#Athair Connor

[theoriginalladya]

So, @painterofhorizons asked me about one of the projects I listed on that last meme.

Mass Effect: The Shanxi Files is a background piece for Caleb, sort of. I'm still sorting out bits and pieces of the plot, but it's going to focus on a few characters who play important roles in Caleb's life later on. For example, you'll get to see...

a younger Dr. Chakwas on her first deployment who is paired up with a young Irish medic named Ciaran O'Connell (Caleb's dad)

Anderson and Connor O'Bannon (aka: Athair) when they fought in the First Contact War...

Remember that tiny side quest in ME1 that involved Dr. Michel, Anderson and Admiral Kahoku? The one about Armistan Banes? Yeah, he's in it too and has a run in with one Jack Harper at the end of it...

So far, I've got most of my outline done and a draft of the prologue which will be the message General Williams sends out to Arcturus to let them know the colony's being attacked. I'm hoping it'll start grabbing hold soon because I really want to get it written and out there to share!

#ladya rambles #ladya writes #ladya plots #Mass Effect: The Shanxi Files #painterofhorizons #ladya replies

[theoriginalladya]

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

For Caleb? 🥰

from this list

Already answered this one here, so how about this instead?

🍾: Does your OC believe in luck? If so, do they have any charm or ritual they do before a stressful event?

So... you know that phrase, "The luck of the Irish"? Caleb does. He would be the first to scoff at the idea that he's "fae touched" (Anderson's expression for him) or "lucky" (bring up his survival on Akuze to him at your own peril!), but truth is, he at least quietly believes in it. He has a few things that fall under 'charms' or 'rituals' categories, too.

He wears a St. Senan's medallion that Athair gives him before he leaves Ireland. St. Senan is the patron saint of Shannon, Ireland (and their church), and when Connor went off to fight in the First Contact War, he wore the medallion. Caleb wears it constantly, only losing it after Alchera. (he does get a replacement from Athair during his house arrest in Vancouver)

His deck of cards. The deck Saoirse gives him before he leaves Ireland stays with him until Alchera as well, and it's a familiar 'habit' that Caleb does readings prior to missions. The deck is with him at sniper school, at OCS, on Akuze, during his N7 training and missions, etc. By the time he's on the Normandy, Kaidan is familiar enough with the ritual he doesn't even think about it, but it certainly perks up Ashley's interest as well as some of the others. Prior to each of those missions, he does a reading, too. Think of it as his 'going into battle' ritual.

Little known secret: Caleb has a birthmark on the back of his left shoulder that, if seen at the right angle, resembles a four-leaf clover. (hint: this is something that comes into play later on) He doesn't think much of it, to be honest, mostly because he can't see it most of the time, but occasionally it comes up in discussion.

Those are the three biggies. I haven't decided if there are any others just yet, but I'll let you know if any more come up!

Thanks for the ask!

#mtreebeardiles #ladya replies #Odd OC Asks #Caleb Shepard #mshenko #Kaidan Alenko #OTP: Brothers in Arms #mass effect

[theoriginalladya]

Sunday Snippet

Woke up today with an idea of how the very first meeting between Athair and Caleb happens. This snippet is from that scene.

Setting: Shannon, Ireland, 2160-ish

~~~

There is a ripple of movement against the dark, but the form remains where it is, tucked low with the bin between them. 

“I mean you no harm,” Connor hastily adds, though he doesn’t move any closer.  “If it’s food you’re looking for, I’ve got far better than scraps inside.” 

A pair of eyes peek around the edge of the bin and blink up at him. 

Connor has seen much in his years, has traveled the world and more, yet the sight of one so young hiding behind a trash bin in which he’d been hunting for food hurts worse and wounds far deeper than any Lancer shot.  No, that isn’t what hurts worse, he decides as the child remains unnaturally still, too still for one so young.  It’s the lack of trust in your eyes, more than most adults.

#sunday snippet #ladya writes #caleb shepard #earthborn shepard #mass effect #snippet

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Whenever

So, for two days I’ve been trying to get out all of the feelings I woke up with Friday morning for Caleb and some of his post-war stuff.  Things I’d decided months ago I really wanted to deal with for him, but took a sudden, MUST WRITE NOW! urgency all becaose of a photograph I saw that I suddenly realized connected to him and that part of the story (this all happened Thursday night - yeah, my muses had a FIELD DAY while I slept).  (very rough draft, but a workable draft nonetheless)

So, even as rough as it is, I’m willing to share the feels because lord help me, I love this Irish boy.  This post is a continuation of a snippet I shared with @shadoedseptmbr yesterday - was it just yesterday?  feels like FOREVER ago now! lol  That snippet can be found here.

Setting:  Old Neddy’s Pub, Shannon, Ireland; post-Reaper war, mostly post his first post-war fic (not sure yet if this is part of that same fic or a shorter continuation of it - depends how much of this second part blows up on me I guess)

Characters:  Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko, Athair Connor

Pairings: mshenko

~~~

“And you really don’t mind?”

“I can’t say I ever gave it much thought before now,” he replies after a moment.  “Not…in so many words, anyway.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”  His dark eyes twinkle brightly.  “Next great adventure for us, right?”

Caleb is left speechless, breathless almost, at his easy acceptance.  “Just that easy?”

