#apart …. cronos is just …. something is off ? )

[oioend]

tired cronos be upon ye

[ataraxiaspainting]

Heyy!! I don’t know if you still do Chrollo fics , but if you’re doing recommendations/commissions , can you make something like where the readers like “do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” and he’s like “yes. of course I will my darling” ?? It’s based off a sound I heard somewhere .. I think the song is called “I want it all” by Lana del ray. Thank you!! 🫶

damn he really would say that huh?

Bad Habit.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: “Where there is carnage, there is beauty.”

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, general anxiety and uneasiness, references to disturbing works of art (Saturn Devouring His Son, The Nightmare, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan), manipulation, and talks of violence.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

There are as many things people can see as beautiful as there are shades of light shining through a prism.

Spectrums are quite common along with comparison and placement. It varies greatly from person to person, their preferences and their life experiences and their joys, and their fears.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes, but the eye of the beholder is also the window to their soul, to their psychological responses and traumas and memories of a past that would rather either be forgotten or worshiped. Every soul is different, and there is beauty in that. So, why do you find the heart and soul of Chrollo Lucilfer, whom many would call beautiful if they never knew him for what he truly is, so, so simply lovely? It does not have to do with his mannerisms or his confidence or his knowledge of virtually everything in this world, you concluded one day, after receiving yet another call from him, with him, as always, asking general questions like if you miss him and such. It is because he is the only thing I can cling to that will stay here, with me.

You cling onto him like a lost puppy, yearning for any sort of affection they can get no matter the cost. You did that when he first transported you from one place to another with hardly regarding any words from you on the matter. You do that now, in this art museum, full of unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar artwork and unfamiliar architecture. You missed home, back then. You still do now, and Chrollo still does not care one bit.

His hand is like a cuff, his arm like a chain, as he walks with you from one room to the next. But, still, it is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart.

So, like a sort of dance, you two move in sync. It is up to Chrollo as to if or when you will stop. It is never up to you, after all.

Does Chrollo enhance the horrific allure of these paintings, or does he once again bring all the attention to himself?

*~*~*~*

“Mythology often comes from our own woes.” He says, pointing upward, slowly, to Cronos’s eyes, which are bloodshot and large and dark. “A popular theory was that Goya was representing an oppressive government through Kronos, and the son that was prophesized to kill him as an adult represented the people who had started to revolt. But others don’t see it that way, oddly enough.”

You don’t respond, you simply look at the beheaded infant, which looks so soft and so rotten at the same time, with blood and deskinned chewed flesh running down his neck. He fits into his father’s hands perfectly, like he was made to be eaten.

*~*~*~*

“While most incubi are written and drawn as physically attractive creatures, this one in particular looks more akin to a gargoyle than that of a man.” He hums, and you can feel his hand wrap more tightly around yours. Not so much in a strangling, hurtful way, but rather just in a sort of reminderful way. “Maybe Fuseli was trying to make sure that the point of what the incubus really is is sent across to the viewers?”

With not a single word coming out of your mouth, a sure sign that you are zoning out his words, he squeezes a bit tighter to get your attention back where he wants it to be.

“What do you think, beloved?”

Once again, instead of answering, you choose to remain silent and focus your attention on other things. So, you look around. To the floor. To your high heels. Everything else, anything else. Only silence remains for a few more moments, but when the silence is not enjoyed any longer with another increase in his grip, you decide to answer before you get yourself into trouble.

“...I… I think that maybe it deals with sleep paralysis.”

Chrollo widens his eyes and smirks, and from those actions alone you know you have created a believable lie and concept that is sure to be amusing to him.

You’re forgiven.

*~*~*~*

“Historians say that the son’s death was the point of no return for Ivan.” A cradling of the arms and a Cat’s Cradle are the same; they both trap those within them.

Eyes are still eyes, whether they are real or not. Ivan the Terrible’s show a thousand tragedies and a thousand other faces his destiny could have worn, if he pushed the other one aside, if he had the strength to.

“Just like how Ivan was his son’s undoing, his son was also his.”

*~*~*~*

“...Would you ever kill for me?”

Violence is often not the only path Chrollo can choose to take. His words can be another, albeit that road will be much longer, and less smooth.

Who knows what he will choose when the hour of the heist comes to fruition when the art can finally be grasped and never let go of?

Which path do you prefer?

Which path does he prefer?

Do you prefer to be threatened with sweet honey that sticks to your skin or is so hot that it burns it?

“Of course, my dear.”

What you find grotesque, like the way the topic of violence is spoken so naturally from you and him, Chrollo always seems to find beautiful, like the way your moving lips are so lush.

…

Paintings are often just a reflection of how the world is, after all.

[thedawningofthehour]

If Donnie had grown up/been raised by Draxum, how would that have worked out. I can see a AU of "Repairin the Baron" where Mikey gets Draxum and Mimir/Donnie (Mimir is the name I think Draxum would have given Donnie if he had gotten to keep him) an apartment next to April's. Mikey also gets the idea for Mimir/Donnie to spend time with his "twinnie" and Splinter (as well as April). In fact, I want to make a one-shot out of it.

That name works, but like...I can't help but notice that Odin beheaded Mimir?? And then Mimir seems to be a pretty friendly disembodied head to him, so like...was it a friendly beheading? Did Mimir just think of a wise severed head as being his final evolution or something? It would be like naming your kids Cronos and Zeus.

I did some rambling here if you missed it, one thing I thought I might add is that Draxum would definitely end up softer and more outwardly affectionate, while Donnie would likely end up less. Even a soft Draxum wouldn't compare to a cuddly Splinter, or three brothers who have very little understanding of personal space. Which would all work out fine, they'd approach a happy medium with each other.

The thing about translating the actual episodes in an AU, it's like...it just wouldn't go down that way. I don't think Draxum would have let the dark armor thing consume him, for one, but the events of the show would just be off from day one. Before, depending on how Mutation Day went down. (this is actually something that really annoys me with some separated aus, where the authors just try to recreate every episode with some additional commentary-we've seen the show! Change it up! Show us how this is different!)

Like, how did Draxum end up with Donnie? With only Donnie? Did Splinter think there was only three turtles? Does he think the fourth died? Did he see Draxum snatch him back? Because if Splinter knew that Draxum still had Donnie, he would have been trying for years to get him back. Splinter would be on Draxum's list of 'people who will absolutely kidnap my son if I give them the opportunity'. The brothers likely would have grown up knowing who Draxum was, knowing that they had a fourth brother that Daddy was trying to get back, and ultimately would taken it upon themselves to rescue.

If Splinter had thought Donnie had died, he'd likely be a very different parent. Maybe more involved, since he had to protect his three remaining sons? Or maybe even more tuned out, since he now has the guilt and grief of losing a child weighing on him. Even if the pilot progressed as normal, even if they managed to sneak off without their dad knowing-I feel like they'd have questions? "Uh, dad? Can you tell us the truth about how you got us and why we're turtles, because we just met this goat man and his turtle son who looks weirdly like Leo, and it just made us think-" "I AM GOING TO KILL THAT SHEEP FUCKER."

The whole show would have just played out so differently. You probably could work in a 'Mikey rehabilitation' angle though, that would still probably happen in any universe. April would be a hard sell with Donnie-he was raised by Draxum, after all, who would have raised him on stories of their brutality and telling him to always avoid them at all costs or they would kill him. He'd have a hard time with Splinter, especially if Splints continues to hate Draxum. I feel like he and Leo would want to absolutely murder each other at first, and then one day a switch would flip and they'd still act like that, but would mean it all in a best-friends way.

[burningexeter]

PITCH:

The Left Hand Of Carnage

What is it — a hard R action horror contemporary fantasy film that is a modern day Frankenstein meets The Crow.

PREMISE:

Set in Veracruz, this macabre and almost-steampunk tale follows a young man with a slight face deformity named Jorge who is tragically killed in a store robbery gone horribly wrong and later on finds himself resurrected as a large, imposing, horrific monstrosity that is the creation of the U.S. Government as part of a super soldier program to do their bidding.

But unfortunately for them, Jorge still retains all of his memories and is horrified at the monster they've turned him into, leading to him escaping and forced to hide out in the deepest, darkest and seediest parts of Veracruz where in facing his own moral ambiguity, becomes a violent vigilante cleaning the streets all the while seeking revenge on the people who made him this way.

Notes/Details/Trivia:

• The main character, Jorge Ramirez, starts off as a lanky, quiet, struggling but intelligent, well-read, highly organized guy in his late 20s who is slightly deformed on the left side of his face from a childhood accident where he was dropped on concrete as a baby. He lives with his mother, younger sister and pet dog at an apartment and where we are now with him at this point is that he's currently planning on proposing to his long-time girlfriend who is handicapped with one leg. It makes what happens to him all the more tragic and with them it's done in an almost mundane way where there's only an element of quirk to them that is completely subdued when it's clearly necessary.

• Other characters are Spaz, a cynical and sarcastic homeless man that Jorge befriends as a monster, Daniel Henrick, a U.S. general who is running the program and will do anything to stay on top, Rico Torres, a sleazy and deranged mortician wanting to live forever and experience life in his own hedonistic way and Lillian Marshall, a former U.S. reporter investigating the mysterious disappearance of her brother in Veracruz.

• When I say it will be a hard R, I really do mean it. The R rating will allow us to go to places the only way this story can ever actually work. The violence in this will be quite graphic in that it's brutal and gory but it all makes sense in the context of everything. Right down to the fact that the title is a direct reference to Jorge's now massive and monstrous left arm that is now his main indestructible weapon, throats are ripped open, heads are smashed apart, there's plenty of fun and enjoyable blood squibs to go around.

• There is however several lighter aspects and moments to help balance out the darker elements so they help the latter stand out more and hit harder. You need levity for contrast as well as contrast in general, regular Veracruz in the film is in that visually distinct Guillermo Del Toro-esque look that you'd see in movies of his like Cronos and The Devil's Backbone for example. Meanwhile, all of the stuff in the lower, crime ridden parts of Veracruz where Jorge is forced to hide out and later cleans up the streets of the filth that inhabits it are very grimy looking and feel like something more gritty out of something like either John Rambo or Blade II again for example.

• As for the creature designs, almost all of them especially Jorge are heavily inspired by or influenced by Bernie Wrightson's incredible and visually striking grotesque design of Frankenstein. That exact type of heavy, gruesome and intimidating size and psyche while at the same time having the ability to emote and show clear and genuine emotion through it especially with the clear and genuine sympathy you're supposed to have and actually feel for Jorge. Jorge is not a monster nor does he want to be a monster, it's just that he's been given a cruel fate that changes him and his life forever.

• The movie won't just be some dark R rated horror-fest, it will actually have a lot more heart to it than you think with its lead and his relationship with his loved ones even after he's been brought back to life from the dead and turned into something else entirely. That heart is what helps adds to this new twisted tale.

• One thing that will make it stand-out from any other Frankenstein or at least Frankenstein-related productions is that —

It won't have a happy ending but in a very unexpected and unconventional way that you usually see in horror anthologies.

[SPOILER ALERT]

There's a huge and genuine moment of victory where our main protagonist and the ones by his side actually win against the odds and come out on top with Jorge being given a genuine bittersweet end to his character....

However, then when all seems as well as can be and I don't know "the characters walk off into the sunset" or something like that, an extra thing happens immediately after when the coast is clear that goes either "Nope!" or "...Or Maybe Not!"

All in all with an effective and memorable final image that's just as striking to end it on with that. The evil the characters defeated is shown to still be alive and will return.

And yet that's not the half of it even....

[MAJOR SPOILERS HERE]

Once the striking final image happens revealing it's unfortunately not a happily ever after after all, it dissolves and turns into an animated campfire with a female voice then saying ".... and that's the end".

It pans up slowly to reveal none other than two more-than-familiar characters sitting together arm in arm by the campfire —

It's Mikasa Ackerman and Historia Reiss.

It's revealed right then and there that the entire film was a campfire horror story (or was it, damn) being told by Mikasa to Historia.

Without directly stating it, it's shown that this takes place approximately three years after the series finale to Attack On Titan - "The Final Chapters - Part 2" - and that both Mikasa and Historia are now a romantic couple.

Historia is rather shocked by the story as Mikasa then breaks seriousness and starts toying around with her.

After a while, the two decide to call it a night and head back home as Mikasa is about to tell Historia something or rather show something to her as well when she ultimately decides not to and jokingly says "You probably wouldn't believe me even if I told you.... as cliche as it is to say".

The two walk off, holding each other, as Mikasa throws something off behind her as they walk away.

It's an important object from the story or film, revealing that the story wasn't a story at all and that what we saw actually happened.

And as an added bonus but not only will their butts jiggle a little when they walk off together but Trina Nishimura and Bryn Apprill will reprise their roles as Mikasa and Historia from the FUNimation English Dub.

• Now as for who directs it or helms it — Guillermo Del Toro and maybe, just maybe with a screenplay by Frank Darabont. I can't think of anyone more ideally suited for this job more than Guillermo Del Toro and maybe this will give Frank Darabont the chance to do Frankenstein right after his script was butchered with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1994).

So what do you think?

[thefoolsloop]

The Burnt City continues to evolve

I’m now six shows in and the show is definitely growing on me, with provisos. I’m not sure how much more I can say without spoilers, so proceed at your own risk if you haven’t seen the show or only part of it. [Might be spoilers from here on]

My sixth show was something of a turning point. Apart from having Miranda’s 1:1 as the border guard (I did want to see her in this role and she doesn't disappoint, moving between fierce military loyalty and painful anguish at what she's participated in), I also finally found a loop I think I can fall in love with and it’s not at all the one I expected. Then I brained myself coming out of one of the greenhouses, which is probably karma. I do think there are some serious safety issues to be addressed in the building, but I thought the same about Sleep No More and I doubt anything will change until there’s a major incident.

Anyway, much to my surprise the character I found myself drawn to was Penthesilea Macaria* (Polyxena’s lover). Leal was playing her last night (what an expressive face she has!), so I can’t comment on how other performers approach the role, but Leal managed to capture the sincerity of her affection for her lover (at one point indulging in a tender solo sequence in which she folded over some fabric reciting, “she loves me, she loves me not”). There’s an almost childlike tenderness between her and Polyxena, and the agony and pain she feels after her lover’s death is utterly heartbreaking. Just as it is with Hecuba, but in a different way. Unfortunately Leal, like most of the PD newcomers, didn't do the 1:1 so I was unable to get any further insight into the depth of her character. But perhaps it wouldn’t have added anything - Iphigenia’s didn’t. I also caught a brief glimpse of a couple of characters I would want to prioritise in future visits. Dafni’s Campe looks delightfully mischievous (shades perhaps of the PA in TDM), Stephanie’s maid is an enticing combination of distressed and self-indulgent, according to the situation, and Artemis, Cronos and Persephone are loops that will definitely be worth returning to. I’ve already tried to follow Artemis and Persephone but my goodness, are they slippery.

In addition, the Troy area is starting to have the same vibe as the McKittrick or even parts of Temple Studios. The network of rooms and corridors is no longer entirely confusing and I’m starting to have a better feel for the different mini-biomes in the area (however I still think they could do with more separation from each other, one disadvantage of the space being on only two floors). It’s easy to move from one part to another, and the production design is starting to feel holistic, especially now a few elements have been added.

There seems to be much more to Troy than Mycenae, which continues to disappoint. The space is way too broad, the ‘hedgehogs’ (though well used in the sacrifice sequence) dominate the area, robbing it of the detail which is so uniquely PD. The Schliemann area is under-used, the forest too small (unlike the forest in SNM which is also small but feels like a space you can get lost in), the sandy area has no obvious purpose, and even the large table area (I refuse to reference P*tin) seems bare and under-decorated. Iphigenia’s dressing room is exactly the sort of thing we would expect from PD and the shower area works well too. Couldn’t they have filled the intervening space with something more than a big table? This is not to take away from the fine performances that happen on that table, it’s just that there was surely some way to divide up the space so it was just more... well, interesting. There’s obviously some kind of creative decision going into this that I can’t fathom, but it’s put me right off Mycenae. Which is a shame, as there are a lot of things to like performance-wise, like ‘Sing Sing Sing’ and Agamemnon’s death.

(Incidentally, I’ve noticed the main hall in Mycenae is carpeted. This robs it of much of the sensation that it’s a battlefield. It feels like an exhibition centre or an airport lounge. A barer floor would have been more congruent with the intention, surely? Even plastic linoleum would have been better. I also think the main staircase and the upper balcony feel too plain - in the previous productions the bare stairwells didn’t matter because they were out of sight of the main set, and generally only used briefly.)

I suppose the TLDR is that Troy feels like a ‘world’ and Mycenae doesn’t. To me, at least.

But enough negativity, except perhaps to note that the eye-watering ticket prices discourage much further attendance. I certainly don’t have any more shows booked at the moment. But at least I now feel I have something that I yearn to go back to, unlike Kabeiroi which just made me want to walk away in disgust. At last this is actually feeling like the Punchdrunk shows which have given me weird dreams, happy memories and aching nostalgia.

[*Edit: there was no official cast/character list when I wrote this post. We were guessing who was who and Penthesilea seemed the most likely choice. Then the list was published and the mystery solved. (We also thought the Watchman was Odysseus.)]

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

Sweet Nothings (2/2) Rex x Reader

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all of the support so far. I really cannot express how happy I am with how well received this has been. You guys are so nice and I am so glad that you like it. Enjoy!

Tags: @captainrexisboo @bad-batch-of-fics @mackstrut @jyvorakal @danger-xylophones @dissapointingpancake​

Length: ~1500 words

Warnings: none :) just pure fluff again

Part One

You had just gotten back from picking up the food from Rex’s favorite place when your communicator beeped.

 Just landed. Have to give a mission report but should be there in about two hours. ~ Rex

 You smiled and set everything down on the table. You cleaned up the rest of your apartment that you had not been able to the night before and set out everything that you had prepared for Rex. A pile of holofilms on the table by the couch and a sea of blankets strewn across the couch itself. When you were done with that, you made sure that everything in the refresher was clean so that Rex could take a nice shower when he got home. You set out towels that you had just washed and the soft, blue pajamas that you had bought him when he first started staying the night at your apartment. Once you had done all of that, you looked at the crono on the wall and saw that Rex should be there in about twenty minutes.

You brought the food from the table into the kitchen and began to reheat it. After you had done that, you started making a pot of caf, knowing that he would probably be tired. You were humming to the background music that you had on while you were working when you heard your front door woosh open. You looked over and saw Rex standing there with his helmet in his right hand and his bag in the left, a small smile on his face as he looked at you.

 “Rex!” You ran at him and he dropped both of his things as you jumped into his arms. Wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his midsection, you buried your face in his neck. You both held onto each other as tightly as you could, both not wanting to ever let the other go.

 “I missed you,” he said gently as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You both stayed like that for a while. Not saying anything. Just holding on to each other like it was the last thing you would ever do.

 You finally stepped down onto the floor and brought your hands to either side of his face, placing your foreheads together. “I missed you too,” you whispered as your thumb rubbed his cheek. You pulled back and held his face while you looked at him.

 He looked tired and worn, dirt still covering his face and armor. You could tell that he was exhausted, but he was relieved to finally be home. As you looked over him, you could see that he didn’t have any kind of signs of injury and you breathed a sigh of relief. He gave you a small, loving smile and brought his hands up to yours. He pulled them to his lips and kissed both of them before letting them rest between the two of you.

 “Everything in the refresher is ready if you want to shower before eating,” you said tenderly looking up at his beautiful brown eyes.

 He looked down at you and sighed. “That would be amazing.”

 You let go of his hands and started helping him take off his armor and set it in its place by the door. Once all of it was off, you told him to go relax and take all of the time that he needed while you put everything away.

 After he had showered and you both had eaten, you sat cuddled together on the couch drinking caf under a blanket, a holofilm playing quietly as you listened to each other’s soft breathing.

 “Oh! I almost forgot!” You excitedly got up from the couch, letting go of his hand as you made your way toward the kitchen. “I have a surprise for you!”

 “A surprise?” He watched you leave and brought his hand up to the back of his neck. “Cyare, you’ve already done so much for me tonight. You didn’t have to you know.” He looked at you as you returned with your hands behind you back. A gentle, loving smile on his face as he looked at you with adoration.

 “I know, I know. I just wanted to do something special for my amazing Captain. Besides, I thought you could use a pick-me-up when you got back.” You smiled and brought the bag of Idelle wafers out from behind your back as you sat back down next to him.

 He looked down and his eyes widened. “Are those?”

