#bioticbacon

[briarfox13]

It’s also the lovely @cullywullycurlywurly/ @bioticbacon‘s birthday today!

Happy birthday my dear <3 I hope you’ve had a lovely day!!

[bioticbacon]

If Shep has a picture of Kaidan on her desk in her quarters during ME2, Kaidan definitely has a picture of her in his quarters, wherever he is, and that breaks my already fragile heart.

[cullywullycurlywurly]

I apologise if this blog has been a little on the quiet side lately, it won’t be forever! I’m over at @bioticbacon as I weep my way through the Mass Effect trilogy with my femshep Catriona, and generally just break my heart over a certain Canadian boy. 

Pretty much. Come and say hello!

[bioticbacon]

prompt: you can save the world

fShenko drabble, with spoilers for the extended cut dlc for mass effect 3.

this is entirely @capriswritingnartshenanigans fault

- - -

She was unsure what hour it was when the first cries reached her ears and pulled her from a light sleep, but by the darkness beyond the window, Catriona guessed the wee hours. Momentary, tired confusion shattered as she moved to gather the squawking infant in her arms from his side car, writhing against the soft blankets that had swaddled him so snugly.

“Hush now, my darling, you don’t need to cry.”

The baby’s wailing fell silent as he began to nurse with practiced ease, a fat hand curling against her skin as he calmed, and even in tiredness, Catriona took the chance to marvel at him, to admire him as she always did; the sweet, milky scent of newborn, the dark ebony hair, long sweeping lashes and neat ears that she now knew so well.

But then, she seemed to have known it all even before his arrival. Even before the newly restored EDI had given a run down of her scan findings, her thumb tracing the image of the tiny being who’s heartbeat filled the room; made in love and representing such enormous hope and reward.

Strong cardiac activity, a healthy foetus growing well. XY chromosomes. A significant number of biological markers identical to one Major K. Alenko. 4.2 inches long, 90 grams in weight. Approximately 15 weeks and 1 day.

The skyline of city lights laid beyond the glass before her in the still of night; what was the point of a penthouse apartment if you didn’t have a large enough window to admire the view, Kaidan had joked as they had built their home. Vancouver was rebuilding quickly, the skies already full of shuttle traffic and an endless buzz of activity. It was comforting, the reminder of life outside of her nest slowly regaining traction after the horror it had met. Not that she could claim to have engaged in it recently - her time had been otherwise rather occupied.

Now four days old, and he was still just the baby. She would insist it was a difficult last name that held up their choice, much to her husband’s disgruntled pout. The months of pregnancy had seemed to last forever, endless time to decide but now, the clock ticked; his grandmother was travelling that morning to meet him, he would need to be registered with the city and damned if she was sent another message asking for a name to put upon his gift. Even Kaidan had gently chivvied her into putting some serious thought towards a decision.

Her Kaidan. Patient, unfailing, gentle Kaidan who had held her hand so often and not once uttered a word of complaint, even as she had cursed him to hell and back with each contraction of her labour. Quiet, protective, loving Kaidan who had whispered affirmations in answer to her every anxious thought, who had made vows to love her eternally so easily as the cool metal of her wedding ring had met her finger, who had wept so fiercely as she had handed the baby to him for the first time. He snored gently into the pillow beside her, head turned from her, and in the light from the window, she could make out the same neat ears and soft, dark hair she had been admiring on her son. Their son.

The baby in question had quietly finished nursing, contented by a full belly and his mother’s arms, and endless dark brown eyes met hers in a gaze that seemed to still time. She had always been told infants were born with blue eyes, but here he was, with the same deep brown eyes that had first won her heart so many years before. In the haze of memory from labour she could see him lifted onto her chest, seconds new and with the sweetest of cries, and his eyes had found hers instantly, her very soul snapping into life with sudden realisation that she had no idea she had been missing. Oh. There you are. How could I ever not have known you?

The babe blinked, before his tiny features screwed into a yawn and as she adjusted her nightgown, Catriona brought him to her to kiss, thumbing the downy skin of his cheeks. The responsibility still overwhelmed her. Hell, give her an invasion of ancient sentient machines any day, but this was on an entirely different level. A gun, she could handle with every inch of familiarity and confidence. But a baby? A baby was something different entirely. Something fragile, something delicate. Life, in its simplest form. She was far more used to death, and the destruction and pain of it, of the grief of loss.

