#almost any krogan for that matter
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WIP Whenever
As tagged by @swaps55, and inviting any who wish to participate! (I'm not exactly linked to many writers on here just yet)
Here's a sneak peak (a nice, long one) between Nathaniel 'Nate' Shepard and Garrus on their way to Feros in Spectre Echoes: Memories and Portents!
- - -
The crew area was a rather bustling place at the moment, what with the new additions to the crew. It made Garrus stand out even more at the table, dressed in a shirt and pants that accommodated the slight crest of his upper back.
Nate took a seat next to him, a human beer in one hand and a turian brew from a case he’d had assigned to the Normandy’s cold storage in the other. “Evening, Garrus,” he said casually, offering the brew. “How are you holding up?”
“Rather well, honestly,” Garrus said as he took his drink, opening it and taking a sip. “This sort of environment is easy for me, no matter the species. I might have decided to go to C-Sec over joining the reserves in a decade or so, but you can’t beat out nearly a decade of military training.”
“What made you go into C-Sec in the first place?” Nate asked.
“It was the family business,” Garrus shrugged. “My father had been C-Sec before getting pulled out from the Reserves for Relay-314, and his father before him had done the same thing. Still don’t know why the old man went into politics, though. Even C-Sec is simpler than that.”
Nate shrugged. “I try to avoid politics. When you have a camera pointed at you more often than not…”
“I can see how that’d be the case,” Garrus said, pausing for long moments. “So, I’ve got a question for you about Saren.”
“Funny enough, I’ve actually got one for you, too,” Nate said. “You first.”
“Are you really planning on trying to arrest Saren and drag him in front of the Council after what he’s done?”
Nate ruminated on the query with a pull of beer. “It’d be what the Council wants done, most likely. Saren’s dangerous, but if we can subdue him, he needs to face due process.”
Garrus’s mandibles drooped slightly, the action looking almost like a grimace. Or a sneer. “There’s a lot of risk to that too, though. He isn’t the best Spectre the Council has for nothing. He could probably find half a dozen different ways to escape during transit to the Citadel, let alone what he could do if he was on it.”
“We know he’s the most dangerous person in the galaxy,” Nate said assuringly. “If there’s anyone who can guard him, it’s going to be all of us and the krogan along for the ride.”
“That wouldn’t stop the Council from offering clemency, or just finding some way to sweep this under the rug,” Garrus retorted. “But taking him in is the way it’s done by the book, isn’t it? ‘Do it right, or don’t do it at all’.”
Nate frowned slightly at the rather bitter invective. “And who said that?”
“Lucrius Vakarian,” Garrus said, washing the name back down with a pull of his brew. “Among the most renowned detectives on the Citadel. Spirits know he said to me more times than I can count.”
“Not a regulations guy, then?”
Garrus sighed quietly. “I get why they’re there. I get that they’re useful. My father and C-Sec drilled that into me well enough. But sometimes, in order to resolve a situation permanently, completely, the regs, and the people who enforce them, can make it so that a solution becomes a stopgap. People get away. Innocents get taken advantage of or hurt when they don’t need to.”
Garrus was silent for a moment. “Take Doctor Saleon.”
“Who’s that?”
“He was — probably is still — one of the leading figures of the Citadel’s black markets. Specifically in grown organs. Real mean bastard. In a place where a krogan who’s well-connected enough could drop 40,000 credits for a full quad transplant to try and counteract the genophage, Saleon was a unique brand of fucked up.”
“See, there was an increase in organ trade, well beyond what we expected. We managed to confiscate some, and do some genetic tests. It was a bit of a mess, but it led us to a very lively turian who was very insistent that he was not, in fact, missing his liver. We ran a background check, and saw he worked for the aforementioned doctor.”
“What did you do next?” Nate asked.
“We brought him and some of Saleon’s other former employees in for questioning. While I was interviewing one of them, I noticed something suspicious. One of the detainees, a human, started bleeding from his abdomen during questioning. Pretty badly, too. We offered to patch him up, and he got panicky.”
Garrus paused, was silent for long moments. “We found dozens of incision scars on him. Some of them fresh, like the one that gave him away. Others much older. That’s when we realized this sick bastard Saleon wasn’t just employing people. He was testing on them. Growing the organs right inside of them, then cutting them open, harvesting them, and selling them off. Most of the test subjects were poor, desperate. They only got a small cut of the profits from any sale, and only if the organs were viable. If they weren’t, he just… left them inside them.”
The beer wasn’t very appealing to Nate anymore, and he set it on the table at arm’s length. “What happened then?” he ventured.
“We went out to go and put the cuffs on this guy. But he rigged his lab to blow, ran as soon as his mules started getting pulled in by C-Sec. Took some of his ‘employees’ with him to the nearest spacedock. By the time we found where he was, the ship he stole was already leaving. He threatened to kill who were now his hostages if anyone tried to stop him.”
“And he got away?” Nate said incredulously.
Garrus nodded. “I ordered Citadel defenses to intercept and fire on him, but C-Sec HQ countermanded my order. They were worried about the hostages. Worried about civilian casualties for how close he still was to the city arms. I told them the hostages were already the next best thing to dead, that this was just the cold, hard calculus of stopping a criminal like this now and for good. But they wouldn’t listen.”
Nate sighed. “Sounds like a recipe for hating where you work.”
“To put it mildly.” Garrus chuckled darkly. “I went to Executor Pallin, the man in charge of C-Sec, and told him what I thought about the situation and the policies that made it happen. He told me if I didn’t like it, then I could quit. To be honest, I almost did, just to spite them.”
“As tough a choice as it is, the lives of the hostages were as important as catching Doctor Saleon,” Nate said pointedly. “If we didn’t care about the lives of those threatened by the people we want to bring to justice, how different are we from them?”
It was silent between them for a moment before Garrus sighed quietly. “You know, I can see where you’re coming from. I just wish we could have stopped Saleon as well.”
Again it was silent. “So,” Garrus said after a moment, “what was your question?”
“You’ve got a personal stake in this,” Nate began. “I won’t begrudge that, and I won’t discount that we might need to kill Saren to stop him. But if we do manage to capture him… can I count on you to let justice play out?”
Garrus was silent for long, contemplative moments. “As much as it might grate at me…” he finally said. “I’ll trust your judgment. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Shepard. However the stellar wind blows, I’ll follow your lead.”
Nate nodded. “I’m glad you have my back, Garrus.”
“I mean hey,” Garrus said, his mandibles implying a slight grin, “I get to learn what a Spectre looks like from you. Thus far, I’d say I’ve got a pretty good mentor.”
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Ruthless Remainders, a Mass Effect Fanfiction (Post-Destroy Ending Garrus/Renegade!Shepard)
Summary:
Garrus Vakarian didn't kid himself when it came to his proficiency in ruthless calculus. If he hadn't been able to make the tough decisions, he'd never have been put in a position to do so. The Turian Hierarchy was a meritocracy. No one was given a job they weren't fit to perform. But Shepard could put a turian to shame with her composure.
That's why it came as a shock to him when, covered in the dust their footsteps had stirred up in the vacant clearing, Shepard began to silently sob.
A series of post-war vignettes in which Garrus and Renegade!Shepard finally have time to deal with the consequences of all that ruthless calculus.
Chapter 1: Tuchanka
[read on Ao3]
Commander Shepard shouldn't be on Tuchanka. If any krogan within travel range found out where she was, they might come after her. Garrus tightened his grip on his gun and scanned the horizon carefully. She should've brought a bigger guard, at least.
Technically, he hadn't even convinced her to bring him. Back at their apartment on the Citadel, he'd noticed where she'd ordered private transport to and promptly asked her if she had a desire to die again. Her mouth had set into that thin, resolute line that let him know she would broker no counter arguments. To her, his view on the matter was simply irrelevant.
So, instead, when her ride arrived, he'd wordlessly followed her onboard. She hadn't told him it was okay, but she hadn't kicked him off either. You had to take the wins where you could.
Watching her sitting in Tuchanka's red dirt, he understood why she had wanted to be here alone. He still remembered the conversation they'd had on board the Normandy, during the height of the war, and the way her face had looked when she'd realized he'd figured out what she'd done. Her jaw had tensed, but her eyes had never changed. They'd stared unflinchingly into his, and his initial reproaches had died on his tongue. He'd almost said, "How could you?" But instead he'd said, "Damn war."
Garrus Vakarian didn't kid himself when it came to his proficiency in ruthless calculus. If he hadn't been able to make the tough decisions, he'd never have been put in a position to do so. The Turian Hierarchy was a meritocracy. No one was given a job they weren't fit to perform. But Shepard could put a turian to shame with her composure.
That's why it came as a shock to him when, covered in the dust their footsteps had stirred up in the vacant clearing, Shepard began to silently sob.
Garrus was at a loss. If they’d been a normal couple, he’d know how to comfort her. But they’d never been normal, had they? Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay, but the other part of him—the part that recognized that she’d never truly confided in him, that’d he’d never seen her cry before—held him back. Empty platitudes were the last thing she’d need or want.
“Why are we here, Shepard?” he finally asked.
“You know why.”
He sighed and sat down next to her. “I know what happened, more or less. My question is, why now?”
It had been several months since the fact that the genophage wasn’t cured became common knowledge. The Salarian Union had declared it an accident, but rumors still circulated. Most of the galaxy was hesitant to speak badly of Commander Shepard, but among the krogans, and especially among Clan Urdnot, the rumors were particularly potent. The tank-bred krogan Grunt had been ostracized from the clan for continuing to support her.
He knew she’d be safe from any real fallout, even if the truth were uncovered. You don’t arrest the hero who destroyed the Reapers. But sometimes he worried about her legacy. Their children, their children’s children… when the threat of the war floated far away in the stream of time, would she still be remembered as a hero? Or as something else?
Garrus was so lost in thoughts of the future that he was jarred when Shepard actually answered his question for once. “I learned something. About Wrex. About before I killed him.”
“Okay,” he said. A shiver of anticipation ran through him. “What’d you learn?”
“That he’d gotten Eve pregnant. Almost right away. And that she had a miscarriage.”
There was a pause, but Garrus didn’t know how to fill it.
“I think…” Shepard continued. “I think that’s how he figured out what I did, why he went looking for more proof. It could have been written off as a coincidence, but… I dunno, maybe he just… felt it.”
“Damn. Shepard, I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Her interruption was instant. “I’m not the victim here.”
“Okay.” He held his hands up in appeasement. “I won’t say it.”
“If he’d just waited… if he hadn’t demanded action in the middle of a war, when I had too many other lives to consider… I’d have helped him gladly. We could’ve done it the right way, proven that the krogan weren’t a threat…”
“Yeah. It kinda had to be, didn’t it?”
“Maybe it could still happen.”
“It can’t.” There was a distinct note of finality in her voice. “It had to be Mordin.”
Shepard nodded. Garrus looked at the bleak horizon again. Tuchanka was hot even at night, and he could see the planet’s star, Aralakh, starting to rise. Turians weren’t really bothered by excess warmth, but humans were.
“Shepard, let’s go home,” he suggested.
“Yeah.” She stood up quickly. Her scarred face showed no more signs of distress. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
#wip#fanfiction#mass effect#ruthless remainders: a mass effect fanfiction#garrus vakarian#renegade shepard#shakarian
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Entry 117
37th Mid Summer
Today Krogan and I had a day off, one that while Johann seemed to oppose it, he and I both managed to sway his mind on the matter. It's the first break I've had since my coming here, and while there could've been better days to have this moment of rest, I am glad, in some ways, that it was today.
Mostly because today gave me a chance to think.
As we both left Johann's workspace, Krogan asked me about how the Dragon Eye was working, likely trying to pry out exactly what had happened a few days prior when it crunched in his hands and I… well, took it to examine the damage. I told him my findings; That it was old boar grease that had severely hardened inside the mechanism during its stay in the volcano. Where the boar grease came from, I have my suspicions, but in any matter I found myself beginning to rant. Justifiably so.