“Not everything is as complicated as uniting the galaxy against the Reapers, Shepard.”  Chuckling, Kaidan releases one hand and reaches for his drink again.  “I think we’re about due for something ‘easy,’ don’t you?”

Caleb nearly chokes on the sip of his beer in his mouth. “Easy?  I never said anything about this being easy.”

“It won’t be as bad as you think.  Besides, Mom’ll be around to help navigate us through the worst of it.”

Mom.  Caleb sets his glass back onto the table and stares over at Kaidan again.  “That’s another thing.  Your Mom.  She hasn’t even met me yet.  What if –?”

Kaidan pulls their joined hands over and uses it to prop his chin on.  A smug smirk twists across his lips as he watches with amusement.  “You know, maybe you shouldn’t resign your commission. You get all sorts of nervous when you aren’t on active duty.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow.  “You aren’t nervous at all about this?”

“Not at the moment.”  Kaidan downs the last of his beer.  “Cross that bridge if and when it’s time to.”

Caleb opens his mouth to make a smart reply, but the words get caught in his throat.  Bridge. A shudder works through him and he drops his gaze to the table, noticing as he does so that his free hand trembles just a bit.  

Kaidan catches on quickly, immediately squeezing his hand and leaning in closer.  “I’m right here.  You’re here. The kids are safe.  You are safe,” he murmurs, repeating it several times.

Caleb nods, taking deep breaths, but above all, keeping his hand in Kaidan’s.  After a minute or two, the images fade and the world slowly rights itself once more. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about that.”

Shaking his head, Caleb replies, “No, my fault. I –”

“Not your fault,” Kaidan insists.

The sound of someone clearing their throat right next to them interrupts the conversation, and Caleb glances over to find Athair standing there.  “Am I interrupting?”

Kaidan starts to ward the priest off, but Caleb shakes his head. “Not at all, Athair,” he replies, squeezing Kaidan’s hand once more before releasing it.  “How can I help?”

Kaidan creates space and the priest slides into the seat beside him.  “I believe this may be one of those instances where I may be able to help you, son.”

Caleb frowns, eyes darting over to Kaidan briefly, but he looks as confused as Caleb feels.  “How is that, Athair?”

The priest nods across the room at the table where he’d been sitting.  Caleb’s gaze follows to find the woman whose face he does not recognize still seated there, alone.  When Caleb turns back around, Athair is waiting for him.  “This may come as a shock –”

Caleb snorts softly.  “You’ve known me my whole life, Athair.  I doubt anything can shock me much more than I’ve already experienced.”

There is a moment, just a small one, where the priest simply stares back at him, eyes flickering between sympathy, pain, and something that strikes Caleb as joy.  “Do you recall when we met all those years ago?”

Another shudder ripples through Caleb at the memories that return again.  He can’t speak just then, but he nods.  Something about the way Athair holds himself, the slant of his smile, the brightness in his eyes – something warns him that whatever it is the man is about to share will knock him off his feet.  Good thing I’m sitting down.

“Ruairí showed me the files you recovered, Caleb. I’ve spent the better part of a week assisting Saoirse and Aine as they went through them.”  

Athair stretches his hand across the table and drops something in front of Caleb.  As Caleb reaches for it, the man also presses something cold into his hand, closing his fingers around it.  It doesn’t take much effort to recognize it; another, new St. Sennan medallion, chain and all.  Caleb stares at it for a moment.  While he asked for a new one, if possible, shortly after their arrival, this is the first time since that it’s come up again.  The timing on that strikes Caleb as odd.  “What’s this?”

“You know what that is.”

Meeting the man’s eyes, he rephrases the question.  “Why now, then?”

“You know his history as well as I, Caleb,” Athair chides gently.  

“Aye, that I do, but that doesn’t explain –”

Athair nods at the second item.  “Read.”

Caleb’s gaze shifts to the datapad as he does just that.  Absently, his fingers start toying with the chain of the medallion, swirling it around on the table into a metallic whorl.  And while he senses the two men across from him as they shift in their seats – no doubt Kaidan giving the older man a questioning look, maybe even asking aloud – Caleb doesn’t hear anything outside a soft ringing in his ears as his attention is focused solely on the datapad in his hands ....

#WIP Whenever #ladya writes #mshenko #Caleb Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #Irish Shepard #Athair Connor #OTP: Brothers in Arms

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

Almost forgot today is Wednesday!

So, I've been working on a few projects lately, all of them tied to Caleb Shepard's world some way or another. This is a bit from what will eventually be a look at his past through the eyes of Athair Connor O'Bannon.