Her heart hurt when she wandered into the memories of that loss, of those that would miss this, that would be unable to share their elated joy. In all of it, one figure stood out, a gaping hole in her world and a pain that never seemed to settle. She could see him at the edge of her mind’s eye, could still hear his confident belief in her at every turn, the gentle smile that said ‘you can do this’. Their final conversation pulled itself often to the front of her thoughts more recently, and in every quiet moment of doubt, there he was. Oh how she wished he was still there to be the voice of sanity she had relied upon so often.

What about you? Ever think about settling down?

Yeah… I like the sound of that. Not sure I’d be much good at it though.

Sure you would.

I’m a soldier, Anderson, like you. Not really fit for doing anything else.

Movement next to her broke her spell, and as strong arms found her waist, Catriona realised she was crying, hot tears tracking down her cheeks. She leant her back into the muscle and warmth of her now awake husband, his face burying into the crook of her neck and his gruff, sleep filled voice reverberated against her skin, laced with concern.

“What’s the matter, love?”

He could read her so easily; had she been crying enough to waken him? Catriona wiped quickly at the dampness on her cheeks with her free hand, clearing her throat as best she could. “I was just… thinking about his name. Or lack of it, I guess.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop with her admission as a tender hand reached down to trace the baby’s features. “We’ll find something, don’t worry. Boy can’t live without a name forever.”

“No, I…I think I know what it should be.”

“Oh.” Kaidan’s face lifted, his hand tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, before resting his chin on her shoulder. “Well, hit me.”

Catriona drew a breath, steadying herself, before glancing to him. “James for the middle… for your dad, like we discussed.”

His reply with a gentle chuckle, warmth in his eyes. “You’ll make my mother cry with that one.”

They felt silent again, Kaidan’s waiting gaze upon her once more, but Catriona found she couldn’t say it, couldn’t bring herself to give it voice. That meant he was really gone; meant finality. Her mouth was like cotton, thick and heavy, barely able to force the name from her lips and as she finally whispered it, her voice cracked. 

I don’t know Shepard. I think you’d make a great mother.

“David. I want to call him David.”

She felt the breath in him hitch instantly, the meaning of her suggestion sweeping over him first as a grimace of pain, before his brows knitted together in silent, sad contemplation and she turned enough to look at him almost desperately, eyes filling and throat catching once more. “He was like a father to me, I guess… he cared… for me, for you… he believed… he would’ve been so proud… he would’ve loved…” She could speak no more, composure shattering and descended quickly into heaving sobs, fat tears slipping down her cheeks as she clutched the babe to her. He would have loved to have been here to see this, to be a part of this.

Kaidan turned her in his arms so easily and she wept against him, face pressed against the tickle of chest hair as a hand traced circles on her back. Heaving sobs left her, chest burning with each breath - how it hurt, raw grief she thought had lost it’s sting. Her husband was silent other than soft murmurs of comfort for what seemed to be forever, and when he finally spoke the tremble in his own voice was answer enough.

“Yeah, that’s…that’s a good choice...” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, the baby settled in her arms. “David James Alenko. Now there’s a name.”

I’m proud of you. You did good, child. You did good.

[bioticbacon]

and now, i will never be the same.

from the wonder woman prompt list here x

also available on ao3 looking pretty here x

Kaidan knows anger; like an old foe, surging through his veins, whispering in his ear as he hear himself roar.

The voice isn’t his, can’t be his, but it is, and blame is tumbling from his lips before he can regain control.

He knows fear too, sees the flash of it in the other man’s eyes, hears it as he sobs an apology.

He is ashamed of himself later, once the blinding anger has passed and he is alone.

He doesn’t need Garrus to tell him he was out of line, nor Liara.

It is days before he can apologise to Jeff.

The media vultures swarm at every twist and turn, and it is all he can do not to snap their necks, to snap.

Questions, cameras, eyes, even in the hallways of the medical centre as their crew slowly recovers.

He has no answers to the questions they ask, only prays that the answer to his is found.

Waiting for her to walk through the door and end his nightmare.

His hope lasts a week, waiting for that moment.

It never comes.

A dingy apartment in the Wards is all he can bring himself to find, the four walls a prison as much as a shelter.

He scrubs for hours under the hot water of his shower, but still the guilt sticks to him like glue.

His back meets the cold of the tiled wall, reality an unpleasant truth to be reminded of.