He didn't say much of anything, looking back. He watched me as I explained the cause, how it explained how the Dragon Eye upon recovery had been… fussy, how I'd taken it apart to clean it and found far more of the hardened residue than should even be possible and, eventually, he listened through my opinion on its condition and how it had been unjustly treated by Hiccup and his meddling-
I digress.
At the time, I had simply talked, and he'd simply paced alongside of me, sometimes he'd say something and I'd continue on, but now that I think of it, this… behavior… there have been other times that I've talked and he's listened, for whatever reason it was. I honestly don't think he knows what I'm talking about most of the time, but in any case, he always listens with this amused smirk. Sometimes he'll surprise me with a comment of his own, which still catches me off guard when he listens that well to my ramblings.
It's… nice, actually… that he listens…
And that set me thinking…
Why?
Why does he listen?
If it were simple amusement, he wouldn't have to say a word, much less take from the conversation and add to it. Could he be listening just to learn? Is he trying to subtly pry information about myself for later? Lately he doesn't seem malicious, which is a turn I could've never expected. We were at eachother's throats not two months ago, yet now he listens? Is there any reason to this change that perhaps I've not considered?
I don't exactly know. In some ways, I'm almost terrified to consider other options. A man like him… I don't dare say the word 'friend'... not yet, though a part of me wishes it so, that my distrust just may be my old habits dragging me down.
I've thought about this, and the more I do, the more I realise…
It might be something more...
--
A short story from Viggo's pov, light Krogan/Viggo, very beginning lol
@reallyprofoundkryptonite merr early chrimas ^^
#viggo grimborn#httyd viggo#krogan httyd#kroggo#krogan x viggo#fanart#no Viggo doesn't try to stay coherent in his journals he just goes with his thoughts for once
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Krogan Age Regression hcs
Since I have talked to @hiccupbutpurple in tha past about these I will share them here!
Krogan uses age regression in the form of comfort and therapy, or at least, it was at some point used in the manner. Originally he tried to keep it a secret. That his mind just wasn’t right. That he was just ill and needed time off. He was not a stupid child, he knew when he could sense it incoming that it would spell danger in big red letters above his head to Drago. But inevitably, Drago found out. Inevitably, something that was originally used as a form of comfort turned into one of being exploited as punishment.
Krogan’s regressions are for the most part, entirely random, though the happen the most during times of him being extremely stressed. They can last a few hours, to the longest he’s ever had being over a year. He spent most of that year trapped in a cell, begging to be let out because he’d been good. Though eventually even the sterile cell became too much for him and he simply gave up.
Krogan during age regression is mentally about five or six. Give or take a year. Over time he has become extremely crushed and withdrawn while in this state. He is scared of most anything and everything. Dragons. People, shadows. It doesn’t matter. They terrify him. If it moves, it has the potential to hurt him.
Unlike when he’s in his adult headspace, he is also, weirdly friendly, and despite being scared of people, he does try to seek solace in them, despite how often in the hunters he is chased away like some rabid animal.
Going into it is terrifying. He hates seeming weak but he’s so scared that someone else will find out and that he just wants to let loose and cry but he can’t because that is Bad and he doesn’t want to be Bad because that means he gets Put Away. Put Away from prying eyes where people can’t hear him cry.
Krogan also has learn that he must entertain himself with the most rudimentary of “toys” while in this state, often because he isn’t given much in the Locker outside of plates and the occasional bone to chew on. It is ultimately very boring for him. Besides chewing on walls and biting at the padded floor there is nothing to do. He has also very much outgrown the room as an adult, as the room is quite small, barely large enough to comfortably allow him to lay down flat the short side and with enough length for him to wander about three feet longer than he is tall. It is almost always very dark, which he is fine with because the light hurts his eyes.
When it comes to a caretaker, Krogan is going to be extremely hard to manage. He won’t come when called and will oftentimes try to hide if given the chance to do so. They can try bonding with him, but it will take months for any progress to be made. Forced into a new situation he will probably stay regressed until the threat is gone, or he will flicker in and out of regression stages which is confusing and scary and annoying.
I haven’t gone over everything but yeah. He likes infant to toddler aged toys too, preferably. Things that crinkle and crunch when you play with them or things with bells inside of them that he can roll around. Bright colors aren’t needed but they are enjoyed. Things he can teethe on are also greatly appreciated.
#httyd#krogan#httyd rtte#krogan rtte#krogan httyd#httyd fandom#httyd au#age regression#sfw agere#age regressor!krogan#httyd krogan#rtte krogan
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Spokes in the Wheel
Pairing: Kirrahe x Mordin Solus
Characters: Kirrahe, Mordin Solus
Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy
Archive Warnings: Major Character Death
Other Tags: Double Drabbles, Salarian worldbuilding
Summary: There was a word for what Kirrahe meant to Mordin, but it took a lifetime for him to find it.
A series of 200 word fics about Kirrahe and Mordin's relationship. Written for the @spectre-requisitions-exchange for jaigheart. You can also read it here on AO3!
13th of Kesh, 2756 GS. 600 hours. The first time Mordin saw Kirrahe. He was dressed simply, relieved of his STG armour for a more casual fit. The black weave of his jumpsuit only served to make him look greener, his bright skin blooming against the synthetic light.
While the other agents lounged in their seats, he sat straight. His ambition could be measured by the angle of his spine. He appeared at first the picture of arrogance, a young commander with a chip on his shoulder and plenty to prove. Mordin was prepared to work through gritted teeth. He’d known sooner or later the soldier faction within the STG would rear its head in this project. No Salarian ever set foot on Tuchanka without a bullet to spare.
And that was what Kirrahe was: the unwavering path of a bullet, hurtling towards its target with the force of a mass effect field behind it.
“You’re Doctor Solus, aren’t you?” Immediately, he rose from his seat. A smooth, liquid movement. Almost disarming to witness.
Almost.
“My superiors spoke highly of you,” he continued, offering his hand. “I’m eager to see what you and your scientists are made of.”
“STG hired the best,” Mordin replied. “Adjust expectations accordingly.”
20th of Pa’esh, 2756 GS. 1800 hours. His head felt lighter than yesterday morning. Far from a relief, instead every movement needed to be recalibrated. Relieved, now, of his right cranial horn, what before was a simple turn of the head would now send him careening.
Rather than spilling onto the floor, a pair of arms caught him, steadying him with apparent ease. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Kirrahe chided.
“No time for rest. Immediate danger dealt with, must now deal with other… personal matters.” Mordin blinked. Drop 16 still felt like a dream. The inconvenient kind. The events of the day moved through his mind as though another salarian had lived them. Yet the injury to his horn proved otherwise.
That was until he remembered Maelon. The dismay in his voice when he saw they had killed krogan females was all too real.
“Personal matters. You mean Maelon?”
“Yes. Hope to convince him to recant protest now that dust has settled. See necessity in parameter shift.”
“I’ve already struck it from the official report. He’s young, one moment of weakness shouldn’t define the rest of his career.”
Gratitude swelled in his chest. Hard to believe this was the man he’d traded so many venomous barbs with yesterday.
1st of Da’esh, 2762 GS. 1000 hours. Medical personnel had reassured him all was well. Though the Commander— no, Captain’s unit had taken heavy losses, Kirrahe himself escaped with only minor injury. Mordin knew better.
He’d drafted countless emails inquiring after him. Deleted them just as quickly. Better to go himself.
Hearsay placed Kirrahe on Nasurn, his homeworld, in his clan’s embrace. The natural place for any salarian to return when life’s tests threatened to overwhelm, though Mordin had never felt such loyalty to his own.
“The first word I received when I was released from hospital was that Clan Narra had accepted my family’s bid for a reproduction contract,” Kirrahe told him not long after their reunion. “It looks like I’ll be a father again.”
A match most males would kill for. Then again, Kirrahe had.
“Seem hesitant.” Mordin sniffed. “Unlike you.”
“These days I save my certainty for my soldiers. I don’t have much to spare for myself.” The captain stretched, then winced, clutching a hidden injury. “It is nice to think something good could come from Virmire… what a mess.”
“Your last daughter— a product of the Modification Project success, correct?”
“True, but she’s not the only good thing that came from those days.”
15th of Kesh, 2765 GS. 500 hours. “Are you willing to admit that I was right?” Was the first thing Kirrahe said to him on Sur’kesh. Before platitudes, before niceties.
Mordin wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Would sooner die,” he shot back, which only encouraged the Captain— no, Major.
“I see age has done nothing for your obstinance,” Kirrahe said. “Perhaps we settle the matter over drinks, loser pays.”
Neither needed reminding of which argument they were returning to. One word, and it was as fresh in Mordin’s mind as the day it was had. The weary look on Rentola’s face as they continued was a clear sign they were not alone in their remembering.
What few hours Mordin had to waste were spent in Kirrahe’s company. Although, he was ashamed to say, he couldn’t remember who won, which certainly meant it was not him. Still clear, however, was the flash of Kirrahe’s eyes in the failing daylight. They invited curiosity. Questions Mordin had never forgotten, but buried beneath years of guilt.
Later, Eve would jest that perhaps their kinds were not so different, if the vehicles for how they expressed love played out so similarly. Albeit with fewer headbutts.
Mordin had no answer for her.
27th of Da’esh, 2765 GS. 2100 hours. It will be raining on Nasurn, Mordin thinks. It always does this time of year. When he closes his eyes, the patter of stone on the reinforced glass nearly passes for its chorus.
As he slips further into the distance, Shepard’s figure vanishes beneath a plume of rubble, and he is left with his memories. Nostalgia drowns his fears.
In the years after the Genophage Project ended, Mordin dove deep into the ancient wisdom of his people. He’d long thought there’d been no word for what Kirrahe is to him, at least not until the asari settled among the salarians. By the time he learned there was, their lives had passed one another by. Or so he thought.
Like the cycle of life itself, salarian lives turned in circles. It brought him to Shepard, to Tuchanka, to Maelon, and to Kirrahe.
Shadows pass over him as he draws nearer his destination. A nervous song plays upon his lips. He remembers how Kirrahe’s hand folded over his as he spoke the word back to him. Skin so green it stripped the colour from Sur’kesh’s leaves.
The door opens. Fire drinks the moisture from his skin. The wheel turns for him again.
#kirrahe#mass effect#mordin solus#salarian#mass effect fanfiction#character: kirrahe#character: mordin#pairing: kirrahe x mordin#pairing: romantic
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Shepard AMA Round 5!
I had the day off and couldn't play anything so writing it is! I'm also likely going to go through the past ones again in the near...ish.... future, since development has been kicking for a good year or so and I've gotten some things ironed out. In the meantime, though!
(As always, almost anything discussing Adrian as a character carries major CWs for discussions of suicidal thoughts/self destructive/harmful tendencies)
And as always, question list from the fantastic @spookyvalentine ! Have fun lol
1. What is Shepard’s favorite store on the citadel?
Less a single store, and more of a shopping area - there's a little plaza in Bachjret Ward that functions as an open market, with vendors constantly changing out. It's a great place to get specialty items - particularly ingredients and flowers, there's a long tradition of hobbyist gardeners who've specialized in growing niche plants on space stations, but you'll find a lot of... for lack of better phrasing, garage-sale type setups too. Adrian's father usually took her there to pick out a treat or otherwise just enjoy the crowds, when the Shepards wound up at the Citadel when she was a kid; and even during the events of the series she would stop by there to find something special for the crew.
2. What is the public’s opinion/awareness of Shepard?
Varied - actually kind of a low opinion through most of ME1 - there was a lot of speculation that the hunt against Saren was a coverup for something else, and the human getting promoted to Spectre just seemed. Weird and not everyone trusted it lol. Adrian actually damn near tanked her reputation after Virmire; if Sovreign hadn't shown up when it did, she'd probably be cemented as 'that weirdo who tried to proposition Counciler Tevos in front of everyone'. ME2 era sees a solid split in human opinions, due to her 'humanity isn't more important to me than any other species' stance; but she's become quite popular among quarian and krogan crowds; generally she's regarded as a solid hero; which carries strongly into & beyond 3.