Setting: Systems Alliance building, 2158

~~~

“You’re seriously doing this?”

Nothing but the rattle of his locker as he shuts it fills the air for a minute, reverberating around the space until it fades and only they remain. Systems Alliance Corporal-soon-to-be-civilian Connor O’Bannon tugs the zip on his duffle after tossing the last of his personal items inside. Standing, he slings the bag over his shoulder. Blue eyes finally meet the pair of dark brown and wait. He’s used to that; Corporal to Lieutenant. Still, even when he walks out the door and leaves this world behind, far more than that will remain between them.

When nothing happens, Connor sighs softly, smiles warmly, and extends a hand. “I will keep you in my prayers, David,” he replies, voice deep and rich with his broad Irish lilt.

Anderson’s gaze narrows, but any disappointment is short lived with the sparkle that slides in. “You would, wouldn’t you?” He chuckles, the warmth wrapping around them both. Taking Connor’s hand, he grips it tightly. “You take care of yourself, you hear?”

Connor’s smile widens as he nods. “Aye, that I will.”

“And call me if you need me. Remember, I’ll always have your six if you need –”

This time it’s Connor who laughs. “David, I appreciate the thought,” he winks, “but I think I have that covered.”

As their hands release, Anderson nods, a sheepish grin now slipping across his face. “Heh, you do at that, don’t you? Or, will. Well, I guess even I can’t match the Man Above, but the offer stands. God knows I owe you many times over for saving my sorry ass.”

Connor shakes his head and turns toward the exit. At the doorway, he glances back over his shoulder at Anderson one last time. “You owe me nothing, my friend. It was war and we saved each other many times over. The only score that mattered was the one where we both walked away alive.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Anderson acknowledges with a nod. “But seriously, if you ever need anything…”

Facing his friend and former Lieutenant one last time, Connor lifts his hand and salutes. A hint of the old scowl returns to Anderson’s face, but mixes with genuine sadness, too. With obvious reluctance, he returns it. Only then and without another word, Connor O’Bannon turns and walks out of the building and back to a life he’d thought he left behind.

#WIP Wednesday #ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #Mass Effect #The Connor Chronicles #Athair Connor #Earthborn Shepard #Irish Shepard #snippet

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Follow Up

So, when I posted my WIP Wednesday this morning, Kaidan's muse immediately pounced on my brain with this gem... Come drown in feels with me!

(same setting as this post - at this point, they've relocated to Old Neddy's)

~~~

Kaidan's eyes stares after their server as she walks back to the bar, her quiet, lilting words still echoing in his ears.

They know you’re here. You’d best be leaving if you want to stay alive…

He lowers his glass, eyes focused on the slow whorl of amber liquid beneath low light in the corner booth. The numbness filling him isn’t from the burn of the whiskey as it slithers down his throat but from the way his lungs seize, an ache so sharp and constricting, air simply won’t flow. In the back of his mind, a deep and familiar musical lilt wraps around words and regret he now has to live with the rest of his life.

“Mo ghrá… is tú mo rogha…”

His fingers, tight around the glass, knuckles white and strained, fade to the outer edges of his vision.

My love… you are my chosen…

Eyes stinging, he closes them. The cacophony of voices in the common room fades to a high-pitched whine in his ears. The taste in his mouth sours, matching the bile rising in the back of his throat. And still, his lungs remain frozen, unable to move.

Is this what it’s like, Shepard? Is death a long, slow fade into nothingness? Spots dancing on the outer edges of vision, moving ever closer until suddenly nothingness wraps around you and pulls you into the Void?

A glass clinking against his with some force behind it, yet not enough to shatter, jars him back to the present; shocked out of his downward spiral, Kaidan sucks in a rough, deep breath, his lungs desperate for refilling.

“Take it slowly, son,” Anderson advises as he pulls back his hand, offering a sad yet knowing smile. “This is the good stuff.”

Kaidan coughs a few times, nods his understanding, but the temptation of the spiral still lurks in the background.

“How long did you know him, Kaidan?”

Blinking, Kaidan looks over at Athair, his heart nearly breaking at the gentle understanding that’s returned. “Um… six years,” he whispers, voice rough. “Give or take.”

“Aye. Long enough, then.”

#WIP Whenever #ladya writes #mshenko #Kaidan Alenko #David Anderson #Connor O'Bannon #Athair #Caleb Shepard #snippet #this was supposed to be a test to see if this path was a good idea #I think I'm beyond the point of no return...

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

Another snippet from the post-Alchera piece I'm working on where Kaidan accompanies Anderson back to Ireland to tell Athair what happened to Caleb Shepard.

~~~

Several minutes pass before the kneeling man pushes to his feet accompanied by a few creaks and groans both from himself and the step. When he turns, he doesn’t show any sign of surprise or shock; sharp blue eyes - lighter than those he remembers - shine brightly in recognition and with a smile to match.

Beside him, Anderson straightens and steps forward. “Connor.”

“David.”

The broad lilt slices into Kaidan’s chest, leaving behind an ache so strong, so powerful, he can barely draw breath. Connor turns his smile towards Kaidan, though his eyes narrow a bit in concern. Kaidan manages an attempt at a smile, but though it’s weak even to his own standards, the other man remains where he is and says nothing more. Turning his attention to Anderson, he says, “Now, why do I get the feeling you aren’t here to collect on that bottle of whiskey you claim I still owe you?”

Something behind the priest's eyes changes. Kaidan can’t define it, can’t explain it, but it leaves him with the certain knowledge that this man knows, that their presence here is unnecessary. The ache in Kaidan’s chest twists tighter.

Clearing his throat, Anderson returns the smile. “If you’ve a drink to share, I won’t refuse it.” He arches a brow in question at Kaidan who nods. It’s the only response he can make at the moment.

Turning, the priest leads them further back, a weariness that wasn’t present moments ago now settling over his shoulders like a well-worn jacket. “Come along then, I might have something tucked away somewhere for occasions such as this.”

#WIP Wednesday #ladya writes #mshenko #David Anderson #Kaidan Alenko #Connor O'Bannon #Athair #OTP: Brothers in Arms #Caleb Shepard #snippet

[theoriginalladya]

@rosenkow​ has done it again!  She’s brought my boys to life!!!!!  LOOK!

Thank you so very much for lending me your talents!!!!!  They are fabulous!

Caleb Shepard, aka: Sealgaire, N7 Infiltrator and Systems Alliance Navy Commander

Connor O’Bannon, aka: Athair, former Systems Alliance Corporal, turned priest

Caleb and Connor meet when Caleb is about six years old and their lives are intertwined ever after.  When Caleb is eighteen and his life in the Tenth Street Reds is falling apart around him, Athair calls in a debt from an old friend to get Caleb out of Ireland, and Caleb’s life is changed forever...