 “Yes,” you beamed as your smile widened. “I remember you saying how much you liked them on our first date. I’ve been looking for them since then but wasn’t able to find them. It was a stroke of pure luck that someone from Sesid just moved to Coruscant and just happened to set up a booth in my path home from work.”

 Rex kept silently looking down at the small bag in your hands. His face staying in the same shocked state as before. He slowly reached out and picked up the bag and looked at it. He blinked a few times as he looked it over, his face unreadable.

 “Rex? Are you ok?” You were starting to get worried. “Are they not the right kind? I tried describing the ones you told me about to the man who owned the shop but—”

 Rex lurched forward and pulled you into a deep kiss. You gasped in surprise but quickly smiled into it. Rex brought his hand up to hold your face and pulled away. He brought your forehead to his and deeply breathed in as he smiled. “I love you so much Y/N.”

 You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips before returning to the keldabe kiss. “I love you too Rex.” You pulled back and pressed your face into his chest and hugged him tightly. “Welcome home.”

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

 As you were snuggled together, Rex was lightly tracing shapes onto your arm as he slowly snacked on the sweet cookies that you had given him. You took a deep breath and scooted deeper into his arms. You had both been absent mindedly watching the old holofilms that played while you just enjoyed being back in each other’s arms. After a while, Rex’s breathing had evened out and you thought that he had fallen asleep. You gently started pulling the blanket overtop both of you, and just as you were about to turn off the holofilm, you heard him lightly say your name.

 “Do you remember the day we met?”

 You turned slightly so that you could see his face. He was looking down at you with heavy and tired eyes and a face with nothing on it but admiration. His small grin making your chest bloom with affection.

 You smiled back at him. “How could I forget?”

 “I walked into the hangar to see you yelling at General Skywalker with a screwdriver in your hand pointed at his face. You were saying something about not fixing his Starfighter anymore if he was just going to keep ‘modifying’ it and undoing all of your work.” Rex softly chuckled as he looked back on the memory.

 “Ha. Yeah… When you walked up and asked if there was a problem, I turned the screwdriver on you and snapped at you to control your Jedi.” You smiled. “Then you took your helmet off and I could barely form a sentence.”

 Rex chuckled again and pulled you closer. “You weren’t the only one you know. I was half tempted to not say anything because of how much I could feel my face heating up when I first saw you. Hell, if I had known that the mechanics who worked on the 501st’s ships would be so gorgeous, I would have had Skywalker intentionally crash his so that I could come see you.”

 You scoffed. “Oh, come on, doesn’t he already do that?” You stretched up to place a small kiss on his cheek as you shifted to lying on his stomach with your head on his chest. “But,” you said with a mischievous smile, “I can’t say that I would have minded all that much if you did. How else would I have met you?”

 Rex placed a kiss on the top of your head. “What did I do to deserve you?” He moved his hand to your back and started slowly tracing shapes on it through your shirt. He chuckled, “Guess we owe a thanks to General Skywalker for being reckless enough for you to call him to the hangar in person to yell at him.” As Rex spoke his voice got deeper and his eyes began to drift shut, a slight smile still present on his face.

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. “I guess we do.” You sat there for a while just watching as Rex’s body began to relax and his breathing began to even out. You carefully placed a kiss to his chin and settled into his chest as you pulled the blanket completely over the two of you. “Goodnight Rex.” You smiled as you closed your eyes. “I love you.”

[zeal-ascendancy]

As Crono finally reached the castle, he looked up in awe. It looked identical to Castle Guardia back home, though it certainly had less ivy and looked newer. He followed the soldiers to the gate where a knight gestured for him to follow. The soldiers left back down the road as Crono followed the knight into the castle.

“So you’re the friend the queen asked about. She insisted you be brought right to her once you arrived,” explained the knight. Crono followed him up a few flights of stone stairs and down a hallway to a large wooden door. The knight knocked on a door and a young woman’s voice called out, “Enter.”

Crono followed the knight into the room. The queen smiled at him and looked at the guard. “You may leave. I wish to speak to my friend alone.”

The knight bowed and left. Crono stood there nervously. The queen giggled and asked for him to step closer. As he neared, she laughed and said, “It’s me! Marle!”

Crono blinked and realized how dumb he was being.  He grinned and said, “What are you doing in this get-up?”

“Those soldiers and everyone here keep insisting I’m someone called Leene,” Marle answered.  She looked like she was about to cry as she said, “I knew you would come for me. I just knew it. I… “

Marle trailed off. She looked Crono straight in the eyes. “S-Something’s wrong…. I feel like I’m being torn apart…. Crono!!!”

As Marle cried out and faded away like a shadow fades from the sun, Crono did his best not to panic. What had just happened? What was going on and how was he going to find Marle again?!  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Lucca calling for him. Crono turned to see Lucca entering the room. She quickly shut the door behind her. “There you are! Where’s Marle? They said the queen asked to see us.”

“Um… She disappeared again,” Crono replied. “But not like last time… This time its like she faded away.”

“Hmm. Then I was right,” Lucca replied. She looked around and continued, “Marle is actually Princess Nadia.  That portal has sent us to the past.  I remember reading somewhere that the queen had been kidnapped by the Mystics during the war but she was rescued.  When the soldiers found Marle, they must have called off the search.”

“Slow down! What do you mean?”

“When Marle was found, something must have happened to her ancestor that stopped her from existing.  If we hurry, we could find the queen and undo this… in theory,” Lucca explained. “On the way here one of the soldiers said it was odd that they found Marle in the canyon considering that she had been visiting the cathedral to the west before she went missing. That might be the first place we need to look for the real Leene.”

“They’re gonna freak out when they see Marle is gone,” Crono said. “We need to get out of here fast if we’re gonna fix this... “

[eriisaam]

Old scrapped concept of Kyo, the burst summoner.

By accident, his design still managed to change a bit from then and now more from consistency shift than intentional. Overall, he remained mostly the same idea even all the way back from his original concept (albeit his tones are better fleshed out, and there's lore reasons now for the change in hair color), but the way his hair's parted and the way the colors split wound up shifting around by accident. I had ways I initially was strict on drawing Erin and Kyo (both of whom are similar in looks) with slight differences to set them apart, but over time, the rules initially meant for Erin wound up bleeding into Kyo when I drew him way more often than her, so he ended up developing his own new rules in the process while forcing Erin to be due for a retooling. Whoops.

Character details under the cut.

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He and Teru hail from the World of Pokemon, and were both subjected to intense, cruel experiments that left them in their current states with their current powers. While both initially attributed these experiments to Team Rocket, it was later eventually revealed to be a far bigger, concerted effort, extending outright to the World of Zoanthropes, a world far off the scope of Zenith until Loki's and Thorr's interventions. He was transformed into a hybridized pokemon-human known under different names from a burst to a pokemorph, specifically that of a ditto, with intentions to harvest his genes and streamline the experiments until his entire being ceases to exist. But due to time-travelling intervention from Kamui and Lifonse, he and Teru escaped in their own ways, deeply traumatized but nonetheless alive and free.

His supports, Kamui and Lifonse (a male Corrin and Alfonse respectively) initially held a relationship with a previous Kyo whom they failed, and whose scars of his worsened distrust and overall attitude were prices this current Kyo paid for and picked up the pieces after in his gratitude of his better-realized rescue. Although this Kyo eventually humbled himself and worked on trying to be a much better person (and far outshining his dead counterpart), he is usually the sassiest and stubborn out of all the summoners, and the one who frequently sneaks off on his own accord while completely dropping the ball of actually doing summoner duties. (Instead, he leaves it for the others, Erin in particular, to catch up on instead.) He is also tied with Sparrow of being the summoner most prone to sneaking back to his original world, as he prides himself in his original job as a cafe host and co-owner of Cafe Papilon, whom Teru and their mutual friends primarily run in Lumiose together.

His power is entirely focused on transformation, and at will, he can transform into either a burst-like state of any creature (most commonly pokemon), or transform into a clone outright of anything he focuses on. Unless he imprints deeply onto a given subject, however, he can only fully realize their powers and form if the subject is within range of him to base himself off them. More, due to the blessed-with-suck nature of being a shiny specifically, his transformations always take on the "shiny" version of whatever he tries to transform into, even if the subject is not a pokemon and/or doesn't have a technical "shiny form". (For instance, transforming into Kamui or Corrin's dragon forms leaves him nigh identical, except for being shades of blue over white, black and grey.)

While he was initially a ditto, eventually, the deep influence of Breidablik, combined to the number of stressors he was subjected to in his tenure as summoner, caused a genetic reaction in him that stabilized his genes to allow him to eventually develop a "base" state as a shiny mew, a trait heavily realized when he transforms without a focus, is sick and/or weak, or is highly emotional and reactive to something. (Or he just felt like being cute and spoilt. That too.) As he didn't start as a mew, however, his psychic powers initially became nonexistent, then heavily weak and limited, thus robbing him of a lot of conventional powers an actual mew would've had (such as levitation/flight).

While he initially developed some of his more shittier aspects due to a background of neglect, distrust and jaded feelings that consumed his dead counterpart, his powers as summoner are also eventually realized in the form of bolstering others to unprecedented potentials in the same manner his burst forms suited to him, or similar to the gigantimax'd state of pokemon in his world. His Breidablik can combine with certain artifacts if not substitute for them outright, and he shares his powers through his intense bonds with the others, leading to unique powerful alts. One such example includes the many ways his supports (such as Kamui, Cronos and Eclair) wound up shifting their own forms, or even affecting his pokemon, such as Zacian, through his eventual findings of powerful artifacts native to his world, Zenith, or otherwise.

[yandere-wishes]

Which Yandere Dorm Are You??

So a few days ago a friend of mine convinced me to watch the first two Harry Potter movies with her. Now I don't really like Harry Potter the story just isn't my type, but what I did like about the movie was the four dorms! This made me think of what it would be like if instead of "personality types" people got sorted into dorms or houses based on what they would be like as Yanderes. The end result was The six Yandere Dorms! Plus a quick look into my take of the yandere verse. Note that in no way, shape or form am I an artist so all the dorm Icons look very messy and horrible! In addition to that, the Yandere Verse section is still a draft I'll elaborate more on it later.

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At an unknown time in the future, a new ideology was beginning to bloom. It was an eerie, morbid sickening philosophy.... and yet it spread through society like wildfire. At first, people thought it was brought on by a sort of infection to a person's mind. Psychologists and doctors spent countless months trying to research it. They examined hundreds of people which they thought had gotten this new "disease", but there was nothing out of the ordinary for any of the patients. By the end of the study, countless researchers had stated that they too had begun to believe in this ominous phenomenon.

A year later the 75% of the population was starting to believe in and follow this new trend. What was this new trend you may ask? Well, it's rather complicated to explain...

The philosophy begins with the simple notion that a couple should have complete control over one another. That when two people consent to a relationship they have agreed to devote their entire lives to each other, thus they should know everything about each other, do nothing without the other person's knowledge and even be ready to kill for each other's love, respect, and protection. But it doesn't end there the philosophy continues to say that despite both partners needing to equally belong to one another, one is more entitled to pick and chose his lover. This statement was vague at first but soon started to make sense when it's devoted followers started to become obsessed with a person of their choosing. It was as if they could only function when they were in close proximity to their person of interest. Time spent apart from them caused to obsessor to act in a different manner than their initial personality. Most people where so desperate for the love of their obsession that they began to kill for it. First, as a means to gain attention, then as a means to protect them and finally as a means to own and control them.

A huge some of society started showing signs of playing into this "love disease" with roughly 55% playing the role of the obsessor and 45% playing the role of the victim. By the two year mark, many political figures had begun to rise in favor and support of this new romance perspective. The two most famous being Hera Saino and Delya Petra. The two where the firsts to come up with a name for this philosophy. Calling it the Lovesick Movement. It took after both the Romantic movement and the gothic movement. This abnormally long era was classified in its portrayal by gruesome arts with vivid colors, Writer who stopped writing about small-time crushes and instead took on stories about chaotic, devoted love being found amongst characters. Artists and poets stopped look for different sources of inspiration and instead only sought their one true obsession. It was especially popular amongst the younger generation, who spent a great deal of their time trying to the "best way" to show their crushes just how they felt.

Hera Saino and Dilya Petra were later dubbed the LoveSick Queens and also The Yandere Queens. They both played a role in naming the two groups. They took inspiration from old Japanese tails of lovesick driven murderers (which was also a style that was getting all the more popular). The obsessors were known as Yanderes while the victims were known as wither Beloveds or Darlings. After the naming prosses, the internet was flooded with online quizzes about a person's ideal darling or yandere. DIY's for "romantic weapons" and "passion restrains" were the most-watched videos globally.

In later years a new group of amorous visionaries arose, they were later called the Twisted Eight and they each played a role in classifying the various types of Yanderes in the world as well as exploring the traits and conditions of both Yanders and darlings/Beloveds. Amongst the group 240 book regarding the "lovesick movement" where published aswell as 59 legal books, documenting the new laws and rules the legal system should take up as a result of the lovesick movement. Each later became associated with the specific "yandere type" which they researched.

Erebus Zero- The founder of the "Sadistic" yanderes. Heavy believer that pain is closely associated with love and is the only means of displaying affection for certain people.

Shouta Caben- The founder of the "Obsessive" yanderes. Though to be the oldest classification of yandere as well as the primary source of anyone that is lovesick.  

Elliot Belanger- The founder of the "Possessive" Yanderes. Founded on the belief that people should own their lovers and that they must do anything in their power to keep them as only there.

Renato Dean- The founder of the "Protective" yanderes. Lives off the faith that one must do anything and go to any extremes to protect the one they love, even if it means killing or dying for them.

Valentino Lazarus- Founder of the "manipulative" yandere types. Believes in using one's smarts and wits to "convince" a darling that they are meant to be.

Theodosia Slater- The founder of the "Delusional" yandere type. The ones that are stubborn and believe that their darlings love them already despite not even knowing their names.

Ivy Phillips- Not a founder, but the main researcher in the fields of twisted love and mad love. Twisted love is the rare marvel of two yandere falling in love with each other. While Mad love is when a darling not only falls into Stockholm Syndrom but begins to show yandere trait for their capture.

Alexandrite Iaculat- Not a founder but the main writer of the "new era laws". These are modernized laws and regulations which uphold the society and avoid it falling into anarchy.

The Dorms

Each of the dorms is organized internationally, meaning that dorm names and symbols are the same worldwide. Children get sorted into their "houses" when they reach the eighth grade (as a form of respect to the Twisted Eight) these houses will remain with them long after they have graduated. While someone's future job isn't always tied to what houses they where placed in there are certain occupations made especially for a specific type of yandere.

How the organization process works is that in the child's seventh year, they will write a series of personal essays and tests. These tests judge the child's analytical thinking, personality, "intensity" amongst other things.

For the sake of this story, we will be discussing the houses in general but will only be focusing their effect on a private school called Mysteria Academy.

Cruistica

The first dorm and one of the golden star dorms (the most valued of the dorms). Despite what people traditionally think of the sadist yandere, the members of Cruistica are sorted into this house due to having above-average analytical thinking and an uncountable curiosity. They are the ones who love their darlings without having a way to show it, they are intense and brutal yet also very tactical. They believe in proving they love their darling in a more physical way.... this doesn't mean straight out hurting and punishing them, it could be as simple as making them watch as they commit a murder or simply locking them away for a few days without human connections. Overall if you are someone who has a dark, twisted way of thinking, a curious mind and the need to control and claim your darling in every manner ever known, then this is the dorm for you! Common subtypes (Strict, controlling, obsessive-possessive)

Current dorm leader and vice dorm leader ( Ahri Cronos: Age: 18  Grade: 12 | Zion Sguis age:16  Grade: 11 )

media examples (Tony Stark (Marvel), Judar (Magi), Dabi (My hero academia) Kanato (Diabolik lovers)

Think of a mix between (Ravenclaw and Savanaclaw, maybe a bit of Ignihyde)

Jaséder

This dorm is known for their possessive nature...for lack of a better word. When they own something they rather die (or kill) to keep it as their's and their's alone. They are one of the more emotional dorms, despite not always coming right out to their darlings and saying "I love you". The motto of this dorm is "What's mine is mine and I'm willing to kill for it". In this particular academy, this motto is plastered in the main hall of the Jaséder house. If you are slightly greedy, clingy and will do anything for your goals then this is the dorm for you!

Common subtypes (easily jealous, obsessive-possessive, clingy)

Current dorm leader and vice dorm leader ( Mithra Helios; Age: 17 Grade: 11 | Vera Bellum age; 17 Grade; 11)

media examples ( Mammon (obey me), Zexion (kingdom hearts),  Inosuke Hashibira (Demon Slayer), Katsuki Bakugo (My hero Academia) )

Think of a mix between (Slytherin and Octovinella)

Chissi

The obsessed house, the members of this dorm take fangirling / fanboying to new extremes! When they "fall" for someone. Every room in this dorm has a specific space for shrines to be built and built-in shelves for "borrow" items from one's darling. These people also tend to find a sort of tranquility in collecting things, organizing things and making lists. Arguably the most emotional and oldest dorm out of the six. Also a golden star dorm. If you are a fanboy/fangirl then this is the dorm for you!

Common subtypes (soft, obsessive-possessive, overbearing, (certain) childish )

Current dorm leader and vice dorm leader( Mania Zac: Age: 18 Grade: 12  | Pluto Ray Age: 18 Grade: 12)

media examples (Bucky Barnes (Marvel), Toga Himiko (My hero academia), Osamu Dazai (Bungo Stray Dogs), Satan (obey me) )

Think of a mix between (Hufflepuff and Scarabia and maybe a bit of Pomefiore)

Lockheart

People in this dorm and somewhat paranoid believing that harm lies behind every corner. They are probably the mon friend of the group and will make sure everyone is safe and sound. They are somewhat on the more caring side of students in the school they hate seeing people hurt and have the lowest kill rate. They normally lock their darlings up somewhere so no harm comes to them, will make sure that anyone how posses a threat to their darling is either far away or too scared to come near said, darling. Killing might be used as a last resort. In conclusion, you a mom friend but somewhat chill but also gutsy? You go here.

Common subtypes (soft, obsessive-possessive, overbearing,)

Current dorm leader and vice dorm leader (Zur Akarana Age:19 Grade:12 | Ruth Caballero age:18 grade:12)

media examples (Natasha Romanoff (Marvel), Lucifer (obey me), Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler), Ruki Mukami (Diabolik lover), )

Think of a mix between (Honestly the personification of the love child between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor)

Almoakiso

This dorm is the most cunning, tricky and deceitful out of all the other dorms. They will make you believe that every lie is a truth every truth a lie. They can convince you of anything, anything at all! They will mangle your emotions and twist then to better suit their own needs. When they want a darling they will get that darling. the poor darling will soon fall into a sticky web of lies and half-truths, poor thing has already been distanced from all their friends the only person they can turn to is their loving and "totally honest" yandere. By the way, they have a rivalry with Cruistica over everything from grades and academics/smarts to darlings and weapons.   If you are manipulative, tricky and cunning then step right en up to this dorm! Common subtypes (stealthy and strict, apathetic at times)

Current dorm leader and vice dorm leader( Damien Edgar age: 18 Grade 12 | Willow Violetson  Age:16 Grade:10)

media examples (Loki (Marvel), Light Yagami (death note), Marluxia (Kingdome hearts), Azul Ashengrotto (Twisted wonderland) )

Think of a mix between (Slytherin and Ravenclaw with octovinelle sprinkled in there)

Rêve-De-Dies

The "baby" of the six dorms, the members of this dorm are stubborn, clingy and have way more emotions then they know what to do with. They zone out quickly, have short attention spans and often need others to bring them back on track. However, they are the friendliest house with the LOWEST death rate and the HIGHEST rate of truly happy darlings. If you are the baby or childish friend, are nice and always caught in your own mind then this is the dorm for you.

Common subtypes (Childish, clingy, soft)

Current dorm leader and vice dorm leader (Haoma Lune age: 17 Grade:12 | Aiko Larimore age:15 grade:10 )

media examples (La brava (my hero academia), Honey (OHSHC), Aladdin (Magi), Aalim Al Asim (twisted wonderland)

Think of a mix between (Hufflepuff and slight Scarabia)

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So guys let me know in the comments what you thought of the fic and which yandere house you are!

[swaps55]

ok ok for the kissing prompt game: mshenko with a kiss in the shower and sad or hurt feelings as the reason, thank you ⭐

Strange how some areas of the Citadel remain perfectly intact. Untouched. The Silver Sun strip is just as filled with noise, movement and color now as it had been the last time Kaidan saw it – before Cronos Station. Before London.