3. Armax arsenal arena: do they participate? How do they like it?
She'd probably give it a few goes, and actually pick it up a lot more post-war, once she's out of the Alliance. Those instincts aren't going anywhere, after all, and it actually becomes kind of a way to face down some of the like. Trauma lol.
4. Shepard wakes up in an alternate universe. What tips them off?
Define the alternate universe xD ... actually, since I am writing that 'Shep & Thane get to live' AU - waking up at all, and that everyone else is seeing Thane would do it. (Or, sticking her in my other favorite video game... that she is on a world where there's giant terrifying beasts but they just want to be friends is. Weird. But she can gel with becoming a pokemon trainer.)
5. What kind of relationship does Shepard have with Javik?
Weird - but it becomes fairly friendly, and she's actually kind of grateful to have him around, because she's been spending the last couple years with a degree of thought patterns and instincts that are alien beyond anyone's comprehension, and it's so... just. Isolating. He's a little abbrasive for her taste otherwise, but she's dealt with worse and would still choose to hang out with Javik over a few others lol.
6. The first thing a person notices about Shepard’s appearance:
In ME1 - the scars. She works to downplay them, but she could never bring herself to seek reconstructive surgery/otherwise actually like... cover them. Post-Lazarus though... it's her eyes, probably. Very expressive, and they're that sort of deep, still brown that's a little striking at first. (Or a lot striking, if you're asking a certain drell-)
7. How approachable are they?
Adrian radiates some weird invisible 'Please Tell Me I'm Useful' aura that drags people in, no matter how much she tries to put up a prickly stance, and unfortunately it takes until like 2189 until she feels comfortable saying 'no'. (And to her friends... she's not really 'approachable', because most of the time /she's/ coming to /them/ first xD)
8. What is the difference between me1 and me3 Shepard? Do they notice, or does someone have to point it out?
ME1 Adian is nervous but collected, and very good at keeping her internal issues on the inside, where they belong, because of course she can't be a burden; she's a good soldier who will follow orders and do whatever she can for others; and it's not until her death that her crewmates realize... huh, she's happy to listen to our problems, however deep they run, but her answers, when they asked about her? Kind of... shallow.
ME3 Adrian is. Uh. CW for suicidal tendencies in the canon section.
Good end: Openly frightened but there's a lightness to her that's never been there before, and she no longer speaks about the future like she's not going to be there; she's prioritizing her goals and what she feels needs to be done, regardless of damage to her, the Alliance, or the Council's reputations.
Canon: A determined, selfless hero who will see things through to the end, and if she somehow survives... it won't be for long because she is goddamn /done/ with existing.
9. Did/does Shepard have any alien biases?
She's got a soft spot for the krogan, quarians and geth; and has a lot of thoughts about the way first contact with the drell was handled, and this was /before/ meeting Thane.
10. How do they handle a teammate being badly injured during a mission?
Extremely well, all things considered - her intial training and official designation /did/ partially center around being a field medic, after all, so she kind of slips into that detached headspace of assessment and appropriate follow-up that keeps any anxiety at bay for a while; and usually by the time it hits, they afflicted teammate is at least stable enough that she can work through it well. (Garrus' being hit on Omega was probably the closest she got to totally cracking on the job, as it were.)
11. Who is in their inner circle?
Ashley, Wrex, EDI, Joker, Miranda and, of course, Thane, wind up the closest to her in the end. (She was also quite close to Kaiden and Mordin, before their deaths; and she's not necessarily on bad terms with any of the other crewmates - but with the likes of like, Tali, Jack, Grunt and Garrus? They're all more like... she had to be strong for them, there's more of a mentor-ish vibe there where she maintained a certain... veneer of having it together, and the others fall into good friend, great to hang out with, but not quite the same level of 'I am willing to let you see me hurt and crying' closeness).
12. What does Udina think of them?
He'd Rather Not, Thank You. (I.e: He had very high hopes but oh dear god, Shepard is. Such a mockery of his hopes for the first human Spectre, and his only solace is that she manages to piss off the Council about as much as she crosses him.)
13. What does Shepard think of Saren?
She's... honestly not sure. Annoyed with him at first, but after realizing he was indoctrinated for quite some time, and doing some research... in the end? She just feels sorry for him, and wishes there was something else that could have been done.
14. Is Shepard’s first death publicized? (Since in game seems both people know about it and the alliance covered it up)
To a degree - there were theories that she was in some deep-cover operation, but the Alliance did officially declare her MIA/PKIA about a year after the Collector attack, and there was a memorial service.
15. Did they have any relationships pre-me1? Still around?
Not really - Adrian's always been a little weird on the relationship front; there's a lot of sorting out of 'am I actually on the aromantic range or am I just terrified of being in love as a soldier because I've spent my entire life seeing how much hurt that tends to result in' (the answer is six of one, half a dozen of the other) that never gets done, so she mostly wound up with a few things that never got past a third date during her time in college; and it declined even further after Akuze. (And considering her partners were all Alliance, up til Thane... most of them aren't around any more, but there is another XO out there who is absolutely flabbergasted to see that tech nerd she slept with that one time suddenly all over the news...)
16. What additions did Cerberus give Shepard?
I play it as pretty mild, all things considered. Most of her organs are, to some extent, synthetic/artificially enhanced, a lot of reinforcements to her muscle and bones that have left her pretty durable. The biggest differences are that she got her left ear back, and to steal from some other HCs - the cybernetics mean her eyes kind of glow in the dark now - results in enhanced night vision, and delightful terror to unsuspecting crewmates!
17. Have they done any interviews? How did the first one go? And the most recent?
The first interview she ever did was actually when she was a kid, and attending a biotics camp that had just accepted its first wave of human students, which consisted of Adrian and exactly one other kid - most human biotics were headed to BAaT, but Adrian's parents leaned towards 'you know we'll go with the people who've had like. Centuries. To figure this out' mindset. It went pretty well, and definitely set a tone for her future lol, since she was spending a lot of time around aliens and had a pretty positive opinion of the whole thing.
Her most recent interview would probably be just after the Reaper War, and consists of 'I Am Retired Please Leave Me The Fuck Alone.'
18. What do they think of the alliance?
It's been her entire life. Every home, most of her friends, her schooling, her career... all of it was steeped in the Alliance. It wasn't perfect - and there was a lot she wanted to change, but if she was a good enough soldier? Maybe she could make some changes, one day? By the time she realized no, no one soldier (however good) could make a real change to the entire system... well, Sunk Cost Fallacy is a bitch, she genuinely wasn't sure how she could function outside of Alliance structure. Post-Akuze left her extremely disillusioned - that no, they really did value image over integrity. She should have faced some punishment for her actions... and instead, she gets lauded as a hero and a survivor, an example of what humanity can endure, and she would basically lose her entire life if she ever spoke up otherwise... and like a good Alliance soldier, she was too scared of that unknown, so she played along and kept up the good looks.
19. What are they like, when in a bad mood? How obvious is it?
She gets a little more terse and withdrawn, and her usual way of dealing with it is... pretty much dissociation, honestly. She can't snap because it'll be Bad For Image, or because the situation doesn't actually /warrant/ anger, or getting angry won't do anything to help... so. Yeah. Adrian gets angry and swallows it down and just kind of goes blank until her nerves are calmer. Completely healthy coping mechanisms.
20. Does Shepard’s armor hold any significance to them? What about a weapon?
Eh... armor, not really; she often swapped it out. Weapons were also generally regarded as tools, kept well-maintained but without much attachment... until she got the Widow xD She fucking /loved/ that thing - it's big, it's sturdy, it can punch through damn near anything, it's beautiful.
21. What was Shepard like before the alliance?
There was no pre-Alliance Shepard, really... but before active service, she was sligtly less anxiety-riddled and a little more hopeful? Not by /much/ though, tbh, she's just always been kind of tinged with sadness and fear.
22. What was the post-lazarus reunion between shepard and joker like?
Damp.
There were a lot of tears - mostly on Adrian's part, because she had died only half-sure she actually got Joker out, so seeing he was alive... that was. A lot to process. Joker, meanwhile - like he knew this was coming, but hearing 'hey yeah we've got Shepard's frozen scorched corpse and we're gonna bring her back' and seeing her there were worlds apart.
23. Ever had a broken heart?
Losing Kaiden counts in some respect - even if she wasn't sure if she did want to pursue something, there was /something/ blossoming there... and then, there wasn't. (She also very much suffers one in canon!ME3, losing Thane definitely breaks her in a way that never mends. And in my tweaked canon/They Live version... she gets a very intense familial heartbreak (: )
24. Are they funny?
Moderately, and it works best when she's not trying to be funny.
25. Have they made pursuits into further education? Any degrees?
Went to military college and got a degree in computer science (main focus was decryption and disruption), also took a few medical courses to supplement her combat medic goals. Post-wartime, she pursues education in literature and marine biology.
26. Does Shepard have a Twitter account
Adrian has a few social media accounts, and nearly all of them are just there to grab it before someone can try to fake them, there's very little activity beyond Official Needs. (She is (anonymously) active on... for lack of better phrasing, space Tumblr, though. No text posts though, she is strictly there to post & share photography).
27. The last time they were rude to someone:
Honestly, Adrian stays pretty polite? The only people she's really told to fuck off, in as many words, were The Illusive Man and Udina lol.
28. Does Shepard have any family?
A fair bit! Both her mother and father are alive up through & beyond the events of ME3 - Hannah remains in the Alliance throughout, while her father leaves the Alliance in the years between Adrian's first death and resurrection, instead operating at low income clinics on the Citadel (and a volunteer medic during the Battle of London). Hannah's side also sees an aunt, two uncles, and grandparents; while Adrian Sr. was a foster kid who bounced between homes most of his life, and wasn't formally adopted - but he keeps in contact with the women who cared for him in those last couple years before he signed on with the Alliance, and Adrian did meet them a couple times. That said, most of Adrian's life was spent beyond the Charon relay, and she never actually visited Earth in person until she was a teenager; her relationship with her extended family was pretty distant and limited.
29. Does the alliance use their image for propaganda/recruitment? Did they agree to/want it?
For a while, after her death - Adrian expressly denied permission while she was alive, but Hannah okayed digital reconstructions after Adrian's death - and oh god yeah the Alliance regretted the /shit/ out of it. 1: They were creepy as hell. 2: The public backlash was /intense/ - not just from civilians either; Ashley and Joker both sent in some very strong letters.
30. A moment that almost made Shepard quit:
As bad as a lot of them were? None of them actually made her want to quit, really. After all, what else would she have, without the Alliance?
31. Ask Dr. Chakwas: what kind of patient is Shepard?
A... consistent patient. Frequently in, because she's always doing something she shouldn't, but she's very tractable. Sits still, doesn't flinch or jump, gets a gold star and lollipop every time sort.
32. Is Shepard the type to give speeches?
A little - she doesn't exactly /mean/ to, but also she has consumed far too much poetry so it leaks into her pep talks xD
33. What does the council think of their first human spectre?
They'd Rather Not, Thank You. (Okay, actually, they're pretty impressed by the end of things, and they did at least appreciate that she took the charge of protecting the galaxy to heart - even among prior spectres, there was often a bias towards their own species, but Adrian really did exemplify that notion of protecting /everyone/ equally.)
34. What was Jack’s first impression of shepard? And now?
"Oh dear god this fucking prissy bitch is going to be the death of me I am not falling into any uniform or behaviour requirements' lol. Definitely softens, especially since Adrian does really listen to her and doesn't like... try to /fix/ shit, she just listens and /will/ help but doesn't force it. (She also does kinda appreciate the fact that, Adrian is a nerd... but she's a nerd who knows and appreciates poetry so maybe that's something she can share with someone else?) In the end? Considers Adrian a very annoying but beloved older sibling.
35. How was that mako joyride from ilos to the citadel?
White-knuckled terror for Adrian and Garrus. Best goddamn day of Tali's life cause she was at the wheel for it.
36. What was going through Shepard’s head, when they met Sovereign on Virmire?
A Lot. A weird relief, because shit started falling into place. Existential terror of Lovecraftian proportions. And an undeniable flicker of curiosity and awe, because holy shit /sapient robot cuttlefish-/
37. What is their favorite way to eat potatoes
Mashed with a lot of butter, garlic, salt and pepper; though she won't say no to a good jacket potato.