~~~

(from Don’t Turn Around)

“Caleb,” Athair says with a patience only the clergy can express properly, “we all have our part to play in this life.  Yours is not here.”

Unexpected anger roils deep in Caleb’s belly with that announcement.  He scowls and snarls like a feral animal.  “Do not give me one of your sermons on how God’s hand matters in all this!  If that was true, would the Greystones have won? Would Aoife, Colin, and the others lie dead in their graves?  If anything, God abandoned the Reds!”

The priest does not flinch.  Instead, he says calmly, “The Lord works in mysterious ways, Caleb, and you know this.  What His plans for you are, I cannot even begin to imagine, but I can tell you they are not here.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow as he stares through half-slitted lids.  He inhales sharply, preparing to argue further … but the words do not come.  In his mind’s eye, he sees all he has lost … and the little that remains to keep him here.  Gritting his teeth, he turns his face away.  Damn, how he hates when Athair is right all of the time!

#ladya's OCs #Caleb Shepard #Connor O'Bannon #Sealgaire #Athair #rosenkow #Such a lovely job on them both!!! #Mass Effect #Irish Shepard #Earthborn Shepard

[theoriginalladya]

Played around with pictures from the 'original sources', afterward. Caleb Shepard and Kaidan Alenko

Niamh Shepard-Alenko

Tadhg Shepard-Alenko

Athair (aka: Connor O'Bannon), Ruairi Fitzgerald, Saoirse Hagarty

#Ladya's OCs #mshenko #Caleb Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #Niamh Shepard-Alenko #Tadhg Shepard Alenko #Athair #Ruairi #Saoirse #OTP: Brothers In Arms #Irish Shepard

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Meme

I was tagged by @ghostxofxartemis - thank you, darlin'!

Tagging... @swaps55, @shadoedseptmbr, @mallaidhsomo, @hunnybadgerv and anyone else who would like to participate!

*digs through WIP folders* Lemme see here... Aha! I have a little something I've been poking at for a while now from when Caleb Shepard joins the Normandy. *pokes at it some more*

~~~

Shepard knocks on the door to Anderson’s cabin and waits for the summons before entering. “Sir,” he says by way of greeting a moment later, “Lieutenant Alenko has arrived.”

“Good.” The older man pushes back from his desk and rises. He grabs his uniform jacket and slides into the sleeves with a grin. “Nice to have a familiar face around, hmm?”

Shepard returns the smile. “Aye. From what I know, he’s a good soldier, an exceptional biotic. I also know from personal experience he’s a damned fine field medic. Glad to have him on the team.”

“Good to hear.” Anderson leads the way out of the cabin and up to the CIC. “Pressly updated me about ten minutes ago. We’re almost ready to go.” He nods at Pressly across the CIC, acknowledging his command of the deck for now. “Have you seen Nihlus?”

Shepard snorts softly. “Aye, sir. He's hard to miss. Seems like every time I turn around, I’m bumping into him.”

“Turians wanted one of their own on board for our maiden voyage,” Anderson reminds him, but there's a sparkle of something in his eyes that suggests there is more to it.

“I understand, sir, and I don’t have a problem with it," he assures him. "Just seems like he’s investigating every nook and cranny of the ship.”

“The turians want to make certain it works like it should.”

“It will.”

Anderson’s laughter is warm, familiar, and settling. “Right. Do me a favor? Have Alenko head on up to the bridge to get familiar with Flight Lieutenant Moreau. I want both of them at the helm when we take that first relay. Understood?”

Shepard straightens and salutes. “Loud and clear, sir.”

He’s half turned away back in the direction from which they've come when Anderson adds, “Did you let Connor know you were leaving?”

Shepard pauses mid-stride and looks back over his shoulder. “I may have mentioned I was being deployed,” he replies only somewhat evasively.

The smile hasn't left Anderson’s features, but it's taken on a far too knowing look. “Just don’t leave him too much in the dark. He still keeps tabs on you, you know.”

A sheepish smile flickers across Shepard’s face as he thinks of Athair. Anderson's right, the priest deserves better, but old habits are difficult to break. “I know, sir, and I won’t.”

#WIP Meme #ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #mass effect #snippet

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

Something I've been working on, on and off, for a while now. Anderson going to tell Athair about Caleb Shepard's death over Alchera...

~~~

It’s been years since Anderson stepped inside of a church, since he last took communion, since he prayed to come out the other side of a battle that looked very much against him; and the last time, Connor O’Bannon led the way. A quiet man, gentle, never one with a sharp word unless sorely needed; but most definitely not a man to be trifled with. If a peaceful solution wasn’t in the cards, a man who most definitely could handle a gun. How many times had he saved Anderson’s life? Josef’s? Jill’s? Or, any of the rest of the squad? But he gave that life up after the First Contact War, explaining he was guided home, the need to show the next generation to the future he and the rest had given them.