Kaidan wonders why nobody ever told him grief felt so much like fear.

As tears mix with the water, unbridled sobs wracking him,

He begs for a forgiveness he never finds.

Shephard’s face finds him in dreams and he wakes screaming most nights, sheets soaked and heart pounding.

He keeps the outside world at bay, venturing out for little more than another bottle of whisky to drown in.

His inbox goes unanswered, his mother’s pleading words a desperate message he ignores.

Come home, Kaidan. Let us help you. Come home to Vancouver. Please.

How can he tell her he could not face the shame of his failure?

He can’t return home broken hearted once more.

They’re promoting him. Commander. For bravery and loyalty to the Alliance. What else does he have to cling to?

A new bar on his epaulettes, a new ship, a new crew. It has been weeks now, but the wound refuses to knit.

Shephard’s words on taking command of the Normandy return to him, leave him feeling nauseous;

I don’t want it. Not like this. Not without her. It feels unnatural, almost treason.

But she is gone, lost forever more, and the universe spins on.

And he will never be the same.

[bioticbacon]

3 and 6!

Thank you for sending this in, lovely! <33. Who cries when they get drunk, and which one has a 50% chance of getting arrested?

Shepard is the one getting arrested, Kaidan’s the emotional drunk. Shep is the one muttering angrily that her post-night-out pizza is taking forever - Kaidan’s reminding her it has been 5 minutes. Shepard’s picking fights with those who jump the queue at the bar, Kaidan’s hauling her back and keeping the peace. Kaidan’s getting teary to a song that’s being played, Shepard’s slow dancing with him whilst shooting daggers at the guy who stood on her foot on the dancefloor over his shoulder. Kaidan’s sighing and going off on a bit of a monologue about how beautiful the sunset is - Shep’s considering how bad a slap on the wrist she’d get for streaking naked into the lake. Shepard’s the one ranting as they arrive home about how rude the taxi driver was, and how much she hates nightclubs and how she is never going back - Kaidan is the one who pulls her into his arms, tells her how beautiful she looks in that dress, how much he loves having her by his side even if she is a terrible dancer, and somehow makes her ranting turn into laughter.

6. Who uses bath bombs and soaks in the tub for an hour, and which one hasn’t taken an actual bath since they were six years old?Shepard’s the bath hog. She claims an entire shelf dedicated to her bath bomb and bubble bath collection (and maybe the end of the worktop too, just a few bottles). Saviour of the Galaxy™ she may be, but there was nothing in those rules that said she couldn’t enjoy soaking in the tub in a variety of colours, up to her ears in bubbles and melting her stress away. She pours herself a glass of wine, loads up the latest episode of whatever show she has missed, and spends so long in there Kaidan’s convinced she’ll drown one day. Kaidan, on the other hand, is not the biggest fan. Baths are fairly unusual in space; there wasn’t one at BAaT and in Alliance barracks, and obviously on ships, they don’t exist, so the last he can remember being forced into one was as a child. Biotics run hot naturally, it’s always made him somewhat uncomfortable and he’d rather just shower. He’s also far too used to the sheen of glitter on his legs and feet post-shower when Shep forgets to rinse the bath and has no desire to be washing glitter out of his hair for the next week. But eventually, Shepard pesters him enough and gets him to agree to try one, just one. She gets a bath bomb specially for him, maybe something designed for easing headaches, and runs a bath filled with bubbles. At first he’s not so sure, but actually this is pretty nice and suddenly Shep’s the one complaining that Kaidan’s going to drown if he doesn’t get out from amongst his bubble palace.

[bioticbacon]

Sad Shenko drabble nobody asked for, because I like breaking my own heart.

Warning for character death. You’ve been warned - it’s not happy.

The smell of a hospital had always made her feel sick. She hated it; the cold, harsh taste of antiseptic that lingered on clothes, hair, everything. The smell of illness. The smell of death.

Death. Had they not seen enough of it? Was there not only more to come? How weary she had grow of it, of watching life sniffed out before her very eyes in act after act of violent aggression. How numb she had become to each body she saw on battlefields.

Yet as she stepped into the side room, the view of the Citadel spread before them shielded and the room cloaked in darkness, she realised she was still unprepared for death to greet her once more. Dark hair, broad chest, long muscled legs that she knew so well. Still clad in the blue of his armour, cracked, broken, his name in glittering gold coated in now dry blood. Unmoving. Her gaze froze, breath catching, heart seizing.