38. Lucky, or unlucky?
It's all in how you look at things - many would say Adrian's lucky to have survived so much, after all. Adrian would... Respectfully Disagree and leave it at that. (She does count herself lucky for her friends, though.)
39. What would Shepard say their flaws are?
That she is, at heart, a coward. She abandoned her squad on Akuze, and then was too afraid to speak out when the Alliance fudged things to save face; too afraid to leave the Alliance even once she started to hate it. She's bad at enforcing boundaries, and fears rejection enough that she'd rather make herself horribly uncomfortable than just say 'no' and have to deal with someone's disapproval.
40. What’s their pain tolerance like?
Horrifyingly high, and this was pre-Lazarus. See 'will endure physical discomfort over rejection' above; Adrian just... kind of accidentally internalized a 'suck it up and deal' approach; to the point she tends to miss some mild injuries, and managed to stay conscious and moving despite thresher maw acid getting into her hardsuit and eating at her. Only increases post-Lazarus, she winds up... /mostly/ accidentally hurting herself a few times during the worst of it.
41. Shepard’s been turned into an animal! What are they?
If she had a choice in the matter - Greenland shark or giant isopod. Going by general vibes though... Ross Seal. Look at em.
youtube
Shep go -laser sounds-
42. Does Shepard imagine what retirement will be like?
In true canon? No. Adrian never does quite reconcile a life outside the Alliance, and fully expects - and after a while, /hopes/ - she'll just die relatively young in battle and not have to face the horrible gaping void that is the future.
Tweaked canon? Not until most of the way through ME2 - the above still stands, but in the tweaked canon... she started spending time with Thane simply because he was also Doomed By The Narrative, and in this situation, had just... not pursued treatment for his condition, so there was a very grim but kind of pleasant mutual understanding of Things. But he's also on a ship with like some of the best medics in the galaxy and a lady who knows how to fix up organs, and saving Kolyat spurs him to see if anything can be done, or if it is too late. And /that/ leads to... not quite a fight, but a Strong Discussion that finally truly cracks through Adrian's whole... wall of Hell that everyone else has already started to wear down, that she finally allows herself to think, well, what if there /is/ a future for her?
It's pants-shittingly terrifying and she hates it, because now everything is /so much scarrier and more fragile/, not to mention she still has no idea what it could actually /involve/, and even up through ME3's events, all she can really think of for if she survives (and gods help her, for the first time in her life, she's hoping she will)?
She'd like a home of some sort, with Thane. She'd like to learn how to cook. Anything else is still... too much. Too scary. But a home on solid ground and a new, useful skill. She can imagine those.
43. What would they rather: wake up four years into the past, or four years into the future? Why?
Tough call - assuming like, end of ME3? Adrian's... really not sure. She's done the timeskip into the future thing, and things did ultimately work out... and she's a little afraid, if she woke up in the past as she is 'now'? She might not be able to pull everything off a second time. So, future it is.
44. Does collateral damage matter to Shepard?
To an extent - she doesn't like causing more damage than is necessary, but also if it's inanimate object vs someone getting hurt, welp, sucks to be an object.
45. Do they vote?
Oh absolutely.
46. Favorite bar/club in the galaxy and why:
Afterlife. The irony of having to go there immediately after coming back from being dead was kind of great, and the music is exactly her sort of jam - seriously, when she's scanning planets or building a ship she just has it on a loop. Idk she just vibes with it.
47. Do they let others take care of them?
Yeah she takes 'physician, heal thyself' a little too seriously and for... pretty much her entire life past 18, the only thing resembling care she'd really accept from others without (much) protest or immediately trying to do something in return was food, and that's because she could never get the hang of cooking even instant noodles.
48. How does Shepard feel about paperwork?
Necessary, often annoying, but also it gets her out of her brain so that's why she's buried in it through ME2.
49. What do they wear to sleep?
Varies a little by temperature, but I imagine biotics tend to run hot so she's usually just in boxers. Maybe a tank top if it's chilly.
50. What was the last thing (non-email) shepard read? Book, play, poem, essay etc
She's usually jumping between a couple books at one time! Through ME1 she's working through a collection of poetry from multiple species, the Cthulu mythos, and some middle-grade Spectre adventure books Joker sent her as a congratulations present (she actually rather enjoys them). ME2 is a lot of news, Revelation & Ascenion, and she dives /deep/ into hanar and drell poetry for. Reasons. Lockdown sees her pick up a subscription to a sci-fi/fantasy anthology and a couple knitting how-tos; and ME3 time leaves... very little time for reading. Most of what she goes through is the same prayer book Thane has.
(She also has a couple books on gardening and cooking. Just in case.)
(+1 would you bang your shepard? Lol jk we all know the answer to that. Share your favorite fact about them!)
In the Good End AU, Adrian and Thane wind up settling on, of all places, Akuze. It's a pleasant climate for him, and despite the memories... Adrian does find it lovely. And more importantly... it's like Omega but. Less. No one wants to lay serious claim to it because, Death Worms, so it's become prime real estate for dangerous sorts who are extremely tired and want to be left the fuck alone to exist in relative peace, they're too damn old and creaky for power plays any more.
The existing community is headed by an ancient krogan whose clan used to revere and work with thresher maws, she took her granddaughter there to pass on the old ways, and she's the one who has ultimate approval over who's in and who can try setting up somewhere else. Roz is a grouchy old bitch who doesn't keep up with the news, and even if she did, one human-drell couple looks the same as another as far as she's concerned, so what's it matter that she's just helped one settle up nearby? Get the fuck outta her town and leave her people alone or she'll get the shotgun.
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mass effect replay thoughts, episode 11
episode 1 / episode 2 / episode 3 / episode 4 / episode 5 / episode 6 / episode 7 / episode 8 / episode 9 / episode 10
haven't updated these in a while! we're almost at the end of mass effect 3 now lmao. thoughts on mass effect 2 for the meantime?
we killed mordin solus in cold blood; did the math and everything--i enjoy padok wiks' company a LOT more. christ, he's weird. i like him
i'm never fucking playing arrival again, i swear on wrex's bollocks. a tiny room and five pyros??? NO THANK YOU
speaking of, if grandpa hackett doesn't stop calling me on my damn bananaphone the minute i enter a system where he's committed another war crime....... THIS PHONE IS FOR BANANERGENCIES ONLY
during every playthrough of me2 i successfully repress the memory of that damn reaper skeleton. it punches me in the face every time
the amount of times during me2 that chat was like "oh yeah that's an old bug," including for bugs i'd not encountered on my own before???????
now what about mass effect 3?
meeting anderson again: I HEAR YOU'RE AN ADMIRAL NOW, FATHER! GOOD FOR YOU!
that lil pat of shep's tummy after months under house arrest. father pls (i love their dynamic so much)
as always, we're fetching garrus first, as is proper and correct. we're not romancing him in this one, and i love how so few of their lines actually change. they're not together, but they adore and rely on each other. there's no shepard without vakarian, ain't ever gonna change
you know whom i do not adore? kai leng. god, i hate that railroady flippy bitch
he's not scary, he's not even interesting, he's just a plot device. BORING
which reminds me (sob): shep's fully ready to jump thane's bones in the atrium of a hospital. down, girl
speaking of: we're in love with traynor now, she's delightful. we played sweaty chess
speaking of speaking of: every stream we have a ten-minute section where we talk about how literally everything about mass effect would be better if everyone was queer
yesterday we played omega dlc and my GOD. the belligerent sexual tension, cut it with a knife. bioware are cowards for not just letting aria and nyreen fuck nasty on the floor of any of the dozen elevators we were on. shep can watch, she'd like it
(if you also like it, listen to "temper temper" by black pistol fire)
the section with the adjutants prowling around in the dark is my favourite thing in the world, it's so well done
"ask the ghosts if honour matters" is a raw af line
i can't believe that mr vega asks if we can adopt that husk head and then it ends up in my cabin anyway
also can't believe how married messers vega and cortez are I LOVE THEM SO MUCH YOUR HONOUR
steeb :'((
i've been having a rough time and i think a hug from jimmy vega would fix me. just compress me, bro
LEGIOOOOON :'((((
oh my god when grunt does the thing and you think he's gone and then he comes stumbling out of the cave and collapses
love how shep is like A LIL HELP HERE and garrus comes swaggering up leisurely to collect his krogan son (we're not dating but we're definitely co-parenting)
ADAMS IS SO HAPPY HIS ENGINEER DAUGHTER TALI IS BACK
i love tali's character arc
WE CURED THE GENOPHAGE BITCHES
dalatrass can go and sulk for all eternity, don't give a shit. wrex did the right thing
oh lookie here, ashley magically isn't racist anymore! hate how there's no discussion of that in the game. the writers just quietly retconned that shit when it could've been a genuine example of growth--something the other members of the og crew all got lmao.
fuck cerberus
FUCK CERBERUS
can't wait to blow up all the reapers
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First off, I'm ashamed to admit I was too startled when I got the flirt option to actually click it, lol! I kicked myself immediately because I really wanted to know what they'd both say! And then, d'oh, of course, I remembered that Youtube exists and went looking for this!
I'm actually surprised at his response, I thought he'd laugh his head off at Sara or something but daaaaaang, Drack, what was that octave drop when he said "property damage?" 👀🤔😂
I love Drack, I just didn't expect to get the option to, you know, loooooove Drack, lol! 😂
I'm staying strong for Jaal, though, and YAY, we finally got a hug and he invited me to meet his mother, so PROGRESS. It's almost romancing time!
Jaal's ready to get his flirt on, yep. *nodnods* 😂
I'm nearly 90 hours in now and have done almost all of the side-quests so far. The hardest ones are the ones without any waypoints or indicators to let you know where to find a series of data pads or whatever. But I've decided to try to get all of them since I'm this close! Here's the benefit of doing lots of side-quests:
All my current worlds hit 100% pretty quickly, yay! My plan has been to established forward stations as soon as I move into a new area (since the weather or conditions are inevitably trying to kill you, so having a forward station to retreat to is very helpful) and to get the Remnant vaults working as soon as I can. *points to the part where the planet is inevitably trying to kill you* Then I work on the missions, tasks and quests without worrying that I'm going to freeze, burn or be fried by radiation. 😱😎👍
I've made good time on things, I think. Mainly because of my "prioritizing forward stations and vaults" strategy and just that I've gotten better at driving the NOMAD (I only had Cora scream, "RYDER, LOOK OUT!" one time -- and, to be fair, I was accidentally driving us off a cliff to our deaths on the asteroid with low gravity but hey, it was just ONE TIME *proud* 🤣😎👍). I've found a good load-out for my gear that suits my style as well: a Kett nightstick-looking thing for my melee weapon and a Widow sniper rifle and Hesh shotgun to give me power at both distance and up-close.
Vetra is my ride-or-die, I always bring her no matter what the mission, and Drack is excellent when you need a heavy hitter (don't fight one of those frigging ginormous Architects without your one-Krogan army!). I've got everybody as upgraded as possible so Cora is great at reviving everybody's shields, which has proved really helpful. And then I bring Jaal if I don't need heavy hitting or shield regenerating because, honestly, I think he gets a bit of cabin fever being left on the Tempest too long, lol! I love how he complains that he hates Kadara but if you keep finding him there and talking to him, Sara eventually will ask why he doesn't just stay on the ship and he pauses before saying that he's afraid he'll miss out on something. I love that he first appears to be this hulking alien warrior dude and then you start realizing he's actually very insecure about a lot of things. It's refreshing, honestly. 😍
Of course, now that I see Drack as a love interest option, I may have to change my playthrough plan...
*gigglesnort* Okay, so I know that he's not a romance option, but I do think it's way too much fun to get the option to flirt with him!