Awkwardness aside, Anderson enters and selects one of the back pews where he slides to his knees. The creaks and groans of his knees echo through the space and the ache just as bad. It’s been so long, he doesn’t remember the words to the prayers, but he hopes that the Man Above will forgive him for that. And for what he is about to do.

Up near the altar but off to one side, he spies a priest speaking to an elderly couple. He’s a bit heavier around the middle now, his shoulders not quite so straight. His hair is still mostly black, but with grey at the temples that looks to be fanning out a bit more to either side. But it’s his eyes, bluer than the skies above, that shine as brightly as ever. It always amazed Anderson how the man could simply light up a room with his eyes and a smile that put everyone at ease. That smile…

Their eyes connect briefly, but in that moment, recognition flashes. It’s been eleven years since they last saw one another in person; and another fifteen years prior to that.

Twenty minutes pass before the conversation finishes. Anderson doesn’t mind. He has plenty of time, and he’s going to need all of it to get through what is to come. As they depart, the elderly couple walks up the aisle past him. They offer polite smiles, a bob of the head. Anderson nods back in return.

They are out the door before Connor approaches him, sliding into the pew ahead of him and taking a seat. “Now, why do I get the feeling you aren’t here to collect on that bottle of whiskey you claim I still owe you?” he asks, a soft lilt to his voice. Anderson slowly lifts his eyes to meet the beguiling blue that offers compassion while at the same time refusing to be taken advantage of. What he does not see is the usual teasing glint he would flash at him or the others in their squad to lighten a mood. Anderson’s stomach fills with dread.

He knows...

#WIP Wednesday #ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #David Anderson #Athair #earthborn shepard #snippet

[theoriginalladya]

Self-positivity ask! Show off some of your favorite bits of writing. It can be from a WIP or a published work, but go ahead an show off and be proud of your amazing work!

Oh my, thank you so much for asking, Nonny!  I’ve spent the entire evening thinking about this, too, looking through so many things - posted/WIPs/fanfic/original works, etc.  It’s taken me a while to narrow it down.  

I think I’m going to go with parts of two different pieces, but are in the same story series focusing on my Caleb Shepard.  The first is a section out of Don’t Turn Around.  The second is part of a chapter posted this week for Young & Proud.  

I love these two stories - for the plot/character development, for the character himself, but mostly for the amazing betas who push me for every last ounce even if I’m not sure I want to be pushed that far! 

~~~

Don’t Turn Around

There is a moment of silence; no sound, not even Anderson’s fingers on the keys to input information.  “You keep calling him that,” the commander says after a moment as he sets the pad aside.  He adopts a position similar to Caleb’s, hands folded together, his chin resting on top.  “Why is that?”

Caleb tilts his head to meet the dark, discerning gaze focused on him.  His does not waver.  “Athair?  It means ‘father.’”

“Ahhh.”  The eyes soften in understanding matched with a smile at his lips.  “Did he tell about when we served together?”

Caleb catches the chain in his hand with the medallion and pushes himself to his feet.  He throws his right arm out to steady himself against the back edge of the bench as the shuttle wobbles yet again, but he nods.  “He mentioned it last night.  It’s … strange to think of him that way.”

His eyes are caught by the landscape flying beneath them out the virtual windows.  The direction they are traveling becomes clear.  A hint of unease flutters in his chest.  East.  Athair, you said to trust him … but we seem to be heading straight into the lion’s den … Does he know about the Greystones and their connection?  Caleb draws his lower lip between his teeth and rolls it back and forth.  Are we heading to London?  If nothing else, we are heading to England, we have to be.  Athair, did you know about this?

“Connor and I fought side by side during the First Contact War,” Anderson explains.  “He saved my life once – more than once – and several of the others in our unit, too.”

It takes a moment for the words to penetrate, but when they do, Caleb stiffens and looks back over his shoulder at the man.  Are we talking about the same man?  “You are saying that Athair killed people?”

Anderson nods.  “It was a time of war, son, and long before Connor took to the cloth.  We all had to at one time or another.  It was either that or be killed.  Remember that.”  A small smile curves his lips.  “Or, if it eases your mind, think of it more as he ‘persuaded’ the enemy that their choice of target was incorrect.”  He shakes his head while taking up the datapad once more.  “Either way, we lived, they didn’t, and Corporal Connor O’Bannon now spends his days finding his peace and redemption as … what was it you called him?”

“Athair.”

Anderson grunts in affirmation.  “He’s a good man, don’t think I don’t know that.”

Caleb swallows past an unexpected tightness in his throat and drops onto the seat beside the window.  “Aye.”  He tilts his head to rest against the bulkhead as the view before him gives way to the open waters of the Irish Sea.  Beside him, his fists tighten … and a small metal disc bites into his palm.  Startled – he’d forgotten he held it - he looks down at it again, stares at the face of St. Senan.  Athair, guide me …  He flips the chain around his hand, clockwise first then counterclockwise.  Unconsciously, his left knee starts bouncing up and down.  “He saved my life, too,” he says after a moment, “several times over.”

“Did he, now?”  There is more than just a hint of curiosity in the commander’s voice.

The shuttle bounces hard, once, and in that moment the chain strikes Caleb’s cheek.  He reacts on instinct, turning his face away from it so that it misses his eye.  The biting sting on his cheek is enough to know the hit probably left a mark.  But it serves as a wakeup call of sorts.  Sliding the chain over his head, he drops the disc beneath the collar of his t-shirt then turns toward Anderson.