For a moment, he thinks their return will be a good thing. Before turning down the alley leading to the apartment Shepard stops, leans against a railing and just soaks it in. He doesn’t say much – he thinks more than he talks these days – but something about him relaxes. Unwinds. When Kaidan slides in next to him, Shepard leans his head against Kaidan’s shoulder and just…exists for a little while.

It’s good.

But eventually they do walk through that alley, find the elevator and take it up to the penthouse. Right before unlocking the door to his apartment – their apartment, Kaidan supposes – Shepard takes a deep breath, like someone preparing to walk barefoot over shattered glass. A familiar ache settles deep in Kaidan’s stomach.

The party they’d thrown before the final push feels like a lifetime ago, but the apartment looks exactly as it did that last morning when Vega fixed eggs in the kitchen while Tali bemoaned the worst hangover of her life. The only difference is how empty it feels, how quiet it sounds.

Shepard takes it in in silence, looking around with an expression Kaidan recognizes. It’s the same one he’d had when he returned to Vancouver for the Bahak hearings. Trying to reconcile the person he is now with the person he was when he’d last gone home. Before the reapers . Before Alchera. Before Shepard.

With Shepard, that time frame between before and now is much shorter, but the rest runs so much deeper.

Only a ghost of his injuries remain. He needs another surgery on the hip. The fine lines like fractured glass along his jaw are faded but not gone. But they’ll get there. It’s the rest Kaidan worries about. The hollowed out look in his eye. The way he clutches Kaidan when he sleeps.

In the old days, protecting Shepard was a hard job but simple at its heart. Stop the bullet. Diffuse the bomb. Seal the breach. Kaidan still knows all of his baseline biometrics by heart.

But this is different. He can’t protect Shepard from what he can’t see. There’s no combat scanner to alert him to a threat. No weapons suite wired to his HUD to help him identify friend from foe and tell him where to aim.

So many things the reapers destroyed. So many things that will never be fixed. This can’t be one of them. Shepard won’t be one of them.

But it’ll take time. At least they have it to give.  

Shepard wanders further into the apartment, looking into the kitchen. Up to the balcony. Kaidan doesn’t know what he sees, but gives him space to see it. Learning when to hold him close and when to give him room is one of the things Kaidan is still learning. After Alchera, and now London, every instinct he has screams to never let Shepard go again. But sometimes holding on means doing just that.  

Shepard stops at the stairs, hesitates, doesn’t look over his shoulder.

“Kaidan...”

This is one of those times.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Kaidan says, soft but firm. A promise. Shepard nods and trudges up the stairs.

Sometimes he can see the invisible enemy coming. Other times, like tonight, he understands there are parts of Shepard he’ll never fathom.

It won’t stop him from trying.

~

Another thing Kaidan’s still learning is when to trust Shepard to ask for help and when Kaidan just needs to relentlessly, recklessly give it.

When he finally goes upstairs, the shower is running. He almost lets it go. There’s unpacking to do. He can wait for Shepard in the bedroom, gauge what he needs. Instead that feeling coiled in his gut whispers a warning, and he pushes the door open.

Steam billows outward. Shepard sits on the floor of the shower facing away from the door, forehead resting on knees pulled tight to his chest as streams of water run down his neck. Through the fogged glass Kaidan makes out the irregular knots of the Cerberus implants holding his spine together in the curl of his back.

“Shepard,” Kaidan says softly, already pulling his shirt over his head. He’s gotten good at hiding his alarm.

Shepard doesn’t look up as Kaidan steps in the shower with him, settles to the floor and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. He half expects resistance, but Shepard allows himself to sink against Kaidan’s chest. Kaidan scoots back until his back rests against the shower’s glass wall, and then tightens his grip. In return, Shepard slides a hand up Kaidan’s arm and grabs hold.

“Sam,” Kaidan whispers, pressing a kiss against his temple. “I’ve got you.”

For several long moments there’s no sound but the rain of water striking the tiles. Kaidan alternates between stroking Shepard’s wet skin and just holding him fast and steady. After a while his legs feel stiff and his butt starts to complain about the hard tiles, but he stays put.

In his arms, Shepard stirs.

“I took everything from him,” he murmurs.

“Who?” Kaidan asks, smoothing a hand over Shepard’s scalp, deflecting some of the spray. The hairs there are longer than usual. He doesn’t shave it as often, now.

“Anderson.”

Kaidan’s stomach drops. They haven’t talked about Anderson yet. There’s so much they haven’t talked about yet. “What do you mean?”

Shepard clings to him, as if the answer would somehow drive him away. “The Normandy was supposed to be his. I took it. He was supposed to be the first human Spectre. I took that, too. Hell, the SR-2 was going to be his. Instead he stayed on Earth and I took it. And this…” he looks up towards the ceiling. “This place was his. And I’m the one sitting in it.”

“He gave it to you, Shepard,” Kaidan whispers against the water. “You didn’t take anything from him.”

“I shot him,” Shepard says, voice wavering. Kaidan stills. Shepard’s grip on him tightens, a silent plea not to let go. “The Illusive Man used me like a fucking puppet. I fucking shot him and you know what he told me before he died?”

Kaidan shakes his head.

“He said he was proud of me.” The words come out hot, angry. Shepard is so full of rage he shakes. “I took everything from him. Even his life. And he was proud of me.”

“You didn’t take anything,” Kaidan soothes, heart thumping. “He gave it all to you willingly. He was proud. He believed in you.”

Shepard’s chest heaves. The sound that comes out of him is wrenching, hollow, broken, and Kaidan wonders how he was able to hold it in for so long.

This is a pain Kaidan will never know, could never hope to understand and is helpless to stop. So he doesn’t stop it. He just holds on tight so they can ride it out together. It’s not much, but it’s all he has.

When Shepard is finally spent, Kaidan turns off the water, finds them some towels, dries them off and takes Shepard to bed. They lie face to face, Kaidan cupping Shepard’s cheek and stroking his jaw with with a thumb.

“I love you,” Kaidan says softly. It feels like so little. But Shepard’s features soften as his eyes drift closed, and maybe, at least for tonight, it’s enough.  

[thankskenpenders]

I think there’s also a comic called Heroes inc or something similar that had this crazy amount of angles and 3d backgrounds. Barely remember the plot apart from crono having daddy issues and maaaybe a romance with samus? Anyways, mostly just sad that the era of sprite comics seems to have mostly passed thanks to the larger amount of capable artists on the internet.

Okay no, this one! I think this is the one I was thinking of

And yeah, sprite comics kinda just became played out, and after Bob and George and 8-Bit Theater ended there was never anything new that got popular in the same way. There’s a lot of factors, I’m sure, but I think the novelty wore off and the style of jokes common in them started to get really repetitive. Sprite comics were mostly made by people who read a lot of other sprite comics, after all, so it created this joke feedback loop. I know that when I was making them I’d throw in random pop culture references that I didn’t actually get that I’d picked up from other sprite comics. Drawing tablets also became cheaper and easier to get, which saw a rise in the number of hand drawn webcomics from artists of all skill levels. I mean, webcomics have always been a thing, but we were definitely seeing more and more big ones pop up as sprite comics continued to decline in popularity. Moving into the 2010s, gag strips made with assets from The Spriters Resource just couldn’t compete with stuff like Homestuck, Cucumber Quest, or Gunnerkrigg

Granted, I still think sprite comics are valid. Making sprite comics was one of the most valuable creative exercises for me as a teenager. The fact that they’re so easy to churn out might have lead to oversaturation, but it also meant that I got a lot more practice making comics and writing dialogue than I would’ve if I had to sit down and draw every single one of them. Editing sprites also got me into making pixel art! It’s very possible that if I never got into making sprite comics in middle school, I wouldn’t be making SLARPG as an adult

Even today, kids and teens are still making tons of sprite comics on sites like Smack Jeeves, and I bet a lot of them are gonna go on to make some really cool shit when they’re older. It seems like the style is way less prevalent among adult creators now, but I’m sure there’s still some folks out there just having a good time with it, and I can respect that. I’ve also seen a handful of comics made entirely with original assets, and I think that’s a cool idea. I’m surprised I haven’t seen more people do that, actually

[olympusnerd]

The Story of Aphrodite Part 1

The sketch was done with 4H and B7 pencils and a little color for her majesty’s eyes. 

This story is a snippet of a background I’ve written about Aphrodite the Goddess of Love regarding how she became the goddess of love. This piece is rated PG but installments will be rated R and will have additional warnings. Mostly writing this because it’s always bothered me how it seems like pop culture appreciates her because she’s hot and thinks she’s just a petty manipulator. I see a lot more of an icon and wanted to paint her in a different light. 

Word Count: 3377

For so many, the beginning was chaos, but for Aphrodite, that was more than a poetic truth. While the world would have one believe that the goddess of love, sex and beauty was put on this earth already ordained the most beautiful or the most sexual, it was a long and strenuous road for the goddess to become the icon mortals will remember her for all time. No, her entrance into the world was anything but beautiful. 

The sky cracked angrily with flashes of lightning jetting from one end of the world to the other as the ground quaked with Mother Earth. Gaia was shivering in stunned horror at the brutality of Uranos’s death. Though she had orchestrated the entire event, nothing could have prepared the celestial for seeing her husband slain like cattle, his severed genitals scattered across her lovely planet like seeds to tilled soil. 

It was from his blood that various creatures arose from Mother Earth's womb. The Furies: a rightfully dreadful group of female monsters with sharp teeth and claws made to rip apart oath breakers; the Giants: massive beasts of great strength and aggression; and the Meliai: a melancholy family of ash-tree nymphs. 

But there was one last piece of the Sky Father left unnamed, floating along the water in a white foam of divine seed. Gaia blew the breath of life into the water, then watched as the waves of the oceans lead the mass away from the grizzly scene of patricide towards the quiet white beach of Paphos Cyprus. Here, in the crystal clear waves, something extraordinary happened. 

From the foam emerged a shimmering pink clam that opened to reveal a head of thick wavy hair the color of blood, which rose as the being stood. With surefooted steps, a creature rose from the sea, a creature that didn’t resemble the Furies, the Giants, or even the Meliai. No, this creature was something else entirely. 

She somewhat resembled the Titans in shape, with smoothe, earth toned flesh and hair that reached past her hips, but there was something different about her face and body that set her apart from her half siblings. Nude, as all beings were after birth, every inch of her perfect form was on display. Long, strong arms, a shapely form, ample breasts and a round bottom. Her dark skin glistened in the remnants of sunlight, giving her the characteristic glow of what Gaia recognized immediately as that of a goddess.

Her face was lovely, with eyes that held curiosity as they scanned across the beach she found herself on and supple lips pursed in awe at her own spontaneous existence. 

“Hello?” she called out in a soft voice. “Is anyone there? Where am I? What is this place?” 

Gaia didn’t answer at first, instead she watched from a distance, as she usually did in these types of situations. Best see how things will play out in her own absence before interfering unnecessarily. 

Just then, the waves retreated from the shoreline, then rose up into what looked to be a wall that stood a great deal taller than the woman. Dropping down in a sudden downpour, two bodies were left in its wake. A man and woman dressed in thin, iridescent robes with bluish toned skin and black hair gave a shallow bow to the newly birthed woman. 

"Hello," the man spoke tenderly, "I am Oceanus, the lord of the ocean. And this is my wife Tethys." His wife gave a small smile and tilt of her head. 

The woman who had only lived for minutes inhaled sharply, then glanced around. 

"Don't be alarmed, I won't harm you. I saw you appear so suddenly and heard you call out. Do you have a name, my child?"

She shook her head.

"Then we should see to it that you find a fitting name. I'm sure you must be confused, we can help you. And perhaps Mother would be so kind as to come to your aid as well.” 

At the que, Gaia materialized in the sand, a grand creature shaped like any other woman save for the granules of rocks and mud used to give her large body form. Tendrils of the seaweed that had been floating along the shore were swept into the manifestation of Mother Earth and to anyone she appeared the epitome of a Primordial Deity in all her ancient glory. “If you knew I was here then I assume you’ve seen what Cronos has done.” 

“You mean what you’ve had him do,” Tethys gently corrected. Her large dark eyes fell upon the soft fleshed woman standing between them all, not shivering in the draft of wind sweeping across the land. “Yes, we’ve seen. Is it not what you wanted, Mother? Father dethroned?” 

“Not like that,” she answered honestly with a gentle shake of her head. “Your father wronged me and deserved to have his strength stripped of him, but not disrespected. Not disgraced. What Cronos did will forever taint my soils as the first ever blood crime.”

The three bowed their heads in silence as they contemplated what to do next. 

It was the newly birthed woman who would break their thoughts with a soft, melodious voice, “What is to become of me?” All eyes turned to Gaia, who tapped a finger on her chin while brooding. 

“You don’t strike me in the same way as the other creatures. And I can’t be sure that Cronos even noticed her being born, I myself would have missed it if I hadn’t seen the current pull away as it had.” 

“What is that supposed to mean, Mother?” Tethys asked. 

“Nothing. I’m simply making an observation. One never knows when such information can be useful.”

Tethys and Oceanus shared a glance at their mother’s scheming ways, but it was never a good idea to argue when Mother Earth was involved. 

This was, after all, entirely her domain that the Titans inhabited. She was, and always will be, the great force when angered. 

Uranous, the Sky Father, had learned this lesson the hard way. 

“Oceanus, Tethys. I would like you to look after this child for the time being. I know you’ve your own children you’re rearing but she doesn’t look to require much care. She should be strong enough to carry her own weight, have her work hard alongside your other daughters and raise her to be good and loving, but also strong.” Gaia reached out and lightly stroked a sandy finger across the unchildlike face with round dark violet eyes glossed over like a sparkling amethyst. “She was born of your seas, Oceanus. She belongs with you. Take care. I can sense great things will come from this one.” 

The woman’s eyes met with Tethys, who offered a sincere smile while taking her husband’s hand and offering her other towards her. “I have enough love to spare for one more. You are more than welcome to join us in our home.”

The woman looked between these three and, seeing no other alternative, took the light blue hand of Tethys and followed her and Oceanus into the salty water of the Mediteranian Sea. 

And so, the world was given the one born of foam, Aphrodite. 

Life with the gods of the world’s oceans was as good a life as any other Aphrodite could have hoped to have. The kingdom of Oceanus spread across the seabed, with a central, enormous palace in the deepest crevices of the seas, carved out of various corals blossoming in red, pink, and yellow reefs. The inhabitants of the kingdom ranged from the fish, whales and sharks that filled the waters to merfolk with tails in place of legs as well as those like Aphrodite with feet. The main difference between the foam goddess and other oceanic humanoids was her lack in ability to change shape at will like those truly born of water. In certain corners of the palace were air pockets that one could dry off and rest their weary limbs after a full day of swimming, which is where Aphrodite found herself most evenings stretched out on beds of seaweed and sponges.

Many years passed since that fateful day on the beach of Cyprus and the young goddess found herself happily living as a member of the Oceanus’ courts. He and Tethys raised thousands of children who would grow and leave to venture into the world, creating streams, rivers and ponds to preside over as their own domain. Many bore children, whose children had children, and so on and so forth. All while Aphrodite stayed the same, day in and day out. Her brothers and sisters tried for many years to try and find a suitable partner for their beloved, adoptive sister, but none caught her attention, though she caught many other’s eye. While she seemed to be, without question, the most beautiful creature yet to be born, she remained, for the most part, content with being single. The love of her family was all she needed, perhaps one day she would find a mate to settle down with but for now she reveled in her freedom of such responsibilities of being a wife and mother. Instead she worked on herself, studying the power of the sea in synchrony with Selene’s moon, helping to classify the many sea creatures she came across, to staying physically fit and maintaining strength. She was just as strong as any man in the sea and as fast as any fish. 

For the most part, the goddess had a leisurely life. On any given day, Aphrodite and the daughters and granddaughters of Oceanus swam from one end of the world to the other in races, searched the seafloor for rare shells and gems, or explored underwater caves for new signs of life. On rare occasions they would find themselves on the beaches playing with crabs and gulls, but for the most part they were warned against going above the water surface. 

“I rule all within this realm, but once you are under Helios’s sun, I cannot protect you. So take care, my daughters of the sea, to stay close and stay safe,” Oceanus told the women in all seriousness, though usually it would fall on deaf ears. The ladies had never known harm unto themselves or anyone else, truly this life was perfect without danger. 

But Oceanus knew all too well that the world above was not as peaceful as that within his home. Cronos, after the death of his father, had grown more cynical every year. While at first his reign was dubbed the Golden Age for all the food abundance and peace that came after the initial slaying of his father Uranos.

The peace, however, was not meant to last. Over time, Cronos became paranoid that his rule was tainted by the curse his father spouted in his dying breath, that he too would someday be dethroned. It was said to be empty words by his brothers and sisters, merely the final cries of a being desperate to have the last say in how the world he helped reign over would crumble without him. Cronos tried to hold onto that thought, tried desperately to quail the nagging suspicions he had playing in the back of his mind like a fly buzzing in the ear of a bull. Until the day the ruler of all the world found out something terrible: his wife Rhea was begotten with child. 

He tried to maintain his composure for the most part, but in the end, his own paranoia got the best of him. At the end of the infant’s gestation, Rhea gave birth to a beautiful, clay toned baby girl. While all of her sisters, who had helped with her delivery, were busy tending to the new mother, Cronos stood in the corner of the room holding the newly washed, freshly born child in his arms. She was small, incredibly so, compared to other children of titans. And she held a slight reddish glow around her fragile form. 

How strong would she be?

How powerful?

His eyes went over to Rhea, who gave a soft smile in return. “Darling?” she called out. 

But he didn’t move. Instead, Cronos looked back down at the infant. 

No. 

He couldn’t risk it. 

To the horror of everyone in the room, Cronos raised the child by her ankle, high above his head, and with a crack unhinged his jaw like a snake. 

He swallowed the child whole. 

Rhea was so stunned she passed out while her sisters stood in mortification as the king of all the world quietly left the room. 

Five more times did Cronus do this unspeakable act of consuming his children, each time sliding more and more into madness. 

Where once the world was bursting with life, now it had grown dark from clouds that offered only lightening and thunderous roars. In a few places his misery hadn’t tarnished the lands and those who could fled to escape his wrath. 

But those under Oceanus’ rule knew nothing of this pain and suffering, spending their days playing oceanic games and hosting grand feasts as their neighbors above starved. 

It was on a particularly normal day that Aphrodite was babysitting for her adoptive sister Doris. It was nothing new for the lovely foam goddess to be asked to keep children, as she didn’t have her own and typically didn’t have any worldly duties like her siblings. She hadn’t a river to attend or a kingdom to rule, and so she found herself with her niece Amphitrite and nephew Nerites playing hide and seek in a grotto off the coast of Megiste. As children of Doris, Amphitrite and Nerites could transform into tailed creatures to help them to move through underwater caverns, though that did little to keep Aphrodite from catching up to each of them. She had been swimming for immeasurable years before these two thought of being born and she had grown to be as fast as her aquatic brothers and sisters, despite being tailless.  Over and over, the children cried out in delight at their aunt’s ability to best them repeatedly at their own game, no matter how hard they tried or what animal they transformed into, she would catch them. 

They had gone nearly one hundred rounds when Aphrodite stopped just short of tapping Nerites’ arm at the sound of thunder. 

His high pitched voice echoed when he shrieked in surprise at the sound, making his sister laugh at his plight. 

“You’re such a guppy,” she giggled. 

“I am not, I was startled is all!” 

“The water seems to be getting worse,” Aphrodite cut in, looking outside as the water began to pour. Fortunately, underwater seldom changed from the surface weather problems, but it still would warrant a cautious swim home. 

“Did you see that?” she asked, her amethyst eyes rolling over the cavern walls. 

“See what, Auntie Ditey?” 

“I,” she narrowed her eyes, was that a shadow on the wall? No, it must have just been refracted light. No one ever came into the blue caves, she reassured herself. Most land dwellers were afraid of unknown waters. “It’s nothing. Who is ready to head back to see grandfather and grandmother?” 

“Oh, can’t we play one more time?” Amphitrite begged, her oversized eyes sparkling with the last of daylight echoing off the water. “Just once, please, Auntie Ditey?” 

Both children sported their largest eyed pleads they could muster before Aphrodite shrugged, “Now what kind of aunt would I be to say no to such sweet faces. Alright, darlings, we’ll play once more, then we have to hurry off.” 

“We can race home!” Nerites offered in a boast. “I’ll turn into a dolphin!” 

“Of course, and I’ll beat you like I always do,” Aphrodite teased. 

The children turned her towards the cave wall and she proceeded to wait for their collective, “I’m ready!” before she began her hunt. 

