same detachment applies to the Moon.)

A few other interesting, first-glance configurations to think about: Jupiter conjuncts Uranus Rx--big innovation. The Mercury-Mars conjunction suggests a more physical expression of thinking. It also suggests his knowledge should be actionable. Both of these are principles of the traditional zettelkasten system. And the Mercury-Mars trines the Jupiter-Uranus--one facilitates the other, and vice versa. These configurations, in my opinion, lend to his staggering production of literature--Luhmann wrote 70+ books and 400 articles (according to Wikipedia (4); other sources cite 50 books and 600 articles (1)) in his career, which he credited to his use of the zettelkasten.

I'll digress to discuss my favourite thing in Luhmann's chart: Pluto Rx in Cancer. Since my interest is in generational and ancestral astrology, this is so interesting to me because the Pluto in Cancer generation had the imperative to redefine "home"--family and nationality; things "within bounds"--particularly the how secure they were as social structures. The ruler of his Pluto, the Moon, is in Gemini, so he did this by collecting and thinking through ideas. He was a social scientist who worked (among other fields) in systems theory, a theory that studies social groupings!

(He was also conscripted as a child soldier in WWII and taken as a prisoner of war at 17 (4), which is a very sad but apt manifestation of Pluto Rx in Cancer inconjunct his Sun. I wish we had a birth time for him so we could see the houses, but alas.)

Luhmann's Story Exemplifies Adapting to Oppositions

Balancing "Neuropathways"

What I find so fascinating about Luhmann's chart is how the zettelkasten system seemed to have resolved the opposition in his chart. And we can see how the zettelkasten system not only suited his Gemini-Sagittarius opposition, but that it also suited the other configurations in his chart.

I like to think of the birth chart a bit like a map of neuropathways, the ones that are easy and immediate for us and others that are less preferred. In this case, the Mercury-Mars and Jupiter-Uranus configurations are only loosely associated with the Moon-Sun opposition--so loosely that I personally wouldn't bother to bring it up in a consult. But even so, it helped resolve the conflict between the Moon and Sun.

One way to relieve a grand cross in a birth chart is by getting in the middle of the chart--balancing the influences by finding the common ground between the planets. T-squares are the same, but because they're missing a planet to oppose the apex planet, sometimes they need to look outside of themselves to resolve the tension. And this brings me to the other thing I find so interesting about this example: the synastry between Luhmann and the guy who invented zettelkasten.

Synastry

Wikipedia says the commonplace book is the predecessor of the zettelkasten method, but a guy by the name of Conrad Gessner came along in the 16th century and started using cards instead of a bound notebook (5). Looking at Gessner's birth chart (6), it doesn't surprise me that he brought his ideas into a form that he could touch, reposition, and map out--he is very likely a Virgo Moon (comfort in material tidbits, organizing, and fiddling).

I wonder about being able to use one's birth chart to describe one's works' influence (to an extent) (because 'to know the artist, look to their art' and all), and so we'll experiment with that now in a synastry chart.

Luhmann's Moon-Sun opposition is suddenly given an out from its tension: Gessner's Aries Mercury is sextile Luhmann's Moon and trine his Sun and Saturn (7). With this, instead of grappling with the subordination of the Moon in the opposition, he can rely on the externalized Mercury to bridge the discord.

We know in Luhmann's chart how his Mercury-Mars conjunction is afflicted by Neptune. But in this synastry chart, Luhmann's Moon is (likely) trine to Gessner's Aquarius Mars. This does a few things: first, it brings in a reliable fixed quality to Luhmann's very mutable chart (and zettelkasten is a singular system of knowledge that is meant to last a lifetime; Luhmann had 90,000 cards in his system when he passed (1)); and second, it creates a stronger pathway to his natal Mercury-Mars aspects, because Gessner's Mars sextiles Luhmann's Mercury-Mars conjunction.

Discussion

In this synastry, Luhmann acquires relief from ambiguity, too-muchness, and the tendency to undermine his own thoughts. Zettelkasten is a tool that gives him access to a way of thinking and doing that he normally has to struggle through Neptune to get to. It does all that, but then still connects him back to himself with more clarity.

I've picked out some of his points about (his experience with) zettelkasten from his essay (2).

First, he stresses the importance of imposing a structure on the system, which makes it capable of "communication" (meaning: understanding your own thinking process). This is Gessner's Mercury connecting Luhmann's Moon and Saturn: the trine between Saturn and Mercury is an imposition of structure, and the Mercury in sextile with the Moon is an easy flow of communication.