I really embarrassed myself in that barfight, BTW. I'd let Sara egg that dude on but I wasn't expecting a DODGE prompt to pop up and didn't have my hand on the controller so Sara got totally sucker punched. 😱 I reloaded a save point and redid that section because I couldn't let Drack down like that. You could tell he was so disappointed in me! 😐😉
Annnd that's my Mass Effect: Andromeda update of updateyness for today! 💃😁👍
#mass effect: andromeda#mass effect andromeda#nakmor drack#sara ryder#jaal ama darav#sara ryder x jaal ama darav#this is my game tag#mass effect andromeda update of updateyness#video game#ageless aislynn
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The Art of Deception (Mass Effect Fanfic, AU)
Synopsis: What if Liselle had outsmarted her attackers? What if she had better security, and had gotten some help?
Because if Jack canonically almost killed both Brooks and Leng, then Aria T’loaks daughter sure as hell can at least hold him off! Plus we all know Aria would always keep a trusted guard near her daughter.
Frankly, Liselle was not as powerful of a biotic as one might expect from the daughter of Aria T’loak. While she was not a weak biotic per se, Liselle did not turn out to be quite as naturally gifted as her mother was. She knew her mother had been disappointed to find that out, even if she wouldn’t admit that to Liselle’s face.
Contrary to popular belief, not all asari were powerful biotics. Overall, the asari were the most powerful biotic users as a whole. Few alien biotics could measure up to the skill level of a young asari commando. Most of those who could, were krogan, who had centuries to hone those powers. Still, not every asari had the potential to become an asari commando. While every asari naturally possessed biotic powers, every now and then, a young asari would be rejected from joining the commandos due to a lack of biotic talent.
Liselle perhaps would have been among those, had she not worked about ten times as hard as those asari attempting to get into the asari military probably did. Being the daughter of Aria, she was put on a strict training regimen. Despite of that, she could not call herself powerful. Capable, maybe. But certainly not where Aria would have expected a daughter of hers to be after over two centuries of training.
Her biotic instructor, Cylura, would reassure her that she was a late bloomer. That she was one of those rare kind of asari that would experience a sudden and drastic increase of biotic power when they hit their Matron stage. After all, she was Aria’s daughter. She would have to be biotically gifted.
The maiden hoped it would prove to be true, but she did not choose to rely on those odds. Perhaps she was not gifted like her mother in the use of biotics, but she inherited Aria’s intelligence and cunning nature without a doubt.
———
Aria did not like Paul. She hadn’t liked Nessita, Ikerish, or Naedir either. Liselle was certain that Aria was the kind of mother that would not think of any of her daughter’s partners as good enough. What did she expect? That she would remain without a mate for the rest of her life?
They’ve butted heads a lot over this. Especially since Aria could not find a whole lot on Paul’s background, despite her agents specialized for intel gathering being some of the best in the galaxy. Whoever this Grayson was; he was good. Aria respected that, but this man was close to her daughter and so she would keep digging and digging for every bit of information she could possibly find. She trusted no one. And certainly not when it came to her daughter. Even her daughter’s caretakers and instructors were being watched constantly, and were unaware that Liselle was Aria’s daughter.
Liselle agreed with Aria that she would remain cautious around Grayson. They’ve set up so many rules that anyone who wasn’t familiar with Omega’s nature would have thought of Aria as insane, but the maiden could understand her mother. While Liselle trusted Grayson, she was familiar with the way Omega worked. After all, she had grown up here. Matters could get complicated, and Liselle did not wish to see the results of it.
—-
The moment Liselle had the opportunity to set up secret surveillance tech in Grayson’s apartment, she’s taken the chance. Grayson wasn’t easily fooled; so she had to wait it out a bit. But she was certain that he hadn’t noted anything. If Liselle was one thing, it was subtle. She never acted on impulse. Each of her plans were meticulously constructed, and discussed with Aria herself beforehand. Humans tended to be exhausted after a mating meld, and Liselle had exploited that. She’d set up a prototype of a scanner, as well as carefully hidden bugs in his apartment, which Aria had ordered her to install so she could have her men analyze every word from Grayson and possibly use it for intel gathering. Hacking his omnitool wasn’t an option, so the only way they could spy on his calls was by bugging his place.
The scanning device, the Vilra, had been a prototype of an alert system created by one of Aria’s men - a brilliant salarian engineer. Even advanced omnitool scanners did not pick it up, hence, it had to be searched manually in the old fashioned way without the assistance of technology. It would only be a matter of time until software would be released on the black market to pick up nearby Vilra devices up via a scan, and be able to hack them, but for now, it was an extremely valuable piece of tech to own.
Liselle had planted it so that it was impossible to detect without a thorough search, and so that it could scan anyone who entered Grayson’s apartment. Anyone who got to the doorstep would have their morphological form scanned. In case it did not match the form of Liselle or Paul, a signal would be emitted to alert Aria, as well as Liselle herself. Wherever Liselle was, one of her mother’s Agents were always nearby. Of course, in theory, there was a chance that whoever entered wasn’t hostile, but Liselle knew Paul well. He hardly trusted anyone, but her, to allow them into his apartment. Aria believed the only time someone other than Liselle or Paul would enter were in the case that Grayson were to betray his asari lover. That, or, someone was after one of them, if not both of them.
——
As soon as the Cerberus team entered the apartment, a signal had been emitted to Liselle’s omnitool. Being the daughter of Aria, Liselle’s instincts were finely honed, and it was thereby no surprise how quickly she jumped out of bed. Her mother had prepared her for this type of scenario thousands of times. She’d even set up fake ambushes before, sending some of her men to break into her place, or come towards her, just to see how she would handle the situation.
Maybe Liselle was not quite the biotic Aria had hoped she’d be, but her teachers had praised her reflexes and combat tactics. Before she hit thirty, she could kill someone without even using a gun or biotics.
In an instant, she’d put on a belt; a tactical cloak disguised as a piece of asari lingerie. To distract the enemy, she used a method that she hoped Paul would recognize as being an act of deception. As he’d worked with her before, there was a chance he would recognize it as a trick pulled by Liselle.
Taking out her omnitool, she adjusted the pre-written code quickly, only for a hologram to storm out the bedroom. A hologram in the shape of the asari attempting to disguise herself with a cheap tactical cloak. Liselle assumed that if they could override Grayson’s security codes, they probably had the ability to detect poorly cloaked people.
Only, this wasn’t really Liselle. And Paul knew too well that Liselle owned better tech than that poor attempt of a disguise.
But the intruders? They fell for it. Shooting after the hologram, which was running into the living room, far away from Grayson. Luckily, this mistake already cost them a few tranquilizer rounds. Meanwhile, Liselle took the gun from the bedside table.
A few were still shooting towards Grayson, who was hiding behind cover. He wasn’t armed, and it would only be a matter of time until they’d figure that out. So Grayson opened his omnitool, typing in a command to play noises that would give the illusion of a new thermal clip being injected. Peaking out his head, he checked to see if they were hidden behind cover. As he saw that was the case, the former Cerberus operative hit a command to play the noise of a shot.
While half of the hostiles were shooting after a hologram in the living room, Liselle took the opportunity to sneak towards a woman cloaked, using a neural shock to stun her. Any other move would not have been silent enough. She caught her body gently, lying it down on the floor as quietly as possible.
Liselle was by far outnumbered, so she was not going to risk being detected while half of the enemies were distracted by attempting to find the hologram. If she’d fired a shot, they’d all come towards her. She had to take out a few men before she exposed herself.
She ambushed the brunette man shooting towards Grayson, stabbing him with her omniblade and covering his mouth so the kill would be silent.
Unfortunately, one of the other men had seen her. He was quickly brought down by Grayson, who’d snuck out of cover to knock out the red haired man in a quick ambush and remove his gun. Another human male, somewhat older looking than the rest, was about to shoot at Paul, but as the man did not have any shields, Liselle was able to keep him in a stasis field long enough to render him unable to move. By the time the stasis field had vanished, Paul had successfully removed the red haired man’s gun and taken out the older man.
That is, when Paul began to stumble, falling to his knees. A dart had been shot right into his side. The sound of the shot, or perhaps already the sound of the other man being knocked out cold, must have attracted the other hostiles’ attention.
Damnit. Now it was three to one. Liselle was outnumbered, but if she played her cards right, she’d have a shot. They weren’t armed with anything besides tranquilizer guns. They didn’t have armor, or even kinetic barriers.
“Get out of here, quick!”, a woman yelled. Liselle quickly took cover before the woman was able to hit her with a dart. While her first instinct was to protect Grayson, Liselle knew that would be a stupid move. And Liselle didn’t do stupid, as much as she loved Grayson. Her mother had taught her better.
They weren’t going to kill him. They intended to take him alive. If they had wanted to kill Paul, they would’ve done so already.
“Kill the stupid Asari whore!”, a man with shaggy dark hair yelled as Liselle’s bullet penetrated the forehead of the Cerberus woman. Two to one, now.
Apparently, though, Liselle was just a nuisance. So they were here for Grayson, only. That meant they’d try and kill her. She’d have to avoid being shot with a dart. If she lost consciousness, she’d be dead.
“Come out, and I’ll let Grayson live!”, one of the men— he had some Earth accent that must have been Australian- yelled, holding his omniblade to Grayson’s lifeless body.
Liselle’s biotic flared in anger, her pulse rising. That had to be a trick, right?
“Alright, alright. Fine!”, Liselle played along, slowly moving out of cover. Of course, she gathered as much biotic energy as she could, knowing they were attempting to deceive her.
But Liselle was smarter than that. She’s been in the mercenary business for centuries, and her mother had taught her many things. It was not easy to trick Liselle.
The moment the man drew back the omniblade, letting Grayson’s body slump to the floor, Liselle sent him crashing into the wall, the impact breaking his neck. But the last intruder- the one with the shaggy black hair- was stealthier than Liselle had given him credit for. Maybe that was part of his plan. Playing dumb so Liselle would underestimate him. At the cost of his colleagues lives.
She felt her vision blur in an instant. Liselle tried to fight the effects of the tranquilizer as much as she could, focusing on all of her anger towards those who dared to hurt Grayson to muster as much biotic strength as possible. She quickly changed her mind, however, knowing a single biotic attack would have her lose consciousness.
If this attack didn’t take this guy out, Liselle would be guaranteed dead. She could forget the option of running off and trying to keep him distracted long enough for any help to arrive, or for Grayson to wake up.
Liselle feigned unconsciousness, hoping the intruder would fall for it. Then, she could try to take him out as soon as he got close to her. Unlike her, he didn’t have a gun.
But as Liselle did so, she started to think this was taking a little too long. What was he doing? Was he making sure that she had passed out? Had he seen through Liselle’s plan?
Suddenly, Liselle heard a groan. She could barely see as she opened her eyes, but she could make out the shape of a female turian. One of Aria’s people.
The stabbing attack hadn’t done much but sent her staggering a bit. Having natural armor plating, turians were more resistant to injury than most other races.
—-
By the time Liselle woke up, she found herself in her mother’s private, most well guarded hospital. She glanced around the room to see if Paul was here, too, but there was no trace. Instead she met a pair of four eyes. Tvish, Aria’s most trusted doctor. Had this human man taken Paul? No. No. There was no way. Aria’s Agent surely took this assassin out before he could take Grayson. Being armed and armored, she was at heavy advantage.
“We’ve lost track of him”, Liselle heard a familiar voice speak faintly from outside the room over comms. Bray. “Nyreen was ambushed by a bunch of guys. Guards. Asshole must have bribed them to attack us. Nyreen managed to take all of them out, but this human assassin is gone.”
It took a moment before Aria responded. “My, my- I’ve got some cleaning to do in my organization. At least he couldn’t have gotten far. Not when he’s here on Omega. This bastard will get what he deserves.”
With a scowl, she turned to enter the medbay. Her eyes instantly softened as her gaze met Liselle’s. There was a warmth in Aria’s blue eyes that was reserved for no one but her daughter. It was such an unusual look for the queen it almost made her seem like a different person.
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A drabble about the first time they tried a beloved food!
Omega, Circa 2184 CE
The garish orange light the pervaded every part of the space station. Even the markets. It reminded her of some of the lower levels of Coruscant. The sort of levels where you where you were pretty sure the Turbo Dogs were made of skrat, and you were lucky to leave the area with nothing more than a shot or stab in the gut.