As they played their last match, somewhere just inside the mouth of the blue caves floated a wooden raft that had rolled inside to escape from the oncoming storm. A man quietly sat on his makeshift boat as he watched the woman and children playing until they swam away, mere feet away still unaware of him. In truth, he wasn’t paying them much mind until had a good view of the earth-toned woman's rise from the water to stand on the outer ridge of the cave’s wall before throwing herself back to make a splash. The children yelped in delight as the man’s jaw fell agape. She was lovely, in the most sincerest of forms, unlike any creature he had ever seen. Her dazzling eyes, her smooth skin, her flaming hair. It was nothing to him that she was nude as most creatures, particularly those of the water, chose to forgo such trivialities as hiding their bodies.

Yet here this man was, watching the woman with a rise within himself he had never imagined before. What was this yearning he felt? He didn’t speak up, in fear  

When the storm passed, he made his way out of the caves towards the beaches of what would later be dubbed Athens. There he made his way towards Mount Othrys, where his father and uncle eagerly awaited his return. All the while, images of the enchanting woman played over and over in his mind’s eye. 

 “Atlas!” his father Iapetus greeted from the dining table. He sat as always to the left of King Cronos, who was brooding over a meal a servant had just served like it had been burnt. Atlas never liked his uncle, but didn’t care enough about politics to press the matter, rather he explored the corners of the globe in search of adventure and unseen lands. “I was beginning to think you had been held up somewhere and we’d have to track you down.” 

“No, not at all, I got caught up in some weather just on the other side of the eastern islands. Nothing too concerning.” 

When he took his seat beside his mother Clymene, dinner commenced and the guests took up their light conversations as Atlas stared down at his plate deep in thought. Around the table, he could hear everyone carrying on, his uncles Coeus, Hyperion, and Crius, his aunts Queen Rhea, Theia, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoebe, and Tethys, and a few cousins whom he never took the time to memorise their names unless he liked them. As they carried on as normal, he replayed the images of the intoxicating woman he had seen in the cave. 

Why hadn’t he spoken up?

Why hadn’t he asked her name?

“Dear, you’ve been out all day, surely you’re hungry?” his mother gently asked. 

He heaved a heavy sigh before his eyes landed on his mother, her glistening light blue skin reminding him of the children that played with the woman. That’s right, they would have been descendants of Oceanus. And that woman, she must have been someone from his court. Perhaps a nymph of some kind?

An idea popped like a bubble into Atlas’s head. 

“Actually, Mother, I was wondering. Tomorrow could we visit your father’s kingdom? I haven’t seen grandfather Oceanus in quite some time.” 

“Oh, well, I’m actually going to be busy tomorrow, but I’m sure your father-”

“I can accompany you.” 

The table’s idle chit-chat ceased as all eyes fell on Cronos, who rarely spoke at such events as trivial as family dinners. 

“Tha-that won’t be necessary, your highness,” Iapetus reassured, “I know you must be busy with more important things than traveling into the realm for a family visit.” 

“No, I’d like to visit our brother. I haven’t heard from him in quite some time, it would do some good to… catch up with one another.” 

Atlas noticed the tension in the room thicken. As far as he’d known, Oceanus was as dedicated to Cronos as any of his other brothers, but there was speculation that Oceanus had closed his doors to most of those above sea level because he didn’t agree with the way his younger brother ran in domain. 

But again, politics wasn’ t what interested Atlas. 

For now, it was finding out who that mysterious woman was who had ensnared his heart.

[brokenjardaantech]

rk1700 december day 10, 27: structure, home

written for @rk1700december. day 10: structure; day 27: home

rhea is female connor. cronos is rk900.

also on ao3

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‘Uh, Cronos? Reed left something for you before he left. Please come and retrieve the package.’

Cronos’ gaze lands on Rhea who has been resting in bed since returning from her… impromptu debugging with the Administrator. He reaches for her through their connection and tells her what he will do and where he will go, and when all she does is burrowing deeper into the nest she has made out of a few blankets and some spare clothing, he takes it as an affirmative and, after curbing his anxiety that threatens to overtake him whenever he has to leave Rhea for any length of time, he goes to the coordinates attached to the message and finds a box as wide as his shoulders waiting for him.

‘All of this?’ he gestures at the package. ‘And who is Reed?’

‘Yes, all of it is yours, and you might know him as Elijah Kamski. He isn’t exactly subtle about his true identity, unlike most Council members.’

Cronos nods and takes the box with some customary expression of gratitude. He gives it a shake, hearing the content click against one another and feeling the shift of the centre of mass and the weight. More plastic just like the frame of his bed, but this one is much smaller and much more closely-packed. He gives it one more shake just to hear the sound again and goes back to his quarters.

He sits on the floor with the box in his lap, and before he can interface with the seal and unlock it, Rhea somehow manages to sneak up on him and hook her chin onto his shoulder which of course startles him, but he calms down quickly enough.

‘Let’s see what Elijah got for us, shall we?’ he says to Rhea. Sure, interfacing might be more convenient and power-saving, but there is something about talking and making his actions known to other people that just… seems more attractive. As if they weren’t that alone in the solar system. 

Rhea nods (or as much as she can in this position anyway). Deactivating the skin on his hand, Cronos establishes a connection with the seal of the box, and a hologram of a mini Elijah pops up. ‘Hi, Cronos, Rhea,’ it says. ‘I noticed that Anchor and the Administrator were keeping a lot away from you, even the essential stuff you need to understand a bit of what’s going on. There also isn’t much for you to play with apart from blocks so…’ holographic Elijah shakes his head with a chuckle. ‘More blocks for you, I guess. Mind you, this one is much more delicate and detailed, so don’t throw them around like your normal blocks.’

The hologram disappears, and the box starts unfolding itself neatly to reveal a neat stack of plastic parts ready to be cut out and assembled into… something. Cronos interfaces once more with the box, now no more than a thin polygon created out of malleable synthetic fibre with electronics weaved into the threads, and finds the construction manual. That is when he opens a connection with Rhea and sends it to her as well even though it is highly likely that, without direct interfacing, she won’t be able to process it and merely logs it as another minuscule change in her system - everything is compared to the vast memory storage she has and cannot access. The comment about Anchor hiding things away from them gives him a bad feeling about his surroundings but he decides to not look too deep into it for now; he’s got something to build.

Let’s see, he carefully untangles the pieces of plastic from one another and spreads them out onto the floor. We need a piece of this from here, another piece from there, and then we’ll need to join them together before putting it onto there…

    A few hours and a half-hour break to coax a bottle of thirium into Rhea later, the model of the facility is finally taking shape. Sure, the classified and off-limits sections and wings of the site are still represented by larger chunks of plastic, but it is detailed and delicate when it comes to the places they are free to access, and he can imagine a miniature Anchor in the shooting range, the facility’s personnel having meals together - no matter android or human - in the canteen, he and Rhea watching the shuttles depart and taxi from the viewing deck next to the landing pad. There even is a model of a shuttle which Cronos can easily control and make float in midair with his biotics. He leans back, realising that the model is almost finished, and gives a larger piece to Rhea. Care to do the honours? he asks through their link. 

Rhea accepts the piece slowly and then holds it in her palm. Right. Processing power. Cronos holds her other hand with his bare hand, initiating an interface, and shares the isolated instruction for the part with her. Eyes widening in recognition, Rhea easily slots the component into where it should be, and, without breaking contact, she assembles the rest one-handedly with occasional help from Cronos. He suspects some of the pieces are magnetic as they automatically snap to their place as long as they are held close to where they are supposed to be, and he adds ‘express gratitude to Elijah’ into his to-do-list simply because of how happy Rhea looks, how she turns her head to smile at him after each piece is secured in place, how - for the first time since Cronos met her - she can set her pain aside for the shortest while; yes, even when they couple and Cronos is deep inside Rhea and they can be the closest to each other, the agony that is everyday living does not fade for her.

But now - but now -

The final piece. It is small, it should have been handled with extra care and probably with the help of tools, but Rhea looks so determined to put it onto the model that stopping her would have been a crime in itself, and the slight fear of her dropping the piece in the structure will prove to be futile; it snaps to its place with a small click, the lights in the room dim with a low thrum, and the places where the generators of the facility should be glows, thin lines of blue emerging from the rooms to complete the final piece of the model by forming into people and equipment too small to be represented by actual parts. With a glowing hand, Cronos directs Rhea’s bare finger to tap a corner of the structure they just assembled together. Examining the model and pointing out the movements of holographic people don’t exactly answer the many questions they have, but it is a reminder of their home, something familiar amongst so many uncertainties and secrets. 

Look, Rhea points at a hologram. That’s us.

Cronos squints and sees a tiny version of the two of them playing with blocks. Their facial features are grainy and pixelated just like the others, but he thinks that they are happy. Just like themselves.

Yes, Rhea, he draws her into the space between his legs and envelopes her in a hug. That’s us.

[the--regenerating--degenerate]

Sol Invictus

A/N: Thanks go out to Selene Sokal and his fic, By Steel and Starlight, which helped inspire this work. If you haven't read it go give a look. It is really good. This fic is not a prequel to his, this is inspired by.

You may also be wondering about Blake's name; I wanted the Faunus to feel like they have their own culture, naming conventions and actually feel like a separate distinct people. Their naming convention is their Family Name first, followed by clan then given name. The 'Ist' in their name is their way of saying 'I am from' or 'Of this place.' Much like the German 'Von.'

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Chapter Two: The White Fang

Ruby Rose loved ships, she loved everything about them and every type. From three-man fighters and interceptors to the behemoth dreadnaughts and carriers. Ruby was never happier than when she was exploring, learning or working on a spacecraft.  It was exactly because of this love of ships she wished that she was allowed to explore every inch of the Muninn more often. 

Sadly, permission was a rare event and it was always begrudgingly given by Aunt Raven. 

Though it also wasn't often that Ruby did ask for permission. Nor did she ever approach her pirate aunt without Yang's, her older sister, supporting presence.

So Ruby had developed a love/hate relationship with the Muninn. 

She loved the ship for what it was. From the RSDC Series 2 power core, to her sleek Adel-Rolls R Series 450 sub-light engines, to the polished gleam of her black bulkheads, to the incredibly rare and expensive Luna-Shawcross DF2 Fold drive. The Muninn was an engineering marvel.

She hated the ship for what it was. A frigate-sized, but cramped ship, filled with people who went out of their way to avoid her; with Ruby’s only real friend being her older sister. Not even Aunt Raven cared to spend any time getting to know her ex-husband’s second daughter.

Ruby was used to the disparaging glares and sneers that she got from Raven and her crew. It wasn't all that different from the Royal Valian Naval Academy; were even the instructors did not particularly care to be in close proximity of the energetic brunette for long periods of time.

No, she avoided Raven more for the sense of potential violence which seemed to coalesce around Raven like a thick miasma.  

“Sorry, Rubes.” Yang would say, as the two sisters would walk back to their shared quarters. “Raven is… Well, she’s busy. Lots for us to do. Maybe next time.”

Ruby never asked Yang why she always referred to her mother as Raven. She wanted to. Desperately too. But it had been years since Yang had run away to join Raven in Wild Space; and the two of them had only recently reunited. 

Though the two young women had made great strides in reconciliation; to the point were sometimes it almost felt like they were back home on Port Patch, or on their father’s old freighter; they were still… hesitant over certain subjects.  

Raven being one of those. 

Yang’s gene-tailoring being another. 

Ruby sighed. She had been frightened when she had first finally reunited with her older sister planetside; before being brought onboard the Muninn. If it hadn’t been for the long, blonde hair and lilac coloured eyes, Ruby would have hardly recognized the hulking, almost brutish stranger who waited for her at the dock that day. 

Yang had always been big, tough, strong. Now she looked like she could rival those who had grown up on high grav worlds. Her arms, legs, shoulders were thick with muscle and bone. The scaly ridges on Yang’s forehead, the slit pupil eyes and elongated, animalistic, fang-like canines, frightened her. If Ruby hadn’t known any better she would have sworn her sister was a Faunus. The sight had caused Ruby to doubt that Yang was really Yang anymore.  

But then as soon as Ruby stepped off the shuttle, Yang had run over and scooped her up in a tight, loving hug; and Ruby felt her doubts and fears melt away. Yang almost broke her younger sister’s ribs, as she embraced her for the first time in years. The two of them nearly crying in each other’s arms. 

The look of pure joy and happiness that had split Yang’s mouth into a wide smile. It was so obvious that Yang regretted splitting the two sisters up. Regretted leaving Ruby behind as she wandered off to explore the galaxy and find her mother. Ruby cried herself for doubting her big sister. So here they were. Comfortable with each other for the most part, but still having to walk delicately around one another.

Speaking of Yang, Ruby groaned irritably inward. Where is she? I’m booooooored!

She had been gone for several hours. At least according to the crono-sphere in their cabin. She had gone to take care of some business for Aunt Raven and had left Ruby with precious little to do in the meantime. 

Well… I could always clean Crescent Rose… Again… 

Ruby spared a sideways glance at her precious rifle. It was one of the very few things that Ruby had brought with her from the Academy. Crescent Rose was her baby. Her prized possession. A VA M29 designated marksman rifle; Ruby had been quick to tamper with, rebuild and customise every part from the upper to lower reciever, pistol grip, trigger assembly, fire selection and even the barrel. She had even given the rifle a red and black custom paint job, with a stylized rose right above the magazine well. 

Currently, her beloved weapon was laid out on Ruby and Yang's shared table. Ruby had stripped her down, laying each part out in a neat, meticulous order. From there Ruby had obsessively gone over each and every part until they shone brightly even in the dim light of Muninn.

To clean Crescent Rose again would be the height of redundancy.Not that Ruby wasn’t willing to do it. Nothing was too good for her baby.

Or… She could go out to find Yang. Maybe catch Aunt Raven in a good mood. A good enough mood that she would allow Ruby to wander through the belly of the Muninn? 

It was tempting. 

So that was her choice. Sit around, clean Crescent Rose for the seventh hundredth time. Or go and ask her Aunt. 

Besides Yang is there talking to her. It couldn’t hurt to ask. An eager, but nervous smile playing across her lips as she slipped on her bright red cloak and stepped out into the dim hall. 

-----------

The snapping of metal, the of breaking porcelain and the shattering of glass echoed in Raven's quarters, as Yang’s fist smashed through the incredibly expensive Mistral tea set and the crystal and gold inlay table it had once sat upon. 

Raven huffed irritability as Yang, it seemed was unsatisfied with merely breaking what had once been an extravagant tea set; decorated with painstakingly hand painted scenes of cherry trees in full bloom, their blossoms catching on the warm spring winds; and its equally masterworked table; and so continued to punch it until it was an unrecognizable mess of porcelain, crystal and broken shards of twisted metal.

 “Are you quite finished with your tantrum? Or do you wish to find something else worth more than a Mistralian frigate to smash?” Raven asked when Yang, panting heavily in deep, shuddering breaths finally stopped. 

Behind Yang stood the ever-faithful Vernal, her tattooed and kill-marked arms crossed above her chest; she bore a look of rare concern. Not that it was needed, but Raven still valued the loyalty. 

“Tantrum?” Yang bit back, “ you made me kill a man in cold blood! Then tell me I am throwing a tantrum?” 

“Because you are.” Raven never once raised her voice, but allowed a tinge of ice-cold anger to colour it. “I gave you a choice. You choose to follow through with it. Now you get to live with it.” 

“That bullshit again? You never gave me a choice. It was that or die.” Yang glared at her as she shook her head, “Dad never wanted me to come out here. Uncle Qrow told me to stay away from you. I couldn’t. I had to see who you are with my own eyes. Away from Dad’s nostalgia and Uncle Qrow’s cynicism.”    

“And have I lived up to your expectations? Your dreams, your fantasies?” Raven rolled her eyes, a hint of an ill patient frown forming. “This is who were are. We are the strong, so we take. I am the strongest, so I lead. That is all there is to it. If you thought that a pirate would be fun, adventure, steal from the rich for the needy then you are even more foolish than I ever thought. Your father’s influence no doubt.”

“You don’t get to talk about him like that!” Yang whirled on her, hands clenched into fists. “He was there. He raised me, never abandoned me to go off and play pirate-queen in some far off flung shit-hole in the galaxy.” 

“Yet here you are.” Raven smirked, “so eager for praise and so willing to do what I ask. You cannot blame me for the choices you make my daughter.”

Yang fell silent for a moment, staring at the remains of the tea set and crystal table. There was truth to that. She had done what Raven asked. She had been apart of boarding parties, seizing ships and killing the crew. But they had always been armed. They always had a way of fighting back. 

But was it any different?

Yang felt sick to her stomach just asking herself the question. Raven was right. It had been Yang’s choice. No matter what excuse she tried to come up with.

Yang took a long calming breath, lilac coloured eyes met Raven’s blood red. “I’m leaving Raven. I’m taking Ruby and I am leaving. I’m done with this, I’m done with you. We’re going back home.” 

“Are you now?” Raven asked with a hint of amusement. 

“Yes. You can’t stop me Raven.” Yang hissed, turning to leave. “Get out of my way Vernal.”

“I don’t need to do anything to stop you from leaving Yang. You’ve oh so helpfully put that collar around your own neck.”

Yang snorted as she reached for the door control. 

“What would Ruby think of her big sister painting the back wall with brains of an unarmed and helpless man?” Raven said, arching a delicate black eyebrow.

Yang froze. Her hand just over the control. If Ruby found out… it would destroy them. She was still haunted by Ruby’s fearful silver eyes when they had met at the docks. Ruby had been frightened, terrified by what her big sister had become. If Ruby found out she was a murderer, what little connection they had rebuilt would be gone. 

Yang would be alone. Truly alone. Just the thought of that sent chills down her spine. 

“You wouldn’t.” Yang’s voice barely registered above a whisper. 

“I would. You have a weakness, one that I can and will exploit. You are useful to this tribe and to this crew Yang. I don’t like to waste useful things.” Raven’s tone was bored and uninterested, as though discussing the weather. “Now, go see to the prisoner and get prepared for our guest. They should be arriving in the next three days or so. I want us to be prepared. You are dismissed, Yang.”

Before Yang could turn to leave, there was a hesitant knock on the door. 

“Cap’in Raven.” The man at the door nodded in respect as he entered,. “Forgive the interruption but we received a message from the buyer.”

“And you couldn’t call me on the com?” Raven asked, clearly annoyed. It was never particularly healthy to the life expectancy of the one she was annoyed at.

“It was marked specifically for you Cap’in. I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t.” The man held out a small disk, his hand shaking with nerves. 

Raven rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yang bring it here, and you, get out of my sight.”   

She took the disk from Yang, slotting it into the player. Soon a holographic woman appeared in the middle of the player. Long black hair, eyes hidden by a white mask of Grimm… and a pair of twitching cat ears on the top of her head. 

“Faunus.” Yang gasped in surprise. This was unexpected. It was rare to see the Faunus outside of the Menagerie Systems. 

“Captain Branwen Raven Ist Muninn.” The recording started with a nod of her head, “I am Belladonna Zech Blake Ist White Fang. I have been asked by our leader Brother-Commander Taurus Naut Adam Ist White Fang to open negotiations and confirm that the prisoner is indeed who you say she is. My ship and I will be arriving at the coordinates you gave him within the standard day. I look forward to speaking with such an ally.” 

The hologram gave another nod of her head, before flickering away. 

It was all Yang could do to retain her horror, keeping her head straight and expression unreadable. The White Fang? She's planning on selling the Schnee to the White Fang?

The White Fang were extremists, who thought the Faunus Uprising was still a war being fought. They were enemies of the Protectorate; while Yang was no fan of Atlas she knew what the White Fang would do if they got their hands on the Heir Apparent. 

Across from her, Raven met her eyes and smiled that cold, calculating smile of hers.

It would be war.        

---------------------------------

Ruby ran. She needed to get back to their room. She needed time, time to think, time to process. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. 

She felt tears running down her cheek. 

No. No. 

It wasn’t possible. Yang was emotional, sure. She had a temper that was more than obvious. But she wasn’t a murderer. She couldn’t be.

The old Yang could have never had murdered someone. Another more cynical part of Ruby’s mind whispered, but what about this new one? The one who I haven’t seen in five years. 

Images of Yang staying up late reading her bedtime stories, bandaging skinned knees and packing her lunches for school, danced through her head. It was quashed brutally an instant later by a new hulking and unnatural monster. A monster wearing her sister’s face, whose lips were now curled into a slasher’s crazed grin. 

The door to their room slid open, as Ruby dashed inside, jumping onto her cot, taking in deep, calming breaths. 