He talks about the zettelkasten mimicking the processes of our own cognition, which is signified by the Moon, Mercury, and Saturn, all. Second, a few points he makes suggest to me that with this system he's able to experience his Moon. He argues that when trying to make connections between ideas, there is an element of something like chance. There is a kind of "right timing" in the epiphanies, which is very Moon-ish He also calls his zettelkasten "a second memory", and memory is a signification of the Moon. In the synastry chart, Luhmann suddenly has access to his Moon through Gessner's Mercury.

Last, he talks about the importance of keeping a "permanent address" for each index card, like a little ID code, so that it can be referred to forever. When you try to create a hierarchical order to your cards, you trap yourself into a singular system of thinking for life. You want your zettelkasten to be fixed, but still adaptable and responsive to the ways your thinking changes through a lifetime. Which is a perfect explanation of Gessner's Moon in Virgo, Mars in Aquarius. But it's also hinting that Luhmann relies on the fixed Mars sign he acquires in their synastry.

Discussion of Issues and Implications

So I don't think the whole synastry part of this write-up is a very reliable argument. It's an experiment on my part; I'm just playing "what if". But it makes me wonder about our systems and methods of doing things. We know that we're attracted to people and things that light up our birth charts in interesting ways. And looking at both Luhmann's and Gessner's charts against my own, I can see how the zettelkasten method could be really helpful to me. So maybe I'm not so far out in left field as I think I am.

What I find really compelling about all this is the resolution of Luhmann's natal opposition. Remediation can be complicated, but this is a great example of how external guardrails can facilitate the remediation, and maybe help us find ways to anticipate what a successful technique is more likely to be for us.

I was talking to a friend about remediation options for her own chart and she seemed disappointed to hear that manipulating our environment is a strong option, maybe because she didn't feel like external changes are good enough, permanent enough or authentic enough. (I'm speculating; I don't know why she seemed disappointed.) But the zettelkasten method to Luhmann was something that was very much a part of him. In this essay it sounds like it was his best friend. It was a huge part of his career. And it was something that came from outside of him. So this could be an example of how remediation techniques are lasting and authentic.

Another issue with this whole thing is of course that I used a lot of Wikipedia. It's also too bad that we don't have birth times for Luhmann and Gessner and can't do more to see how the charts moved over time.

Anyway, if you read this whole thing I am sending you twenty-five spiritual dollars :p Thanks, and let me know what you think! Do you have any examples from your own life of stuff like this?

Lazy References

(1) Extensive blog on the zettelkasten system (2) "Improved Translation of "Communications with Zettelkastens"" (3) Niklas Luhmann's birth chart (4) Niklas Luhmann's Wikipedia page, retrieved December 28, 2023 (5) Zettelkasten Wikipedia page, retrieved December 28, 2023 (6) Conrad Gessner birth chart (7) Synastry chart between Niklas Luhmann and Conrad Gessner

[chaos-vulpix]

Meme Trash Kingdom Masterlist (Ver. 2.0)

Oh dear god, I've been putting this off for way too long lmao

Ninjago: Legacyverse AU (by @weekend-whip)

Playlists (Characters):

Antonia: Polaroid Angel

Bridget: A Sound Mind

Cole: Earthen Soul | Fault Lines of the Heart | Tectonic Tribulations

Harleigh: Vagabond Phantasm

Harumi: Innocence is Fleeting | Descent into a Long Quiet | Beneath a Jaded Mask

Jamie: Butterflies atop Heartstrings | Wayward Comet in Stardust Sky | Astral Dreamer | Liminal Wavelengths

Jay: Static Azure

Jesse: Fuchsian Heart | Marvellous in Misery | Revelations in Amaranth | Lovelorn Blossoms | Orchid Spirit

Kai: Passion in Crimson | Heart of Wildfire | Ablaze with Emotion

Lloyd: Viridian Prophecy | Emerald Promise | Verdant Strength | Evergreen Fate

Miranda: Bionic Sweetheart

Nya: Riptide's Call

Olivia: Shark-Toothed Frenemy | General Miss Demeanor | Lady of the Undertow | Oceanic Huntress

Pixal: Digital Scion

Skylor: Snapshots in Amber

Sunni: Clear Skies Ahead

Zane: Frozen Circuitry

Playlists (Shipping):

Aftershock (Cole / Jesse): OG / 1st

Final Frontier (Jamie / Olivia): 1st | 2nd

Jaya (Jay / Nya): 1st

Kailor (Kai / Skylor): 1st

Llorumi (Harumi / Lloyd): 1st

Pixane (Pixal / Zane): TBA

Playlists (Other):

High School Daze: TBA

Ninjaball Frenzy: (Spotify Links)

Rockshot Afterparty: TBA

Rockshot Rave: Cole | Tox (Spotify Links)