“No.” How could she be speaking when she could hardly breathe? “No, no, no…”

As she found his side, someone with her voice was begging was him to open his eyes, to see those deep, dark eyes meet hers just once more. This had to be a dream. Her hands met the cool skin of his face, trembling thumb tracing the rough brush of stubble across his jaw until it met cold, blue lips. Impossibly still. He was never still.

“Please…please” Behind her she could feel the pitying gaze of the people gathered; why was somebody crying? Why was everybody simply watching? Why was nobody helping?

His hair was soft under her fingers and it refused to stand, lacking the crackle of static that had always amused her so. Of course - no heartbeat, no static. But how could he not have a heartbeat? It wasn’t possible. Her rational mind wanted nothing to do with this obscene lie. If he had no heartbeat, he would be dead.

Kaidan Alenko could not be dead. This was all a joke. Any second now, those lips would twist into a smirk, and those dark eyes, that so often gazed at her with such affection and love for her, would be full of amusement. He’d laugh, a deep, rumble of a chuckle that would turn into such that rambunctious, dorky laugh she loved so much. He would lean over, pull her into the warmth of his broad embrace and he would whisper that he loved her.

But it never came. The silence in the room was suffocating. His name was a whisper as it tumbled from her, a litany, a prayer for her to wake up from this nightmare. Her fingers traced his features again before she pressed a kiss to him, an apology pouring from her. The cold shock of his lips against hers was the end of her resolve, fat tears quickly slipping down her cheeks as her knees gave way, and a tortured scream filled the empty silence of the hospital room.

As hands found her shoulders, she realised it was her screaming. Her own pain bouncing off each wall, raw, untamed, heaving sobs leaving her body. She fought the body pulling her from him, eyes focused on his unmoving form.

“No, no… I can’t…”

“Come on.” Garrus’ sad eyes finally met her own, and the pity in them made her want to vomit. “Shepard.”

“He can’t be here on his own.” Her hands grasped at the Turian’s, pleading through the choking grip of her throat. “Please… he hated… please don’t make me leave him behind, on his own.”

[bioticbacon]

So I was never really a great lover of Kaidan (mostly because for my first couple of playthroughs I loaded an ME1 save where I'd left him on Virmire, so I didn't really know him y'know?) but after a few weeks following you (and a new 1-3 run) I gotta admit I have a newfound appreciation for the guy. He's not my LI, but even buddy!Kaidan is such a sweet boy. I like to think he makes Shepard poutine when they're sad. "It's a traditional Canadian comfort food, trust me it's better than it looks."

Thank you for this lovely message, and I’m really pleased to hear my screaming appreciation for the Canadian cinnamon roll has helped you give him a second  chance (and didn’t entirely make you groan!).As a friend I think Kaidan is a ‘sanity check’ in himself in ME3. He’s got his shit together, he’s grown into a competent (thanks Liara) and confident leader, and is still a loyal and dedicated officer.  He wants to do some good, he’s accepting of the Normandy crew regardless of race or background and he very obviously cares for Shep’s wellbeing as a person, not just as ‘Commander Shepard’. I know a lot of people don’t like him because compared to the wonders of the Milky Way and all these amazing new faces, they feel he’s boring but to my Shep, he was a real grounding influence and somewhere safe she could touch base. He’s almost a conscience at times, and for an Earthborn Shep, he can share the grief of having to leave Earth behind (particularly leaving his home city the way they did :c). In a galaxy of strange and wonderful things that is currently being blown apart by sentient machines literally thousands of years old here’s a simple guy, not pretending to be anything he isn’t, who just wants his friends and loved ones to come out of this okay and eat his steak and drink his beer. He’s soft-hearted and is the antithesis to the uber-male you often see in popular video gaming; he’s talking about his emotions, he’s grieving his father in a healthy way, he is equal in his respect of both men/women/aliens, he looks out for his students and for the rest of their crew with a lot of care. So, yeah. I love it! I can definitely see him turning up at Shep’s cabin with poutine and a beer, and insisting they take 5 minutes out to eat because it’s nice alright?. It extends into cooking for the rest of the crew too. Liara gets a plate of it left on her desk after Thessia, because he’s worried about her. There’s banter between him and Vega about poutine vs tamales. EDI’s quizzed on where the heck he can get dextro cheese curds for Tali, because she wants to try it.