Okay, okay. Breathe calm down. Did I hear what I thought I heard? Ruby closed her eyes, hearing Raven’s voice float through where Ruby had been listening at the door of Raven’s cabin. 

“What would Ruby think of her big sister painting the back wall with brains of an unarmed and helpless man?” 

And all Yang could respond with was a helpless whisper of “you wouldn’t.”

Ruby’s face fell. She had done it. Yang had murdered someone. 

And it broke Ruby’s heart. 

Yang had changed. The years had changed her. Every doubt, every fear that Ruby had felt when she saw what Yang had become. The mon…

Ruby’s eyes settled on the picture, hanging just above Yang’s bed. A crayon drawing. Simple, yellowing with age. A four-year-old’s picture; the vivid colours, too bright and gaudy to exist in reality, the simple lines and unproportioned autonomy of the two children and the mother and father, all of whom were far too big to fit in the small box simply labeled ‘house.’ Misspelled of course.

Yang had kept it all these years. Above her bed.

Yang wasn’t a monster. 

They would have a lot to talk about. Yang had left her, left her to go and wander the galaxy looking for Raven, looking for her mother. Despite what their dad had told them, despite what Uncle Qrow had warned them, Yang was so stubborn and so hot-headed she went anyway.

Yang had killed people. She had changed. Or had been changed.  

But despite everything, Yang still kept that picture, taped over her bed.

Ruby knew they would have a lot to say. She knew there would be anger, she knew there would be yelling. Not just from Yang, but from herself as well. But they could deal with that later. 

Yang needed her. Yang would never admit it, but she needed someone to rescue her. She was trapped on this pirate ship.

Ruby smiled as old memories of Yang walking her to school, making breakfast, scolding their comatose father after Summer had passed away. Teaching him how to be a father again once Qrow had snapped him out of his dressed stupor. 

Now it was Ruby’s turn to protect her sister. All she needed was a plan.

Ruby stood up and walked over to where Crescent Rose lay stripped on the table, she closed her eyes and began reassembling the rifle. 

--------

It was only a short while later when Yang burst into the room just as Ruby finished tightening Crescent Rose’s scope onto the top of the rail.

She barely got a word out in greeting, before Yang had picked her up and pulled her into a bone-cracking sisterly hug.

"Yang… can't breathe." Ruby managed to squeak before Yang gently put her down.

"Ruby… I'm sorry. I messed up. I've messed up." Yang blurted, as she rushed past her sister, grabbing a bag and shoving her belongings haphazardly into it. 

"Get your stuff ready to go.” Yang ordered firmly, “we're leaving."

"Leaving?" Ruby asked, brow furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t been expecting this. Ruby had thought it would be a massive fight to try and convince her sister to leave.  

Yang nodded, grabbing the crayon drawing and carefully folding it, before placing it gently in a breast pocket. 

"Leaving. You and me…" Yang hesitated, "... and the prisoner Raven has onboard."

Ruby nodded in relief. "Good."

She looked over at her completed rifle on the desk, her silver eyes then sliding to the pistol on Yang's hip. "You got a plan?" 

Yang smiled nervously. "No… You know me… I’ve never been one to sit around and think things through. But were going to need one soon The White Fang are coming to meet us in less than a day."

“The White Fang?” Ruby couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her sister was dealing with the White Fang of all people?

“Yes the White Fang. Which is why we need to get out of here as soon as we can.” Yang collapsed down on her cot, “some guarantor arriving first before the actual buyer. So we need to get out of here before the buyer actually arrives.”   

“Alright then,” Ruby pulled her chair close to her sister cot and sat down facing Yang. “So the guarantor is arriving before the actual buyer?” 

Yang nodded. “No idea how long before hand. Maybe a day at the most.” 

Ruby sat there quiet for several minutes, then she smiled, the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. “Okay then. I have an idea…”

-------------------

Weiss’s eyes snapped open as the door to the brig slid open with a hiss.  Dull artificial light from the lamps just outside the brig flooded her dark, cramped cell.. There was the smell of recyke and the heavy tread of boots belonging to that hulking genebred freak.

“I...brought you dinner.” 

The plate was placed gently on the floor, just in front of her cage. Weiss turned to look at her new guard. Yang, she thought she recalled; or something similar. 

The woman’s head was bowed, refusing to look Weiss in the eye, even as she placed a small canteen of water next to the tray.

“It's… mostly recyke, unfortunately. But I was able to grab a lump of ship bread too.” The woman, Yang, sounded almost apologetic; as she waved a hand at the lump of grey matter next to the bar of recyke. 

“So what?” Weiss finally spat, her voice rough from a lack of use over the past weeks. “Want me to thank you? Want me to bestow my gratitude onto a murderer?”

She sat up onto her knees, all the room that her cage barely allowed; before bowing at the waist to Yang. 

“Thank you oh my dear captor. Thank you for showing me some small mercy, after you shot my unarmed crewmember. I will remember this magnanimous show of grace from a murderer when I am finally released to whatever slave market, or small-time warlord, your oh so merciful Mistress deems fit for her purpose. Truly you have earned the favour of the Heir-Apparent of the Protectorate.” 

Weiss couldn’t help but grin as Yang’s eyes narrowed and her temper flared briefly at the sarcasm which dripped from the Heir-Apparent. Apparently struggling not to lash out and quash it as Yang’s body shook with anger. 

“I didn’t really have a choice.” Yang snarled, before taking another calming breath. “I’m not here for that anyway.”

“Oh? Then why? Here to gloat? Here to see the fall of grace of your better?” Weiss’s tone was as sharp as the Atlassian tundra wind in the deep of winter. “I didn’t give that woman before you the satisfaction. You can expect the same, brute.”

“Raven wants to sell you to the White Fang.” Yang cut in. Weiss noticed her fingers curling as though she was only a step away from wanting to strangle her. “They are going to be here in the next day or so.” 

That stopped Weiss cold. Any retort, or insult she had planned to throw at the gene-tailored blonde, was caught in her fear swollen throat. 

“The White Fang?” Weiss finally whispered unbelievably. “Why… that…”

Weiss paused, collected herself. “If your Captain turns me over to the White Fang… I’ll be executed.” 

Yang nodded. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Weiss snapped, before leaning back against the wall. “If the White Fang kills me, the Protectorate will have no choice but to go to war with Menagerie. It would be a slaughter...” 

“Which would drag in the other powers.” Yang finished for her. “Another Great War, billions dying, whole systems left to waste and to the mercy of pirates like Raven. Not to mention the Grimm.” 

Weiss looked up at her, somewhat in shock.

Yang shrugged with a barely concealed smug grin. “Just because I am some space pirate frontier bumpkin doesn’t mean I don’t have some grasp on the current state of the galaxy.”   

She took a quick look over the back of her shoulder before leaning in close to Weiss’s cage, her voice hushed and quick. “Look, there is a small group of them coming to see if you are who we say you are. That’s going to be our best chance. You, me and my sister, are going to take their ship and get out of here. This is going to be our only chance. I suggest you eat and regain some of your strength."

She pushed the tray closer to Weiss.

"I never wanted any of this. So I am going to do what is right."

Yang stood up and without another word walked out of the brig, leaving Weiss alone with the tray and the dark.

----------------

Belladonna Zech Blake Ist White Fang paced uneasily up and down the small bridge of the raider the Red Claw. Adam had trusted her with this task. His top lieutenant, his favourite amongst all his White Fang Brothers and Sisters. 

His best friend

His lover. 

And the one who would betray him. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. It would be her and the captive against several dozen pirates. Then Bake would need to kill her compatriots. Faunus she had spent the better part of several years serving with. Fighting on the frontier against slavers, pirates and raiders and then themselves becoming those same pirates, slavers and raiders.

When she was a girl, the White Fang were her heroes. The ones who had united the divided clans and families. The ones who had driven the Protectorate out of Menagerie. They had rebuilt Faunus culture, preserved their history. The ones who later fought against the slavers, pirates and raiders who descended on the system, like vultures to prey. 

It broke her heart to admit it, but the White Fang had changed.

Or maybe they hadn’t. 

Now she had seen what the White Fang truly was. This ship the Red Claw was part of that proof. It had been a human ship. A freighter making the runs from the Protectorate to the Vacuo Union, the White Fang had seized. The crew, at least those who weren’t useful, were disposed of. The rest were forced to teach the various White Fang members what skills they knew. They were kept alive only because they were useful. To be later disposed of when that usefulness wore out. 

Blake had only realized that recently. 

Then Adam had shared his grand plan with her; the new ally he had made in Wild Space. 

Blake shuddered. No. 

The White Fang, once a beacon for hope, a brighter future for the Faunus, was now a force so blinded by their own righteousness; it had become self-destructive. Not just for itself, but for Faunus kind.

“Sister-Lieutenant Belladonna.” A helmswoman wearing a heavy Ursa Grimm mask approached her, dragging Blake from her thoughts. “Preparations have been made, the Fold-Drive is online. We can make the Fold anytime on your orders.” 

Blake nodded. “Thank you Sister. Prepare to Fold on my mark.” 

She watched the tick of seconds on her the crono strapped to her wrist, counting allowed for the bridge crew to hear. “Four, three, Gods of Sanctuary Preserve. Mark.”

In an instant, thousands of billions of kilometres condensed and folded in on themselves; the Red Claw shot forward, towards a meeting with the last person Blake ever thought she would have to rescue. 

Blake would have to save Weiss Schnee, Heir-Apparent of the Protectorate of Atlas, from not the Dread-Pirate Raven, but her own Brothers and Sisters of the White Fang. 

She had her work cut out for herself.

[forgeandgredimagines]

When Midnight Strikes 『 Luke Castellan x Reader 』

Request: Hey! :) Can I have a imagine with Luke Castellan/Cronos and daughter of Apollo who has never been kissed? Btw,I really like your imagines.💛 (@dreamerinthesun)

A/N: KWSNANS GUESS WHO'S POSTING A NEW YEAR'S IMAGINE A WEEK INTO THE NEW YEAR?? THIS PIECE OF TRASH!! I am sorry though, I kinda got stuck on this one, I repeated it like 5 times before leaving at alone for a bit. Also, I hope you don't mind me turning it into a new year themed imagine and aAA I'm glad you like our imagines, tysm!! Asides from that, I hope you liked this and happy belated new year!! 🎉😍🎊

Warnings: None!

-Admin Maui!

Masterlist!!

5 minutes till midnight.

You climbed up to the roof of the Apollo cabin, hoping to find peace and quiet from the rowdy campers back at the amphitheater.

You let out a breath of relief and stared up at the starry sky.

4 minutes till midnight

Your peace and solitude was short lived though, you screamed and almost fell off the roof when the familiar face of Luke Castellan suddenly popped out from below without warning.

"Woah woah! It's just me!" He yelled when you were about to bash his head in with your foot. "Don't scare me like that, Luke!"

He smiled apologetically and sat down beside you. You may have liked being alone but you had to admit that his presence wasn't all that bad even though he made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire.

3 minutes till midnight

You've known Luke for some time now, you've never seen him like this. After a while, he started acting abnormally, he was fidgeting with his jacket and shifting restlessly in his seat.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm about to be a millionaire then." He laughed nervously

2 minutes till midnight

He turned to you and eyed you nervously.

"What's wrong, Luke? Did something happen?" You asked worriedly, you placed your hand in his shoulder

"It's just--do you know about that tradition," He began slowly "The one where two people...kiss when midnight strikes during New Years eve?"

You gaped at the blonde, was he trying to say what you thought he was saying?

"What about it?" You asked incredulously

"Well...I was thinking, what if we, you know, did it?"

1 minute till midnight

You were, at the very least, speechless. Did your long time crush just ask you to kiss him? You just couldn't believe it.

"What--but--I--" You stammered.

You've imagined this scenario over and over in you head, you always imagined yourself saying yes enthusiastically and filling to the brim with happiness, you were filled with happiness of course but you didn't expect this much insecurity and self-consciousness.

You've never had your first kiss yet.

Luke's face fell and he quickly added "Only if you want to of course! It-it was only a suggestion, haha..."

He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes away from yours, laughing nervously.

"Luke..."

30 seconds till midnight.

He turned to you and you felt your cheeks burn.

"I'd love to, you know, kiss you on midnight but..."

"But what?"

"I've never kissed anyone before." You mumbled, turning away from him "So I might mess up or something..."

He chuckled, you could hear the relief in his voice.

15 seconds till midnight

"I don't care if you've never kissed anyone or if you've kissed a hundred people." He placed his hand on top of yours.

"As long as I get to kiss you."

10 seconds till midnight

You gazed into his face searching for any sign that he was lying or joking, he was completely serious.

He slowly started leaning in towards you, his cheeks growing redder and redder as he inched closer to you.

"Can I?"

5 seconds till midnight.

You nodded, your eyes falling down to his lips, he did the same.

3 seconds till midnight.

Your heart started hammering harder and harder, the sound of your heart beat almost muffling the yells and hooting of the other campers back at the amphitheater.

2 seconds till midnight.

You hoped Luke wouldn't hear how hard your heart was beating, you wouldn't be surprised if he did though, you two were mere inches apart. You hoped he couldn't feel how clammy your hands were getting too, maybe he was feeling this nervous as you were as well.

1 second till midnight.

You took a shuddered breath, a million thoughts were running through your head, you never thought something as simple as a kiss was this nerve-wracking.

Your lips were almost touching, your eyes fluttered to a close.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The yells and screams from the amphitheater fell unnoticed by the two of you, your attention only on each other.

When you felt your lips on Luke's you suddenly felt all the nervousness and tension leave your body, though the butterflies in your stomach increased by a tenfold.

The two of you separated and grinned nervously at each other, your cheeks rivaling the color of the firework that just flew above your head.

You two admired the firework show your hands remaining clasped together, you had to admit that Luke looked really pretty under the bright lights.

"You look really pretty under the fireworks." You faltered, you didn't mean to say that out loud. Luke flushed then started laughing, you ended up joining him in his fits of laughter.

He swiftly pecked you on the lips "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." You repeated.

[bagog]

Queen, Pawn, Rook

For my follower milestone giveaway, @sunwisecircles won the grand prize of a 10k story! THEN sunwisecircles gifted part of the story to @humblydefiant and it ended up being 14k so there’s that. You should probably read it on AO3 with chapter breaks and stuff.

But for the masochists, here it is:

++

Nighttime made the city seem like it made sense, even for just a little while. The buildings became grids of lights, the streets were glowing arteries. Everything was easily divvied up into light and dark: the shop windows, the car headlights, the skyscrapers. Even the people: walk the streets long enough one night and you get to see all kinds of people, but they could basically be divided into who was walking like they owned the night and who was walking like the night owned them.

At the same time, the darkness brought out a grime that the sun outshone. The steam seeping out of a manhole cover, the garbage pooling against the curb. Even the people—no matter how they walked—were all oily shadows passing from streetlight to streetlight, the sounds of the city their heartbeat.

I wasn’t one to talk, after all, I didn’t wake up, most days, until the sun went down, my cat stomping on my face to get herself fed. She reminded me I wasn’t alone, but she couldn’t do a very good job of it. Probably too much to expect from a cat, anyhow. I didn’t hate the city, not exactly. I just couldn’t decide if it was too small and suffocating or too big and… suffocating.

“Last call, Shepard.” Joker limped up to me behind the bar, holding my favorite whiskey. Well, second favorite. Had a hard time stomaching the really good stuff since he left. I held out two fingers and pushed my glass forward. Joker filled it with one finger and slid it back. “You’re walking home, right?”

“Course I am,” I was slurring and I knew it. Joker just nodded. I’d shut down the Normandy again, and I didn’t know which was bigger, my bar-tab or my headache.  Joker had the lights off and the door locked behind me almost as soon as I got to the street. I was alone, again. I had just eight blocks to walk before I got to my apartment, and it was starting to rain. I pulled up the collar on my coat and leveled my hat over my brow. Rain ruined the illusion of the night, smeared all the organized little boxes of light into one big bright blob as sheets of rain slid down the streets and alleys. He had always preferred the sound of rain on the city streets while I preferred the street sounding like itself.

A car pulled up to the curb behind me and the engine was turned off.   I was drunk, I was pitying myself, but it wasn’t hard to recognize I was being tailed. Unfortunately, knowing I was being tailed and being able to lose the tail were two separate things, tonight.

There was a squeal of tires and a jet-black car raced up to me, two big men getting out, one of them bagging my head and the other grabbing my arms behind my back, shoving me into the back of the car. I cussed out the men pushing me in, but they didn’t make a sound, and I quickly gave up.

My head was swimming and I couldn’t see, but I kept track of the turns as best as I could—left up 49th, right down Masonic Lodge Blvd… after a while it became clear where I was being taken.

The Cronos Manor. The Illusive Man.

++

By the time the bag was pulled off my head, I was sat across from the Illusive Man, separated by a heavy mahogany desk. The room was dimly lit, goons hiding in the corners, only visible from their glittering teeth, sneering at me from the dark. The Illusive Man sat casually in his desk chair, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back and enjoying a cigarette.

“I trust this isn’t a social visit.” No use in drawing this out. I didn’t know what a man like the Illusive Man would want with me and it was time to find out.

“On the contrary, Shepard. Last time I saw you was, what? Years ago.”

“I remember. First time in your lovely home, though. That crown moulding really is something,” I slurred.

“I have a job for you. One I think you’ll be interested in. I know you get sick of chasing around unfaithful spouses. How about a change of pace?”

“I’m a man of habit, what makes you think I’m looking for something new?”

“No need to play coy, Shepard. The job is simple,” said the Illusive Man, smoke curling from his mouth. “My daughter, Miranda, has been keeping strange company, lately.”

“Seems to me you’re in the business of strange company.” There was a model of the city on his desk: plans for future developments. One area in particular was highlighted, a new model building amidst the old city.

“Too true, and while it’s my business to immerse myself in the peculiarities and the dregs of our city, I’ve always kept a barrier between my work life and my family.” There was the hint of a smile in his voice. I flicked my eyes to the desk, where the folded newspaper concealed the barrel of his revolver. “Her latest excursions, I fear, are beginning to blur that line.”

“You’re hiring a private eye to spy on your own daughter,” I scoffed. “Can’t imagine why she’d ever want to get away.”

“You’ve heard enough about me to know that I am not a man to take chances where the things he cares about are concerned. My daughter’s choices are her own, having me as a father is a curse and a blessing.” In the light of the desk lamp, his eyes shimmered like two hematite points catching the light. “Find out who my daughter is spending her time with. Find out who I need to bless. Find out who I need to curse.”

He held my gaze, and with practiced fingers, removed a cigarette from its golden case and lit the tip with the glowing stub still between his lips.

“We never discussed my fee—“

“No, we didn’t. And we won’t. I’ll pay double your standard fee and throw in a little extra.” He leveled his eyes at me. “I know you’re on hard times.”

So much for out-pricing the old bastard. I’d never met her, but a dame like Miranda wouldn’t be easy to pin down. Daughters of rich men: always twice as crafty as their dads and better at covering up their messes with money. But unfortunately, he was right.

“Alright, I’ll do it. But first you’re going to be straight with me. Why me?”

He grinned like a tiger eyeing a meal.

“I need a man who won’t be… distracted on the job. And besides, I’ve always had an affinity for fixing broken things, Shepard.”

Some nerve. But I guess when you have five goons ready to pummel me into the ground and one of the biggest crime empires in the city behind you, you’ve earned the nerve.

++

‘Distracting’ was one word to describe Miranda Lawson. Tall, more curves than she had visible pores, dark hair left to hang free down past her shoulders. She looked nothing like her father, with warm eyes and a tall frame. The only thing she wore of her father’s was his domineering sneer, and in the way she moved you could see she had every ounce of her father’s intimidating presence.

She just hid it under the glitz and glam. In a word, she was perfect. Not my type, but watching her through the lens of my camera was like photographing an art exhibit. She didn’t have a bad angle, and she knew it, kept her back to the wall.

Tailing her had been hard for exactly that reason. Once or twice on the first day alone I could’ve sworn she made me. Hell, for all I knew, she had and was playing it that cool. I wouldn’t put it past her. This took more attention than my usual infidelity cases, would pay to lay off the booze for a while.

The money the Illusive Man was going to pay me could buy a lot of booze, or could be a catalyst to start a new life. But what was the point if he wasn’t here?

It was a hot, dark night when I finally tailed her to the Collector Club. Got to admit, the old man had good instincts about his daughter. The Collector Club was about the seediest club in the city: all shimmering gold and finery that attracted any mobster or crimeboss in 5 postal codes. Like moths hovering around an electric light, eating their steaks and laughing about ‘the business’. Had been a while since I’d set foot in the place—I’d been on the wrong end of too many of the regulars.