~~~

Young & Proud

A couple of miles from the target, they pause to reassess the area.  Coats surveys the terrain with a pair of binoculars; he is spotter for this test.  “There,” he murmurs, pointing slightly to the west.  “Elevation isn’t too bad, decent cover, enough space to zig zag our way in.”  He hands the viewfinder over to Caleb.  “What d’you think?”

Caleb nods his agreement after making his own assessment.  “Aye, sounds like a plan.”

They take their time moving forward.  The trick is to get in, hit the target, and get out without detection.  No hint of movement.  No sign of their presence.  They’re dressed in their field gear and have taken all basic precautions they can, but Caleb still has a few tricks up his sleeve from his Reds days they can put to use.

“What’s this?” Coats asks as Caleb hands over a tube-shaped piece of metal.

Caleb huffs and reaches back for it.  “If you’re so thick you can’t recognize a sniper rifle suppressor…”

Coats’ eyes narrow and he yanks his hand back.  “Didn’t say I didn’t recognize it, did I?  What’s wrong with the ones we were issued?”

Caleb shrugs, a simple yet subtle motion.  “This one is improved, shall we say?”  Tapping on his omni-tool, he waves it over Coats left arm.  “This’ll help too, give us a bit longer with our tac cloaks.”  Before he moves away, he gives Coats a long, hard look straight in the eyes.  “There’s a few tricks the Greystones never caught onto that we can use to our advantage this time out…”

They are in the best position with the best chance of success.  It’s time to put the plan into action.

#self-positivity ask #ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #my writing #mass effect writing #snippets #Don't Turn Around #Young & Proud #thank you so much for the ask!!! #Anonymous

[theoriginalladya]

Don’t Turn Around (fanfiction)

Summary: The Tenth Street Reds are no more, and Caleb Shepard must decide what to do next with his life; stay in Ireland or leave.  Though he relies on his mentor and father-figure, Athair, to guide him, leaving doesn't sit well with him.  And then he meets an Alliance officer named David Anderson who will change his life forever ...

“Caleb,” Athair says with a patience only the clergy can express properly, “we all have our part to play in this life.  Yours is not here.”

Word Count: approximately 5100

Characters:  Caleb Shepard, Athair/Connor O’Bannon, David Anderson

Rating: T+

Special Notes:   I need to thank @swaps55 for her time, skill and patience in betaing this project for me! She's helped me before, and I knew going in it would be a challenge. As intimidating as it is to have someone give you constructive criticism like that, I knew I needed it to make this piece as good as it could be, and for that I will be forever grateful! My friend, with each input - whether it's a comment on a fic/chapter or giving me critical feedback - you help me grow as a writer, and you help Caleb develop as a character. Thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart!!!!

This story follows immediately after Seeing Reds and can be found in its entirety here on AO3.

Excerpt:

Morning comes far too early, but Athair’s firm grasp at his shoulder leaves no doubt that it’s arrived.  “Time to get up, lad,” he murmurs, his feet shuffling softly around the old building.

Groaning, Caleb pushes himself upward and rubs the sleep from eyes that dread opening.  Ten more minutes, maybe fifteen, just long enough to chase away the nightmare that led him here, or pretend it isn’t real.  His jaw cracks awkwardly and painfully as he yawns, and echoes through the room.  Stiffness plagues him as he pushes to his feet, but though annoying, once he starts moving he knows it will ease off.  Out of habit, he folds his blankets neatly; he’ll not allow anyone to argue Nan didn’t raise him right.  

He covers another yawn, less painful this time, with one hand while reaching for his bag.  A quick rummage produces a wrinkled yet relatively clean t-shirt to replace the one he’s slept in; like most of his clothing the past few years, it’s a product of the charity box at St. Senan’s.  He tears off the sleep-rumpled shirt and ignores goose bumps that are quick to cover his flesh in those few moments his skin is exposed.  Packing the dirtied shirt into his bag, he quickly combs his fingers through too long hair and attempts to wrangle it into some semblance of order for the day.  Only then does he discover the room is empty; Athair is gone and he is alone.  

His heart leaps to his throat instantly as his breath catches tight in his chest.  Yanking the bag strap over a shoulder, he makes it halfway across the room when Athair enters carrying a small jug of water.  Caleb gulps, checking up his steps, his eyes flitting between the jug, the darkened landscape beyond the door and Athair.  A sigh of relief leaves him weak in the knees for reasons he cannot explain.  “Athair, I –.”

Athair smiles gently and pats Caleb’s shoulder. “Relax, son.  We’ll break our fast then head to the clearing.”  He grabs Caleb’s bag and sets it aside while handing him the jug of water in return.  “Here, come help me get tea started.”

Years spent as his student has Caleb nodding obediently. This morning is starting just as strangely as the previous night ended, but he trusts Athair without question, without hesitation, and he so he follows...

#Mass Effect Fanfiction #Don't Turn Around #Caleb Shepard #ladya writes #Earthborn Shepard #angst #abandonment #songfic (sort of) #leaving home #oneshot #my fic

[theoriginalladya]

THAT scene, for "Seeing Reds!"