She almost felt homesick for it. Almost. the Milky Way was all still very, very, very alien to her. And she didn’t realize how good some things were until it’s gone.
But at the same time, giving up those things just to not having Palpatine breathing down her neck at any moment was a plus. And besides, the Milky Way wasn’t all that bad. At least their liquor was passable in some dive bar or another. She’d been a few whiskeys in to the point where things felt a little okay, when she and her partner decided it was time for grub.
“Here,” the words barely out of his mouth before the skewer was in her face.
It was freshly cooked at least, slight steam rising off of it. The droid on her shoulder chirped softly in curiosity. Needless to say he was having a good time, taking in well, everything.
“What is it?” Kar asked, taking the meat skewer from his hand.
“It's food.”
“Oh, yes, vor entye for the clarification mister Earth-Man.” She quipped. “I wouldn’t have known.”
Zaeed had grown used to her sarcastic retorts. Some things seemed to just be universal, no matter what galaxy you from. But under the disarming smile and sarcasm was a trained killer through and through. Her verbal jabs were definitely more preferable to the ones with her laser swords.
“It’s Omega, fuck if I know.” he grumbled, tilting his head towards the krogan running the stand. “Could be varren, could be one of the alley vorcha that had a sorry end. You never know with krogan.”
With krogan, anything was fair game. It was not beyond the scope of his imagination to find the scaly bastards grilling up humans if they could manage it. Omega had a lot of folks of all races stuck in the gutter, dying overlooked and alone. One being's misfortune is another's luck, he reckoned.
BD-Y chimed in, giving a few beeps. Zaeed couldn’t understand what the hell the little mech was saying, but that wasn’t anything new. His translator didn't seem to pick up Droid Binary well. Kar’s expression changed considerably before his eyes, and that was enough for him to get it probably wasn’t anything good.
“Nah, nah, Bee, thanks, but we’re good!” She said, a little rapidly, a bit of her natural accent slipping through. “I’d like to live in blissful ignorance, just this once..."
#Replies#miamisummer#writing;#drabble;#[It's not her favorite food per se but I wanted to get the old man brainrot out of my head and the idea came to me on the train lol]#[And it helped a little but it's still there]#r: clever girl;
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Writober 2023 8 - Toad
Summary: So... do krogan look like toads or turtles?
(this is stupid and set during ME1)
---
Nothing like surviving a shootout with krogan Battlemasters to make you really appreciate being alive.
Also, nothing like surviving a shootout with krogan Battlemasters to make absolutely everything fucking hurt.
“I see you broke another rib, Commander.”
“Sure feels like it, Doctor.”
At that moment, Alistair was out of armor and on one of the beds in the med bay. Above him, Chakwas was scanning him with her ever-so useful x-ray machine, checking to see if he had broken something.
Judging by the look on her face… looks like he had to add to his total.
“Once again, the compression caused a fracture.” Her tone was matter of fact as she put the scanner aside. “Actually, it caused three.”
Three at once? That had to be a record for him…
He would’ve smiled, but everything fucking hurt so he just lay there. “Joker’s going to be disappointed I’m pulling ahead in the broken rib leader board.”
It wasn’t exactly a big match – just himself and his pilot. Between the man’s brittle bone disease and his binder, it was neck and neck. Or should he say rib and rib? Whatever was the right term, he was pretty sure he was currently winning.
What did he win from it? Nothing but broken ribs and the pride he was a fucking mess.
“Commander, I once again have to recommend top surgery for you. You’ve broken your ribs far too many times.” She paused. “But I know your answer – you don’t have the down time needed to recover from the procedure.”
Alistair nodded, wincing. “That and the whole Saren Arterius teaming up with the Reapers to destroy the universe thing. It’s kind of putting a hitch in my plans.”
Not that he had been actively planning to get top surgery at that point. What with his Alliance duties, he didn’t really have the time needed to sit and let his chest heal. Now that he was facing the possible death of everyone he knew and cared about, he had even less time.
Also, he was kind of leading a ship now. Who didn’t love responsibility?
“Yes, I would think that may cause a problem.” Was that a quirk of a smile on Chakwas’ lips as she shook her head. “Please remove your shirt and binder and I can get started fixing your ribs.”
That made the man make a face almost jokingly as he struggled to sit up. “Come on, you know I only wear sports bras when I have the armor on, binders and active duty are a no-go.”
Besides, he was usually in armor for more than 8 hours, and binders kind of had a time limit.
At any rate, Alistair winced as he managed to peel off his shirt and the aforementioned sports bra. Topless, he lay back down, resisting the urge to glare at his chest as he did. Damn thing always caused him problems, even if he didn’t facture in the dysphoria.
“As always, stay still while it’s working and try not to jump up when they pop back into place.” Beside him, the good doctor was setting up the program. “It should take about an hour due to the fact one is cracked in two places.”
Two places – that was a multiplier. He was definitely ahead now.
Alistair nodded as he laid back, closing his eyes to block out the lights from the lab. Nobody would be coming in – he was the only idiot who got hurt on missions on a regular basis. So he had nothing to do but just listen to machines beep as they fixed his ribs.
At least until he heard someone settle in to his left.
“How many did you break this time?” Bo sounded almost amused as she ripped open her bag of chicken nuggets to replenish her energy after using her biotics. “Joker’s sulking in the cockpit because he thinks you beat him.”
He would’ve shrugged – but again, couldn’t move. “I got a double break multiplier, so… add 6 to my total.”
His adoptive sister let out a low whistle before she commenced the KT carnage on her dinosaur shaped nuggets. “You’re ahead by 3. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t’ throw himself against the wall to catch up.”
Nah – Joker hated getting his ribs fixed almost as much as Alistair did. Neither of them were exactly looking for intentional breaks. This was more a tally of their bad luck and bad genetics than self-harm.
At least it was for him. He couldn’t speak for Joker, but he was pretty sure he knew the man well enough to figure they were on the same page.
“I’m still amazed you didn’t break more after that guy slammed you into the wall.” Bo was still munching. “You bounced like a superball.”
Alistair winced at the memory – the battlemaster had tossed him like a rag doll. “That makes two of us. I got off lucky with just three ribs.”
“Next time, just dodge the nice toad with the assault rifle.”
Bo’s voice was flat there. She was starting an old argument between them, one that would probably never have much of a conclusion. They were entrenched in their sides to say the least in what was probably the dumbest argument they both refused to let go.
“They don’t look anything like toads.” Alistair shook his head. “Besides, they can tuck into their humps. They’re more like turtles.”
That made his sister snort, as it often did. “Turtles don’t pack heat.”
“Toads aren’t exactly packing biotics either, Bo.”
Another snort. “They might on Tuchanka.”
Yeah, he was pretty sure there were no biotic toads on Tuchanka, partially because he was pretty sure they only existed on Earth and Earth-created settlements. He’d never seen a toad anywhere else – weird alien frogs sure, but not toads.
“When you see an alien toad, you let me know.” He rolled his eyes as he winced. The familiar popping had begun, letting him know that soon he would be shifting into the healing process after the reconstruction.
This was his least favorite part – it made his bones itchy.
“We don’t because they evolved into krogan. Tuchanka made them develop biotics and killer trigger fingers.” Bo sounded so sincere and serious in her spurious assessment of the krogan evolutionary process that he almost believed it for a second.
He would’ve said more, but a heavy footstep entered the room.
“Shepard, the turian said you would be in here.” Wrex sounded impatient. “How long are you going to lie there?”
Thank the Lord he hadn’t showed up earlier…
At the same time, Alistair blushed at the thought the krogan was seeing him without his shirt on. He doubted Wrex cared – no gender in his species had breasts after all – but it was still embarrassing to be caught with his shirt off.
“He’s got three ribs to heal, Wrex.” Bo was digging into her bag of nuggets. “The big guy bounced him against a wall.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t shatter your bones.” Wrex didn’t sound impressed. “When does this finish?”
Oh… judging by how itchy his ribs were… probably about 15 minutes.
At least he managed to open an eye. Just like he thought, Wrex wasn’t impressed at the sight of the Normandy’s commanding officer flat on his ass in the med bay. At least he wasn’t staring – though that might be due to species difference.
“We’re halfway through. I can’t move until then.” He winced as his rib popped into place. “Did you have a chance to check the armor we brought back?”
Might as well have the meeting here… with his tits out… life or death required sacrifices sometimes.
At least that seemed to satisfy the krogan. “He was from a small clan, one of their few Battlemasters. Now that he’s a smear on the wall, they’ll fold.”
He nodded to Bo. “The headbutt wasn’t bad, Shepard.”
Bo beamed as she finished off her nuggets. “Just needs a bit more work and I’ll be knocking you guys on your asses in no time.”
Right, that was just what they needed – a krogan in human form. He would’ve groaned, but that would have just hurt his healing ribs. Instead, Alistair just mentally sighed and hoped she didn’t break her neck.
Maybe he would order her a stronger helmet or neck protection… she didn’t have a krogan’s hump after all.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” There was a hint of challenge there – Wrex probably wanted to face off with her. If he didn’t know his sister was a lesbian, he would’ve wondered if there was something other than battle love between them.
Thank the Lord – he wouldn’t want to walk in on that.
“Also, what’s a toad?”
Oh, fuck.
Alistair felt his face color as he realized he perhaps hadn’t gotten as lucky as he thought with their conversation. He would’ve apologized immediately, but a large pop caused him to yelp with pain. He saw stars for a moment – healing took no prisoners.
“It’s a type of…” Bo turned to him. “Is a toad a frog, or is it its own thing?”
Through his teeth, he managed to grumble. “Sub-class of frog. One on land, one on water.”
He had needed to look that up two years prior for this very argument, so it came to him easily. He would’ve said more, but… oww.
“Is it vicious?” Wrex sounded interested. “Some of you humans keep calling me a toad when they think I can’t hear them. I might as well know what it is before I start cracking skulls.”
Fuck, he was going to need to talk to the crew if it was happening on the Normandy… but that would come after he was able to put his shirt on.
“You can get high if you lick some of them.” Bo had looked that up too. “Some get big as fuck too, I saw one the size of a dog once on deployment.”
Wrex snorted. “You humans compare everything to those ‘dog’ things.”
True – there was even a TV show about it that was popular on the Citadel. Alistair didn’t exactly watch it – he had the unfair advantage of knowing what a dog was after all – but he had watched in when he had worked at the nursing home in his late teens.
“We got a lot of them, what can I say.” Bo snickered. “And if Al was up to it, he’d probably be telling you he’ll talk to the crew so you don’t have to break any skulls.”
“But that’s the best part.” Wrex almost sounded disappointed. “Can’t we space him and make you the CO?”
Gee, didn’t he feel the love… then again, Bo and Wrex got along well with such a short amount of time. Maybe it was only natural that he would prefer his favorite Shepard to get the top position on the Normandy.
“Fuck no, I don’t want the responsibility or the paperwork.”
In the end, that was what it had come down to – Bo balking at the amount of paperwork she would have to do. Well, that and Anderson recommending him. He would’ve taken the responsibility either way, but still.
“Yeah, I guess he’s got his purpose.” Wrex looked bored as he stood. “Once you can sit up, we have more to discuss, Shepard.”
Alistair resisted the urge to nod as he felt the program reach its final course. “I’ll see you soon, Wrex.”
And then the krogan was gone, leaving him with itchy ribs and a clearly pleased sister. She was unbearable smug in that moment as she leaned over, arm on her knee and her head in her chin like she had just won an award.
“See? I’m not alone with the toad thing.”
He had to resist the urge to groan. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re a sore loser.”
No, he was just sore thank you very much. At least once he was healed he could put his shirt back on and ignore this argument ever existed. It be back to work chasing Saren and the geth in the hopes of saving the galaxy, krogan included.