Miranda walked in like she owned the place, greeted at the door with a convivial “Miss Lawson!” by the doorman who took her coat. It wasn’t exactly strange to find a lady like Miranda at the Collector Club—half the patrons didn’t know the other half were organized crime—but Miranda didn’t seem like the kind to be fattening up at the same trough as some of the naïve patrons of the club.

Her week so far had been a standard socialite affair: one social engagement after another. Over to an expensive restaurant for lunch, off to some mansion on the west end for the afternoon, then over to some night-club or other before returning home at precisely midnight. She was punctual, meticulous, leaving on the hour for whatever she was doing. She was probably the sort of lady who had no trouble filling the silence when things got dull.

I couldn’t risk trailing her into the club, so it was time to wait. I hated stakeouts—plenty of time to get lonely, or drunk. It was almost 3am by the time Miranda walked out of the club, arm in arm with a man. This was uncharacteristic. He was dressed to the nines, black suit and black tie, and he led her to her car as the valet pulled up in it. Then he got in the backseat with her.

I tailed the car with my headlights off—drivers for VIPs like Miranda would be looking out for being followed. I seemed to track them all over the city, up one street and down another. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were leading me on. But finally, the car pulled up to the west side docks and came to a stop. The man from the club stepped out of the car—now dressed in a brown jacket and tan slacks—and leaned back into the window. For a kiss? For a final instruction? I only had my imagination to go on. He was off into the shadows in no time, and Miranda’s car peeled away. For a moment, I thought about following the man on foot, but I could barely tell where he’d gotten to, already.

Miranda got home, safe and sound, by the stroke of 4am. It still didn’t feel like there was a case here—nothing more than a little of the usual rich-girl escapades. But with the pressure the Illusive Man was putting on me, I’d need to get to the bottom of something. Maybe it was time to pull in a few favors.

++

The Collector Club was a glittering, three story monstrosity of a nightclub. All the glitz and glam the upper-crust could pour into one old building, looking like a gem in the dung heap of the rest of the block—boarded shop windows and crumbling brownstones.

At the same time, I knew—like anyone who submerged his hands in the filth of this city—that the Collector Club was the shadiest establishment in town. The doorman took my coat at the door, which only served to highlight how shabby I looked in the old tweed dinner jacket and the water-stained hat I wore.

Inside, the club had a soft glow to it—crystal chandeliers and gold fixtures hung over a rich mahogany carpet. It was thick under my shoes like red moss, and the tinkling of forks on plates along with the laughter and conversation of the patrons were muffled by a number of heavy curtains partitioning off the space into dark, intimate little islands where the city’s most successful mobsters dined like kings. Up above it all, at the top of a winding staircase with mother-of-pearl handrails, the window of the owner’s office looked out on the dining floor, the only vantage point that could see into every dark corner. The window was blocked, as it always had been when the job brought me here, by its own thick set of curtains.

No one knew who owned the club, other than by his moniker: “The Sovereign”. He maintained the club as neutral ground from all the underground business in the city. Reapers and Cerberus both walked up and down the makeshift aisles, the restaurant strangely segregated by the two most successful of the city’s gangs. The man himself was something of a recluse. I’d never met anyone who’d ever laid eyes on him.

But I wasn’t looking for the Sovereign tonight, but for someone a little closer to the pavement of the city’s secrets. And there she was, sitting as far from the Cerberus side of the room as possible and surrounded by a posse of muscleheads.

“Shepard,” she called out to me over the brim of her bourbon glass.

“Aria.” I was surprised she could tear her eyes away from the spectacle in front of her, kneeling on the table was one of the Collector Club’s famously limber dancers, performing in what looked like the scanty remnants of one of the clubs glittering chandeliers. Aria herself was dressed more modestly, a white tuxedo jacket and blue bow-tie, her hair pulled back away from her face and that shrewd look in her eyes. She didn’t smile often, and when she did, it was the smile of a shark.

“Have a seat,” she nodded and one of the meatheads stood up, freeing a spot near Aria. He walked over and pulled the curtain closed, shutting out the rest of the nightclub. “Have a drink. Have a look.”

“Mind if I smoke?” I asked, sitting down. The dancer was gyrating to her own music, and I was surprised Aria hadn’t sent her away.

“By all means,” she snapped and one of the thugs with whiskey eyes leaned over with a lighter, lighting the tip of my cigarette, his slender fingers making quick work of the mechanism. “I know you like them dark and dreamy,” Aria narrowed her eyes, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at her lips. She nodded to the thug who had just lit my cigarette, my eyes must have lingered on him just a moment too long. “I know you’ve always had a thing for brown eyes.”

“Didn’t expect to find you here,” I said, ignoring the call-out. “Doesn’t Omega have some business on south side, tonight?”

“Since I took over the Blue Suns, the Blood Pack, and the Eclipse, I’ve acquired interests all over the city.” She held her drink up to the dancers’ lips and let her take a sip, a bead of bourbon running down her chin. “Besides, Omega is undergoing renovations. Which you knew, or you wouldn’t be here. Tell me what it is you want, Shepard.”

“Funny you should mention Omega.” The Queen of Omega kept her eyes on the dancer, “I’m calling in that favor.” That got her attention.

“John Shepard, PI, calling in a favor I regret owing to you. What’s the matter, Shepard? Are you that broke or in that deep?”

“Just looking for some answers.”

“You’re not even the first private dick I’ve entertained this week,” she scoffed. “You’re all the same, in the end.”

That was a surprise.

“Who?”

“Is that your question, Shepard?”

“Do I only get one?” I tapped my cigarette over the ash tray and tried to size up the muscle. Three of them: the muscle mountain whose seat I took, Mr. Beautiful, and a wily looking man with a long moustache. “I would’ve thought our last meeting at Omega was worth a little more than one question.”

Aria grunted and took her time with the next drink. “An old friend of yours. Anderson. ‘David’ Anderson I think.”

“Anderson was here?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” I hadn’t seen Anderson in a long time, the idea that he’d been on a trail that led to Aria was unsettling. The only reason to seek Aria out is if you were looking for information you didn’t want the Reapers or Cerberus to know you were getting. “Is this the part where you ask me about Jacob, too?”

“Jacob who? What did Anderson want with him?”

“Jacob Taylor. A newcomer to the club. Everybody who bothers to walk through the door at the Collector Club is a body worth knowing, but nobody knew anything about Jacob before a few weeks ago.” She reached out a hand and motioned for the table-dancer to spin around. She immediately obliged.

“Some new-money upstart?”

“No. I would’ve heard about that. Same if he was a lieutenant rising in one of the city’s… inelegant mafias.” She scowled at the word. Despite being the Queen of Omega, the Reapers and Cerberus always managed to stay a step or two ahead of Aria. It galled her, but it was a rare day she’d let it show.

“So he’s not new-money and he’s not working for Cerberus—“

“Oh I wouldn’t say he’s completely free of the stink of the Illusive Man’s little operation.” She nodded and Mr. Beautiful stood up to check around the corner of the curtain. “He came in with Miranda Lawson, after all. But that’s who you’re really interested in, isn’t it, Shepard?”

“What makes you think that?”

Aria laughed: a cruel sound.

“Because that’s what Anderson was after, too. He didn’t want to admit it any more than you do, but you ex-cops are all the same.”

“Anderson used to say ‘there’s always a dame at the center of the trouble,’” I remembered aloud.

“And where else should they be? Good girls don’t rule the world, Shepard, and neither do the bad men. We just let them think they do.”

“What’s Miranda doing with—“

Suddenly, there was a crash on the other side of the curtain, the sound of a fist connecting with a jaw, then a man was hurtling through the curtain and bowled over Mr. Beautiful before the brute could react. Aria snapped and the dancer ran, the two other brutes reaching for the pieces inside their suit jackets. The laughing patrons at the nearest tables turned as well, drawing derringers from evening clutch purses and switch blades from tuxedo pants. They formed a wall around Aria.

I scrambled up from my seat and ducked under the curtain, just in time to see a man in tan slacks dashing through the befuddled crowd and out the door. I gave chase.

Out on the street, I had already lost him, but I picked a direction and started running. But I was too late.

++

I tailed Miranda again the next night on foot, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. I’d been sitting on the cold sidewalk waiting for what felt like hours when I heard it:

It was the click of another camera, coming from a dark corner.

I recognized that silhouette before I knew I recognized it. Ran like an army man, all right angles in the arms and legs, and booking it like the devil was chasing him. But it was no devil, just me, running before I realized I was running. It was a coin-flip which was burning more, my legs or my lungs. The man I was chasing didn’t seem to be slowing down, and for the first time since I got out of the force, I regretted swapping out my morning calisthenics for a finger of whiskey and a raw egg.

He ducked into an alley—he knew the streets as well as I did—making for the twisting labyrinth that was the electrical sub-station on Carter and Comanche. There was no time to pat myself on the back for keeping pace, the alley was so dark, I was chasing the sound of his shoes on the pavement. The clack-clack-clack of those pristine shoes in the darkness, then: a ruckus up ahead. Before I knew it my foot connected with an overturned crate, laid me flat on the stinking ground. My hands were scuffed and my knees would be bleeding under some torn slacks, but that wasn’t enough to make me quit. Up ahead, I saw the shape of him up ahead at the far end of the alley—standing stock still. Couldn’t tell if he was looking back at me or looking ahead, but god, my imagination ran away with me.

With a squeak of my shoes and a grunt, I took off after him again. He ran, too. Probably regretting stopping to check on me, always was a softie. I was close enough to grab at the corner of his coat—then he leapt left around the corner and let me careen into a fence I hadn’t seen coming. There was a single street lamp up ahead, but didn’t cast much light beyond the little circle on the ground, and Kaidan was running straight for it. I needed a different plan.

Slipping off my shoes, I gave chase again, hugging the wall and stepping silently. He stopped at the edge of the light, even as a silhouette, I could tell he was breathing hard, pulling at the air with his shoulders. It reminded me to control my own heavy breathing. Closed my coat, raised the collar around my face. Must’ve thought I’d stopped chasing him after that second crash. If I weren’t me, I’d have assumed I quit chasing, too. That was the John Shepard he knew.

Just as he turned to go on his way, I leapt out of the darkness, grabbing at his coat. He pivoted and we both tumbled into the light from the street lamp, struggled to get to our feet. And there he was, sure as the day, Kaidan Alenko, amber eyes ablaze.

“Kaidan,” I held up my hands, I wasn’t going to win this fight, I didn’t want to win this fight.

Pow. Quick as that, Kaidan laid a fist into my face, hard enough where I had to stagger backwards. But Kaidan wasn’t done with me, grabbed my lapels and shoved me against the streetlight post. Soon as I felt the smart in my cheek from his fist, Kaidan’s lips met mine. Pow. It was electric, our chests heaving from the run and the taste of whiskey on his tongue, my loose hat tumbled off my head and my arms pulled at Kaidan’s coat.

“John Shepard,” he breathed, pulling back. “You son of a bitch. I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.” I leaned in for another kiss, just captured Kaidan’s lips, just caught the air of that cheap after-shave, then he was pulling away. “No, that was a mistake.” But I could see the look in his eyes, and I took his shoulders and kissed him again, nothing but the sounds of the street bearing witness to the least likely reunion.

“I missed you,” I whispered against his lips when we pulled away.

“Maybe you even did,” he pulled back, straightened his back and squared his shoulders. He was looking at me with that old Kaidan gaze that seemed to penetrate straight through my skin. “You look good.” He said, as if he was surprised.

“So do you.”

“Hm.” He reached into his jacket and removed a cigarette, lit a match on his thumbnail. I got out a cigarette myself, but couldn’t find my lighter as I patted my pockets. Kaidan hesitated a moment, then lit a second match, held it close to his body to keep it out of the draft up the street, I leaned in and lit the tip. I could smell his cologne. “Took me a second to realize it was you chasing me.”

“I knew it was you right away,” I puffed on the cigarette, tapped the ash into the air.

“And I didn’t think this case could get any…” He chose the next word like he was plucking a coal out of a fire. “Stranger.”

I almost said it, almost said ‘I wish every day to see you again.’ But I kept my cool, the cigarette helped, something to keep my mouth busy so it couldn’t go running off without me. Kaidan cut an impressive figure—blue suit, as always, but darker these days, keeping up with the fashion of the times. He stood straighter these days, too. Looked bigger, too, more muscle bulk under the linen shirt, thighs pulling the pleat of his slacks flat. I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing here?” The smoke was making me feel warmer, or maybe it was being this close to Kaidan again. “Who hired you? Why would you be following Miranda Lawson?”

Kaidan’s mouth turned into a hard line, his eyes squinting at me.

“What makes you think I’m in any mood to share anything with you, Shepard?”

“Simple,” I patted the notebook I’d been keeping in my coat. “I have information you want, you have information I want. We can help each other.”

He seemed to think for a long time, then finally nodded.

“You get to go first on that one.” He stooped to pick up my hat, set it back on my head, maybe he was even a little affectionate about how he did it. Maybe I was still light-headed from the chase and was filling my lungs with smoke instead of air.

“Fair’s fair, you’re not the one who got socked in the jaw.”

“You gonna lecture me about fair, Shepard?”

He had me dead to rights there, I winced and pulled a drag off the cigarette. You didn’t discuss your case with anyone, but Kaidan wasn’t just anyone.

“Tailing Miranda Lawson, same as you, I’ll bet,” I supplied, Kaidan nodded. “As for the rest of it, I think we better get off the street, don’t you?” Kaidan nodded again.

“We can go back to my office, Penny’ll be gone for the night, it’ll be just us.” I swallowed hard at that: so this is what it was like to be given a chance. He looked down at my shoeless feet, “We better find your shoes.”

We got my shoes and traced our way back to Kaidan’s car. The drive to his office didn’t take too long, and we sat in silence the whole time. It was like the bad-old-times all over again: penned in with a Kaidan who couldn’t stand being around me, when all I wanted was to be with him. Well, if that’s all I’d wanted, then maybe I wouldn’t have made so many bad choices.

We parked on the street, and it was a short walk to the little brownstone Kaidan maintained as an office. He took the stairs two at a time, and I trailed behind, already wishing I had another cigarette to keep me busy.

As we walked down the hall, I saw a lamp on inside, the letters on the door stood out in stark relief:

ALLIANCE PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS KAIDAN ALENKO * DAVID ANDERSON

Another name to make me freeze in my tracks. I hadn’t thought this through, I was crazy to have come here.

“Kaidan, wait.” I stopped stock still in the middle of the hallway. “I don’t think I’m ready to see him yet. I just… I’m sorry.”

“Well you won’t have to worry about that,” he said bluntly. He unlocked the office door and held it open. “Anderson’s dead. Body turned up in the river two nights ago. Haven’t had the heart to chip his name off the door just yet.”

My shoes might as well have been glued to the floor. I couldn’t speak, felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Kaidan’s face was hard, and he simply cocked his head indicating I should get in the office, already.

“What happened?” I finally managed to stutter out. Kaidan checked down the hall after I got into the office and closed the door behind me.

“Two weeks ago, we got this case—looking into Miranda Lawson. Got the job from a man named Henry Judge. He was evasive about why he wanted Miranda tracked down: not too old to be a jilted lover, but Miranda’s not the sort who needs the money, y’know?” He pulled the knot out of his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“What’d you find out on Judge?”

“Not much,” Kaidan shook his head. “Almost no paper trail on him, always surrounded by body-guards. Figured the name had to be an alias, but a scrubbed one. It was like he wasn’t even trying to hide that he was using a fake name with us. The whole thing felt wrong from the start. Anderson didn’t want to take the case, I didn’t either: the kind of woman Miranda Lawson is, plus all the cloak-and-dagger from Judge…”

“But?”

“But then Anderson heard from one of his contacts over at Omega. Something about Miranda Lawson meeting with a private party there before taking it to the Collector Club. Timing seemed too perfect to be a coincidence, so we started tailing her. Best as we could anyway.”

As Kaidan spoke, I’d been staring at Anderson’s desk. It was tidy, though not as tidy as Kaidan’s, and the desk was too big for what little Anderson kept on it. I could remember him buying it, just after his retirement from the force, sanding it down and re-varnishing it. Hauling it up all those stairs and into this office…

“And Anderson?”

Kaidan sighed.

“I was spending the night outside Omega, waiting to see if Miranda was going to show. Anderson was working another angle, trying to follow Judge a little bit. He was convinced that if we figure out the connection between the two, we crack a bigger case.”

“Sounds like Anderson, always trying to bite off more than he could chew.” There were little model planes lined up on the desk, little model planes that used to be on my desk, back when I still had a desk here.

“He didn’t show up the next day, didn’t call, didn’t leave a message, nothing. Next day, body washed up. Police confirmed it was Anderson.” His voice broke a little bit, a sound I hadn’t heard from Kaidan in a long time. He sniffed, drew another cigarette from his pocket and lit it, his hand was steady as ever, even as the glow of the cigarette showed how glassy his eyes had become at the memory. I didn’t think about it, just took his hand in mine.

“I wanna find the bastards who did this.”

“Me too,” Kaidan squeezed my hand—or was it my imagination—before pulling his free. He leaned back against his desk, letting the cigarette hang off his lip as he spoke. “Been photographing Miranda every night since, but I don’t think it was her that did Anderson in.”

“You think it’s someone connected to Judge?” Kaidan nodded. “Something doesn’t add up. Guy uses a fake name, doesn’t hide it, gives you nothing to work with… then kills Anderson but keeps you on retainer?”

“He’s either up to something or thinks he’s too powerful to get caught.” Kaidan scowled, pulled his hat off and threw it onto his desk chair, his coat soon following it. He slicked back his hair into a perfect coif and I tried not to stare at the way his chest pressed against the linen of his shirt. “And they’re right, too. What’s a small-time PI gonna do about it? Not a damn thing I can do except keep following the case and hoping something shows up.”

It was my turn to share, and I told him about the Illusive Man, the deal he’d struck… and the money.

“Working for Cerberus,” Kaidan spat.

“They black-bagged me, Kaidan!”

He didn’t seem entirely satisfied, but he let the subject drop. In the dim light of his desk lamp, I was transfixed with his forearms, the way he rolled his sleeves back to his elbows. Everything I missed was standing in front of me.

“It sounds like this Jacob Taylor might be a lead.”

He poured himself a drink and offered one to me.

“No, I’m quitting drinking. At least for this case.” Kaidan seemed to look at me with new eyes, and I continued. “We can work together at this, you can find out some dirt of Jacob and I’ll see what I can get about Miranda. See if we can get to the bottom of this. It’ll be like old times.”

“No it won’t,” Kaidan sighed. But his eyes were soft when I met his gaze.

It was more than I could have hoped for in years.

++

With Kaidan on the trail of Jacob Taylor, I was free to tail the lovely Miss Lawson again. Her limo made straight for the Collector Club, just like last night, but this time, before she could get out, she motioned to the driver and they peeled out of the valet parking awning. I was following at a distance in my car, trying to keep pace without them noticing me.

But the way they were driving, they were definitely trying to lose a tail. I turned the corner only to find the limo gone, and another car parked across the roadway. There was a big brute of a man standing in my way, and another coming up on the driver’s side. Damn, this was happening. Time to turn on the ol’ Shepard charm.

“Hello, boys.” I got socked in the jaw by the brute pulling me out of my car. The two of them dragged me between them up the dark street until I saw Miranda Lawson’s limo idling at the curb.

I was muscled into the back of the car and the door was shut with a decisive ‘click’. There she was: Miranda Lawson, decked out in a shimmering white evening gown and a white mink cloak draped over one arm, she had a champagne flute in one hand and a revolver in the other. I was sitting across from her in the limo, and big as the car was, I felt distinctly claustrophobic. Not Miranda, though. Cool as a cucumber, and at home: in her element.

“Not a very good private eye, are you?” She began, red lips against the champagne glass.

“Maybe just an unorthodox one.”

“Maybe.” She seemed to seriously consider it, “So let’s pretend this is just how you wanted it to go, Mister…?”

“Shepard. Just ‘Shepard’ will do, fine.”

“Alright Shepard, so you’ve got my attention. Now tell me why I shouldn’t have those big men outside beat you to a pulp and leave you in the gutter.” She kept her pistol leveled at me with a practiced and steady hand. Was probably a better shot than me, if I’m being honest.

“Because all I want is to ask you a few questions.”

“How about I ask a few questions, and then if I’m feeling charitable, I let you ask yours?” She leaned forward, now on the edge of her seat.

“Doubt I’ll get a better offer.”

“Who hired you to follow me?”