Thank you so much for asking!!!  I answered that one here, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you my second scene from it because it came hot in the heels of the first and really, it’s a toss up as to which arrived first, though the other got noted down first!  lol  

So, this story is the first time I ever really focused on the Earthborn background in any detail.  I knew I wanted it set in Ireland, and I half entertained the idea of setting it in Limerick, but decided all the jokes (and yes, limericks! lol) that would go along with that would just make my brain explode, so I pulled up a map of the area and started to explore.  All I had to do was get across the river to find Shannon and I just knew that was home.  When I started to think about that in more detail, this came to my mind right alongside the end of the story where Caleb is confronting Athair about leaving.

Several minutes pass before Ned shuffles over and sits across from him.  Nan joins him a minute later.  She sips at a cup of tea as she nods at Ned.  “So, Caleb,” Ned says as he clears his throat, “where are you from?”

Caleb pauses.  He has manners enough to finish chewing his food and swallow it down before responding.  “Shannon.”

Ned and Nan exchange a look.  “Do you know which district?” Nan asks gently.

Caleb shakes his head, tucking back into the hot stew she gave him but minutes to go.  It’s warm and tasty, and it’s the first hot meal he can remember.

Nan looks at Ned and murmurs, “Maybe Athair will know him.”

Athair.  The word gives Caleb a moment of pause, his spoon halfway to his mouth.  He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes.  Athair?  The word tickles in his head.

Ned notices first.  “Do you know Athair, Caleb?”

Caleb sets his spoon down in the bowl with purpose and thinks hard.  Athair … Athair …  Father …  It is a new word for him, at least he thinks it is, but a hazy image of a face begins to take shape.  “Athair … Connor?”

Nan gasps softly, then sets her tea aside.  Ned shares a quick look with her and nods at the door at which point, Nan rises and leaves the room without a word.  “Yes,” he tells Caleb.  “Athair Connor’s church is nearby.  Have you met him?”  Somewhere, a door opens and bells chime softly.

Caleb scoops up another mouthful of stew.  “I … I think so?”

And along with that came this bit, too:

He wakes with a start as a hand settles on his shoulder.  Eyes wide in momentary fear of the unknown, he glances up to find someone other than Ned or Nan standing there.  Older, but not nearly as old as Ned or Nan, there kindness in his eyes … and familiarity.  Rubbing his eyes, Caleb sits up and whispers roughly, “Athair?”

The man takes a knee which brings him to Caleb’s eye level.  “Aye, son,” he murmurs.  “Nan came to fetch me.”

Caleb looks around the room.  Ned and Nan stand a short distance away to give them privacy.  He isn’t certain why; he has no secrets, except the ones that are hidden from him.  “They want to know who I am,” he tells the priest simply.  “How old I am.”

“I know.”  Father Connor waves the elderly couple back to the table and all four of them sit.  When he speaks, he includes them all but his words are directed specifically at Ned.  “Caleb wandered into St. Senan’s two days ago,” he explains.  “He has no memory of where he came from, who his family might be, or even his age.  All he recalls is his name and that he is from Shannon.  I guess his age around six or seven.  I’ve made a few inquiries around the parish to see if anyone knows him, but no one has any word of a missing child that matches his description.”

Thanks again for asking about my Irish boy!!!  (and for prompting his creation!  I owe you big time for this guy! :D )

#That Scene meme #ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #Seeing Reds #Athair #Ned and Nan #swaps55

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

So, young Caleb finally started talking to me again today, which is good on several levels, not the least of which makes it a good place to pick back up with his writing as I recover from this stupid bug.  That being said, I think I have a full draft, though it isn’t nearly as long as I anticipated when I started it.  I’ll probably let it sit for another week or two (or maybe not) until I decide for sure, but here’s a bit more of it.  Still need a more appropriate title for it (because things change and so do working titles ...)

~~~

“Did he tell you we used to serve together?”

Caleb pushes himself to his feet, throwing his arm out to steady himself against the back edge of the bench as the shuttle wobbles yet again, but he nods.  “Last night. It’s … strange to think of him that way.”  His eyes are caught by the landscape flying beneath them out the virtual windows … and the direction they are traveling becomes clear.  East.

“Connor and I fought side by side during the First Contact War,” Anderson explains.  “Saved my life once, several of the others in our unit, too.”

It takes a moment for the words to penetrate the concern that grows deep in his chest, but when it does, Caleb glances back over his shoulder.  “Athair killed people?”

Anderson nods.  “It was a time of war, son.  Remember that.  Or, if it eases your mind, think of it more as he ‘persuaded’ them their choice of target was incorrect.”  His lips twitch at the corners and he shakes his head while taking up the datapad once more. “Either way, we lived and they didn’t, and Corporal Connor O’Bannon now spends his days finding his peace and redemption as … what was it you called him?”

“Athair.”

Anderson grunts in affirmation.  “He’s a good man, don’t think I don’t know that.”

“Aye.”  

Caleb rests a bended knee half against the seat and half against the bulkhead, his eyes drawn back to the view before him as ground gives way to the open waters of the Irish Sea.  Athair, why are we headed East?  “He saved my life, too,” he says after a moment, “several times over.”

“Did he, now?”  There is more than just a hint of curiosity in the commander’s voice.

But Caleb wants a few answers of his own before this continues.  “We are headed to London?” ...

#WIP Wednesday #ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #Earthborn Shepard

[theoriginalladya]

As for the brillant headcanons of yesterday. Can we get E sharing a drink for Hackett and Anderson?

From this prompt list.

Thank you for all of the lovely prompts you sent!  Here is the first of them, set in the world of Caleb Shepard.  This actually combines two of those headcanons from yesterday ....  oops!  ;)

~~~

The bar, a dive in one of the seedier Wards, is crowded when he arrives but it is open.  From the looks of things, it didn’t suffer too badly from the geth attack, or, if it did, it was cleaned up quickly.  Whatever the case, it appears as popular as ever with a line that extends out the door and down the street.  He walks up to the door and the bars on his shoulders speak for him, guaranteeing no wait time, and he enters.  