…
And if you asked him, they were all insane. Krogans clearly looked more like turtles or tortoises. His crew was fucking blind. Maybe he should ask Chakwas to administer vision tests…
#writober 2023#ramblinganthropologist's writing#Alistair Shepard#Bo Peep Shepard#Wrex heard the entire argument he just doesn't care
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Me: *totally fine with no relationship with my father*
Drack: *exists*
Me:
#Mass Effect#masseffect#mass effect 2#mass effect 3#mass effect andromeda#almost any krogan for that matter#I have an odd paternal connection with them#not grunt tho#hes my kid not the other way around#drack#nakmor drack#Urdnot Grunt#Urdnot Wrex#daddyissues#adopted#the fact im actually adopted#this has been in my drafts for months#loki odinson#gif#Commander Shepard#Garrus Vakarian#liara t'soni
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WIP - Ruthless Remainders
Summary: Post-war fic in which a surviving Renegade Shepard and Garrus finally have time to deal with the consequences of all that ruthless calculus.
CHAPTER ONE: TUCHANKA
Commander Shepard shouldn't be on Tuchanka. If any krogan within travel range found out where she was, they might come after her. Garrus tightened his grip on his gun and scanned the horizon carefully. She should've brought a bigger guard, at least.
Technically, he hadn't even convinced her to bring him. Back at their apartment on the Citadel, he'd noticed where she'd ordered private transport to and promptly asked her if she had a desire to die again. Her mouth had set into that thin, resolute line that let him know she would broker no counter arguments. To her, his view on this matter was simply irrelevant.
So, instead, when her ride arrived, he'd wordlessly followed her onboard. She hadn't told him it was okay, but she hadn't kicked him off either. You had to take the wins where you could.
Watching her sitting in Tuchanka's red dirt, he understood why she had wanted to be here alone. He still remembered the conversation they'd had on board the Normandy, during the height of the war, and the way her face had looked when she'd realized he'd figured out what she'd done. Her jaw had tensed, but her eyes had never changed. They'd stared unflinchingly into his, and his initial reproaches had died on his tongue. He'd almost said, "How could you?" But instead he'd said, "Damn war."
Garrus Vakarian didn't kid himself when it came to his proficiency in ruthless calculus. If he hadn't been able to make the tough decisions, he'd never have been put in a position to do so. The Turian Hierarchy was a meritocracy. No one was given a job they weren't fit to perform. But Shepard could put a turian to shame with her composure.
That's why it came as a shock to him when, covered in the dust their footsteps had stirred up in the vacant clearing, Shepard began to silently sob.
Garrus was at a loss. If they’d been a normal couple, he’d know how to comfort her. But they’d never been normal, had they? Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay, but the other part of him—the part that recognized that she’d never truly confided in him, that’d he’d never seen her cry before—held him back. Empty platitudes were the last thing she’d need or want.
“Why are we here, Shepard?” he finally asked.
“You know why.”
He sighed and sat down next to her. “I know what happened, more or less. My question is, why now?”
It had been several months since the fact that the genophage wasn’t cured had become common knowledge. The Salarian Union had declared it an accident, but rumors still circulated. Most of the galaxy was hesitant to speak badly of Commander Shepard, but among the krogans, and especially among Clan Urdnot, the rumors were particularly potent. Grunt had been ostracized from the clan for continuing to support her.
He knew she’d been safe from any real fallout, even if the truth could be uncovered. You don’t arrest the hero who destroyed the Reapers. But sometimes he worried about her legacy. Their children, their children’s children… when the threat of the war floated far away in the stream of time, would she still be remembered as a hero? Or as something else?
Garrus was so lost in his thoughts of the future that he was jarred when Shepard answered his question. “I learned something. About Wrex. About before I killed him.”
“Okay,” he said. A shiver of anticipation ran through him. “What’d you learn?”
“That he’d gotten Eve pregnant. Almost right away. And that she had a miscarriage.”
There was a pause, but Garrus didn’t know how to fill it.
“I think…” Shepard continued. “I think that’s how he figured out what I did, why he went looking for more proof. It could have been written off as a coincidence, but… I dunno, maybe he just… felt it.”
“Damn. Shepard, I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Her interruption was instant. “I’m not the victim here.”
“Okay.” He held his hands up in appeasement. “I won’t say it.”
“If he’d just waited… if he hadn’t demanded action in the middle of a war, when I had too many other lives to consider… I’d have helped him gladly. We could’ve done it the right way, proven that the krogan weren’t a threat…”
“Maybe it could still happen.”
“It can’t.” There was a distinct note of finality in her voice. “It had to be Mordin.”
“Yeah. It kinda had to be, didn’t it?”
Shepard nodded. Garrus looked at the bleak horizon again. Tuchanka was hot even at night, and he could see the planet’s star, Aralakh, starting to rise. Turians weren’t really bothered by excess warmth, but humans were.
“Shepard, let’s go home,” he suggested.
“Yeah.” She stood up quickly. Her scarred face showed no more signs of distress. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
#mass effect#shakarian#renegade shakarian#garrus vakarian#renegade shepard#jane shepard#commander shepard#fanfiction#mass effect fanfiction#wip#ruthless remainders: a mass effect fanfiction#mass effect is at it's best when it's a tragedy tbh#and yes shepard's interruption of garrus is a renegade interrupt#obviously
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Love confessions prompt for whomever you think it fits best! “I want to wake up next to you. Every morning.”
It's a fluff double feature! Here's some Shawn and Leigh for ya!
Also on AO3
The first time Shawn had ever woken up, it had been cold.
He'd been on an exam table, metal cool and unforgiving against too-hot skin. He knew things as abstract concepts, the neural implants and imprinting meaning he wasn't quite a blank slate. He knew what a weapon was, what it was used for; shields and armor, strategies and tactics. "Infiltrator," a skillset curated to quiet, to grace, to stealth. He knew what code was, how to manipulate it. Geth and Reapers and others, too, aliens, Collectors, Rachni, Krogan, Asari, Drell…
And in the midst of it, under the words, something more: names, faces, an undercurrent of something hot that made his heart pound, blood thrumming in his veins, muscles clenched tight.
He wouldn't understand concepts like hate, disdain, contempt, until Brooks modeled it for him and gave the feelings their names.
Her venom seeped into him, outlining the parameters, the mission, the goal. Learn, perfect, become. Another name, another face, identical to his own. A hero, Brooks told him, but heroes were only ever such in name and his name was as good as any.
Everett Shepard, she told him. That's who you'll be. A hand on his cheek, almost as cold as the table he'd woken on.
What else could he do but obey?
The wrongness wouldn't come until later, thoughts pressing against thoughts, a cacophony of confusion in his head. Do this, his imprints would say, always in Brooks's voice. No. Another voice, and he thought it may have been his own.
But who was he? And how would he have known better?
Irritation was a constant state, the conflict like barbs under his skin. Flinching, biting, resentful of this cage he could not see but knew was there. More people, soldiers, and he felt separate from them, marked by his differences -- his incompleteness. Brooks treated them like so much cannon fodder, and what could he do but follow her example? Her voice was so much harder to resist when she was standing in front of him, when she'd look at him like that, put her hand to his cheek like this, triggering a craving deep down that he couldn't explain, an overwhelming sense of right and wrong until his throat was tight with it.
Once you're him, it'll be different.
He wasn't so sure.
Once I'm him, I'll be gone forever.
But how could he be gone if there was nothing to lose?
Who was he?
The answer didn't come until later, much later, even after he'd given himself a name. It was less pulling the pieces together, less filling in the lines with the colors and textures of his experiences, and more an act of creation in and of itself. There was no puzzle, there were no lines: neural implants had given him a base, but it hadn't given him his personality. What was innate was difficult to determine, tendencies and habits influenced by his environment, but he knew enough, eventually, to determine which he wanted and which he did not. Less biting, more questions; less suspicion, more curiosity. Choices, Everett had said, are what matter. Feelings are one thing, but actions are another.
So he stopped snapping, and the hands offered in return were warm, soothing on his skin, the right shouting down the wrong until he found what he was looking for.
Shawn shifted on the bed, blankets pooling around his waist as he propped his head up on his hand, elbow braced against the mattress. His free hand quested forward, fingertips ghosting over skin warm with sleep and dappled in early morning sunlight. Scars and marks, tattoos curled with meaning, with history. The contrast of soft and firm, muscle earned carving definition, lines that made his veins sing and his heart beat at the beauty of them. The inhale and the exhale of each breath, expansion of lungs causing that chest to rise and fall and he rested his hand on it a moment, feeling it, feeling soft hair beneath his fingertips before they ventured lower. Abdomen to waist, waist to side, the curve encountered further back bringing to mind the hug of fabric from a certain pair of jeans and he was smiling at the memory.
A shift and his hand was moving again, tracing lines up and up until his fingertips brushed against the slow, sleepy smile that greeted him.
"Good morning," he murmured, warmth flooding his chest as Leigh pressed tender kisses to each fingertip.
"Good morning." Leigh stretched a little, resettling on his pillow, watching Shawn with eyes half-lidded. Shawn's smile widened and he continued his explorations, trailing along his jaw, his cheek, his nose. Brushed hair from his forehead before leaning in and seizing those lips with his own, slow, slow, slow.
Leigh's hands moved, cupping his cheeks, warm and right and perfect, and his heart was swelling with it.
"Mmm…"
Leigh smiled up at him as Shawn shifted, tugging the blankets down and straddling his hips. Leigh's hands moved to Shawn's in turn, thumbs running circles against his hipbones.
"What's on your mind, love?"
Shawn hummed, thinking, taking one of Leigh's hands and running his fingertips along each line, each scar, before following that same exploration with his lips.
What was on his mind? So many things. Sunlight on skin, the warmth of it, the warmth of him, of a body pressed to his, all the more special for the time he'd taken to become comfortable in his own. Becoming had seemed so terrifying, once, when it had meant what Brooks wanted, stepping into a life that did not belong to him, losing his fledgling sense of personhood to satisfy another's wants and needs.
But she was gone, and she had no power over him anymore. He was himself, and was becoming more and more himself every day, learning and loving and maybe, one day, forgiving. He was himself in spite of her best efforts, a person in his own right, capable of choosing, of wanting, of needing, of understanding himself so he could understand how best he fit with those around him.
Four years, he had spent on this journey. Four wonderful, confusing, enlightening years, to know he wanted this: a hand against his cheek, warm and loving, gestures he could return and revel in the rightness of them, of knowing the difference between a partner who supported him and let him support in turn versus a person who was trying to control him like a personal toy soldier. To know the difference between being and loving himself, of being loved as himself, and being a hollow shell for someone else to fill.
To know that he'd had to choose himself first, before he could begin choosing anything else.
"I was just thinking," he began, pressing a kiss to Leigh's palm, "that I want to wake up to you like this, every morning that I can."
Leigh's smile widened, his free hand trailing down Shawn's chest. Warm, right, a gesture of love profound in its simplicity, the easy connection of a gentle touch.
"I think that can be arranged."
#my writing#Actual Disaster Shawn Shepard#Shawn x Leigh#Male shepard clone x Major Coats#mass effect#major coats#Maya Brooks
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Post ME3 Fic WIP!
Full WIP is on p/treon!
I finished ME3 on call with @thecoffeerain so i was possessed to begin a sorta fic about after the end. We chose Synthesis as an ending (synthetic and organic life melds) and my oc Castor (a cousin of the protags in MEA) survived but Charlie’s oc Astrophel Shepard was MIA. This is set a decade after the time of ME3 and they romanced Garrus!
The sounds of pattering feet and shrieks of delight bring Castor out of his funk. Little hands, almost as rough as his, tug at his old leather jacket now covered in small patches and buttons. Two big blue eyes gaze up at him with excitement and wonder while a tiny, squat body wiggles into the space against his side.
“Dad says we’re leavin’ in five minutes! He says we’re all gonna go see the big me!”
Ah right.
Tired as he is — there was barely any sleep to be had on normal days, let alone after nights like the one before — Castor cannot deny his daughter a smile. Who could, after all? Even her chunk of a tail is wagging with excitement. Every atom of her small body simply vibrates with boundless energy. He jokes sometimes that she’s feeding off his life force like a little vampire, to which Garrus shakes his head and snorts.