“Your father.”

Her eyes narrowed at this and she sat back, still keeping her eye and her barrel trained on me. It didn’t look entirely like she wasn’t expecting that answer. Those red lips parted just slightly, but she kept silent for a long moment.

“Interesting.” It was odd to see her off her game, if only for an instant. Something was wrong, it was as if she wanted to ask another question but something was keeping her quiet.

“Now what’s a lady like you doing in the Collector Club night after night?”

Her smile turned acidic once again.

“Not a crime to frequent a club.”

“You know what kind of club the Collector Club is, though, don’t you?”

She seemed to bristle at this, downing the rest of her champagne in one swig and setting the glass down.

“The question is, do you know what kind club the Collector is, Shepard.” She spat my name. “You can tell my father whatever you like about my activities. I’m not hiding anything. But you are going to leave me alone,” she brandished the gun, bringing it to eye level, “Or the next time we have a little chat like this, you’ll be spitting out your teeth, understand me, Shepard?” She motioned to the man outside the car and he opened the door.

“What if I tell him about Jacob Taylor.” It was a long shot, I had no idea what the relationship Miranda had with Jacob, but it was my only chance to stay in the car and get some actual information. Miranda held up her hand and the brute stopped, she reached out herself and slammed the car door.

“What do you know about Jacob Taylor?”

“Just enough to be dangerous.”

“Jacob isn’t any concern of yours. I wouldn’t go bringing him up to… my father,” her tone lingered on the word ‘father.’ “Be careful Mr. Shepard, the deeper you dig into my father’s world—into my world—the more likely you are to find something that isn’t worth all the money my father can pay you.”

“Sometimes that’s part of the job, Miss.”

“So it’s professionalism, then?” She scoffed. “Alright, then. As a professional courtesy, let me tell you a little something about the Collector Club—it’s neutral ground for a reason, and anything that tips that balance is liable to start a war. You don’t want to be in the middle of that.”

“And you do?”

“I can handle myself, not sure you can say the same.” She eyed me disdainfully.

“Why Miss Lawson,” I tried to smile, “I believe you just made a threat.”

“I don’t need to threaten you, Shepard. Just stating the facts. I like to attract the kind of attention that doesn’t involve dead bodies in my orbit. You’re working for a dangerous man.” Her eyes narrowed, just slightly, as if she had said too much. She opened the door and set her pistol down just as the brute reached in to haul me out of the car. Next thing I knew, the brute clocked be across the jaw and I fell against the car. He grabbed me by my shoulders to spin me around and laid another one across my cheek, the sound of meat slapping meat, and I staggered back. Miranda rolled down her window, her face a beautiful mask of a gloat. “Something to remember me by, Shepard.”

The window rolled up and the car drove away. The brute gave me one more dark look before turning and getting into his own car, trailing after the limo.

++

I didn’t get too far before the same black car pulled up from the other night. This just wasn’t shaping up to be my night.

“Let’s skip the black bag this time, fellas,” I said, holding up my hands and getting into the back of the car. Without the bag on my head, I could see the opulence of Cronos Manor as they led me down marbled hallways and up an ornate spiral staircase, till at last I came to the Illusive Man’s office.

“You know,” I wrenched my jacket sleeve out of the muscle man’s grip. “I was supposed to report in to you tomorrow morning, as is.”

“Yes, well,” the Illusive Man lit a cigarette from the dying butt of one in his other hand. “What is life without a little spontaneity?”

“Normal.”

“Nothing about the life I lead is ‘normal’, Shepard. As you know all too well, I’m sure.”

“What I know is that I don’t appreciate being dragged in here—again—like I’m someone who owes you money.” There was a little more irritation in my voice than I wished there would be. Truth is I was in over my head and the Illusive Man was Mr. Deep-End, with his daughter at the center of the whole case.

“Then hopefully you’ll accept my apologies and,” he reached into his drawer and removed an envelope full of bills, “A little gratuity.”

“Aw,” I regarded him with a half-smile. “If you were trying to butter me up, you coulda just bought me a nice steak sandwich.” It was something Kaidan said to me on our first date, I had no idea why it had popped into my head right now. Anything to have Kaidan in the room with me in some way.

“Priming the pump, Shepard. You’re a well of knowledge I intend to treat very delicately. Which is why I’m so alarmed to see your face bruised, your lip split.” He took a hearty drag on his coffin nail, maybe hoping I’d spill in the silence. “Tell me it was my men who did this and I’ll have them punished. I instructed them to bring you to me with the utmost care.”

“Little altercation from earlier,” I lied. “You know us drunk-types.”

“And I thought you’d been abstaining from drink since taking this case.”

“Doesn’t mean the drink doesn’t catch up with you, anyhow.”

He had piercing eyes and they were boring into me now.

“Tell me about my daughter, Shepard.”

“I’d have some photos for you if you’d given me any time to develop them before hauling me in.”

“I have a very good imagination.”

“Your daughter’s slippery.” I was stalling. What did I know about Miranda Lawson after following her for just a few days? I knew I couldn’t mention Jacob Taylor until I had some confirmation from Kaidan about what was going on there. I knew Miranda was hiding something from her father, but I was starting to wonder if I was on the right side of this.

“That’s why I’m paying you a substantial salary, Shepard.” Just the barest hint of impatience had crept into his voice.

“She’s a regular at the Collector Club. Got her own table, her own little clique.” I watched his eyes, “Based on you look on your face, it’s not your car that’s taking her.” I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and a match from my coat. “You want more than that, you need to give me more time.” I lit the cigarette and watched the Illusive Man through the smoke.

“Alright, Shepard.” He snapped his fingers and two of his goons grabbed my shoulders, “You’re going to find out who’s driving that car.”

“You’ve got business with the Collector Club, don’t you?” It was a hunch, and the Illusive Man’s face didn’t betray a thing, except one of his posse glanced for a moment at the model of the city on the desk. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a socialite like Miranda Lawson to go to the Collector Club, except that she was the daughter of the Illusive Man. Still, it was supposed to be neutral ground, unless it wasn’t…

“Be careful,” he said, eyes gleaming. “You look like you’ve already taken quite the beating tonight. Get home safe, Shepard.”

The two goons spun me around and the men who had crushed into the office behind me slowly parted to allow the goons to haul me out.

I recognized the man in the corner from Kaidan’s photos: it was Jacob Taylor!

++

Took me a long time getting back to my apartment that night. I almost drew my gun when I found the door unlocked, but I could smell that familiar cologne…

“Jesus, Shepard,” Kaidan exclaimed when I came in, gingerly touching the puffy area around my eye where Miranda’s boys had socked me. “You turned on the Ol’ Shepard Charm this time, didn’t you?”

“Got me some information—Ah!” I winced when he pushed a little harder. “How’d you get into my place, anyway? You pick the lock?”

“I, uh,” Kaidan walked to the freezer, wrapped some ice-cubes in one of my grungy dish-towels. “I still have the key you gave me.” I smiled and it hurt my jaw, but I had it back under control by the time Kaidan turned back. It was probably healthiest to assume he held onto my key because he was a good snoop, and wouldn’t give up something like that just because we’d broken up. “What happened to you, anyway?”

“Miranda’s goons caught me tailing her.” I leaned my face into the towel Kaidan placed against my eye, and he lifted one of my hands to press it against my socket. “Got a chance to talk to her. She played it cool, but she seemed rattled about something. When she found out I was working for her father, she got real quiet.”

“You’d figure she’d expect her father to be keeping eyes on her.”

“Maybe she’s just surprised he hired outside help to be his eyes and ears.” Kaidan loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He smoothed a hand over his hair, perfectly coifed despite being under a hat all day. God, he looked gorgeous.

“I’ve been wondering about that, actually. Said he hired me because I don’t go for the ladies. But that can’t be it. Best I can figure, he needs someone outside his organization.”

“How’s that?”

“Cerberus is all built on loyalty—makes sense that if the Illusive Man is hiring me, he thinks the loyalty of his outfit is questionable.”

“Could just be that Miranda would recognize one of his usual goons.”

“Sure, sure,” I watched as Kaidan adjusted his suspenders, the way they pulled tight over his chest. “But he’s got boys that know how to be invisible as well as I do. He’s got cops in his pocket—more people than even Miranda knows about. It makes sense that if he thinks Miranda could turn anyone loyal to ‘the family’, he’d look for outside help. Someone who’s loyal only to the money. Someone who needs it. Someone who’s desperate for a paycheck.”

“You.”

“Yeah,” I swallowed. “Me.”

“Well, if he’s worried about loyalty, I think I might have found his leak.” Kaidan leaned back against my kitchen counter—covered in pots and pans, a few bills, a bowl and a whiskey glass. My apartment was tiny, one room, bedroom and kitchen sort of blended together. “Tailing Jacob Taylor, found him down by the docks. He’s working for the Reapers, Shepard.”

“I saw him in the Illusive Man’s office!”

Kaidan nodded.

“I tailed him for 12 hours. Man barely sleeps, you’d like him.”

“I sleep.”

Kaidan pointed to the mattress against the corner of the room, covered in papers and clothes.

“When was the last time you slept in that?” In truth, it had been more than a few weeks. I usually ended up crashing in the chair, tossing whatever was on it onto the bed. I felt a little embarrassed, especially remembering Kaidan’s apartment, spick and span. His big bed…

“You got me there. So how do you know Taylor is working for the Reapers.”

“I recognize enough of their outfit. Doesn’t seem like he reports to any of the usual group, though. So either he’s high-ranking… in which case Aria would’ve known about him when you talked to her the other night.”

“Or he’s special, for some reason.” I pulled the ice off my face and set it down. “A mole.” Kaidan nodded.

“Question is: who is he really working for and who is he double-crossing?”

“Maybe he’s only loyal to Miranda.”

“So it all comes back to her, what’s she playing at?”

I wiggled my jaw, it was finally starting to feel better.

“Miranda said something about the Collector Club and the balance of power in the city.”

“Maybe she’s involved with whoever owns the place.”

I shook my head, “We’re not going to figure it out without doing some more research. I feel like the Collector Club is at the center of this thing. The Illusive Man bristled when I brought it up.”

“Alright, I’ll start looking into that tomorrow. Mean-time, you should get an actual night’s rest” Kaidan picked up his coat and set his hat on his head. “I should get going.”

“Or you could stay.” It slipped out before I knew what I was doing. I didn’t want to beat around the bush with Kaidan, not anymore. Not again.

“Where would I sleep?” Kaidan asked, voice annoyed, but with a coy note.

“With me.” I hauled myself up and pressed my lips to Kaidan’s. I could taste the lingering whiskey on Kaidan’s tongue, the first drop I’d had in a while, and I fell off the wagon. I put my hand on his face, rough stubble under my fingers, like he hadn’t shaved today—up all night stalking after a lead. It got me hot under the collar, thinking about my man out there on the job.

‘My man’? Where did that come from? I didn’t have time to think about it, because Kaidan backed me against the table, his hands on my hips, half pulling me back, half pulling my shirt out from where it was tucked into my slacks. His kisses were as rough as his chin, and every time I thought he might be pulling me away, I pressed forward.

“Shepard,” he muttered between our lips. I must have looked like a wet puppy when he finally pulled away, because he stopped for a moment and cradled my face in his hand. “I need to know what this is.”

“What do you mean?” I pushed our hips together, my hand covering his on my cheek.

“I want you, Shepard. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want this.” At this, his other hand trailed down my body between my thighs where I could feel he was hard as I was. “If this is a one-night thing, though, I want to know that now. I can live with one last mistake.”

I winced, and not from the gentle pressure he put against my aching face.

“Was it always a mistake?”

“You’re not answering my question.” He backed one step backward.

“Answer mine.” I stepped forward.

“…No. It wasn’t always a mistake.”

“Then tonight’s not, either. I don’t… I don’t want a one night stand with you, Kaidan. I still… I still…” I couldn’t finish, and Kaidan pressed forward, kissing me deep, again, pushing my jacket off my shoulders in a way where he savored the feel of my arms, reaching for him.

We tumbled back towards the bed, his lips on mine, the scent of him all around me. I did love him, that night. I’d always loved him. The idea that no matter how much I had fucked up his life, he might still feel that way about me made me dizzier than any bottle I’d ever drained.

I put that thought out of my head. Concentrated only on the line of soft hair down Kaidan’s chest as he raced to unbutton his shirt, the way his slacks tented, and the hungry look in his eyes.

++

I had memories at Omega, and none of them very good. Most of them not even complete. It was a gaudy, seedy club in all the ways the Collector Club tried to hide. There was a kind of carnal energy in the air and enough dark corners to hide any sin. I knew one or two of those dark corners intimately. The club was like one big black-out: lost time, a forgotten memory. When you left Omega, you left a piece of yourself behind, and it was a piece you probably shouldn’t go back and visit.

It was fitting, then, that the VIP lounge was called ‘After Life’. Black velvet and black leather, lights dim enough to reduce the dancers to naked silhouettes. There was a bouncer outside the After Life door. He held up a hand as I approached.

“Password.”

“Oleg’s Head.”

He narrowed his eyes but stepped aside and opened the door for me. The band was playing something low tempo and dark, the dancers gyrating in time with the music. I didn’t have time for any of it, pointed myself for the raised dais on one end of the room. Aria’s couch.

“Aria,” I walked past her goon-squad without making eye contact, keeping my gaze fixed on the Queen of Omega. If I was going to get the answers I needed, I needed to come in strong. “Glad to see you back in your own environs.”

I felt a gun pressed to my back—one of her goons—but she waved him back.

“Back again, Shepard. It’s dangerous, bothering me like this.”

“Never did get my favor last time.”

“And you think I owe you a favor, still? Please!”

“Never did cash in my favor from the whole ‘Patriarch’ business…” Her main goon, Terry or something, whipped his head to look at her. Aria only grit her teeth and beckoned me to sit down on the sofa next to her.

“I’m a woman of my word,” she cleared her throat and made a sign with her hand. Immediately, the band struck up a brassy, loud song. It was immediately apparent that nobody in the club was going to be able to hear anyone who was more than a few inches away. The goons dispersed, eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might be listening. “I must admit, I didn’t think this day would come.”

“Trust me, me neither.”

“Who do you need dead, Shepard?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then you’re wasting your favor.” Her eyes narrowed at me. “Is this about that Jacob Taylor fellow again? Please tell me your interest in him isn’t personal. It was pathetic enough watching you heartbroken the first time.”

“Not Jacob Taylor,” I wasn’t going to take her bait. I had to stay in control of this conversation. “The Collector Club.” That seemed to grab her attention, she grinned in a way that reminded me of a shark.

“Shepard, Shepard, Shepard,” she tutted. “Look how far you’ve come, from leaving the force and drinking yourself into a stupor right here in my bar, then trying to drink your way out of it when the man who resigned for you decided he’d had enough of your bullshit. And now here you are knocking on the doors of power. That mentor of yours—what’s his name—would be proud of you. I heard he’s dead.”

“Who owns the Collector Club, Aria?” I managed through grit teeth.

“Why?”

“That’s my business.”

“He has a number of aliases,” Aria eased back into her couch, regarded her club with a queenly demeanor. “Francis Wynn, Donovan Hock, Henry Judge—“

“Henry Judge?” I muttered, so Miranda had been telling the truth.

“That’s right.” She raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

“Not me, but… he’s a friend of a friend.”

“I sincerely doubt that. The man doesn’t make friends. But his real name, and the name on the lease of the Collector Club, is Henry Lawson.”

“Lawson?”

Aria laughed.

“Nevermind, Shepard, I like this favor. Starting to put any pieces together, yet?”

“He’s Miranda Lawson’s father? She’s adopted.”

“So it would seem.”

++

We met back at Kaidan’s office, he looked more flustered than I was used to seeing him, especially after I told him the information I’d gotten out of Aria.

“I went around to Judge’s place, caught his housekeeper as she was leaving for the night, managed to buy her a coffee and talk to her a little bit about what’s been happening in the Judge household. She told me about this young woman who’s been hanging around. I guess that must be Miranda. Apparently, she tracked down her father a few years ago, and has become more and more involved in his life over time.”

“Trying to reunite with her biological father,” I mused. “I can certainly see why she would want to hide that from the Illusive Man, but the level of cloak and dagger here seems like it’s a little beyond just standard caution.”

“We haven’t even touched on how the Illusive Man came to adopt her in the first place.” Kaidan leaned against his desk, knuckles down.

“Still,” I took one of his arms. He was tense, very tense. “It explains why Miranda was so flustered when I brought up that I was working for her father. She didn’t know which father I was talking about.”

“So she doesn’t know about me, yet, then.”

“You always were a better sleuth than me…” It made me feel proud to say, surprisingly. But it also made a part of me I couldn’t identify yet go cold.

“No one finds a missing person like you, Shepard.” Kaidan pushed himself up off the desk and bumped his shoulder against mine. “Anderson and I always get—got—these infidelity cases. I’ve gotten pretty used to moving in the shadows. Except you caught me that one night.”

“I’m glad I did,” I smiled. Kaidan smiled back at me.

“Me too.”

I leaned in and so did he, but just before our lips could touch, he flinched back.

“We’re working, we shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So every night, she gets out of the house, takes her limo to god-knows-where, pays off the driver for the night, and gets in another car sent to her by Lawson. Takes her to the Collector Club.”

“I think it’s time we confront Jacob Taylor.”

++

Kaidan had already tailed Jacob to what he suspected was his apartment, so after the sun went down we drove over.

“Now I guess we wait,” Kaidan concluded, turning the car off. We were quiet for a long time, the car slowly growing colder in the chill of the night.

“On a stakeout with you,” I finally broke the silence, “I missed this.”

Kaidan turned to look at me, I could just see his eyes in the headlights of a passing car.

“Just… sitting here in silence, waiting for some thug to show his face? You miss that?”

“Yeah.” I missed Kaidan however I could get him but there was something about being on a job with him that always made me feel like I was right where I was supposed to be. Something safe about it. I couldn’t put it that way to Kaidan, though, not with how rocky things still were between us. I still wasn’t sure if the other night was a one-time affair… “I never feel like I need to say anything when you’re around. It’s a comfortable silence.”

“Not like with Anderson,” Kaidan chuckled, but didn’t contradict me. “Always had a story to tell when we were on a stakeout. I swear we almost missed our mark once because he was so into this story he was telling.”

“Yeah, Anderson.”

I shivered, wished I’d worn my trench coat. The mood in the car fell, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

“He was proud of you, even at the end,” Kaidan said softly. “He never lost faith in you.”

“Thank you.”

Kaidan sighed.

“I think part of me always believed in you, too.”

“Th-thank you.” I couldn’t meet Kaidan’s gaze. “I’m pretty sure the two of you had more faith in me than I had in myself.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore, especially when Kaidan’s hand reached across and took mine. “I lost everything when I lost you, Kaidan—“

“Wait!” Kaidan’s hand slipped from mine and he pointed out the windshield. There was Jacob Taylor walking up the sidewalk toward his apartment steps. He was arm in arm with Miranda Lawson.

“Should we—“ But I didn’t get to finish my thought before two shady men appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. They wrenched Jacob away from Miranda, one man holding her back and the other socking Jacob across the jaw and kicking him to the ground. Miranda screamed.

Kaidan was halfway out of the car before I had reached for the door handle. Then we were running up the sidewalk, Kaidan heading for Miranda, me for the man assaulting Jacob.

The man was kneeling over Jacob’s prone form, pummeling him. I got a running start and tackled him off. But the man was too quick for me, quickly reversing the situation and pummeling me instead. Kaidan had the other guy from behind, pulling his jacket up over his head before kneeing him in the sternum.

A moment later Kaidan appeared above me, hauling the man off and pitching him to the curb. He reached down to take my hand and pull me up, there was a snarl on his face, and I hadn’t seen Kaidan in a fight in a long time. I shouldn’t have been thinking like that in the middle of a fight, myself, but I couldn’t help it. I managed to grab Kaidan by the shoulders, pull him to one side just as a man came barreling in to tackle him down.

“Enough!” Miranda shouted. She was on one knee above where Jacob was slowly sitting up, she had an elegant revolver pointed in our direction. The two goons backed away slowly and Miranda raised her pistol. One shook the dust off his jacket, growling at Miranda as he got in his car. They took off without another word.

By the time I turned back to Miranda, the revolver had disappeared and she was helping Jacob sit up, wiping at his bloody nose with a handkerchief.

“What the hell was that about?” Kaidan demanded, inspecting the scuffs on his palms, his swelling knuckles.