Incorrect Quotes & Random Headcanons

IQ Compilation 1 | IQ Compilation 2

TFW Ghost BF | Don't Let Jay Drive | Your Feelings Matter | Sparks Fly | Quiz | Brothers-In-Law | I Want That One | Driving Instructor Jay | Single Ladies | Crush | Zane's Blessing | Western Province | Millennials | 2 Shots of Vodka | Fluffy | Lloyd's Mind | Engagement | Proposal | Better Luck Tomorrow | Shoelaces | Bridget's Honest Opinion | A Tendency | "I am..." | 8 Hours of Sleep | Superstar | Don't Let Ray Drive | Himbo City | A Bigger Mess | High School Fragrance War | Credit Card | Trust | Emotions | The Box | Tupperware | Cauliflower | On One Knee | Crush 2 | Married Life | Gay Rights

Just Dance (Cole)

[bmv1]

Smart Shopping Strategies: Electric Kettle and OTG Price Check for Savvy Consumers

In this era where electronic commerce prevails, procuring optimal pricing for domestic appliances such as electric kettles and portable ovens necessitates certain cunning as a consumer. Since quoted figures differ substantially from vendor to vendor, whether online or within traditional retail establishments, making an informed comparison before selecting a product is vital. The author provides suggestions to guide shoppers in exercising astuteness when seeking these popular kitchen tools commonly utilized in Indian households. Adopting such an approach may aid one in acting prudently as a purchaser.

Check Electric Kettle Prices from Multiple Stores

Electric kettles have become a staple in Indian household kitchens for quickly boiling water for tea, coffee, instant noodles and more. Basic electric kettle price with 1-1.5 litre capacity starts from around Rs. 800 and goes up to Rs. 2000 or more for models with temperature control features, keep warm functions, etc.

Instead of buying the first model you see, wise consumers should check prices across major online sites. as well as local appliance stores. Don’t just compare MRPs; look at the best-discounted price offered. This small effort can save you several hundred rupees on the same kettle model. 

Consider Functionality Along with the Price

While electric kettles under Rs. 1000 may seem tempting, they often compromise on safety mechanisms like auto shut-off and overheating protection. Spend a little more for better reliability and energy efficiency. Higher-priced electric kettles also usually come with keep-warm features that keep the water hot for up to 30 minutes. This can be handy when making several cups of beverage.

Evaluate Online Vs Offline Deals  

In general, online prices tend to be lower due to lower overheads. However, watch for occasional sales at local stores that may match or even beat online offers. Consider other factors like convenience, the ability to check products physically before buying, payment modes, delivery charges, etc., impact the overall cost.

Look at OTG Options Carefully

Unlike electric kettles with fairly standard functionality, OTGs can come in many sizes, designs, and feature variants. A basic 12-15 litre OTG price can be between Rs. 3000-4000. Higher capacity 25-30 litre models typically cost Rs. 6000 upwards but are ideal for larger households or those who bake frequently.   

When comparing different OTG models and prices, consider aspects like heating elements (coil vs sheet), temperature range, additional modes like grills, stainless steel cavities, timer functions, etc. All these add functionality that may be worth extra spending over basic models. Leading brands for OTGs include Morphy Richards, Bajaj and Prestige.  

Hunt for OTG Deals Online  

Buying an OTG online allows consumers to easily compare models, prices, and reviews, ensuring they find the perfect appliance for their baking, toasting, and grilling needs with minimal effort. As a relatively new entrant in many Indian homes, OTGs are a product category on which online sites frequently offer discounts and coupons, often with 20-30% off or more. Watch for OTG combo deals, too, e.g., OTG + bakeware kit. Again, check prices across sites to find the best bargain. Offline discounts may be limited for OTGs as they are not a mass market yet.   

Read Reviews Before Deciding

With so many appliance models in the market, customer reviews provide valuable insights that can guide buying decisions. Check reviews on online shopping sites and independent consumer forums to identify recurring issues related to product performance, after-sales service, etc. This can help you zero in on the best-value products.

Avail of Payment & Delivery Incentives  

Many e-commerce platforms offer incentives linked to payment methods or delivery selections to attract online shoppers. Using a certain credit card may get a 10% instant discount, while opting for slower delivery over standard delivery may qualify you for cashback. See if you can utilize such offers to maximize savings on buying an electric kettle online or making an OTG purchase.  

Keep an Eye Out for Sales & Promotions

Shopping festivals are a great time to score attractive deals on kitchen appliances. Brand-specific sales also offer price drops and bundled promotions. Subscribe to online store newsletters so you are updated on upcoming sales events.

To obtain optimal pricing on domestic appliances such as electric kettles and OTG ovens, one must diligently investigate and compare alternatives. Although the most inexpensive option may appear superficially appealing, it proves prudent to make purchases judiciously, factoring in one’s particular usage requirements and financial situation when taking the long view. Allocating additional time to explore product offerings through both online and traditional retail channels can ultimately translate to considerable reductions in expenditure.