If she starts growing fangs like a real one let me know. We’ll get caps for them or something.
“Thanks kiddo, why don’t you go put on your coat and tell Dad I’ll be out soon. Gotta send out a message real fast,” he murmurs affectionately, his good hand —the right— patting the top of his daughter's leathery head.
She’s off like a shot in a matter of seconds, again with the patter of tiny feet. It will never cease to amaze Castor how she moves so fast, been like that since infancy. Always raring to go somewhere, meet new people and talk about her life. If the person she cornered knew about the giant lobsters that came out of the sky to eat the people of Earth but her papa’s saved the day!
Most did. They had been evacuated or fought, or both. But they always made time for the darling Krogan daughter of the famous Archangel and Lieutenant T’Eana.
T’Eana-Shepard.
Last nights dream pokes about Castor’s skull with a pointed stick made of growing migraines and eventual nosebleeds. At least it was from stress and thousand times broken nose, not haywire biotics. Though he still had plenty of days where it buzzes sharp beneath his flesh.
No time to think about that right now though. His therapist would be proud of him for not latching onto that spiral, there used to be a time when he would have found comfort in it.
With a grunt and creak of achy joints, Castor moves from his squatting position on the guest room floor to stand and fully face the console before him. A flicker of bright orange numbers and a long scroll of text lights up his pale face, settling over ridges and hard lines of scars acquired almost a decade ago now. Sometimes when he least expects it, Castor can still feel the shrapnel rocket across his cheek. The ringing in his ears never quite went away after that explosion, it’s become more of a comfort now instead of a hinderance at least.
Shaky fingers move about the holographic screen, the pattern muscle memory now. After ten years of punching in codes and swiping away notifications furiously, Castor has come to not expect anything. Still when he comes to the end of the sequence, his torn up hand hovers over the [ SEND MESSAGE ] button. As if those extra seconds will make any difference, that maybe he would call him first and he’d hear the voice he so desperately wishes to hear again. For real. Not just in VI or the vids, even promotional ads….
Inevitably, Castor is always the one to press the button first.
#mass effect#me3#garrus vakarian#garrus x shepard#mass effect fic#castor t’eana shepard#x: do you want company?
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Tempest on the Shore: Shakarian angst on the Citadel
Her legs had finally stopped trembling. Shit. Shepard tried to hold onto the last tendrils of the woozy, tingling, mind-wiping high. But it was like trying to hold water in cupped hands, it slipped away through the cracks no matter how tightly she tried to hold it, leaving emptiness behind. And the emptiness was loud. She let out a frustrated sigh and rolled over shifting to the edge of the bed, remembering exactly where she had dropped her pants and tank top. She hadn’t bothered with underwear for this in ages.
“Um...excuse me?” Demanded the salarian in the bed pressing himself up onto his elbows.
Shepard gave him a puzzled frown.
The salarian (he had a name but she’d intentionally failed to commit it to memory) imperiously raised a scaled brow at her. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
“That noise you made.”
“What noise?”
“You sighed.”
“Oh...um did I?”
The salarian scowled at her. “Yes, you did. Look honey, I don’t know what your problem is but two hours with me will not result in the most quad-rung overstimulated krogan feeling dissatisfied so you better get that little viscous crack looked at.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and cast a disgusted look between her legs. “Because it is the problem. Not. Me.”
Shepard just stared at him. She was tempted to pay him double because she was close to laughing, which was more of a service than anything he’d done in this bed. But the spark went out as quickly as it had come.
She shook her head as she tucked a hand between her legs. Not too wet. Manageable for the walk back to the Normandy. That was the handy thing about salarians. The females created enough moisture of their own that the blokes were pretty dry in the bed. As she pulled her pants on she gave the salarain a hard look. “I appreciate that you take so much pride in your work, but you're worrying your giant head over nothing. You were great. Thanks.” He still looked pissed as hell. She vaguely tried to care, but just couldn’t. “Keep to working with people's bodies, you’ve got no natural ability with their heads.” She pulled her tank on, bound her tangled mane of red hair in a messy bun on top of her head, crossed to the door and waved her omnitool across the payment console. It registered her transfer of credits and the door clicked as it unlocked and hissed open. She gave the salarian a mocking salute as she left.
“See you in two weeks, freak.” He called after her, his voice full of venom.
She tried to ignore it. She wouldn't be back, she lied to herself as she made her way along the wards. The streets were wet from the rain that had been falling before she started her session with the salarian. The layer of moisture almost made this part of the Citadel beautiful. There was something about the extended blur of the neon lights that made them romantic, instead of just... seedy.
A human who passed her made the mistake of eyeing the motion of her breasts under her tank and she gave him a look that told him exactly what kind of retribution that attention merited. He turned instantly pale and hastily turned down a different street. She should care-about the way he had looked, or his reaction or...or anything. She pushed away that thought as she tried to push away every other, shifting her focus to the way walking made her recently stimulated vagina feel. She shifted her stride, trying to stir any lingering feelings of pleasure, to tease out a last rush of dopamine, but it wasn’t working. Between the bitchy salarian, and the oggloing tool...or maybe it was just her. Just the empty, broken, piece of shit she was. She glanced at the time on her omnitool. She had half an hour before the end of their shore leave. Fuck. She could be fast but that wasn’t going to give her enough time for a session with anything if she wanted to avoid judgmental looks from Miranda and the Cerberus goons for coming back late when she was the one who had threatened to depart without any stragglers.
You know what, fuck it. I didn’t ask to come back from the dead.
She pulled up the booking page that had become the top listing for her “frequently used” extranet sites, and started typing in her preferences. Doesn’t matter if I pay for a full session and only use a few minutes. What am I gonna do with credits when the Reapers get here? Try to pay them off? She filled out the request sheet as she walked: either gender, cunnelingus. There literally wasn’t time to fuck around with penetration. Species. The form asked. Shepard grunted impatiently, didn’t really matter, she just needed something waiting for her when she got to the back rooms of Chora’s Den. She selected turian by accident, and then physically collided with one.
Shepard rubbed her forehead where it had collided with the offending turian’s armor as pain lanced through her head. Ok, any lingering effects of the salarian generated dopamine were definitely gone now. She glowered up at the mandabled idiot she had run into, preparing a curt, ufelt apology, and fell silent as she caught sight of the glow of a blue visor.
SHIT
“Commander…” Garrus’ browplates furrowed as he stared at her in surprise. Shepherd’s mind went completely blank as she just stared at him. His crystalline eyes widened in concern and more than a little shock. A steadying hand went to her arm and his rough tipped fingers round her brow, testing gently. “Are you...I’m sorry I should have-”
Shepherd’s gut clenched and she quickly brushed away his hands. “Been watching where the fuck you were going. Yeah. Work on that.” His head cocked ever so slightly at her harsh tone, his eyes narrowing a fraction.
“I’m sorry, Shepard.” His mandibles flared in irritation. “I was endeavoring to make it back to the Normandy as you-”
“-yeah, well if you're that careless while carrying out an order you're not gonna last two minutes against the Collectors.” She snapped. His eyes narrowed further, every calculating thought clear in those eyes. Fucker. Shepard though. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have the energy or the...anything, for this. “ I’ll have to put what’s left of your cold ass carapace in a box.”
And then she saw his chin set: slightly raised, head tilted ever so slightly to the right. His pissed off defensive posture. She was too tired and empty and furious and stressed and scared and-
Shepard turned on her heel and started stomping towards the nearest tram station that would lead her to the Citadel docks.
“Yeah,” Garrus called after her, “if you can still afford a box and you haven’t spent every last Cerberus credit at Chora’s.”
Ice shot down her spine. She stopped, turned slowly and stared at the turian. “Excuse me, Vakarian?”
His chin was still set. “I’m sorry, is there something inaccurate in my assessment?” He drawled.
She hadn’t ever been followed...not that she cared if she had, you just didn’t survive the shit she did and remain capable of not checking for tails and hostels and whatever. She didn’t care. She shouldn’t care. Why would she care if he knew? Especially if it was Garrus. Garrus who had gotten his whole crew killed. Garrus who’s medical chart after taking a rocket to the face had shown just what crap the turian had been pouring into his body (well...Moria wasn’t going to point fingers there..unless certain taloned fingers were already pointing at her), but that wasn’t the point why should she care? Except he shouldn’t know.
She gritted her teeth. “I would say there is as I have no idea what you are talking about.”
His eyes were cold as they narrowed. He casually lifted the hand that had, only minutes ago, brushed tenderly against her forehead, and sniffed it. His nostrils flared. “Salarian. Human sweat, yours, by the way, we’ve spared enough for me to recognize it. “
“Oh, fuck you, Vakarian.” She spat. “I probably smell like you, dipshit, after running into you. Who the fuck do you think you are throwing accuzations at your commanding officer?”
“You do smell like me.” Garrus snarled, “but it's different, and there's also a little krogan, asari and batarian-” she opened her mouth to snarl at him but he spoke over her “-not that those are from today, or you, not quite in the same way as the salarian. My guess is those scents are left over from whoever else was in the room before you.”
Rage washed through ther. “If you want to get back on my ship you’ll shut that pincushion of a mouth right now.”
Garrus’ nostrils flared, and she didn't think it had anything to do with him smelling her this time. “You asked me to come aboard!”
“Yeah,” Shepard snarled, “and I remember someone saying that he couldn’t exactly doubt my judgement.”
“That was before you were fucking everything and anything on the wards.”
It was like the world bottomed out around her. Nothing existed but his eyes and those words. She saw fear flash through them for a second, before being replaced by that same rage as before.
“And what the hell makes you think what I fuck is any of your goddamn business?”
There was some hurt in the rage. “Because I’m your friend Shepard.”
“Yeah. Friend. And crew. Neither of which has anything to do with the personal choices I make.”
“Look,” he said, “taking on the Collectors, everything with the Council, coming back from the dead I get that its a lot to deal with-”
Heat rushed through her cheeks. “And I'm dealing with it so back the hell off.”
“You’re being reckless there’s-”
Why was this happening? Why was she having this conversation? Why did it matter- she shoved the thoughts a way and glared at him. “Don’t talk to me about “being reckless” Archangel.”
It was a direct hit. Garrus blinked, a different type of pain in his expression. Shepherd’s gut twisted. It was a low blow. A fucking dirty low blow.
He looked away from her, staring out at the skycars soaring past the walkway, then gave her a long look out of the corner of his eye. “You are reckless in the field. You are tense on the ship. Its behavior I recognize. I was there recently, as you have so kindly reminded me.”
She wanted to say something. But she didn’t. She just held his gaze.
He slowly closed the difference between them, staring down at her. She refused to give ground: she didn’t move her chin an inch, and continued to glare up at him. He tilted his head so that he could meet her gaze and said slowly. “I don’t care who you fuck.” They were inches apart. “I care why you make bad calls when you know there are better ones.” She couldn’t breathe. His long slow breaths tickled her nose. “You asked for my help.” The challenge in his eyes made her blood sing. “So I’m going to call you on your bullshit, Shepard.”
He’d been the one to support her after Eden Prime. Someone who had seen through Saren’s lies on his own. The one she wanted on her side on every mission. The only one who hadn’t questioned her using Cerberus…An feelings the salarian had left in her body were gone, the vague numb bliss replaced with the electric currents those eyes sent racing through her. She was rooted to the spot and ready to rush him all at once. She wanted her hands on him, to tear, to push against that immovable impossible weight and solidness of him. That was what she wanted. She wanted something real, something strong, something constant, something she could unleash herself against without fear. Her lips parted as a breath escaped them, crashing against his like a wave.
But something broke the spell between them and Garrus pulled back. “No one on that ship is in their right mind.” He said quietly. “I have a feeling we’re all going to have to grapple with spirits that haunt us if we want a shot at taking the fight to the Collectors and coming back in one piece.” He gave her a last long slow look. “But I think you need to figure out what the hell you're actually fighting for.” And with that he turned away, walking towards the docs without so much of a backwards glance. His crest cast a long shadow on the ground in the slowly dimming lights of the Citadel promenade, and Shepard felt herself fall into darkness as it slipped away.
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