“Were you tailing me again, Shepard?” Miranda snarled at me. Her handkerchief was already turning red, but Jacob was trying to wave her back, wincing as he stood up. It was the first good look I’d gotten at Jacob, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the muscle evident even under blood stained shirt. I got the feeling that if he hadn’t been jumped, Jacob would’ve been more than capable of fighting off the two assailants.

“Here for him, actually,” I nodded to Jacob, who was reeling on his feet. “And good timing, too.”

“Who were those men?” Kaidan asked

“I didn’t recognize them,” Miranda daubed at Jacob’s nose. “I don’t think they’re my father’s men.”

“But which father?” I asked. That made her sit bolt upright. She sneered.

“Neither.”

“Seems a pretty convenient little assault, maybe your cover’s blown, Miranda.”

“What ‘cover’? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then it’s time to start talking,” Kaidan said, taking a step forward. “Jacob, who do you work for?”

“The Reapers?” I supplied, “Cerberus?”

“I work for Miranda!” He sputtered, white teeth etched in red blood.

“I’m supposed to report back to the Illusive Man any day now, and I have  a feeling if he knew some of the places I’ve seen you, he’d have a thing or two to say. Now listen, I’ve kept a lot of this under wraps because I don’t like telling a story in pieces.” I drew a cigarette from my jacket pocket and lit it with a  match. Jacob stared daggers at me. “So let’s start simple. It was you I was chasing out of the Collector Club the other night wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“Why’d you run?”

“You were talking to Aria about me. Thought my cover was blown. Didn’t know that you were working for the Illusive Man, but anybody who found out I was playing both sides was bound to end up in the river, like your friend.”

“Did he figure you out? Did you kill him?”

“No!” Miranda answered for him, “He found out Henry Judge—“

“—your father,” Kaidan interjected. Miranda grimaced, the expression unfamiliar to her normally placid face.

“Henry Lawson was getting ready to sell the Collector Club to the Reapers. He asked Lawson about it. That was it for him.”

“We were supposed to be tailing you,” Kaidan said. “Suddenly, his long lost daughter comes out of nowhere. Needs to know who she really is, what she might be hiding. Anderson figured out something bigger was going on.”

“But why is the Collector Club so important? Reapers want it, Cerberus wants it. It’s always been neutral ground.”

“Not as profitable to be neutral, anymore.” Miranda stood up, drawing her fur around her shoulders against the chill of the mist that had begun to creep down the street.

“The model of the city in the Illusive Man’s office,” I pressed. “He’s got plans for the Collector Club, too. Does he know the Henry Lawson’s been playing him against the Reapers?”

“My father wants the Collector Club because of what’s in the basement.” Miranda’s eyes were flashing. “There’s pneumatic tubes connecting it to practically everywhere in the city. Untraceable, almost instantaneous orders delivered anywhere in the city.”

“But how could the Illusive Man take over the Collector Club? If Lawson is selling it to the Reapers…”

Miranda rolled her eyes.

“The Reapers may have a wider grasp, but they don’t have a tighter hold. My father has a sterling reputation with half the city’s officials and dirt on the other half. Once he has his way, they’ll seize the whole neighborhood under eminent domain—turn the Collector Club into a public works installation, giving Cerberus full access to a city-wide communication system right under the city’s nose.”

“And what’s your part in this?” Kaidan growled.

“I don’t have a part in it!” She hissed, taking Jacob’s arm. “I… I have a sister. Oriana Lawson. She still lives with… with that monster, Henry Lawson. I needed to get close enough where I could get to her, take her with me when Jacob and I leave the city.”

“You’re trying to rescue your sister?” Kaidan asked, incredulous. Miranda nodded.

“And thanks to you interfering, Shepard,” she spat my name, “I’ve had to move up my time-table.” The gun appeared in her hand again. “Now, get out of here.”

I knew she wouldn’t fire, and probably so did Kaidan, but we were good enough detectives to know it was time to leave already.

++

Kaidan’s apartment was as spotless as his desk. I felt out of place, knowing that this or that tidy corner used to be stacked with my clothes or my towel. The sink was free of the clutter I used to leave in it when I was in this apartment often.

Kaidan sighed, hung his hat and jacket on the coat rack, slipped off his shoes, and made for the kitchen table. He looked up at me as he tugged the knot out of his tie.

“Well, you coming in?” I hadn’t left the mat inside the door since stepping in.

“Oh, yeah,” I hung my hat next to Kaidan’s. Hung my coat next to Kaidan’s. Like we used to, our hats always side by side when they weren’t on our heads.

“You’ve got that look in your eye,” Kaidan walked into the kitchen and started making some coffee. “You thinking about the case?”

“Hm? No. Just thinking about… the mess I used to make of this place.”

Kaidan chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that always made me weak.

“You want any coffee?”

The whole apartment smelled like Kaidan, smelled like nights spent lying awake together, mornings making breakfast for each other.

“Nah, I should, erm. Someone told me I should sleep more.” I smiled and Kaidan smiled back. He took the pot off the stove top and switched it off.

“Me too, I guess.”

I was still walking around the house like a wraith through an old life. It was odd to be in such a familiar place and yet feel so out of place. I had wandered over to the bedroom.

The bed was well made. I couldn’t tell which was my favorite pillow anymore.

Kaidan touch my shoulders, hugged me back into his body. When I turned around, he was wearing only his slacks, undershirt, and suspenders.

“You staying the night?” It was barely a whisper.

“C-can I?”

“Yeah,” he un-knotted my tie and started unbuttoning my shirt. “You can.” I ran my hands up his bare arms to the shoulder, then let my fingers run down the front of his body along his suspenders. He slid my shirt off and leaned into me. I tipped my head and met him in a kiss. It was sweet, without the heat of need of the last time we were together, and for a moment, it felt like we had never been apart. “Come sit on the bed with me.”

He switched off the light and led me to the bed. When I sat, I sank into that familiar, lumpy divot I remembered. Kaidan laid back on the bedspread and for a moment I just watched him in the slanting light of the window. He pulled me down, gently, and I scooted in closer till I could lay my head on his chest.

To feel him breathing again, to hear his heartbeat…

“Who were those men tonight, d’you think?” He asked sleepily. “Jacob didn’t seem to know them. And if either side had figured him out, he’d get a lot worse than a two-man brute squad.”

“Tell me why we called it off, Kaidan.” I couldn’t pay attention to anything he was saying, the feel of his body beneath me taking all my attention, the crack in the ceiling above the bed driving back every splinter of nostalgia.

“You know why we called it off,” he answered after a long moment.

“I do, yeah. But I think I need to hear you say it.”

“…we broke up because you started looking for meaning in life at the bottom of a bottle.” He said it so softly. “I told you I’d follow you anywhere, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold you in my arms as you drank yourself to death. I did follow you, Shepard. When you needed it most, I was there. So was Anderson. But you just pushed and pushed.”

“Yeah, I did.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not pushing anymore.”

“Can you even promise me you wouldn’t go back to that dark place again?” Kaidan sighed heavily, he was talking to himself as much to me. “Could I even believe you if you promised me that?”

“I’ll never touch another drop,” I rushed to say. “If that’s what it takes to have you back… to be back in your life.”

“Dammit, it’s not just that.” But he held me closer. “You were scared of us and you didn’t want to admit it. You were scared of having someone important in your life. You’re such a damn loner, Shepard.”

“You’re right, I was scared.” I couldn’t keep the emotion out of my voice. “Now I’m just scared I’m going to have to live without you.”

The sounds of the street outside filled the silence. The city made sense at night, corridors of light and dark. I thought he had fallen asleep by the time Kaidan finally answered.

“You always had me,” he whispered “You just have to stay.”

“I’m staying.”

We fell asleep like that, the sounds of the street forgotten, my ear against Kaidan’s heartbeat, his soft breaths through my hair.

In the morning, there was a note slid under the door.

“Mr. Alenko, it’s time we meet to discuss our business. Meet me tonight at the Collector Club.

-          Henry Judge.”

++

With all the lights off, the Collector Club had a sepulchral air to it. Closed tonight, the tall curtains seemed more like stone than like cloth as they hung in the darkness. The glittering chandeliers, without any light to catch in their multi-faceted hanging baubles, looked like so many glass cobwebs hanging about the vaulted ceiling. The only light came from the high window, the office window that overlooked the dining floor.

Kaidan and I made our way up the stairs and knocked at the door. She only opened the door a crack, but it was enough to see that  the woman who answered looked terrified, and no more than sixteen. She had Miranda’s dark hair and dark eyes, they could have been twins, but I had never seen Miranda look so afraid.

“I’m here to see Mr. Judge,” Kaidan said.

“Y-you were supposed to be alone.” Her voice squeaked and her wide, dark eyes turned to me.

“My business partner,” Kaidan answered, “Stepping in for the partner I lost.”

“Let them in, Oriana,” Came a dark voice from inside. She stepped out of the way and we walked into the room. It was an opulent office, the thick curtain across the window actually open. The carpet was the same red plush as in the restaurant, but lit by only a desk lamp, it looked almost black. There was a huge taxidermy eagle spreading its wings behind the desk chair, it cast a sinister shadow onto the ceiling. Henry Judge stood up from his chair and came around to the front of the desk. “Mr. Alenko, thank you for agreeing to meet me here. I was sorry to hear about your partner, Mr. Anderson, was it?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Won’t you introduce me to your new partner?”

“This is Shepard,” Kaidan answered curtly.

“Excellent,” he reached out and shook my hand, his palms were cold. During all this, Oriana had floated over near the window, her posture collapsing in on itself. “Won’t you both sit down?” He gestured to two leather wingbacks under the shadow of the eagle.

“We’d prefer to stand.” Kaidan removed photographs from his jacket pocket and handed them to Henry Judge. “I’ve followed Miranda Lawson for the past few days, everywhere she’s been is in those photos—“

Judge threw the pictures onto the desk without looking at them.

“Come now, Mr. Alenko. You’ve realized she’s my daughter, by now. No need to play coy.” He put his hands behind his back and paced over to the window where Oriana was cowering. “When she re-appeared in my life last year, it was the happiest I’d been in years. My daughter, fierce, determined, intelligent,” he seemed to sneer at Oriana. “Fearless. In my life once again. We agreed the Illusive Man could never know that we’d been reunited—not until Miranda was firmly established in my business. And she is. Her mind is really something singular. Thanks to her, I’ve restructured my whole business, no more cloak and dagger, but operating in the daylight, paying off the right people and ensuring my work appeared entirely above board.”

“She does seem intelligent,” Kaidan said, watching the man with that intense gaze of his.

“The last thing, then, was to sell off the club. It was her idea to sell it to the Reapers for a tidy profit.”

A cold feeling rushed down my spine.

“Her idea, was it?”

“Yes.” Henry Judge gave a shark-like smile. “I only needed to know that she was faithful to me, and me alone. Now, thanks to you, I know my daughter keeps nothing from me.”

Suddenly, down in the dark mausoleum of the Collector Club: a light. Fire crawled up one of the club’s heavy curtains, fanned across the vaulted ceiling. Oriana shrieked. Judge turned and let out a gasp. I could just make out the shape of a man running through the restaurant, splashing a canister of gasoline across the carpet: it was Jacob Taylor.

The door flew open, and there was Miranda Lawson, brandishing her revolver. She stepped into the room and smiled at Henry Judge, who looked aghast.

“Shepard,” she said, “Seems you’re always on the scene. I wonder if it’s skill or luck?”

Judge moved fast. Grabbed Oriana by the arm, a pistol in his hand suddenly, the blunt barrel pressed into her temple, her body between him and Miranda’s pistol. Oriana screamed and froze.

“Ori!” Miranda cried.

“Miranda!” Judge hissed. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking my sister, father.”

“I promised you my empire and you betray me!” He screamed, his face turning red.

“Don’t be a fool,” she circled around her eye fixed on Judge as his was fixed on her. “I wanted your empire, and I’m taking it.”

“One more step and you’ll be cleaning your sister out of the carpet of your new office.”

Kaidan had been inching closer to Judge, trying to get behind him, when he seemed to fumble his gun, Kaidan leapt forward.

A shot rang out.

Kaidan slumped to the floor.

“Kaidan!” The cry ripped out of me before I could stop it. I made for Kaidan’s prone form, but Judge leveled his gun at me.

“Everyone stay back, nobody move!” He backed up until his back was against the window. The Collector Club was ablaze on the other side of the window, the chandeliers crashing into the flaming carpet. The curtains had turned into walls of fire. “Put your gun down, Miranda. So help me I am not going to ask you twice.” He pointed the gun back at Ori’s head.

Miranda dropped her pistol, the slightest hint of worry creeping into her icy expression. She kicked the gun away.

Kaidan groaned on the floor.

“There’s no exit strategy here, Judge.” My voice was a snarl, though my hands were raised like Miranda’s. All I could think about was getting to Kaidan, I couldn’t even tell how badly he was bleeding with the blood red carpet.

“Shut up! Let me think!”

He pressed the barrel of the gun to Oriana’s head and she shrieked at the burn on her skin, wriggled just enough to escape his grip.

Miranda shot forward. There was a shot that flew into the ceiling. She rushed into Judge, shoulder down. With a shatter of glass, Henry Judge screamed as he crashed through the window and down into the flaming club. There was a sickening thud, and then only the sound of the flames devouring the building.

I ran forward and rolled Kaidan over, he needed medical attention, and quick. Miranda spared a moment to check on Oriana before rushing to collect her pistol again, she leveled it at me.

“So much for saving your sister!” I spat.

“I am saving my sister!” Miranda cried, the blast of heat through the broken window making both of us sweat. “When this place burns to the ground, I take over Henry Lawson’s company and I keep my father from getting his hands on the Collector Club. I get out of this life of crime for good, and I take my sister with me.”

“You really think the Illusive Man will let you escape, knowing you double-crossed him?”

“He’ll never know. Jacob Taylor. Working for the Reapers. He destroyed the club.”

“Someone else to take the heat for you from both sides. Except for me. I know what really happened.”

“Now you get the picture,” she shouted over the rippling blaze. She eyed me down the barrel.

“Miranda, please don’t!” Oriana still pressed a palm to the burn against her temple, but pulled at Miranda’s arm with the other hand. “No more killing! Please, Miranda, we need to leave!” Miranda looked torn for a moment. There was a crash as the ceiling above the restaurant collapsed.

“Goodbye, Shepard.” She turned on her heel, pulling Oriana behind her. I immediately lifted Kaidan to his feet.

“Kaidan, can you hear me? Kaidan!” He groaned, but seemed to find his feet. “We’re getting you out of here, stay with me, keep your hand pressed there—“ he winced. “Press hard.”

The stairs were beginning to burn as I towed Kaidan downstairs and towards the back exit. We emerged onto the street, singed and smoking, and Kaidan collapsed.

++

I got Kaidan to the hospital in time. Barely, the doctors said.

I waited by his bedside every day. The nurses got used to me.

A few days later, a man in a prim pin-stripe suit and grey hat showed up at the hospital room and I could tell from the lump under his arm he was carrying. I knew what it meant, it was time to make my final report to the Illusive Man.

++

“She set fire to the club, then she took her sister and left,” I finished my story as the Illusive Man watched me from between steepled fingers. He was quiet for a long moment.

“My daughter,” he cleared his throat, “Has been hustling Henry Judge for a year to take over his empire. And you’re saying she sabotaged me in the process.”

I shrugged, removed the cigarette from between my lips.

“I’m not saying anything other than what happened, than what she said. You’re paying me to do a job. I did the job.”

“You certainly did, Shepard. You certainly did.” He eased back into his chair. “My daughter, right under my nose… good for her.” He snapped his fingers and one of his goons brought him a cigarette. Come to think of it, it was the first time I’d seen him without one. “I’m sad to see her go.”

“You want us to track her down, boss?” One of the men leaning against a bookcase asked.

“Hm? Oh. No. She’ll make herself known at some point. I’m proud of her. Losing the Collector Club is a major blow, there’s no way around that. But it’s as much a blow for the Reapers. Can hardly blame her. I stirred the pot, after all.”

“So much for not mixing your business and your family life.” I tried to make the words burn, but the Illusive Man didn’t take it.

“We’re both men who like things in ordered categories, aren’t we, Shepard? It does grieve me on some level that my daughter decided to get into the family business. But we all must learn to appreciate the space between spaces, mustn’t we? You know the city’s not so simple as having ‘good’ people and ‘bad’ people—you of all people. What Miranda did hurt me, but I admire her tenacity, and I dare say you admire her motives.”

“I think there are people who are truly, just good. And I know I’m not one of them, but I believe they exist.”

“A romantic, eh Shepard?”

“I suppose so.”

“Looks like I chose the right man for the job, then!” He crowed.

“I’m not an idiot,” I said, finally. “I know why it was me you hired and not someone else. Shepard the drunk, you knew Miranda would catch me tailing her. Knew it’d speed up her plans. You wanted to rattle her, force her hand. You used me.”

The Illusive Man smiled broadly

“How long before you figured that out?”

“I suppose part of me knew from the start.”

“And I certainly got my money’s worth out of you Shepard. Didn’t expect you to see it through all the way to the end like this, though. Should I attribute that to your sudden sobriety? Or perhaps a certain partnership?” I didn’t answer and the Illusive Man chuckled. “I’m not Henry Lawson, Shepard. Here, I have your fee, as promised. With a little something extra.”

Being paid to be a tool, but my pride wasn’t too great to not accept the money.

++

I paid my tab at the Normandy.

Paying my tab at Omega turned out to be a more involved activity. Mr. Gorgeous came to meet me at the bar and led me over into After Life and up to Aria’s couch.

 “Shepard,” Aria gestured for me to sit and had Mr. Gorgeous bring me a cigarette and a light. “Benny tells me you paid off your entire tab. Does this mean I shouldn’t expect your sorry ass at my bar anymore?”

“Turning over a new leaf. Got a new reason. And a new business partner. Time I start acting like I’m here to stay.”

“Don’t you have something you want to say to me, Shepard.” Her eyes bored into me.

“Love what you’ve done with your hair?”

“’Thank you, Aria’” she mocked.

“I thought we were square-up on the favors. You gave me information, I helped you out with the—“

“Not the information, Shepard.” She shifted in her seat, her posture still a practiced disinterest. “Who do you think attacked Jacob Taylor that night outside his apartment.”

“I had been wondering about that. Your boys?”

She nodded firmly.

“Your subtle approach wasn’t getting you anywhere, so I thought I’d help you out, speed the process along a little bit. Scare Miranda into talking. Based on the smoldering crater where the Collector Club used to be, looks like it worked.”

“And lucky for you, all the former clientele are looking for a new club.”

“And I’ve been able to raise my protection rates without a peep out of any of my shop owners.”

“You’re all heart.”

“Let the Reapers and Cerberus eat each other alive. I’ll be here.” With that, I stood up and headed for the door, but Aria called back to me, “Shepard, you owe me one, now.”

++

I watched the painter carefully paint in my name on the glass of the door:

ALLIANCE PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS KAIDAN ALENKO * JOHN SHEPARD

I never thought I would see my name back on that door, side by side with Kaidan. We’d gone together to Anderson’s grave, left a wreath. Part of me still couldn’t believe he was gone, that my name would be replacing his on the door of the business we all started together. But it was hard for me to believe a lot of things, these days. Kaidan was out of the hospital and back in my arms.

One day, a sum of money had arrived by ‘special courier’: it was the sum Anderson and Kaidan had agreed upon for tailing Miranda.

“You’ve gotta respect someone who pays for own investigation.” Kaidan chuckled, easing himself to sit on the edge of my desk. He picked up a model plane and turned it over in his hands.

“She’s a consummate business woman, that’s for sure.”

“We were lucky to get out of there alive.” He set the plane down, “You know, I don’t think I thanked you in the hospital for getting me out of there.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you there to bleed out! Or burn to death, or—“

Kaidan touched my lips.

“Just let me say ‘thank you.’”

I leaned in and kissed him and the painter gave us a scandalized look.

“I’m always going to be there for you.”

“I know.” I leaned my head on Kaidan’s shoulder.

“You make me brave, Kaidan. I want you to know that… that it’s different this time.”

“I believe you. I’ve always believed in you. I’m glad you found your way back to me.”

Outside the window, rain had begun to fall on my city. Kaidan winced as he stood up to look through the blinds. I put my arms around him, leaning my chin on his shoulder. I hated the rain, the way it muddied everything up, the light and the dark all blurring together. It was a beautiful city, it was a mean city, and it was hard to tell the two apart in the rain.

Kaidan always preferred the rain to the heartbeat of the city: the rattle of cars and clamor of crowds and the hum of the electricity. When I closed my eyes, I could hear Kaidan’s heartbeat. That was all I needed in this city.

There’s not much else to tell than that.