The place is packed.  Humans and turians, asari and salarians, plus a few he is not as familiar with; but all who are here have one thing in common.  They all wear the uniform.  Soldiers and sailors, the lot of them.    

A table hidden away in a far back corner is his destination.  It is mostly framed by shadow, but there is one figure sitting alone.  He takes a seat and finds two glasses next to a larger bottle made from some kind of dark, opaque glass.  Ah, the good stuff.  Shrewd eyes lift to meet the dark pair sitting across from him and he nods his greeting and appreciation for the choice.  Words are not spoken, but none are needed and his companion pours two fingers worth in each glass.  Quietly, he takes one, lifts it.  A quick inspection reveals the deep rich tones of the amber liquid even in this light.  Definitely the good stuff.  

Blue eyes meet brown.  “Sláinte.”  Their voices wrap around the foreign word together before they each take a sip.  

Anderson is the first to respond, eyeing his glass and giving it an appreciative nod.  “That’s … smooth.”

Hackett nods in satisfaction as he evaluates his own. “A good choice.”

Anderson chuckles.  “You’re not going to believe this.”  

Anderson turns the bottle so Hackett can read the label more closely.  One brow arches as the date and the distillery become clear.  “I sense a story somewhere.”

“Indeed.”  With a sigh, the Councilor takes another sip, savors it, then swallows.  “Shepard gave it to me,” he explains.  “As a ‘thank you,’ or so he said at the time.”

Snorting softly, Hackett takes another sip.  “Must’ve been one hell of a favor.”

A smirk curves at Anderson’s lips.  “For recommending him to ICT,” he clarifies, “but that came later.  He hated me from the moment I showed him the acceptance letter.  It was right after Akuze, you see.”  

Hackett winces.  One hell of a story.

“Anyway, after he made N7, he brought that to me. Told me to save it, that we’d share it after his first ‘big mission,’ or some such nonsense.”  Anderson sighs and shakes his head.  “Opportunity never arose.  Years later, when boarded the Normandy, he asked if I still had it.  Once he made Spectre, he promised we’d share a glass once Saren was caught.  That defeating him was a mission worthy of the bottle.”  His voice fades and he stares down into his glass.  “And now …?”

Hackett’s lifts his glass and tilts it toward Anderson who follows suit.  “You had a better connection to his past than I did,” he reminds his friend after another drink.

“Yeah.”  Another sigh. “Maybe.  Do you remember Connor O’Reilly?”

Hackett shakes his head.  “Should I?”

“Back in our early days, but after Shanxi. Quiet, soft spoken, one hell of a lieutenant.”

Hackett reconsiders, the hint of a memory teasing him a minute or so later.  “I think I remember.”

Anderson’s smile shifts from grim to warm.  “He is Athair Connor now,” he explains.  “Took to the cloth after leaving the service.  Decided he wasn’t cut out for war and would rather save souls instead.”  He downs the rest of his drink.  “But that didn’t stop him from sending Shepard my way.”

“I’m glad he did.”  Hackett follows suit.  The moment he sets the glass upon the table, Anderson is filling both again.  “Have you told him?”

Sorrow fills Anderson’s dark eyes once more and he shakes his head.  “I’ll do that in person,” he murmurs.  “When I can get away from here.”  He runs a hand over his face.  “What did you think of him?”

Hackett frowns.  “Of who?  O’Reilly?”

“No; Shepard.”

Hackett runs his fingertips lightly around the squarish top edge of the glass.  He’d only met Shepard twice in person, each time with Anderson present.  How would he describe the younger man?  Quiet.  Unassuming. Independent.  But there had always been something in his eyes.  A fire of some kind, a spark.  A burning ember, always banked, ready to flare up when necessary.  “One hell of a soldier,” he finally replies.  

They lift their glasses and the soft clink as they touch echoes around them.  “He was that, I agree,” Anderson says.  “To Shepard.”

The bottle isn’t large, and it takes less than an hour for them to work their way through it with somber reflection on a man who died far too young.  They part ways outside of the bar, and Hackett is halfway back to the docks when his left wrist vibrates.  He pulls up his omni-tool, prepared to refuse Anderson’s second request to have dinner with him and Udina later.  He is surprised to find the message is not from the Councilor.

To: Admiral Steven Hackett, Systems Alliance

From: Dr. Liara T’Soni

RE: Our mutual acquaintance

Admiral,

   You do not know me, but I assisted Commander Shepard during the hunt for Saren.  My name is Liara T’Soni.  I am Benezia’s daughter.  I was with the commander when the Normandy went down.  Though I do not have proof of it yet, the situation may not be nearly so dire as it seems …

(Also on AO3 here)

#minific prompts #ladya writes #mass effect fanfiction #Steven Hackett #David Anderson #Liara T'Soni #when the muses attack #thank you so much for this! #painterofhorizons